GEN Y: THE CHILDREN OF THE REVOLUTION

The babies of the aftermath, of the recession: GENERATION Y, today’s 19-29 year-olds, are a new, exciting and unpredictable breed. They are not only a regurgitation of the past, adopting the hippie dreams of their 1960s parents, they are the future. But is the future as bright as the creatives at Orange suggest?

Living in the shadows of generation X, a generation famous for their ambition and success,

generation Y struggle to compare. Dwelling on our tendency to be workshy, spoilt and narcissistic, there is a concern that gen Y are living for the present with little or no regard for the future. However, as someone who is deeply imbedded in gen Y, I beg to differ. Having recently graduated from university at 21, I have been hurled into a pool of unemployment with a resounding splash. Despite the little hope there may be of securing a job (post-graduate under outrageous debt), I find myself strangely at ease, comforted by the desperation for employment and the urge for recognition which is hauntingly echoed amongst my peers. My parents, proud members of gen X, do not share my positive, possibly naïve, sense of ease. They are in fact feeling the pressure of the reality that I, along with my three siblings, will be living at home until the ripe old age of 30.

Reluctant to consider myself under such hopeless pretence, I am the first to adopt the theory of gen Y as ‘the next generation’, acknowledging our motivation, creativity, optimism and idealist attitude. We are a bunch who have lived and breathed recession, no cotton wool over eyes to speak of. Representing the younger end of the spectrum, I have not fled university and turned to a career, property ladders and happy families like gen X once did. Instead, I am faced with a comparatively bleak horizon: 3 months graduated, a 2.1 honours from a respected university, back living with my parents, sharing a room with my 23 year-old sister and still struggling to put my fresh, and what should be sought-after, skills to good use. And to rub salt into the wound, I come entirely free!

Not only can we expect to work for free, I am finding myself paying to work, spiralling further into post-university debt as I travel to London for internships and often unsuccessful interviews. However, it is in fact the very struggles that gen Y face that we have to thank for our status as ‘the next generation’. As money is no longer a factor in the building blocks of our careers, we are having to accept un-paid work as a-given and increasingly a luxury. But being the opportunists that we are, we dodge despair, always seeing a sea of prospect. We no longer face a choice between want and will, between inspiring unpaid experience and menial paid tea-making, most of us previously opting for the latter.

If not enriching my CV with experience, I am sat at home, with nowhere to turn to but the inner depths of creativity. We are the generation blessed with infinite free time. Time to blog, create and imagine a better world. We have the unburdened opportunity to seek out experience of choice without an obligation to wage and it is these experiences which have the potential to ignite gen Y. While it may be difficult for gen X to comprehend our defining moment as ‘a rave at a shop’, referring to the riot at an American Apparel discount sale, gen Y vision considers this nothing far from creative genius. We are the people turning excessive consumption to charity, turning the clocks forward to make it lighter later and we are gradually the people creating a better tomorrow. We are the children of the revolution.

Rose Brownlow

A FREE DESTINATION FOR THE INCURABLY CURIOUS

Wellcome Collection is a ‘free destination for the incurably curious,’ and after my experience this slogan couldn’t be more apt. Housing the incredible collection of Sir Henry Wellcome, a philanthropist, archaeologist and inventor, this free destination hosts events, exhibitions, collections and includes a world–renowned library and bookshop.

I headed down to 183 Euston Road to check out the ‘Skin’ exhibition (only running until 26 September so hurry!) and left feeling considerably more informed. The exhibition does exactly what it says on the tin and explores the functions and meanings of the skin we live in. From plastic surgery to the diagnosis of diseases, every aspect of skin is examined.

For me, one of the most interesting displays was artist Tamsin van Essen’s exploration of skin diseases through the decoration of apothecary jars. One ceramic jar on show was covered in tiny pustules to represent acne, another’s surface was flaking demonstrating the effects of psoriasis. Despite the fact that these are devastating conditions, the jars were intriguing and made me want to linger.

Skin decoration is also explored with images of traditional Maori tattoos and more disturbing pictures of the effects of self-harming. This exhibition is thought provoking, insightful and interesting and you will definitely go away thinking about our attitudes to skin and quite probably feeling quite differently about your own. Highly recommended.

By Amy Peck

CATWALK TRANSLATIONS: THE AVIATOR JACKET

As London Fashion Week came to a close with Burberry’s Cadet Girl’s show in February, the industry was abuzz with the news of the show’s stand out pieces, nine lambskin lined flying jackets. A number of fashion editors claim they knew aviator mania was due to begin a few days earlier when French Vogue’s Carine Roitfeld ran backstage at the end of Christopher Kane to pull a flying jacket off its hanger. It is unsurprising then that the shearling lined, chocolate Burberry jacket priced at £1895 is sold out everywhere. The flight jacket (the aviator) conjures up images of the elegant era when Amelia Earhart ruled the skies and Katherine Hepburn shone on screen.

