Fashion Preserve

In Praise of the Charity Shop Find

2010-06-09T08:55:00.004+01:00

In another life I would have been an archaeologist. For it's exactly this instinct to dig, sift, and brush aside that draws me again and again into the most unpromising of secondhand shops, not necessarily to find a great thing, but to pursue it.

It's frequently said that the rise of vintage and its plateau into fashion consciousness means that it's no longer possible to find great treasures in the secondhand arena--it all gets picked clean before you can get in the door. Largely this is true--the great thrift stores on Manhattan's Upper East Side, and London's King's Road, and elsewhere around the world are targets not only of cash-poor students and creatives, but also of fashion's kingpins, seeking inspiration where the punishing pace of the style cycle doesn't allow for quiet reflection with a sketchpad and fertile mind.

Nothing worthwhile in life is easy. Sifting for hours through lackluster garments is its own education, in fabrication, cut, embellishment. And in finding the small window between given styles and uplift of your unique self image.

It's exactly this education that allows you to pull from a crammed rack a sliver of fine color, or half-seen detail, that others might have brushed past. A reward, a find, the buzz that will keep you digging.

With this post, Fashion Preserve is going on hiatus . . . after a year and half of blogging, it's time to write another book. Thank you so much for your readership, and especially your wonderful comments. Best wishes with your own pursuits--and here's to finding and making the most out of the most unexpected of sources.

Calling All Swans: Margot Fonteyn's Odile Costume Now at Auction

2010-06-02T09:18:00.008+01:00

OK, done swooning, but still a bit vaporous upon discovery of this marvelous costume from the Royal Opera House in London, worn by Margot Fonteyn, and labeled with her name [!!], when she danced the role of Odile in Swan Lake. She was partnered by none other than Rudolf Nureyev, which means traces of both permeate the gold-embroidered, black velvet bodice. It's being sold by Kerry Taylor Auctions, with a low estimate of £40,000, but can you put a price on owning a remnant of gods?

Before turning over to Margot and Rudolf for their pas de deux, it is worth mentioning that this particular Taylor auction holds many spectacular lots, and well worth a thumb-through if you are serious about your fashion history. More highlights will be posted throughout the week.

If Carrie Wore Vintage Shoes . . .

2010-06-01T09:11:00.005+01:00

Getting really excited here at Fashion Preserve Manor because tomorrow is a big night with the galpals. On the agenda: swilling strong cocktails, eating guacamole, and tottering a couple hundred yards on stupidly high heels to the local theatre to see SATC Part Two. Of course I've read the reviews -- but it really doesn't matter how bad the film is. Simply seeing the attempt to recapture the magic will be entertainment enough for this viewer. Also, it looks like the film will be packed with retro caftan-like maxis, which I love.

Anyway, the point of today's post is that Carrie famously mixes vintage with cutting-edge couture from the ankle up, and indeed helped spur the latter-day gold rush to unearth gorgeous old clothes on the part of the entire world. And yet this same character, who equally famously spends gaspworthy amounts on designer footgear, has never in memory been known to wear vintage shoes.

This seems peculiar. While I understand the potential skeeve factor at play with old shoes, many many vintage examples are in excellent new or nearly-new condition.

I think if Carrie were ever allowed to break free of the Choo and Manolo product placements and range into the vintage shoe realm, Charles Jourdan would be her go-to label of choice. Because these shoes are widely available, not terribly expensive, dead sexy, and cool cool cool. But maybe it's just as well these shoes don't get that kind of notoriety. It's nice knowing there are a few good vintage secrets left in this world.

(Charles Jourdan shoes for sale on Etsy, here, here, and here)

Spot the Tourist: Plan Ahead for Your Summer Vacation

2010-05-27T09:46:00.010+01:00

Dressing like you're a tourist on holiday has fallen much out of favor with today's younger, cooler generations of world travelers, who favor an international uniform of G-Star and Zara.

As an advocate of all things vintage, I think this is a shame. I say let's go back to the more exuberant vacation wear of the glorious 1970s, when travelers embraced their host destination with open arms and wide lapels.

A trip down the Nile, for example, would be that much more majestic in a neat poly blouse like this one (note to seller: that background of in-your-eye wallpaper and crazy frames is inspired):

The Wide Open Spaces of the American Southwest might be filled with camper vans and other families come August, but this marvelous pants suit is blissfully unpopulated.

Of course, due to economic or time constraints, not everyone is able to get away physically. In this case a fantasy voyage is the best possible option. And what could be more fantastic than a land where topless ladies and trolleycars happily share space on one stretch of fabric? Surreal world here you come.

With treasures like this a mouseclick away, who needs a lousy t-shirt?

Vintage Mystery Accessory Revealed!

2010-05-26T08:29:00.004+01:00

DING DING DING!

We have a winner, and thank you Karin, for your winning assessment. Belle, this was possibly worn on a sautoir, as you guessed, but more likely on a chatelaine (sautoir=an extra-long chain or necklace, suspended from the neck; chatelaine=a chain or belt suspended from the waist, intended to carry keys, sewing kits, and whatnot).

The whatnot in this instance is indeed a skirt-lifter. These were popular in Victorian times when ladies started ranging in a serious way. This hands-free device lifted long skirts for ease of ambulation up and down stairs, atop a bicycle, through muddy patches and weedy fields, etc. A fold of fabric would be caught between the pincers (in the case of this model the fingers and thumb), and a ratcheting mechanism would pull the device closed, presto, skirt hoiked.

Your ordinary skirt-lifter looks more like a rendering compass -- this is the first one I've seen shaped like an actual hand. While indeed a bit creepy, as Belle points out below, it is also quite cool.

For those of you who keep track of these things, today the term "skirt-lifter" means a man or woman who loves women, actively and from afar, while a "shirt-lifter" is one who loves men.

Many thanks again to Nicole, whose fine, fine skirt-lifter is selling (imminently!) on eBay here.

Vintage Mystery: What Is This Accessory?

2010-05-25T08:53:00.003+01:00

Answer tomorrow . . . in the meantime, here are a couple clues . . .

