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Wants the good old postcard days back: Ela in the QSW Privilege Plaid coat (photo: creagerphoto.com)

I experienced a premiere the other day. It was the first time of my life that I decided to break off the relation to someone completely. I actually never thought much of such unconditional acts. I always hated those typical girlie fights back in high school when best girlfriends wouldn’t talk to each for a defined period of time for some stupid reason like ‘she copied my hairstyle’ or whatever. I thought it was useless and I could never understand how people could draw such lines under relationships that had meant the world to them just before… Not until the other day exactly, when I saw myself forced to make a cut and send the chosen someone packing combined with the urgent request to never return.

Of course it was not just someone… How less of a young woman’s life would my life be if the designated person wouldn’t have been a guy that I had declared as the ‘possible one’ to my girlfriends before? I’m not an expert in such questions but I assume this comes naturally with the whole break-off-touch-deal. You need to care for a person pretty badly to be at the same time bothered badly enough to give marching orders… So without getting into details among the reason of my particular break-off-touch-story, all that needs to be said is that I got let down literally all along the line, and I felt I had no other option than to completely ban this guy from my life.

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Well, easier said than done. First of all, it took me a while to convince myself that this preposterous act had nothing to do with me being preposterous, but much more with this guy being the reason why ‘preposterous’ as a word was actually invented. Once I had myself at this point, the ‘second of all’ began to torture me… Now did you know what a time-consuming and complex undertaking it was to break off contact with someone in time of modern technology? It was not like back in the good old days when our mummies could take their leather-wrapped address books and erase an entry that they once had written with great foresight in pencil and that consisted of a phone number and a mailbox address only. No, what I faced was

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an entry in my cell-phone for his private cell, his business cell, his private landline and his office number

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an entry in my laptop address book for his private e-mail, his business e-mail, his mailbox address and instant messaging contacts

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an enty in my scratch book that compiled again his cell phone number, this time with some sort of heart shape around it (luckily (or pathetically) painted in pencil…)

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and then of course a Facebook friendship I needed to cancel, a Skype contact I had to block, a Twitter feed I no longer wanted to follow and so on and so forth… All in all, it took me approximately half a day to erase any possible traces this guy had left in my life. It was exhausting. And honestly, if I had known before that this was what it takes to ban someone from my life, I would probably have found a way to live with the entry of ‘Mister Preposterous’ in all my face- and address books…

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However, once the mission was accomplished, it felt amazingly relieving to no longer see this unholy name in all my possible contact archives. As pathetic it might be breaking off a relation seems like the best choice every once in a while. And in order to keep myself this option open in a less stressful way in the future, the next guy I possibly have a crush on can have my landline and my mailbox address. And if he wants to get in touch with me, he can send me postcards. Basta. I want the good old days back… Now.

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Ela (call it nostalgia…)

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Fall-feeling: Ela reading postcards in the QSW Privilege Plaid coat (photo: creagerphoto.com)

