SPOTTED: Karl Morrall on Oxford Street, London

WHERE: Oxford Street, London
WHO: 21 year old, Liverpuddlian model, Karl Morrall.
WHAT:  I was pleasantly surprised to walk into the demure Karl Morall on Oxford Street last evening. He was taken by surprise as he has only just started modelling, his first show being the Prada spring summer 2012 collection, which he could only describe as being 'really out there.' I did suggest camp. So being recognised came as  a shock to him. He is in London shooting for Burberry e-commerce projects (no, not the campaign sadly) and is currently studying Economics at University of Edinburgh. He was very mild-mannered and sweet and I hope he goes far.

A Couple Of Questions for...Jono Namara

LSDs or LCDs?

So, it's either Lysergic acid diethylamide or liquid crystal display eh? Well, I've never tried to lick a tab of LSD but then again neither have I tried to lick an LCD screen.

Somehow, the thought of spending countless hours addressing my toenails believing that they are actually magical imps from the impoverished land of Tobonga5, doesn't really float my boat.

I did once try Salvia Divinorum, which sounds like a spell name made up by J.K Rowling (who I might add is looking pretty MILF-esque these days) until the Daily Mail get on to it's case with another one of their bloody campaigns, it's still classified by U.K law as a legal hallucinogen.

I had a throughly enjoyable five minute experience, where I believed the room I was standing in had turned into a painting, where I could smudge the paint with my hands.

However, my friend had a few smokes of it and immediately believed the bin was talking to him and the avocado in the kitchen bowel was a marine commander- so it's clearly not for everyone!

Timothy Leary the infamous 60's spokesperson for LSD famously coined the phrase "turn on, tune in and drop out"

I feel had Leary been around today he would have said the same if he had been watching Episode 8 Series 3 of Californication.

Monarchy or Presidency?
When I was 16, I was a punk. Well, at least I tried to be a punk. I wasn't the loudest of most confident of my school year and was desperate to get with one of the hottest girls in my school year.

Various adults at the time had told me I looked abit like Sid Vicious. I looked at a few pictures of him and thought he looked like he got the girls, so before you could snarl "pretty vacant" I had turned myself in to a poor man's version of Sid.

To be honest, I wasn't a very good punk- I smiled far too much, every time I would kick over a bin in the street I would feel guilty and go and pick it back up again and my mum would never let me get my ear pierced.

As a punk, I brought into the whole "Anarchy" malarky. I used to draw it's logo on my homework diaries looking back now it all seems abit pointless- I had brought into a trend that had died nearly 30 years before my time, the only reason for hating the monarchy is that my precious tax payers money (a whole 69p a year) goes towards funding there lavish lifestyles.

So presidency it is.

Anorexia or Obesity?
Kushintha, That's a ridiculous question and you know it.

Caught naked in someone else's house or Catch someone naked in your house?
This really depends on the context of the situation. First off, I don't have a problem with being naked around people, I did when i was younger but you've got to lose that issue when you start modeling because the job requires at least half of the time standing around being cold in your pants in front of 40 random people.

Depends who is also naked in my house- I'll tell you what Kushie if you can drum up some names. I'll get back to you with the answer.

Cremated or buried?
Death scares me. It's not something I've really come to terms with yet, maybe I never will. Yet It's something that will happen to us all eventually. I know i'm not saying anything new to anyone here.

The thought of being buried under so many feet of ground in a box decomposing or being burned in a furnace and having whatever is left of you ground into dust still as yet dosn't sound very appealing. what does that leave.... cryonics??

Fatboy slim or Eminem?
Tough one. I was into them both in the late 90's early noughties.
I'm going to go with Fatboy Slim here, Norman Cook has stood the test of time. whereas Eminem however a vitorolic rapper he was or is, well, it just all seem abit naff.

McDonalds or KFC?
It's got to be Maccy D's.

New Testament or Old Testament?
Well, I'm Jewish so this is an easy one for me. Not that I've read much of the old testament or read any of the new one, but they always say you can't beat the original.

Peter or Jordan?
Jordan- shes at least had two big "hits" :)

Sasha Pivovarova or Gemma Ward?
Neither. I like girls with curves, something to grab. It's a common myth perpetuated by the media that men like really thin girls. I'm thin myself, if I was too hug one of them the friction of our thigh bones rubbing against each other would probably create a small fire, brings a new meaning to when people say models are hot.

Babies or Dogs?
Right now, I'll go with dogs. I've always wanted a small to medium sized dog- like a pug. In Japan, it's very common to dress your dog up in clothes, So I would quite like the idea of dressing my pug up in a pair of black drainpipes and a leather jacket- maybe even (as long as the RSPCA don't mind) gluing a tuft of wig hair on its head so I could style his hair into a quiff. He'll look like the dogs bollocks!

Bros or hoes?
Million Quid Question, Can I say Brhoes?



Lara Stone gets her Gap Tooth fixed at Harley Street

I ran into Lara Stone, Friday evening on Harley Street. She has flourished my bedroom wall with her gap-toothed snarl for advertising campaigns Givenchy, Belstaff and Jil Sander and she's the one who walks with the infamous wobbly gait at Prada and Calvin Klein shows, and has stolen my heart for four years. Furiously smoking on a cigarette Lara was standing outside the Harley Street Surgical Clinic engrossed in her phone conversation;  gap-tooth baring and all. Harley Street is renowned for it's surgeries, dentistry and doctors, so no doubt it came across our minds she was either having her teeth whitenened or getting liposuction done.