1) It was worn below the waist

2) In modern-day terms, its name is code for those who love women . . .

(many thanks to Nicole for sharing these photos . . . if you can't wait to find out what it is, link here.)

Pretty Baby: Brooke Shields, Vogue 1978

2010-05-20T11:02:00.005+01:00

Sigh. Ordinarily I think employing girls to sell grown women's things is insupportable, but -- she's breathtaking. Thirteen. How cool would it be for Vogue to rerun this editorial, with modern-day Chloe (for that's what she's wearing here) and a contemporary Brooke Shields.

On a less ethereal level, that earclip running diagonal to the lobe is pretty nice too. Easy to make with a diamanté barrette, a clip earring back, and some strong glue.

Photo by Avedon, British Vogue, September 1, 1978.

Off Topic on Contemporary British Design

2010-05-20T07:06:00.010+01:00

Spare me a rant . . .

HOW is it possible that the nation that produced brilliant design like this:

is also proudly fronting this:

Of course there is a long tradition of lame Olympic mascots to live up to but these unfortunate spawn of Cyclops and Teletubby are monstrous in every way.

(image of mascots from The New York Times, Julian Finney/Getty Images)

Janice Dickinson: Portrait of the Spitfire as a Young Model, and More from the late '70s

2010-05-18T09:06:00.006+01:00

So much to say about style in 1978, as depicted in British Vogue's October issue. I won't even get into the articles and reviews (ok, a little: Grease: "a feeble story line and too few raw edges." Leo Sayer: "was discovered by The Who's Roger Daltry [what?!!] The World According to Garp: "some kind of handbook for the liberated woman")

Anyway, enough cultural history. Check out Janice Dickinson, above, who acted as de facto house model for the magazine during this period.

Janice re-plumed like a phoenix in the noughties. Compare and contrast to a styling trend that was best left behind--pinning a brooch to the much-neglected inguinal region of the lower torso. Honest to god, the headline over the lightning bolt reads: "Draw Men's Eyes To Your Most Beautiful Feature." Scorchio!

Less interestingly, there's the fashion. Which, judging by the square meterage of tweed and other heavy woolen fabric, in several layers, you would imagine that the late seventies London experienced temperatures more typical of Siberia. Even Giorgio Armani, the prince of minimalism, left little of his model uncovered with this coat, hat, and thickly applied inner-lid eyeliner. Jaeger too ensured that the dodgy heating of postwar Blighty (a period that lasted pretty much until the early '90s) was well met with layer upon layer of wool and cord, right down to the tightly knotted tie.

I don't covet these sweltering styles in the slightest, but the shoes were another story. Have a look at these boots from Maud Frizon, whose brilliant designs are, if in good nick, still brilliantly wearable today.

More late '70s tomorrow.

Let's Do the Time Warp: 1970s British Vogue

2010-05-17T15:30:00.007+01:00

My favorite local antique dealer, Jackie of Flask Walk, had quite a treasure on offer this weekend: a cache of vintage British Vogues from the mid- to late 1970s, all in mint condition. Impossible to resist, not least because a teenaged Janice Dickinson, "the original supermodel", was pouting on one of the covers. More of her later this week.

Today, a couple of observations. Lord was this a more innocent age, in media-being-the-message terms. In these pages we see little to no airbrushing; photography that was shockingly unsophisticated in lighting, pose, and even focus; black and white as a default over color (even in editorial shoots); makeup (especialy lip gloss) applied with a trowel; and so much more.

In counterpoint, on the plus side, the ad copy generally attempted to engage and address its readers as intelligent human beings, à la Mad Men.

Here, for fun, are some random pages I liked, click to enlarge, if you dare . . . we'll look more specifically at the fashions later this week.

To start, a reminder of how I spent countless hours of youth: baking in the sun in a vain attempt to get golden brown, instead of peely red. If only I'd used Ambre Solaire! Or gone topless. Either way, this particular scenario looks pretty damn great at the moment, damn the wrinkly consequences.

Next, this advertisement, which in no way addresses the readers as intelligent and does in fact just the opposite, with its aviatrix in front of her ditched plane, unscratched, with nothing more on her mind than applying another blast of Ted Lapidus perfume, presumably to mask the scent of scorched crankshaft . . . with Ted himself posed like a golden brown genie in the sidebar, one big WTF, the whole thing.

A nice example of unsophisticated advertising, from the Bobos brand, which somehow escaped becoming one of the decade's classics . . . No, seriously. Never mind how bad the clothes are, and how sloppily styled, look at the background. Could they not have moved two feet to the left to avoid the jackhammered pavement, and the nasty canvas covering the chairs? If this exemplified Anna Wintour's proving ground no wonder she's such a stickler.

And last but not least this gent, appearing in the Men's Vogue section . . . oy vey that moustache. Welcome back Kotter, didn't remember you as such a sharp dressed man.

Femmes Gone Fatales

2010-05-14T10:55:00.009+01:00

Perhaps you too have a wholly imaginary life, in which swanning around in a gown such as this is a completely reasonable and moreover fairly compulsory activity. To complete the picture there'd be a pitcher of iced martinis; an art deco penthouse with a starlit terrace; a suave Indiana Jones type who cleaned up nicely -- all of which seem the ideal complements to a negligée as immaculately of its period as this one.

Silk satin: check. Bias cut: check. Lace detail: check. Racy lines: check. Back when it was made in the 1930s it was meant to be worn only briefly, on the cusp of night, but if you've got an amazing figure and the right foundation garments you could make it work for earlier evening as well. The gown is within reach if you are a clever bidder. And if you're a clever winner the scenario will match as well . . .

Why I Love Ebey, Part 9

2010-05-12T12:50:00.008+01:00

OMG, the spelling. Having done time as a copyeditor, I take a word geek's twisted (and very sad) pleasure in the booboos that make their way into the titles and sales descriptions. Even with Google a few keystrokes away, even with scans showing the actual labels properly spelled, even with eBay's logarithms working full tilt to right the wrongs of the actual or occasional dyslexics manning the keyboards on the vendors' side of the showroom, you still get your Dries Von Notens, Calvin Kliens, Ferragammos, and more, items that typically go down for far below market value, because buyers who keyword correctly could not possibly find them.