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‘Tapetenwechsel’ is a very used up expression in German to say the least. Literally translated, it means something like ‘change of wallpaper’ (whereas by wallpaper I mean the good old analogue flowery wallpaper that our grannies used for their walls in the 70ies). In the general sense, ‘change of scene’ fits the meaning of it the most. People would use it if ever they don’t have a better advice to give when somebody is generally fed up with life. Now when I was about to leave for a trip to Scandinavia, ‘Tapetenwechsel’ for some reason became the most common word for my friends to end their good-bye speeches with…
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I’m not a big fan of used up expressions and so little do I appreciate if they are dropped to advice me. So before my trip, my beloved ones made me consequently see red by mentioning ‘Tapetenwechsel’ over and over again. Well, I have to admit that all the rage wasn’t for nothing. I had been a generally annoyed yet desperate fellow. My brain was on an unsatisfying round trip through a desert of inspiration without an oasis for miles around, all that made me wake up in the mornings was a term paper I hadn’t much more left for than a great bouquet of swearwords, and as if this wouldn’t have been enough, another arduous boy story cast long and senseless shadows on my existence as a life-loving young lady. As a result of all this, my moaning had been tiring me so intensely that I could hardly stand myself. The closer time proceeded to the departure of my trip, the more convinced I got myself that a ‘Tapetenwechsel’ was maybe really just what I needed.
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On the day of the take-off, I staggered to the airport around 4.30 am as frustrated as one can get after having experienced a pre-holiday day between endless to-do-lists, unpacked bags, a great ache in ones skull (I had failed to drown my sorrows in drink the evening before) and a sleepless night of the kind that makes setting alarms useless. I wasn’t in the mood to wake up and least of all to travel the world. By the time I arrived at the gate, the sun was about to rise and I decided to at least get hold of a pole position to that spectacle. Well believe it or not, when the first ray of yellow sunlight floated Zurich’s airport, I was in all probability the only one that still sat in the shade. I had chosen my seat in the only effort to get some badly needed energy from the raising sun, but to make matters worse, I had somehow managed to sit down in the exact angle of one of the very few window bars the huge glass façade of the gate contained… This could maybe have devastated me totally at some other time, but in this very moment, the shadow of the bar on my forehead felt so ridiculously ironic that I could no longer pity myself and had to burst out laughing instead.
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Well, the combination of not taking myself so serious anymore and a breath-taking departure over sleepy Zurich partly covered with residues of fog yet to be dispelled by the soft light of the morning sun is what finally made something in me click. A Tsunami of inspiration floated my mind out of the blue and all my sorrows that had been torturing me with dreadful lifelessness were gone. My brain was back, operating at full speed, finally gaining the satisfaction that it had been missing out on for so long. My ‘Tapetenwechsel’ was fulfilled.
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As much as used up expressions might make me want to puke, if this was really what ‘change of scene’ – or if so ‘Tapetenwechsel’ – was all about, then they score at least for once. Now if ever you are fed up with life, stop pitying yourselves for a moment, go to the local furniture shop and get new wallpaper, too. A couple of new roses on your wall and you will smile again!
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Ela (newly wallpapered)

The combination of not taking myself so serious anymore and a breath-taking departure...

May be divided internally, but smiling externally... Photo: Timo Jarvinen

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I don’t like clichés. But growing up in the Swiss Alps forces you to accept clichés, unless you want to grow up having serious issues with identifying yourself. My childhood was all about clichés and there was no other way to go than to accept that. Yes, I grew up drinking milk straight from the cow. Yes, I was one of these little girls smiling out of horse sleighs decorated with paper flowers. And yes, I was put on skis before I had done the first two steps on my feet.

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Consequently, my first rebellion around 12 was to save money to rent a snowboard and make an example out of it proving I was now a defiant teenager and would no longer ski, as my educators wanted me to. What grew out of this juvenile revolt was true love for board sports and its lifestyle. But, when growing up from a ‘teen’ to a ‘twen’, I realized that there was more to life than just a board to ride on. All of a sudden there was literature, fashion, art, music, cinema and some other urban trends that fascinated me, while my heart with much love for snowy hills still beat in my chest. And right before the inner tension became so intense that I risked getting torn into two pieces, was the time when I met Quiksilver.

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It was love at first sight. I had finally found a label that reflected exactly what I was all about and that supported me on my real talent (which I dare to say is writing) but also vouched for what I wished I were talented in (by name board sports). Realizing this opened a totally new world to me. It was all of a sudden okay to find Oscar Wilde just as inspiring as Kelly Slater, which meant it was okay to be me… Not that I have had serious personality disorders before but being associated with Quiksilver just offers me advantages which makes it a pleasure in other spheres to be Ela.

