Eclecticism is a new trend for autumn/winter 2007, but students at Trinity College are doing it already. Alannah Sparks meets some fashion innovators in the Arts block and catches them on camera
It is no great secret that the Irish economy is buoyant. It gives itself away through every pair of white earplugs we see walking down the street. One of the offshoots of this wealth is that Irish people are developing an awareness of style. Style is that elusive entity which manifests itself at the point when economy and infrastructure reach a level of comfort, when people are enabled to set their minds on lighter and higher things.
But can you avoid losing your sense of self within this mass of well-heeled, well-accessorised, perfectly coiffed drones? Is it possible to escape being swept up in that conveyor belt of cash that is Grafton Street, as well as avoiding the anti-fashion Uggs and too-too-fashion mustard blouses? The answer, it appears, lies close to home.
Innovation is a quality that comes when style has found its feet. Its raw materials are self-confidence, a tuned eye, a wide exposure to different influences and an appreciation of beautiful or unusual things. If there is one group within Irish society to whom these attributes are readily available - and catalysed by abundant amounts of free time - it is our university students. They are at that borderline era where "fitting in" becomes a whole lot less important than standing out, when pocket money and part-time jobs fund a lot more creativity than they did before.
One look around the Arts block of Trinity College in Dublin provides a full and decorous illustration. Every lunchtime is a fashion parade. This is where experimentation is given a lease of life, and it is this group of people, subverting the genericism of the Topshop mannequin-thieves, that are forming the new face of Irish style. As Quentin Crisp once famously said, "Style is being yourself, but on purpose."
ROSS GRAHAM
Graham says that living for a year in Orange County in southern California completely changed his way of dressing. "Before I went, I was all rugby shirts and Caterpillar boots, but the kids over there expect more of each other." Graham, who is from Belfast and studies Business and Economics in college, finds that he often gets a reaction in college about the clothes he wears, once suffering a punch for wearing a pair of women's jeans, which he buys cheaply and gets tailored to fit. Tailoring, he insists, is essential to good dressing. Jarvis Cocker, who has probably wielded most influence over street style in the past 10 years, is now dressing in a very gentlemanly, dapper fashion, and this, according to Graham, is where men's fashion is headed next. Irish men are afraid to blur the boundaries of sexuality in the way they dress, and he sees this as translating into lack of imagination. "It's easier for women to experiment," he says, but he prefers when girls don't overdo it, especially during the day. He is influenced by music, magazines such as GQ and Dazed & Confused, and whatever he finds in charity shops. He describes his style as being just about on the sharper side of alternative.
Graham is wearing: Stripy wool top, €5, Primark. Jeans, €30, Miss Sixty in TK Maxx. Boots, €80, Zara. Coat, £200, Paul Smith in Selfridges (he worked there and had 50 per cent staff discount). Scarf, €5, Georges Street Arcade
AIMEE PRENDERGAST
When Prendergast walks around Dublin, she's always watching those around her. She feels that because Trinity has a reputation for artiness, the people there tend to be a little braver. As for herself, she firmly believes in the importance of putting some personality into clothes: "Do something quirky," she says. "Have guts." Prendergast wears what she wants, but knows exactly what suits her. She's more drawn to shape than colour, but isn't averse to wearing unusual patterns as it brings out the flower child in her. She describes her style as having a young and kooky 1960s feel, but she likes to dip into any decade of the last century. She draws the line at the 1980s as she thinks it's just a little bit disco bling for her taste. Her mix-and-match wardrobe is full of gems that she inherited from her mother, as well as high street finds from Topshop and Urban Outfitters, and "probably about 100 white T-shirts - they're essential". When Prendergast travelled to Vietnam she went with a pile of magazine clippings of dresses she wanted to get made over there. Her favourite things are a "crazy maxi-dress" that she got in Costume for her birthday, and her collection of very high wedge shoes.
Prendergast is wearing: Black top, Fornarina, too old to remember where it came from and how much it cost. Silver bubble dress, €100, Peter Jensen for Topshop in Oxford Street. Black leather and wooden wedges by Chloe, borrowed from her mum ("they're vicious because they're wood, but they're worth it"). Jewelled necklace, a gift to her mum in the early 1980s.
TIM McINERNEY
The greatest advantage that men have over women in wardrobe terms is the suit, McInerney says. He is a student of English, and originally comes from Galway. He describes his style as "tongue in cheek", as he enjoys parodying current trends and traditional attitudes to menswear. The suit, he says, is a whole vocabulary to play with: braces, waistcoats, pinstripe for executive, brown for literary - every piece can have a different meaning. Luckily for him, his slim build means he is often able to pick up leftover pieces for next to nothing, and he shops in Topman, Urban Outfitters and vintage stores such as the Harlequin. In general, he finds high-street menswear "either too bland or too ridiculous", and in this respect he misses the freedom of London, where he lived for a year before coming to college. There, he explains, "no-one ever bats an eyelid no matter what you're wearing." Irish men, he feels, are afraid to compromise their "masculine nonchalance" by putting effort into what they wear. But Trinity College - due to its sheer size and central location - is probably one of the most style-conscious places in the city. However, even though he may dress like a corporate executive at times, McInerney reckons he's still just a bit of an "Afghan-wearing, tatty liberal" underneath.