Shoe legend "Roger Vivien" is understandable, for, on the insole of the shoe, the scripty "r" of the surname could easily be misread as an "n". A similar misread on the seller's part got me a gorgeous silk Krizia dress for very little money at all, because the vendor didn't recognize the brand and thought the decorative K was simply that, decoration. The dress was sold as Rizia, I was the only bidder that bothered to show up. (Tip: keyword "vintage," "silk," and "made in Italy" and you won't need the designers' names at all).

If you're the sort that likes fishing around for bargains, try casting around with some badly spelled names. But do be sure that they're spelled right on the label, because if it's wrong there, it's a whole other story.

Pure Prairie League: Vintage Gunne Sax Dresses

2010-05-11T11:33:00.005+01:00

There was a spell in the 1970s when prairie style ruled, not just in the central time zone where it originated, but from sea to shining sea. The vibe was more Stevie Nicks than Louisa May Alcott, with tiered ruffled skirts, Frye boots, and high-necked, lacy Victorian collars constituting the definitive dress-up look before disco hustled in with its Qiana and abbreviated cling.

Prairie was the very last incarnation of hippie chic styling, and the label that defined it was Gunne Sax by Jessica McClintock. The name refers to the gunny (burlap/hessian) sack border that trimmed some of the earlier models, of which many of the most collectable (and commensurately expensive) are the "black label" dresses produced solely in 1969.

Gunne Sax is still producing formal dresses, but the ones to seek out for vintage authenticity are those older ones featuring calico fabrics, velvet trims, and above all abundant lace . . . fabrics that were unlikely to have dressed the original prairie princesses, but for Amie and the rest of her 70s sisters, were heartland absolute.

(Gunne Sax dress above on Etsy here)

Getting to Know Provençal Prints

2010-05-10T09:32:00.007+01:00

Among the many wonderful products that typify the sun-soaked Provence region of southern France are the printed cotton fabrics that are used to make household linens and clothing -- textiles adored by Parisians seeking to add a touch of summery, folksy charm to their otherwise ultrasophisticated modes de vie.

I dare not argue with Parisians on matters of style and neither should you--provençal prints are wonderful to wear when the days turn warm and the sun shines bright. There's a brilliant history of these distinctive fabrics here. While fine vintage examples are somewhat infrequent due to their regional origins, garments from Les Olivades and Souleiado are the best known of the genre. Or, if you're seeking online, simply type in "provencal print" and you may turn up something as cute as this skirt from Etsy . . .

By the way, souleiado translates from the craggy Provençal dialect to mean "rays of the sun breaking through the clouds after the rain." Isn't that beautiful? You can practically smell the lavender . . .

(top photo from Erinpk on Flickr, many thanks!)

She Wears Seashells by a Silk Cord

2010-05-06T08:31:00.007+01:00

As much as I adore manmade artifice (see bees, below), it's impossible to beat nature for elegance of hue and form.

Case in point: seashells. I can spend hours on a beach looking for an intact cone shell or whelk (surely the same sifting instinct that drives the charity-shop trawls). Perfect ones beached in sea rubble are as magical as dubloons . . . the moonshell that sits on my computer desk is an oasis of natural order, and a reminder that somewhere, simultaneously, it's sunny and warm.

So thank you Etsy for this morning's revelation of a different way to wear two perfect shells . . . at the waist, at the ends of a loop of silk cord.

This seller is offering the belt ready made, at a gentle price, but if you happen to own a couple seashells that deserve more display time, why not find some lovely silk cord (craft shops, sewing stores, curtain supplies, etc), loop it once, then super-glue the ends deep into the shells' whorls . . . wear with a simple cotton dress or tunic. Alternately, make the loop much shorter, and wear the shells as pendants at the neck. So simple! Like nature.

Bees in Your Bonnet

2010-05-05T12:05:00.007+01:00

It does not get any cuter than this hat from renowned Chicago milliners Bes-Ben, who plied their trade on Michigan Avenue from the late thirties until 1978, dressing the glossy crowns of Greta Garbo, Lana Turner and countless more with the most charming and whimsical of designs. The seller of this hat has others equally lovely, and provides an excellent capsule history in the description.

I'm not fond of insects around my head in real life, but turquoise ones caught in black net are a whole nother story. LOOK at the detailing on those wings. Just spectacular. Keep the name Bes-Ben in mind if you need a hat that will get conversation buzzing.

At the Costume Institute, the envelopes please

2010-05-04T15:01:00.003+01:00

. . . and the winner is:

Amber Valetta, in RM Roland Mouret, by miles. She is admittedly very slim, but no less stunning for it.

A distant second by J-Lo:

Shocking, actually, how bad most of the rest looked. The money.

(photos by Sherly Rabbani and Josephine Solimene, via Style.com)

And Where Be Monsters?

2010-05-04T08:50:00.014+01:00

Say what you will about the Munich design house Mondi, which had its heyday in the late 80s-early 90s; they boldly went where few designers had gone before (or would ever go again) in the exuberance of their printed fabrics. Case in point today's entry, which explores the little-known fashion subgenre of cartographic chic.

While Mondi's blazers frequently sported a big old crest on the breast pocket, commodore-style, the top-and-bottom ensembles and trousers often used the sea charts themselves as starting point. And how apropos to wear harborside in Portofino, Puerto Banus, Cap d'Antibes, and other chic ports of call . . .

"Where have you been on the yacht this summer darling?"
"Well we've stopped here and here and here . . . "

(If, by the by, you happen to be in London and want to see an exhibition on glorious printed maps, stop by the British Library's Magnificent Maps, on through September. Matching dress is not compulsory).

Where the Sun Don't Shine

2010-05-02T09:55:00.006+01:00

It's a long weekend in London, and predictably the rain, on in full force, isn't due to stop until Wednesday. Nevermind. Because how could a day possibly be gloomy when you're wearing gorgeous sunglasses like these?

Or these?

Or these?

No problem staying cool in any one pair of these; I'll leave it to you to stay dry.