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One of the finer things little me got to experience in the last half-year was a surf trip to Fuerteventura. Well actually, not a surf trip in my case, since I lay on the beach more than I dared to throw myself in the cold water of the wintry Atlantic (to be honest, I didn’t even go near the water and the closest thing to surfing I did was to carry someone else’s board). However, I was invited to go on tour with the Euro force of the Quiksilver surf team and that meant a week of highlife in a nice Spanish casa, exploring Fuerteventura’s coast side in a 4×4, eating the healthiest and best food the Canary Islands have probably ever seen and apropos of nothing, observing pretty decent shaped male bodies while stretching before the surf sessions…

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Messing around… Alain Riou, Arantxa (wearing the Hunter dress), Fredo and I (with the Yesterday jacket) Photo : Timo Jarvinen

Considering of how bad I wanted to get rid of my roots as a Swiss mountain girl when I started to fall for urban vogues, it might be surprising how well I can live with being internally divided after this trip. Check a few pictures of our trip here below. To see the full album, go onto Quiksilver Women’s Facebook page.

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And always remember, it can be very useful to let all the hearts in your chest beat every once in a while…

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Ela (happy to be divided)

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PS: And in case you still wonder, yes, I do scream and shout as loud when the guys of the Quiksilver team succeed on the World Tour as when I receive another box of clothing!

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Philosophing about the world in the beautiful nature of Lobos. Arantxa wears the White Plains maxi dress and the Yesterday jacket. I wear the Pretty Tough jeans and the Dream of Life cardigan. Photo Timo Jarvinen

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Arantxa and I making the find of the century...She wears the Dream of Life cardigan and the Sweet Thing dress. I wear the Fictions cardigan. Photo : Timo Jarvinen

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Alain and I, exploring Fuerteventura’s backyard...I wear the Little Sister Jacket with the These Days sweater and the Pretty Tough jeans. Photo : Timo Jarvinen

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The crew in a pretty decent pad to chill at: Arantxa, Aritz Aranburu, Alain Riou, I, Fredo Robin and Miky Picon. Photo : Bernard Testemale

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Never without good old notebook: Ela capturing moments her way (with the Christa cardigan) Photo : Timo Jarvinen

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Quiksilver Women’s Mahara Mc Kay in «20 Minuten» and «Rockstar Magazine»

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20 Minuten is Switzerland’s biggest daily paper, obtainable for free at public magazine racks all over the country. Thanks to its high print run (the journal generates over 1,5 million contacts a day), 20 Minuten’s lifestyle section influences Switzerland’s trend barometer from the front, and obviously loves our Swiss Quiksilver Woman Mahara Mc Kay, introducing her as our designated DJane in the issue of June 26th. More of Mahara’s delicious music taste is featured in the current issue of Swiss music magazine «Rockstar», showing Mahara’s record polka alongside with some of the beautiful styles of the Quiksilver Women’s fall collection.
Be Swiss bound and get your copy of Rockstar!
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20 Minuten // www.20min.ch/unterhaltung/people/story/23544134

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Mahara in La Luz dress and Beatnik Vest - Photo : gmcastelberg.ch / 20 Minuten

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Photo Mahara : gmcastelberg.ch / Rockstar Magazine

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Quiksilver Women’s Ela featured in Kinki Mag
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Kinki Mag was only launched in 2008, but is already the doubtless favourite of Switzerland’s fashionists that never fell for conventions and mainstream. Being the rebellious and progressive face of Swiss folks loving the unconventional lifestyle, Kinki Mag featured our Swiss MissEla in a photo series in April as well as introducing her as Quiksilver Women’s resident blogger within an interview in the current issue.
Be Swiss bound and get your copy of Kinki Mag!
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Kinki Magazine // www.kinkimag.com/magazines

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Ela wearing the Serengeti dress - Photo : Matthias Straub / Kinki Magazine

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Ela with the Marley tee - Photo : Matthias Straub / Kinki Magazine