The flying jacket is an adaptable piece that goes with everything from camel trousers to tea dresses. Burberry’s designer, Christopher Bailey, even went as far as to state that he felt the jacket is as versatile as the brand’s iconic trench, commenting on its ‘strong and sexy, masculine and feminine’ appeal. Luckily for those of us who cannot afford to spend a thousand pounds on a jacket, the high street immediately jumped on the trend, creating a number of affordable alternatives. From Topshop to Matalan there are a number of styles available, enabling us all to channel Kelly Mcgillis as the weather becomes colder.

(Burberry, me in a Topshop aviator, Kelly Mgillis in Top Gun)

For those willing to spend more than the standard price, the high street has created genuine sheepskin, designer quality jackets for a fraction of the cost. It is particularly surprising to note that despite its expensive appearance, the luxurious flying jacket on the cover of Vogue’s October supplement is £250 from Next. Topshop’s (£325) version, labelled the ‘piece of the season,’ sold out in both black and chocolate within minutes of appearing online but is soon to hit the shelves again. Similarly, ASOS has created pieces of designer quality including the Premium Shearling Aviator Jacket (£350) and gorgeous Natural Coloured Aviator (£290). However, there are still a number of other options available, Warehouse is due to release their ‘super soft, shearling jacket’ imminently in camel and chocolate for £300. My personal favourites are the very warm looking Whistles Shearling Jacket (£350) and Hobbs’ NW3 Flight Jacket (£349) which comes in a sumptuous chocolate brown with thick shearling lining.

(Topshop sheepskin flying jacket £325 to be restocked imminently)

Despite lusting after these jackets, as a recent graduate I am looking to achieve this trend at a more reasonable price. After searching for a furry collared jacket since Alexa Chung was spotted in Acne’s delectable Rita 2, I was delighted to spot ASOS’ identical Leather Aviator Jacket with Detachable Faux Fur Collar (£150). There are also a number of faux leather jackets in this style, including the Topshop Fleece Collar PU Biker Jacket (£58), which would look gorgeous with jeans and a floaty shirt. However, after lusting after Burberry’s beauties I decided that only a bigger collar would do. A number of jackets fit this criteria including the H&M Leather Shearling Jacket (£149.99) spotted on Anja Rubik, although it is in massive demand due to its innate similarity to 3.1 Philip Lim’s aviator. For those wanting to channel Earhart, Marks and Spencer’s Limited Collection Jacket (£89) has a perfect huge collar. Oasis’s Leather Aviator (£150) a mix between an Acne and Burberry jacket, was a very tempting option due to its washed out design and cream collar. I was also attracted to Zara’s Flight Jacket (£39.99) as its camel shade ensures it is a slightly different take on the trend. However, after admiring the press preview of Matalan’s Faux Leather Aviator (£30) and then discovering it was not being released until October, I stumbled across Topshop’s Faux Sheepskin Flying Jacket (£78). This is not only reasonably priced and excellent quality (I was not the girl stroking the sheepskin one for comparison in Knightsbridge), it is able to dress up the most mundane outfit.

(Oasis leather aviator £150)

(Matalan) jacket £30 to be released in October

For those searching for the perfect flying jacket, do not despair this is only a small selection of the styles all over the high street. So thinkTop Gun in 2010 by wearing an aviator jacket, though maybe leave out Tom Cruise and the sunglasses.

By Harriet Tisdall

WATCH OUT CLAUDIA!

Dress by Dolce & Gabanna

Dress by Dolce & Gabanna
Stylist’s own Dr Martens


Stylist’s own jacket

Stylist’s own jacket
Boots from Portabello Market


Dress by Limi Feu

Jumper from Portabello Market



Photographer: Tommy Clarke
Stylist: Sacha Harrison
Make-up: Annie Tagge using Kryolan
Model: Anya Barker: Future face at Storm
Fashion assistant: Claire Linton

A new short film by Blu

An ambiguous animation painted on public walls. Made in Buenos Aires and in Baden. It was made using stop motion techniques - extremely time consuming. But what a result!

LIKE PARIS LIKE LONDON

You’d think that leaving the house at ten past seven in the morning to make a journey of 25km would leave ample time to get to work for 8.45. Not so on a French strike day. Whilst London was brought to a halt by tube strikes and French workers rallied on the streets of Paris against the proposed increase in retirement age (by a mere two years), what was made less of by the British press was the fact that those of us residing in Paris and its suburbs were also trying to squeeze into limited means of public transport.

To be fair, ‘they’ were good enough to warn us about lack of trains beforehand in both email and on paper. At least those who normally take the RER (regional express train line) B knew that with "traffic quasi nul” – i.e., non-existent – there was no point in even trying to brave the station. But as for the rest of us, knowing that service on some lines would be as good as 50% or 60% doesn’t sound that bad on paper and it was not worth missing a day of work (and pay).

Many strike days are ironically quite peaceful affairs on the metro and RER with people choosing to take their cars or to stay at home leaving the trains quieter than on a normal day. I was confident that this, combined with leaving earlier than normal, would mean I still got to work on time....