Famolare, Whoa-oh

2010-04-30T13:57:00.003+01:00

Children of the 70s had so many privileges specific to the decade it's almost unkind to subsequent generations to list them. John Belushi, doing weekly comedy live. Let that sink in. Boston, fresh out of the box. Yago Sangria (and being legal at 18 to drink it). But the list has to end somewhere. For fashion purposes, why don't we stop at Famolares, which, while decidedly done and dusty today, were at the time some of the coolest shoes going for high school girls whose moms wouldn't let them wear Candies.

These shoes wouldn't knock Manolos or Choos off any pedestals with their wavy crepe soles (designed to help you Get There!), but they outstyled the similarly trendy Earth Shoes by miles. Plus they had the advantage of the energetic marketing of Joe Famolare, a shoe dynasty heir turned Broadway dance-shoe designer whose own charisma and showmanship went a long way toward getting the shoes on young women's feet.

You can find a nice trove of vintage Famolares on Etsy. The prices tend to be higher than you'd expect for the old and the worn, but if you had as much fun in yours as I did in mine, simply seeing these pairs again is priceless.

Master Class: Betty Wears a Scarf Clip

2010-04-29T08:37:00.009+01:00

Was catching up on Mad Men last night, and saw the episode Souvenir. While Betty's dolca vita dress/earrings/updo for the scene in the outdoor cafe in Rome was extraordinary, I was even more taken with her look for the Junior League contingent's appearance at the the town planning meeting.

A cream sheath dress. Transparent cream gloves. A royal blue-and-cream scarf. A gold chain belt. A big statement scarf clip.

While the gloves are over the top for everyday wear today, all the rest could work brilliantly.

Vintage scarf clips are easy to find online. Here's a nice one from Etsy.

The great thing about these little devices is that they take away all the foofing around trying to get a nice knot. Three simple elements, and you're done. Thanks again Mad Men costumers, you're all geniuses.

Vintage Mysteries Solved: How to Replace a Missing Trenchcoat Belt

2010-04-27T14:17:00.005+01:00

Those of us who routinely shop in vintage outlets know that some of the most covetable garments available are there because something is missing . . . a button off a Givenchy jacket, a forgiving extra hole in a slightly-too-snug belt, or today's very typical example, a belt off an otherwise wonderful old trench coat.

It doesn't matter if it's Burberry, Daks, or London Fog -- great trenches look only halfway there without their belts, which is why a missing one is such a dealbreaker. But it needn't be. Here's what you can do to fill those loops if the original tie has gone AWOL.

1) I'd advise against trying to find a stand-alone trench belt online: scans typically do not show true colors and if you get a near-match rather than an exact one, it will look decidedly imperfect. Alternately you could sift through options in secondhand shops bringing the coat along as opposite number, but to my mind this is looking for a needle in a haystack. There are better ways to go.

2) If the coat is an authentic Burberry or other big-name brand, you could contact your nearest branch, asking if they can replace the belt for you. They may ask you to send pictures of the garment and any labels. There may or may not be a charge involved.

3) Forget about matching the belt entirely and put the loops to use to display a beautiful silk scarf that you'd otherwise never wear.

4) Or find a belt that isn't a trenchcoat or mac belt per se but nonetheless looks like it was purpose-made. Here, I think the ideal (and fairly easy to find) solution are belts that combine leather and taupe canvas, which have enough of a military air about them to perfectly play into the trenchcoat's combat origins. The canvas should approximately match the color of the fabric, and the leather should ideally tone into any browns in the coat's buttons.

I pulled this belt straight out of my closet--if you have a good look online you should find the equivalent fairly easily; such belts are also fairly readily found at extremely reasonable prices in charity shops/thrift stores. Good luck!

How to Find Top-Quality Vintage Online, Part 1

2010-04-26T07:54:00.006+01:00

It's not easy when you can't see the interior, feel the fabric, or appreciate the workmanship as a whole (which together amount to the best way to find fantastic vintage when it's right under your nose).

However, there are some tactics an online shopper can deploy to cut through the middling pieces on the vast virtual rail.

One is to search using keywords that point directly to clothes that were made with great care.

Example. Have a look at socialite Babe Paley's jacket above. It's by London couturier Digby Morton, 1946. Might such an item ever appear on eBay or Etsy? Possibly. But if you keyword "couture" to find it, you'll call up a warehouse worth of dodgy merchandise, from pantihose to pet collars, that have nothing to do with finely tailored clothing.

Instead of going for the obvious, you need to think sideways. Like . . . look at the flapped pocket on Babe's jacket. How it's placed, sitting almost horizontal to the waistline. This is a couture detail: in which the ordinary is tweaked into extraordinary because there's the design inspiration, sewing talent, time, and above all, money to do so.

This pocket is quietly dramatic, everything a couture detail ought to be. Bing! I jumped onto eBay and keyworded "diagonal pocket" and "vintage", just to see what would come up.

Result: nothing ultra-extraordinary, but two things really quite nice indeed, the old-school plaid hacking jacket below from Jaeger, which is a great autumn piece for somebody looking to look poshly countrified.

Even more interesting, the highly tailored cocktail dress from Givenchy, labeled couture (almost certainly not haute couture, which would have been hand tailored for an individual, but high-end ready to wear. I'm guessing it dates to the late 80s, in the twilight years before Galliano, McQueen, and Tisci were brought in to revivify the brand). The dress looks quiet in the photo but I bet is absolutely the bomb when it's on the right figure, dressed up Parisian style with sheer black stockings and very high stilettos.

The point? It's the details that count, again and again. I never would have found these two items without the help of just the right keywords. We'll look at some others as the week goes on.

(photo of Babe Paley by Clifford Coffin for British Vogue, 1946)

How to Wear a Falcon, by Lucian Freud

2010-04-25T09:59:00.005+01:00

Another off-topic entry about a man nicely accessorized by a beast, this time Lucian Freud in his younger years (who today is considered one of our greatest painters).

One might fairly ask "dude what are you doing with that bird in the house"--a question the artist would dismiss as tediously bourgeois.