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I am not a drama queen. I say this after having reflected long and intensively on my own psyche. I might be a drama court jester but since there is not even a term for this sort of low-ranked drama queen invented yet, I dare to say that little me generally doesn’t get numbered among the drama royal court at all. I usually master my emotions and I don’t loose control easily. Usually. Well, I’m not going to lie here. As I said, drama court jester. There are moments in which I tend to go out of my depth. I have a feeling it has something to do with a slight dysfunction of my suprarenal gland as the immensely predominance of make-me-whine-oestrogen on crying-is-for-babies-testosterone in my body is out of question in these certain moments. Call it natural for females, but as much as I love to be a woman, I could easily go without turning into a cranky crybaby whenever I get involved with an antagonist playing on the crying-is-for-babies-testosterone-team. In short, Ela turning into a drama court jester is not a daily life, but much more a love matter.

Smile like a baby! (photo: Timo Jarvinen)

The other day then, when my body’s production of oestrogen experienced another boom (due to the lack of sensitivity of some testosterone junkie of course), I decided to misuse one of my crying-is-for-babies-but-my-shoulder-is-always-here-for-you-testosterone-friends to dry my baby tears and get some advice of how to get over premature midlife crises. After having listened to my probably rather incomprehensible whining, this well-appreciated strong shoulder of a friend told me to get over myself and finally learn how to play hot and cold in love matters on a decent but best of all professional level. According to him, playing hot and cold was the warp and the woof when it came down to interpersonal relations between make-me-whine-oestrogen and crying-is-for-babies-testosterone. «You know love is sort of like playing hide-and-seek», he told me, «Not fun to hide when there is no one seeking, and not fun to seek when there is no one hiding. You need to keep the fun in the game by doing the exact opposite of what your counterpart is doing».

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In this very moment, this explanation was just what I needed: The simple thought of it kept me from bursting out crying again and this was obviously all my dear friend (running out of Kleenex at the time) was aiming for. A toast to him! Anyway, not that I wouldn’t appreciate my friends’ advices but thinking of it clear-headed now makes this whole hot and cold deal turn into a senseless leisure activity that in that very moment only had the function of a well-meant verbal tranquillizer. Seriously, how in this world could a man and a woman ever get together if they had to play cold as soon as the other one played hot and vice versa? Or then, how can they know when the time had come to stop the game? Right before they get too bored playing? Just like back in the day when hide-and-seek kept us up until all the possible hiding places were tested out and got too boring?
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Not only that I hoped to gain more from love than boredom, but also that I can’t understand why I should make something rather complicated such as love even more complicated, this whole hot and cold thing is not of my taste. My strong shoulder friend can do it his way, I for me rather abandon myself to my true emotions and cry like a baby now than waking up one day as an iceberg that does no longer feel like metamorphosing into a fireball. No games needed in my love life, and I will proof the world one day that love can make things work like that, too… one day!
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Ela (smiling like a baby now)
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Ela looking for new random friend... (photo: Timo Jarvinen)