 I called 'Lara! Lara!' she turned around and smiled sweetly and pointed to her phone and mouthed 'I'm so sorry!,' and rushed into the building. My friend was not at all convinced it was Lara Stone, for she was dressed casually and candid in a Fur jacket and skinny jeans fresh-faced and hair pulled back tighly, but i could recognise the deep dutch drawl arguing on the phone and i forced Tushy to wait outside the clinic in the freezing cold; we joked  about the many surgical prospects to pass the time.

Lara came out after an hour and a half. I rushed to her and she exclaimed: 'Oh im so sorry! Were you waiting for me? You are so sweet!' I told her I was a big fan of her work and I was surprised to be welcomed with a warm hug (her waist is incredibly tiny) and a multitude of thanks.  She was very open and sweet to talk to with no pretences at all. Our conversation ranged  from Miuccia Prada, High School, Adolescence and Runway Mishaps. One would be surprised that she claims to be very rarely recognised and approached in her everyday life and that she was unpopular in school and hated every minute of it. And no, Lara doesn't miss doing the shows, though she does miss walking for Prada.  

Much to our shock of John Galliano's suspension at Dior, Lara was talking in a lisp and it appeared the gap tooth was gone. I guess we were the first people to see Lara Stone's fixed gap-tooth.

Backstage at John Rocha SS11

My next stop is Somerset House, there is no point being here because it is nearly impossible to try and get into the show here. They are incredibly organised here at Somerset house. All the shows are set in the one tent at the centre, and there’s a queueing room where you wait to get your ticket checked, there isn’t even a queue for those without a ticket. Sometimes the queues are so massive even if you have a ticket you aren’t necessarily guaranteed entrance. That’s what happened last season at John Rocha. The show was crazily oversubscribed and the queue went from one end of the building to the other, only about roughly a half of the people fit into the tent.

 Though, you can’t get into the shows, I’ve found its quite easy to get in backstage. Last season I spotted John Rocha having a fag with Jethro Cave outside the backstage area, I walked up the black stairs and opened the big black door and security looked at me like, ‘wtf’ but I just walked on and they said nothing. If you act like you have authority then no one will bother you, but if you waver or show signs of insecurity then they’ll notice.

This was where I met recent face of Burberry and lead singer of  Avius Sebastian Brice, when he was new. I asked him If he would ever get the Burberry mainline campaign,  and he looked a little embarrassed and laughed  ‘I don’t think they’d ever choose me for something that big!’ A couple of months passed by and he appeared in the winter campaign alongside London babe Rosie Huntington-Whitely, Nina Porter and Thomas Penfound. Sadly I have no evidence of meeting Sebastian Brice, Jethro Cave and Douglas Nietzke that day as this was the very day I left my Nokia N97 in a bloody black cab.

James Hampson is standing outside smoking a cigarette, I remember him from the Prada SS09 menswear show and that FTV video where he tells us he loves Britney spears and is an i-Pod junkie. He doesn’t look nearly as fresh as he appears in the video. He looks a bit dreary and grey, puffing huge clouds of smoke. He asks me how I recognise him, and I’m not sure what to say. I’ve always found that whenever I recognise male models, they aren’t the least bit surprised, but how is that if the general public who aren’t interested in fashion don’t even know who they are?

 Last season, when I met Jono Namara waiting in the queue for a show, he had no pretensions of being recognised even though he’s done countless campaigns for brands like Lanvin and Dior Homme.  I asked him why male models don’t seem surprised and he told me later: ‘they only play it cool so it seems like they are recognised the whole time. I was really shocked you knew who I was.’ I ask James if he ever gets recognised and he flinches and says he’s rarely in london, so very rarely. Anyhow, look out for him in Russian GQ editorials.

I walk through the door and see swarms of make-up artists and hairdressers picking at every model, frizzing their hair into the characteristic SS11  afro and wiping off every remnant from other shows. A woman shouts, ‘Who is doing Linsdey Wixsons hair when she arrives?’ I see Ilvie Wittek again, she looks confused as she stares at me. It must be strange being whisked off to a million places in a short time and seeing familiar random people. I look around the clothing rails and spot John Rocha and a team of dressers tending to a model, I turn around and I see a rib cage and some breasts- a model is completely nude, which feels entirely awkward but she doesn’t seem too bothered by it.  The clothes are mainly of corsetry, over-sized pieces, evening gowns in fleshy tones and frothy textured hats, nothing gimmicky just unfussy, elegant clothes with character. 

With models waiting around, PRs bustling about and make-up artists growing increasingly suspicious of anyone, backstage gets boring after a while. After awkwardly taking snaps of anything and anyone, my flash decided to go off and amidst the crowd of make-up artist they all turn around and look at me.  The head make-up artists asks me why I'm taking a pictures and who the hell I am, I don't know idea what to say so I try to sound as official as possible and I tell her I'm a backstage photographer for Fashion Rambler blog and that my name is Sonal Shah. . She isn't having any of it. She says 'I'm going to go and check your name on the list to see if you're supposed to be here.' She still stands there and she isn't getting a list at all, i don't think this list exists. I finally work out that she's basically kicking me out. How freaking awkward. I suddenly don't have this twatty air of self-importance around me anymore.  And with my modest HP camera. I turn around and take a few more pictures and leave.