His grandfather Sigmund might diagnose it to be a symbol of some kind. I'll leave to you puzzle out what.

Back tomorrow with on-topic fashion.

(photo Lucian Freud 1947, by Clifford Still, from British Vogue 1948)

How to Wear a Cougar, By Steve McQueen

2010-04-22T09:14:00.005+01:00

So it has nothing to do with vintage fashion (unless you're talking one million years bc)--but saw this and couldn't resist . . . could you?

What I like best? There is something about his mouth that says "this is BULLSHIT, but yeah, this time I'll play along . . ."

(photo from The Selvedge Yard, a brilliant repository of photos on the subject of fashion, sport, rock stars, bikers, and pretty much all things cool and male)

How to Wear: Off-the-Shoulder Blouse

2010-04-21T09:11:00.007+01:00

Little doubt in anyone's mind that Sophia Loren could front an off-the-shoulder peasant blouse with authority, as she does above in her first English-language film, The Pride and the Passion.

But one need not be a Mediterranean bomba to pull the look off, as Doris Day proves below.

The simple necessities are these:

1) Glossy skin
2) Not a lot of froufrou at the neckline--a skinny chain at best. Hoop earrings would be great, though.
3) A relatively covered-up bottom half. If you wore short-shorts with a blouse like this, the impact of the shoulders would be lost.
3) A blouse whose edging draws attention to the lovely boundary of clothed and unclothed, example from eBay below.

Image of Sophia Loren from Dr. Macro's High Quality Movie Scans, many thanks. Image of Doris Day from the fab Unofficially Doris: The Doris Day Web Forum, many thanks too!

A Day at the Races: But which Hat?

2010-04-20T15:31:00.006+01:00

Just learned that after 15 years of living in England, I'm finally getting the opportunity to attend Royal Ascot, a day of racing in the presence of Her Majesty the Queen, and arguably the high point of the British social calendar.

Here, from Ascot's own website, are tips (meaning instructions) on what to wear:

Her Majesty’s Representative wishes to point out that only formal day dress with a hat or substantial fascinator will be acceptable. Off the shoulder, halter neck, spaghetti straps and dresses with a strap of less than one inch and miniskirts are considered unsuitable. Midriffs must be covered and trouser suits must be full length and of matching material and colour. Gentlemen are required to wear either black or grey morning dress, including a waistcoat, with a top hat. A gentleman may remove his top hat within a restaurant, a private box, a private club or that facility’s terrace, balcony or garden. Hats may also be removed within any enclosed external seating area within the Royal Enclosure Garden.

OK, enough about the men, who cares, back onto the ladies. How to pick a hat for such a chapeau-centric event? What decade? What style? What price?

Whether you're attending Ascot, the Kentucky Derby, a splashy wedding, or garden party, I think the answer ought to be vintage, but more importantly, think less about making a "statement" with the hat (which is likely to come off as cartoonish) and more about looking amazingly gorgeous in it. This means knowing what kinds of hats suit you. This further means going to a vintage fair or large vintage shop, or a good department store, or even a mall accessories outlet like Claire's (US) or Accessorize (UK) and trying on a bazillion different hats to see what works, as a first step.

If you're lucky, you'll find the perfect hat this way, but if nothing is quite right and you'd like to have a go at the much wider and typically far-better-priced offerings of the online vintage world, more steps are necessary. First, measure your head's circumference around the brow with a tapemeasure, and write this down. Never buy a hat that does not meet or slightly exceed this measure, for it will drive you mad otherwise. Now you are ready to consider shopping for a hat online.

What sort of hats suit you? I know I can't wear: pillboxes, cloches, sculptural caps, black. Wide and medium brims work, but not too wide, because you need to be model-tall to carry these off. While I love the idea of hats of lots of old vintage trim, this can very often looked faded and tatty with age and the effect is less garden party than Miss Havisham gone to seed.

After a long troll through eBay and Etsy, I came up with these candidates . . .

The hat at top, a vintage number from Atlantic City, appeals because it is such a feral hybrid of a top hat and an old-lady floral. The colors are great too. If I could look half as good in it as the flipping hat dummy, I'd be doing very well with this item.

The middle entry is not terribly old--from the 80s, and the freshness really shows. Plus, its construction is immaculate, and as picture hats go, it's dramatic without veering into ridiculous (you should see some of the gear they wear at this event). The slight downside is the price, which is probably more than I would consider for an item I couldn't try on.

I'm very much in love with the feather headdress at bottom, which looks like it would rest like a cloud upon your head. And I have to admit the seller is doing no wrong by evoking church ladies and their magnificent hats in her title for the entry.

Decisions, decisions. But what happy ones.

Crime Against Caninity or . . .

2010-04-19T09:11:00.005+01:00

. . . shaggin' wagon styling comes full circle?

More photos here. Why the New York Times put the article in the Sports section instead of Style is one of the many other mysteries of this subgenre of dog grooming.

What's Black and White and Cool All Over?

2010-04-18T15:59:00.005+01:00

I have a such a weakness for shoes that are mirror images of each other: left, meet right, ooh you're getting along so well!

In terms of vintage history, these most typically source from the Mod era of the early 60s, when the graphic geometries of circle, square, triangle and rectangle found their ultimate expression in the similarly absolute hues of black and white.

Throw in a matching bag, and the deal is sealed, no? If the shoe fits, and you've got a hip wedding to go to, you could build the entire outfit around this very ensemble; white sheath for day, black for night.

Not Strictly Ballroom: A Closer Look at Tango Purses

2010-04-15T09:59:00.008+01:00

*sigh* . . . . I've been looking at images of tango for an hour and am this close to boarding a steamer for Buenos Aires to spend a year or so learning this marvelous dance . . .

. . . . but will settle with showing you these graceful accessories from the 1920s, which are variously known as tango purses, tango compacts, dance purses, vanity compacts, and quite a few other terms. This makes them a finagle to search out with keywords, but ultimately define:

a) a compact intended to hold powder, a puff, and a mirror, held on the wrist by a snug strap or chain
b) a purse for small necessities, likewise worn close to the wrist
c) far less commonly, a small compact or clutch held in the hand, which would have been unhelpful in an actual tango situation, where both hands must cling tight to preclude being thrown to the floor
d) one of the above, with a small case for lipstick soldered on to the chain handle

It's the latter detail I especially love--and the implied notion that the lipstick would be smoked, drunk, and kissed away over the course of a late night in the dancehall.