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I cross random people’s life. Every day. Over and over again. Recently, I’ve been asking myself if all these alleged ‘random encounters’ would actually follow rules. Assuming that not only I, but also these random beings go after the same routines every day would consequently mean that I cross these people’s life every day at the same time at the same spot. This supposition on mind is how I went through my life as a commuter the last couple of days. And, lo and behold, yesterday I bumped into a person out of my circle of random acquaintances for the second time. It was on one of the escalators of Zurich’s central station. I was on the way up, he on the way down, and we shared a moment, just as when our paths crossed for the first time. I got so excited to have my hypothetical thought practically proven that I had to keep myself back from shouting out loud, jumping over the handrail in between the two escalators (that at the very moment felt like the only thing that could ever separate us), hug my new random friend effusively and never let go again.
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What eventually stopped me from overreacting was a whole range of yellow buckteeth. New random friend had realized that all my attention was on him and mistook this as a flirt attack on which he answered with the shiniest smile the world would have ever seen if only he had considered teeth bleaching or at least some braces sometime in his life before… For the very moment, this smile might have been good enough to distract me from his mid-forty hair loss and the blubber around his hip, but I was in shock. Not only because I had accidentally been phantom flirting with a guy that was four times my size, but also because I was able to prove that there were parallel lives to my life. Now what if this more or less random encounter with new random friend wasn’t the only time our lives would cross daily?
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I got caught in that thought and the yellow shiny buckteeth smile dogged me for the rest of the day. Away from the escalators to my home kiosk where I went to buy chewing gums just as every day, I suddenly was a 100 percent sure that this was new random friend’s home kiosk, too, and the change I had now received were the coins his sweaty podgy fingers had been paying with right before. Running from there to the tramway station in order to be one of those who would catch a seat, I ended up giving up my seat to someone else as all of a sudden I knew that this was exactly the seat new random friend had been sitting on just a couple of minutes ago.
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Random encounters or not random encounters, even thinking of it rationally keeps the possibility quite high that our lives cross well structured with random people’s lives over and over again. Yesterday at least, new random friend and I were the main characters in some sort of episodic film and he was even present when I bumped into my new favourite dress in a shop window while doing some after work shopping. It was love at first sight and I was convinced the dress was going to be mine really soon. What I didn’t expect to change my mind was the sudden thought (that came up on the way from the cloths rail to the changing room) of new random friend’s yet still more or less skinny 17-year-old daughter out of first marriage that had just tried on this dress before me, not fit in and consequently put back on the cloths rail wherefrom I had taken it. No way therefore, I could even try this dress on, much less make it mine…
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You might call me a hypochondriac victim of stalking, but not knowing how many other daughters on plus new random friend might possibly have, is killing me. Will I ever be able to shop dresses in public stores again?
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Thank God Quiksilver Women has now an e-store…
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Ela, probably hypochondriac
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Ela in Fuerteventura's desert (photo: Timo Jarvinen)

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I tend to judge people for their lack of awareness for Mother Nature. Especially our North American fellows. Why? Because until just recently, they simply were pretty easy victims to judge having an administration in their back that within eight years smashed everything that was built up to sensitize people for our environment so far. Well, after I came home from my February time-out in the United States filled with criticising each and everyone for their ignorant treatment of planet Earth (some of my friends even started calling me ‘Miss Negative’), I thought it was about time to mind my own business for once again and see how good or bad I was doing as far as environmental protection was concerned.
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So I went into the worldwide web cheerfully (as I was a 100% sure my childhood in the middle of Switzerland’s beauty was a free ticket to lifelong environmental consciousness) searching for one of these websites on which you could calculate your carbon footprint. A move I happened to regret some good five minutes later when the website spat out the result of my test… What it said there on my screen made the little prestige I had left for myself go down the drain in one flush. I had hardly ever in my life felt equally embarrassed. I could feel the blush of shame creeping up my face when I slowly looked over my shoulder to make sure non of those oh so stupid Americans that I had just blamed for their ignorance, had sneaked into my room to accumulate evidence for my carbon footprint that was – big surprise – bigger than the US average…
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Dammed! All the convictions I ever vouched for had just become a big fat burden grassing me as the ugly liar, the concept of an enemy of all environmentalists, the show-off that couldn’t even fulfil what she blamed others for. Trying to find the reason for my footprint that had turned from a baby’s into a giant’s shoe within half a year, my thoughts wandered back to a moment I had on a photo shooting with Quiksilver on Fuerteventura. A trip on which I got in touch with the Eco-friendly line of 2009’s summer collection for the first time. I was standing in the dry and waterless nature that is characteristic for the Canary Islands, wearing the Serengeti dress (100% organic cotton) and thinking to myself how ironic it was to pose out in the desert in a dress that had exactly been produced in an effort to prevent the world from turning into the type of drinking-water abandoned wasteland I was finding myself in at that very moment…
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Not that I necessarily would have needed to fly to Fuerteventura to get reminded of how important conscious handling of our resources at least is to me, but sometimes it obviously takes a little more to wake us up. For me, if ever I see the Serengeti dress now hanging in my wardrobe though, I get reminded of how easy I can actually shrink my environmental shoe back to a little size if only I lived conscious and reminded myself every once in a while that…
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→    I could bike instead of drive a car
→    there was no need to fly short distance if there are trains
→    I didn’t need to have my heating on in summer
→    it wasn’t worth being too lazy to separate waste
→    I didn’t need to have the lights on during daytime

