Vienna, AUSTRIA: Austria's Foreign Minister Ursula Plassnik (R) welcomes Britain's Minister of State Kim Howells 06 February 2007 in Vienna. Howells is in Vienna on an official visit. AFP PHOTO/DIETER NAGL (Photo credit should read DIETER NAGL/AFP/Getty Images)What secrets does the Austrian diplamazon encrypt in the borders of her mighty scarves? If Ursula's neck wear could speak, what would it say (EDIT: besides Helllooo down there!)?
Perhaps we can find out at Global Fashion Week? Don't laugh, because this article in the Telegraph offers tantalizing glimpses of The Man Behind the Scarves:
The Turkish designer, Atil Kutoglu, who is based in Vienna where he works part-time as a lecturer, mixed East and West influences in a manner which echoed the rich, cosmopolitan history of his native Istanbul.This does help explain some of Ursula's more... adventurous... ensembles, does it not?
Kutoglu, who counts the Austrian Foreign Minister, Dr Ursula Plassnik and a bevy of arch-duchesses among his clientele, concentrated mainly on cocktail and evening wear in rich, metallic brocades, striped silk and panne velvet, printed with geometric patterns inspired by the Ottoman empire.
Long dresses featured blouson effects in front and deep, draped cowl backs which exposed spinal cleavage. Coats and jackets had unusual two-tiered sleeves shaped like the lanterns in a sultan’s palace.
Also, how great is the phrase a bevy of arch-duchesses?
10 comments:
mmm...Ursula and spinal cleavage, something everyone needs at least one glimpse of.
Princess,
Some problems with the links in your report....
"a bevy of arch-duchesses" truly is my new favorite phrase and I can't wait to use it, casually, in conversation.
And it's great that the Austro-Hungarian Empire and the Ottoman Empire, longstanding enemies, have finally come together in the symbolic figures of Ursula and Atil. What do you think Atil lectures about, anyway?
This may only deepen the inscrutability but the legible part of the scarf reads "quel qu'il soit au fond" which means "whatever he/it should fundamentally be." I know this phrase is not as good as "bevy of arch-duchesses" but, like all French phrases, it can be as effervescent as a coup de champagne when casually slipped into a conversation.
Clif - it's obviously the last, crucial clue of the da Vinci Code.
Can spines *have* cleavage?
<3 <3 <3 <3
I wonder if she needs a harmless stalker?
<3 <3 <3 <3
Randomness:
- I'm with nixie bunny - spinal cleavage sounds like an extremely serious birth defect.
- I believe the correct collective noun for archduchesses is a "passel". For ordinary duchesses, it's a "bushel".
- As to Mike's question, I'll lay odds that Atil's lecturing is limited to reviling passing strangers for offending his delicate sensibilities with their poor fashion sense. Then he opens his fan with a THRAPPPP and storms away in a Turkish huff.
- I love the scarf and Ursula looks fabulous!
When raised with the name Atil Kutoglu, two career paths are available.
a) Sultan of Scarves, draped around the necks of the crowned heads of Europe.
-or-
b) James Bond villain.
Mr. Kutoglu chose wisely.
I restrained myself from early comment on this fabulous photo (and yes, leather straps were involved) to test a hypothesis. Is UrsulaMania real, or is it just me and Guru clapping and screaming in the first row while the rest of the Pony Pals™ applaud tepidly?
Clearly, it is real, widespread and growing. You can feel the UrsuLove in the room.
On the picture itself. Ken has kind of a big head for a little fellow. They smile cheerfully and exchange the Happy Handshake of Equals, though both know it is no such thing. If Ursula were the cruel mistress of the new alien overlady regime, her toothy smile would turn into a grim grin a la Sarah Douglas in Superman II. She then would crush Ken's all too humanly frail hand into a mass of flesh and bone resembling a disengorged owl pellet.
But that wouldn't happen! That isn't what Ursula came here to do! Ursula wants us to be happy! She wouldn't dream of going all Faye Dunaway on our asses.
Warning: if she ever says "Don't fuck with me, fellas", run. Scurry like a rat and find a good hiding place.
indeed, if she ever goes balistic; I'm going deep to an undisclosed location...Dibs on the Spinal Cleavage!
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