Vintage compact above, from Buenos Aires, here. Compact below, Copyright (C) 2009, Grandma's Jewellery Box.
from Ruby Lane, here, with many thanks.

(Tango illustration at top here, with thanks.)

These Little Piggies Went to Market: A Tale of Two Shoes

2010-04-14T09:54:00.006+01:00

As threatened yesterday, more dreadfully ugly shoes. If you are of a delicate aesthetic sensibility, avert your eyes NOW.

Oops too late! Behold, a FiveFingers sandal from Vibram. (editor's note: they look marginally worse in the photo than they do in real life). If you are an outdoorsy sort you may have heard about, seen, or even own a pair of these non-ballet toe shoes, which are about as close as you can get to going barefoot if you haven't developed the calluses of an individual who must walk unshod several miles a day to meet basic human needs. Such an individual might happily join in to the general derision of this footwear, but I don't care. They feel fantastic on.

Meanwhile, at the other end of the closet, deliberately snubbing the gauche FiveFingers, are these vintage ghillie-style oxfords from Rangoni. (Ghillie: a shoe with decorative lacing up the instep and no tongue).

I'm so pleased with the shoes, which just came in from Etsy for the reasonable price of $54/£34. Canvas and leather, practically unworn, from a shoemaker whose name really deserves to be more widely known, for the craftsmanship is exceptional. Rangoni Firenze is a Florence, Italy-based shoemaker that has been a family business since 1933. They were one of the first Italian firms to export shoes to the US, and created handcrafted designs for Christian Dior.

My only niggle is that the toebox is narrow in that smug Italian way, which will certainly be felt after a few hours. The canvas will stretch. More importantly, at the other side of the closet, the FiveFingers will be waiting to pamper my poor toes.

Hideous Shoes We Secretly Adore

2010-04-13T14:50:00.012+01:00

I'm going to go out on a limb here and say that there is something about a godawful ugly shoe, that, like a truly unlovely pooch, is all the more charming for its flinch factor.

There are lots of contenders out there (shoes, I mean)--many with a "functional" element that gurneys the shoe into the ICU of eyesores, apparel division.

Below, a contemporary example: slippers, sadly no longer available for sale, that in their heyday performed the handy dual role of a) keeping your feet warm; b) dusting the floor as you shamble from fridge to sofa. This is how the shoes look fresh out of the box. Imagine these bad boys with a few dust bunnies swept in and you can begin to appreciate their full repellence.

Next up, an old favorite that ought to appeal to the mendicant guru in all of us: vintage Birks with little rubber fingers atop the footbed, offering what amounts to a Reiki treatment on the go. Truth be told, I would love to have a pair of these, but I've done worse in the ugly footwear department (see entry above) and can't countenance more than one pair like this in the closet (plus they're the wrong size).

To be continued, tomorrow . . .

See fugly slippers and much more at the brilliant site Toxel, which scours the globe in search of inspired design of all kinds. Many thanks to Etsy seller JunqueGypsy for the photo of the vintage Super-Noppy Birks.

How to Style a Skinny Belt: Cross Hitch

2010-04-12T10:57:00.006+01:00

Back on the blog after a few weeks away: missed you!!

Here's a fresh way to style a favorite old snakeskin belt, or a new one picked up for pennies secondhand, or even another type of belt altogether, like the one on your trench. It's little tricks like these that make a look "effortlessly" chic (and as anyone who looks effortlessly chic will tell you, it takes many tricks indeed).

Take one skinny belt, thread the shank through the top of the buckle, around, and cross over and back through the buckle below (click on the photo to enlarge to see closer and work it out from that, much easier than trying to follow the instructions . . . )

This look is especially great if the outfit is essentially monochrome, as here.

Brilliant styling by the UK's Red magazine, April 2010, many thanks, more from this editorial later this week.

Chukkas then and now

2010-03-31T06:38:00.008+01:00

Seen all over in London: trainers/sneakers with low-gloss black uppers and blinding white soles. Here, some Vans Chukkas, in the style.

The name alludes to desert boots, which these shoes seem definitely not. The reason? Guessing here, but believe it's because with their thick soles, Vans and other board shoes share style DNA with brothel creepers, a casual shoe popular among the Teddyboys in England in the 1960s. These themselves had their origins in the desert boots worn by soldiers in North Africa in WWII--both having suede uppers and a thick crepe sole that enabled manoeuvres in the Saharan sands and, later, back home in the alleys of London's Soho. Chukka boots, to complete the circle, are similar in appearance to desert boots given their suede uppers, but fit more loosely around the ankle, and don't have a crepe sole. Got it? I really don't either, but love the idea of a shoe called a brothel creeper.

(photo of brothel creepers from Retro To Go, many thanks)

Not Your Granny's Granny Boots

2010-03-30T07:53:00.012+01:00

Slightly off topic today, but I came across this little item over the weekend and it got me thinking.

First: "that is the naughtiest bar tool I've ever seen." Seriously, think about it.

Then the combination of calf-length black leather boot and high-kicking thigh set off other recollections of this particular look and how it's appeared past and present.

As in: Toulouse-Lautrec prowled the Parisian dancehalls, painted what he saw, and made their characters immortal. Below, a dance at the Moulin Rouge, where an lady gives a gent what amounts to a private show. When the can-can girls got on stage, the audience met with a lineful of short leather boots, petticoats, and little else beneath, most spectacularly when the dancers did the move known as the rond de jamb, in which the knee lifts high and the lower leg twists below.

More recently the look lept from the dancehall to the burlesque stage, and to the Cabaret. Below Liza has ditched the petticoats but is still doing loads of ronds de jamb, this time with a chair as an excuse to get a leg over (YouTube won't let me embed the Mein Herr vid, have a look, it's amazing).