→    electronic items had to be connected to the power point only while charging
→    I could turn off the water while soaping

→    I didn’t need Brazilian mangos if there were Swiss apples
→    organic fabrics could be just as trendy as synthetic ones
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…and so on and so forth. The list of possibilities to support a sustainable development in the environmental discussion seems endless. But don’t worry, I’m not into missionary work and I don’t think I can change the world with my drivel, but a look on the Eco-friendly products of the Quiksilver Women’s summer line maybe shows you that you no longer need to dress like a hippie to live less wasteful but more conscious of our environment. Every little bit counts!
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Or with Quiksilver’s words: Don’t destroy what you came to enjoy!
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Ela (who would feel honoured to see the list from above continuing with your comments…)
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Eco-friendly line's Serengeti Dress in hot coral

Eco-friendly line's Kimberley Dress in blood red

Spring feelings in the Minnie Skinny and the Del Sol Tunic as well as in the La Luz Dress

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When my radio alarm clock went off last Friday it was one of these mornings on which I wanted to take the thing and throw it out of the window seeing the glass shatter in a thousand pieces. No, this was not because I needed to punish it for waking me up too early or any. I wasn’t tired anymore at all and I would have been ready to get up and start my day. The reason why the idea of smashing my bedroom window came up was only because of the host of the radio morning show that announced with a way too hyper-happy voice for 6.00am that it was March 20 which meant the first day of spring and therefore the day of lucky lovers only.
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Thanks! So should I then just stay in bed not being lucky enough to belong to the glorious group of lovers? Knowing this wasn’t an option since I had to follow my middle-class duty and go to work in order to prevent the Swiss economy yet from crashing, I decided to just change the radio channel and enjoy some minutes of relaxed snoozing before I had to leave my cosy bed and go out into the reality of amorously blessed first spring days. Finding the next radio frequency, I realized that the hyper-happy voiced show host from before apparently was right: This was not going to be my day. The radio channel I switched to wasn’t any better. On the contrary! The kind of voice a deaf diving in the Marianas Trench could tell that it belonged to some high-carat gay guy explained here that today birds would only sing for happy lovers that saw butterflies not only flying in the air but also felt them in their stomachs. And quietly adding only for me he seem to say some “And so how are you going to get over that day for lovers only, little shit-faced desperate single girl Ela… ha? Yeah see, go cry somewhere else!”
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No doubt that this was at a way too early hour for me to rise above being reminded of my unsatisfactory love life. So I did as the gay show host quietly told me and I went moping under my blanket and wallowed in self-pity instead of taking the early morning shower my stinky body would have been in way bigger need of. Spending some corny three-minute James Blunt ballade (not that I would care but it was played for lucky lovers only, of course) in my feather-wrapped cave, the show master that I only just hated ripped into my heart by saying singles should be aware that there was no better day to fall in love than the first day of spring. Yihaaaa, I shouted and jumped out of bed to get ready for my Frog Prince to meet, propose and marry me best of all again before even having arrived at work…
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Well, I have to disappoint you now a couple of days after this first day of spring. There was no Frog Prince on the way to work that was waiting for me to kiss him. I met neither my future husband nor the father of my children. Not even the guy I might have a crush on right now bothered to supply my stomach with some badly needed butterflies by giving me a shout or any. In short, my 2009’s first day of spring went down in history as a disappointment of a day at least as far as interpersonal relations are concerned. Instead of getting married on the way to work namely, I ended up being the uninvited spectator of a pre-marital quarrel of a young couple that Shakespeare and his dramatist friends would have taken as an inspiration for their pieces if they were still alive and writing. I for me took it as the well-needed proof of how great being single can be even on first days of spring when spring feelings seem to hit everyone else but you and some stupid couple that wasn’t even aware of its luck…
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So no chance those birds out there aren’t singing for me this spring! Spring is here and I am going to celebrate it no matter what with me, myself and I!
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triple-Ela