McInerney is wearing: Shirt, €30, Topman. Waistcoat, €8, Topman sale. Trousers, €20, Topman sale. Tie worn as belt, €5, charity store on Camden Street in Dublin. Jacket, €25, Urban Outfitters Vintage. Runners, €15, Next. Bag, €42, River Island.
CAIRÍN BOHN
All teasing lace, glinting gems and dark velvet, Bohn's style hovers between Victorian underworld and Gothic chic. With their layers of silks and delicate filigree, her clothes look as if they've been stolen from a Tim Burton movie. Bohn is quintessentially feminine and cannot understand why so many women dress in a way that doesn't flatter their assets. If you know your shape you should work with that, she says. Recently Bohn splurged on a tight black satin evening gown from the Karen Millen sale, because it was beautiful and will never go out of style. If she had more money she'd shop in Rococo, but she usually saves to shop abroad, as the value is better than in Dublin. A student of Italian and History of Art, she lived in Bologna for a year and found that the underwear shops there stocked items perfectly suited to her burlesque, "slightly Russian princess" style. Though she is often called theatrical by her friends, she insists it's not intentional. She simply knows what she likes, and this is evident from her wardrobe that spills with 1920s-style headbands, vintage fingerless gloves, satin platforms and lace-up corsets.
Bohn is wearing: Cream beret, €25, hat shop in the George's Street Arcade. Wraparound cardigan, €30, Intimissimi Underwear, Pavia, Italy. Negligee, €30, Etam, Bologna. Purple boob tube, €15, market stall in Bologna. Leggings, €17, Topshop. Suede and satin pumps, €50, Pavia, Italy. Black onyx heart on silver chain, €120, Halo, Sandycove, Co Dublin. Green mohair gloves, €7, Accessorize. Bag, €110, Bonne Marché, Paris.
ROSIE GOGAN-KEOGH
Rosie is in her final year studying English. She is also a club promoter for Stasis, so comfort is a major factor in the way she dresses. After that, she's open to anything. She describes her style as "Eighties hooker-chic, mixed with fifties glam, and a bit of hip-hop sprinkled in for good measure."
Her favourite thing is a wolf-skin coat that she found at her friend's house ("she was afraid of it") which she throws on for instant glamour. Even with tracksuit bottoms it makes her feel like a movie star, she says. At the moment she's into plain clothes worn with loud shoes and gaudy gold jewellery, as she finds the contrast of plain with eye-catching really just "works". When she's shopping in Dublin, Gogan-Keogh doesn't hang around. "I'll know exactly what I want and I'll just swoop." But she has all the time in the world to stop and people-watch in Bedford Avenue in New York, where, she says, people step out and break the mould, something she thinks Irish people are still afraid to do. The coolest dressers in Dublin today, she says, are the National College of Art & Design graduates who started up Monster Truck Studios, and the movers and shakers of the Dublin club scene.
Gogan-Keogh is wearing: Fake fur jacket, Ilac Centre, €10. NY Knicks basketball top, used to belong to a boyfriend. Leggings, $5, from Connecticut. Runners, €25, TK Maxx. Scarf, Gogan-Keogh's mum's, from the 1980s. Gold hoops, €6, Claire's Accessories. Sunglasses, $5, Chinatown, New York. Bag, £60, Topshop on Oxford Street in London.
ROSANAGH DE STACPOOLE
Rosanagh spent much of her youth growing up in Africa. Between two years spent in Uganda and ongoing connections with Kenya, she says that living there, where fashion is in no way conducive to the lifestyle, has influenced her approach to dressing. She learned what suits her through years of experimentation, and was once approached by an African woman to market the skirt she had made out of the traditional Ugandan shawl called a kikoi. She hates it when she is back in Ireland and finds her things - African prints, safari patterns, and the beads and bangles which she buys cheaply in Uganda - suddenly in vogue. She says that she is "a sucker for the here and now", never harking back to bygone eras and preferring to seek out the newest and most innovative pieces on offer. These she almost always picks up on sale and in discount stores, instinctively landing on the things other people have passed by, such as the top she found recently in sale in Costume in Castle Market, reduced from €130 to €20. During the day, Rosanagh prioritises comfort and can veer to being "slouchy", yet she always adds her idiosyncrasies to other people's "borrowed, oversized jumpers" with unusual jewellery or accessories. At night she's a different animal, wearing sexy and elegant discount finds and "funking things up" with wacky accessories, different hairstyles and "high, chunky heels".
De Stacpoole is wearing: Grey vest, American Apparel, $20, New York. High-waist trousers, €60, Topshop. Necklace, a gift. Bangles and bag from Africa