The outbound journey was easy: perhaps the main pleasure of living at the end of the line is that you are pretty much guaranteed a seat on your outbound journey. I therefore spent the first twenty-five minutes luxuriating in my much-sought-after seat, in my mind simultaneously gloating at and feeling sorry for my fellow travellers who had to stand up the entire way. There was no chance that I was going to leave it free for them to promptly take and in turn fulfil their dreams. I told my buttocks to savour this feeling in case it quickly went.

I had decided to change my route slightly in the hope of avoiding the worst of the strike. This turned out to be a grave error. My normal lines – 6 and 12 – were on 60% and 30% service respectively. But to avoid the extra changes, I had opted to stay on the RER A for an extra stop and take line 8 instead. This turned out to be silly, as line 8 was also only on 30% service. This was not helped by the fact that daft old ladies had apparently decided that rush hour on a strike day was the perfect time to go out and get their weekly shop done, or go to an appointment… or whatever. Thanks to the slowing down of this service and the traffic preventing the bus routes, this meant I was late for work. That’s right, people: it took me an hour and forty minutes to travel twenty-five kilometres. JOY.

Even sillier, though, was that on my return journey, I made the same mistake again by travelling on line 8. Even though the station where I started was only three stops from the end of the line, it was packed to begin with and it only got worse. People in the next stations obviously thought that they were smaller than they actually were, thinking that cramming themselves in would work out fine despite the fact that there wasn’t an inch of space for neither love nor money. I was closer to more people than I had ever had the desire to be and the biggest of them got out of the carriage using the most inconvenient routes possible (i.e. trying to squeeze between me and a pole). By the time I got out of the carriage myself, I was gasping for air and slippery enough with sweat to feel like I’d been swimming.

However, there was one advantage to my change of route. By getting back on the RER A one stop earlier than I normally would to go home, I only had to stand for one stop before stealing a newly available seat as people got off at the normally busy and popular station where I got on. I was close enough to a seat to relieve my aching feet, legs and backside than I ever could have been if I had followed my usual route and got on the train at my usual station.

Having taken nearly two hours to travel the standard 25 kilometres home, the gratuitous numbers of seats and amount of space in the trains the day after seemed paradisiacal. I could wave my arms around and everything (only when nobody was looking, of course). Next strike day, I am definitely considering staying at home. I know that it's said that if you're not living life on the edge then you're taking up too much space, but personally, I like my space - especially on the metro.

By Bianca Summons

POVERTY PORN IN THE GAP YEAR INDUSTRY

‘A picture is worth a thousand words’, so the saying goes. The images that are used by an organisation in its marketing have as big an impact as, if not bigger than, the words that accompany them. In the gap year industry this fact can be used to profitable effect: by combining tempting photos of volunteering alongside links to “sign up here”. So far, so predictable. But pictures can also be used to mislead. In the case of some organisations they embellish the truth to make it look more appealing – see for example, Gapforce’s brochure which is full of enticing photographs taken of models. Leaving aside feminism or the Trades Description Act, seeing this picture, what would you think? That you are volunteering on a worthy project?

It gets more serious when marketing images are used as a kind of “poverty porn” to generate a misleading picture not only of the work done by volunteers but of the host communities themselves. Take a look at Duncan McNicholl’s photography project ‘Perspectives of Poverty’, which shows how the same person can be portrayed in two very different lights: once as a dejected, poverty-stricken man, and once as a happy and successful man.













According to Ethical Volunteering, an independent advice organisation, we should “look at the pictures and words that are used by the organisation to tell you about their developing world partners.” In particular, look for an organisation that describes the people that they work with and their developing world in a positive, respectful way. Steer clear of those who seem to be promoting a patronising attitude towards their partners especially if that picture is of a sad-looking child. This mock advert from the satirical magazine ‘the Onion’ illustrates the point: Why is this child sad? We don’t know. But apparently, you can help. No wonder the image of the developing world that many people have is of a begging bowl.

Quest Overseas is a small ethical volunteering organisation that offers opportunities for volunteers in locations across South America and sub-Saharan Africa. It involves a variety of projects including community-based children’s projects, conservation and construction. The pictures that the company uses in its marketing are all taken by volunteers and staff, and depict actual work being done on projects.

Quest Overseas works on a long-term basis with local grassroots charity partners. In Peru, Quest have been working in the shanty-town of Villa Maria since 1998 with volunteers providing sports and creative activities for the children of the favela during their school holidays, to give them focus and attention that can help to prevent them becoming victims of drug abuse and gang violence. Quest Overseas is very careful about the way that it describes its projects and what they can achieve. It recognises that volunteers at Villa Maria have a lot to offer to the children – time, friendship, affection, not to mention donations to the charity for educational support. However, can this one project solve all poverty and drug abuse in Peru? No. It is important that volunteers and the volunteering industry recognise that implying this is wrong.