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PS: This is dedicated to all you single girls out there, enjoy spring!

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Celebrating spring triple figured as me in the Alhambra Dress, myself in the Valencia Dress and I in the Cordoba Top and the Lourdes Sailor Short

Me having a blast hosting this night - Photo: Helen Boast

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It’s not that we wouldn’t appreciate such things as International Women’s Day, but the thing with us Quiksilver Women is just that we are independent females and we don’t need others to set up occasions to celebrate ourselves. That’s why we European Quiksilver Ambassadors gathered up four days after 2009’s Internationel Women’s day to celebrate female creativity at its best! Cuz everyday is a Quiksilver women’s day!
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Photographer Bara Prasilova exhibiting her most recent work, our singers Anna Leddra Chapman, Ellie Lawson and Charlotte O’Connor performing their music, DJ Mahara McKay getting our booties shaking and me for once shit-talking instead of shit-typing, we rocked London’s Bush Hall last Thursday night, the 12th of March, and you better were there!

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Anna Leddra Chapman - Photo: Helen Boast

Ellie Lawson - Photo : Helen Boast

Charlotte O'Connor - Photo : Helen Boast

DJ Mahara McKay - Photo: Helen Boast

The Bush Hall on fire! Photo: Helen Boast

Bara Prasilova (left) with friend enjoying an exclusive exhibition of her photos - Photo: Helen Boast

Special thanks to everyone who made this event great and fun: Helen Boast (photographer), Big Balls team (Luke and Chris - Video makers), Sam Bush (co-organizer / Charlotte O’Connor’s manager), (David (Gibson) Tara and her team (hair and make-up), David (Gibson), Quiksilver team (Meena, Marta, Julie and everyone from Quiksilver UK), PR Balance.

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And a huge big up for the best Quiksilver Women and their teams: Anna Leddra Chapman, Ellie Lawson, Charlotte O’Connor, Mahara McKay, Bara Prasilova and her assistant Bara Berdyshova.

This week, the Quiksilver women will gather in London for a special event : a unique concert on Thursday 12th March.

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Everything started on the 20th of February, when our Quiksilver ambassadors, Anna Leddra Chapman, Ellie Lawson and Charlotte O’Connor gathered at the mythic Gibson Studio,  in London,  to record acoustic tracks.

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They recorded a song each and videos from this amazing day… Check out now how much they all had fun and how brilliant and talented these artists are !

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Quiksilver ambassadors at Gibson Studio

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Quiksilver ambassador Charlotte O’Connor

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Quiksilver ambassador Ellie Lawson

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Quiksilver ambassador Anna Leddra Chapman

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The Quiksilver women’s will host a unique evening celebrating female creativity next Thursday 12th March, at Bush Hall, London…

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* Introductions and MC by Ela - The Spring 09 face andthe host to Quiksilver women’s blog.

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* Discover the Eye of Bara Prasilova - Fashion / Art photographer from Prague

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* Live acoustic sets by Anna Leddra Chapman, Ellie Lawson, and breaking Columbia artist Charlotte O’Connor

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* Former Miss Switzerland and Quiksilver women’s internationally acclaimed DJ - Mahara McKay will bring the house down  to party through the night!

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