Even more recently, pop stars looking to assume some old-school showgirl cred will likewise stick on some boots, limber up their hips, and work a chair, case in point the Pussycat Dolls in Buttons, below.

Is it a look? It's a look. And considering its staying power, that corkscrew--even though it's an antique--won't be out of fashion anytime soon.

How to Buy: Vintage Huaraches

2010-03-29T08:33:00.009+01:00

It's the time of year to start thinking about shoes for spring and decisions must be made. Another pair of ballet flats? Yawwwwwwn. Glads? On their way out. Glads with fabric cuffs around the ankles? Ultratrendy! And where ultratrendy goes, there's always victim potential. Finally, there's the fierce high-heeled sandal option, which, forget it, we've got places to get to.

Back on the ground, I think the time has come again for an 80s favorite, which, before that, was a several-millennia-in-Central American favorite, the huarache. Which, quite simply, is a sandal with a flat or low heel and an upper of woven leather strips. It is properly pronounced wha-rah-chay, but some of you will insist on pronouncing it hurrah-chee.

Authentic retro versions abound and they're all selling for great prices. Here are some tips on how to buy them:

1) Go for a new or barely-worn pair (this is of course the usual advice for vintage shoes but is extra important with sandals, for the obvious reason that there has been no barrier between foot and shoe).

2) Bear in mind that the leather will stretch to an extent, so be extra careful in the size/measurement regard.

3) Determine in advance how wide the shoes are. If they are too narrow, your little toe will try to escape through the weave and this will drive you nuts. If they are too wide, your toes will not be able to curl properly, you won't be able to walk naturally, and subconsciously you'll reach for another pair of shoes every time.

4) Look for quality old brands and intricacy of weaving. Ask the seller politely but firmly about whether any part of the shoe appears to be structurally unsound.

Now, on to the happier subject of how to wear your huaraches . . .

Easily enough, the answer is pretty much any old way you choose. Their native comfort and dress-down style make these go-to shoes in the summertime. As long as they fit right, you will want to have them on all the time.

Otherwise:

1) If you're planning to shop into this summer's military trend in a big way, go for brown or tan.

2) If you insist on clinging to your black leggings (don't do it!!) black ones are the way forward. Do not fool yourself into believing that these will be more formal than the brown ones.

3) White ones are adorable, but you've got the issue of keeping them clean. Dingy white huaraches look nasty/manky.

4) They're out there and they're cheap! Go for all three.

5) Socks would be a bold move with a huarache, but since they're otherwise trendy with sandals this summer, do some experimenting. To up your chance of getting it right, wear a sock whose tone acts as a transition between your skin tone and that of the shoe. Ankle socks preferable to anything higher.

4) The open-toe versions looks more contemporary, but a nice pair of closed-toe ones can be quite elegant.

Good luck, muchachas. You'll be thanking me come summertime with those happy feet.

photo of huaraches at top from the Susie G. Collection, many thanks!

Chevalier of the Round Tummy

2010-03-26T14:57:00.011Z

Ladies, it's not just us. Just came across this delightful reminder that the menfolk could be as donkers as the women in the pursuit of looking young and slim. Amazing wrap-around band! Doh! It's elastic!

Be that as it may, the codger in the ad looks like Charles Atlas's buffer older brother, so I'm not sure why he's gone for the Chevalier. That will remain his little secret--and his wife's--and very probably all the rest of the wives in the neighborhood, because how could she possibly keep that tidbit to herself. Just thinking about this makes me laugh. Have a great weekend!

(Image from Christian Montone's photostream on Flickr, many thanks!)

Handbag à Trois

2010-03-26T09:19:00.009Z

When ingenuity from Mars meets vanity from Venus, the results can be a vintage novelty that absolutely deserves to be out and about again . . . have you ever heard of 3-in-1 bags, whose clever hardware and reversible, detachable panels convert a simple frame handbag into three different looks?

The genius behind the technology--and I don't use either term lightly--was Edward R. Lowy, who obtained US patent 02809685 for the system in 1957. The 3-in-1 bags were marketed at different times under the name Lowy and Mund, Edwards, and L & M. All featured the double-sided sheath that could be removed and/or flipped to reveal a surface of leather (sometimes stamped), cloth faille, and a more elaborate covering, possibly needlepoint, tweed, or metallic vinyl.

Others followed, namely the Andre bag company in the US and Elgee in England. All three makers show up with some regularity at online auction sites and shops, and they're worth looking out for, because the prices are typically quite low. I'm especially fond of the bag pictured from Etsy seller quirkyworkstudio, especially since the instructions (above) come along.

Practical, functional, versatile, cute. Where have these great old values gone?

(Many thanks to the always comprehensive Bag Lady Emporium for the Lowy story--here you'll find other examples of Edwards bags, representative labels, and everything else you need to know about vintage bags totalement).

Update: It doesn't stop at three! EBay seller VivalaFrance kindly provided these scans of her mint Lowy Bag, which offers five different looks in one. Up for auction here.

A Closer Look At: Lappets

2010-03-25T08:45:00.010Z

What is a lappet, you might reasonably ask. And the answer would change, depending on whether you ask a biologist, a student of ecclesiastical garb, or a vintage fashion fan.

Let's get the biologists out of the way first, for in their world lappets are loose folds or flaps in an animal's anatomy--for example the wattles on a turkey's neck, or the ruffles trailing down from a jellyfish's bell.

In church, a lappet is a band of cloth or lace that is attached to the inside of ceremonial tiara or mitre of a pope or bishop, with ends left to hang down the back. According to Wiki, it is believed that these were originally devised as a kind of sweatband, lending added dignity to the proceedings during the scorching Vatican City summers.

For our purposes, a lappet is a length of material, quite often gorgeously intricate lace, that might have been attached to a cap, or worn as a collar. The intricacy of the handwork would bring additional splendor to a costume already encrusted with lace, or might act on its own as the sole bit of frippery in an otherwise dour outfit of black and white.

If you are lucky enough to find a vintage lappet like the one at top in good order for a reasonable price, it would make one of the most brilliant summer scarves going: airy enough to wear on warm days, and absolutely gorgeous against bare skin. A lappet of sufficient length and strength could also act as a wonderful belt for a linen dress. Old lacework can be worn in such lovely ways, and it's nearly always underpriced, particularly at vintage and antique fairs.

Fashion Checkmate: How to Work Brown and White

2010-03-24T13:01:00.008Z

When the seasons are changing and the weather can't hold it together ("Summer in the light, winter in the shade", as Dickens so brilliantly put it), it's really really difficult to get a handle on what to wear.

In decades past, by accident or by design, fashion arbiters made the elements' mood swings work for them with the traditional pre-May pairing of navy and white. Some sober dark to keep things real, a flash of brightness that holds the promise that summer isn't all that far away.

I love this pairing any time of year (and have written about it before) but just recently started clocking its less-frequently-seen counterpart, brown and white. Costumer Theadora van Runkle shows us how it's done in Faye Dunaway's costume above, from The Thomas Crowne Affair. (And doesn't poor Steve, trussed up in the trenchcoat you know he doesn't want to wear, look like he's ready to deck her . . .)

Anyway, you can find some great examples in the vintage department, case in point this fine pair of old Florsheims, or the patent bag that is an almost match.

Feeling fashionably bipolar and need a remedy, quick? Those old-school designers knew, and can help you with a fix . . .

For Health, Comfort, and Beauty: the 1930s Corset

2010-03-23T07:08:00.008Z

Even crunches seem preferable to wearing this rig for 8-10 hours every day, no matter what the "Hidden Values".

I love the brisk tone of the instructions, and the notion that the wearer and the girdle must work in cooperation to "enhance the beauty of the figure." The vow that there is ample room for the diaphragm only reinforces how restricted earlier generations must have been, no wonder they were such a bunch of swooners. Click on the photos to read more closely.

Many thanks to seller Image Unearthed on Etsy.

A Closer Look At: Face Screens

2010-03-22T09:31:00.009Z

Am SO excited about today's entry, which opens a door to a realm of domestic history I hadn't encountered before.

The round screen above, currently up for auction on eBay, originated in Venice. Unlike most of the handheld fans we know, it was not used to cool the face by displacing the air. Instead, it shielded the face from the direct heat of a fire, which, not too long ago, was the only way to keep a house warm.

A fire could redden the carefully cultivated pallor of upper-class women--and worse. The caption that describes this pair of puzzle-inscribed face screens (from the Puzzle Museum) elaborates the extent of potential damage:

"200 years ago, most of your makeup was wax based. If you warmed up your face, your make-up will run and you will look like a mix between a zebra and a strawberry-slice. So these face screens were invented for when your neighbour came round for a girly chat. Using them you could protect your face from the direct heat while the rest of you kept warm; and at the same time you could solve the puzzles."

How inviting is the idea of hanging around in front of a cozy fire with your friends, gossiping and playing guessing games . . . according to the seller, the Venetian screen's conversational prompts were the figures depicted on it. Virgin Mary in the middle is easily i.d.'ed thanks to her blue robe, but as for the rest, especially the little guys with the shears . . . perhaps an early-19th-century Italy expert could write in.

Just as evocative, in a different way, is the wonderfully shabby floral on the reverse of the fan, reminiscent of lush Venetian velvet tapestries that have withstood centuries of rising damp and fog . . .

(with many thanks to the Puzzle Museum and especially to Anti-qs for providing the wonderful photos of the Venetian screen.)

Dim Bulbs

2010-03-19T15:55:00.012Z

The Dutch still-life masters handled tulips beautifully, for the obvious reason that they were masters.

More recent attempts by fabric designers haven't fared nearly as well. In fact, this is an understatement. Because if 17th-century Holland had treated its bulbs with anywhere near the cackhandedness of many, more recent printmakers, the tulip boom would have been a bust before it even got off the ground.

I'm not going to post any pictures of wretched tulip prints on dresses, blouses, and scarves, because they are so easy to find, and because they hurt my eyes. It is interesting to consider though, why so many are so very bad. Possibly because simplicity of form--and tulips are among the most austerely elegant of floral forms--is difficult to render accurately, while complexity is a lot easier to fudge.

For this reason, it seems to me that the fabric designers who have had the greatest success in treating tulips have emphasized their geometry while downplaying their organic idiosynchrasies. And there is no mode of fashion that worked geometry better than Mod, and its groovy follow-on Op.

That's why these scarves, by Geoffrey Beene up top, and this one recently sold on Etsy.com below, could be stretched and framed and do a good imitation of a mid-century fine art print.And even the humble housedress below, whose tulips look to be straight out of a mid-sixties cartoon, lends the flower more simple dignity than countless other renditions in finer fabrics and more intricate designs. It may not be a masterpiece, but as good design goes, it is very easy on the eye.

(Still Life, 1669 by Maria Oosterwijck, Cincinnati Art Museum)

Round and Round: A Closer Look at Circle Skirts

2010-03-18T06:35:00.014Z

First, a big thank-out to Adore Vintage for clueing me in to Nina Leen. The Russia-born, animal-loving lenswoman became one of Life magazine's premiere fashion photographers, noteworthy as much for her brilliant compositions as for the wit with which she arranged her pictures.

One Leen shot selected by Adore featured a fashion item I'd never heard of before. An array of "conversation skirts," opened out to full circumference like passionflowers to the sun:

Conversations indeed! Check out especially the Georges Braque down south and the bodybuilder just barely visible at right. But honestly, a conversation skirt by any other name is a circle skirt, and that's how you're more likely to find them sold secondhand.

You'll find a fascinating and detailed history of the garment at Here's Looking At You Kid, which also ran the advertisement above, from Jet, featuring a skirt by Juli Lynne Charlot, one of the best-known designers working in the style.

The circle skirt's popularity in the late 50's and early 60's derived from a variety of factors. If a woman couldn't afford to buy a designer version, the ultrasimple pattern made it easy even for novice seamstresses to make at home. The skirt was modest, and looked great on all shapes. Finally, circle skirts--especially hand-painted versions--became associated with the souvenir trade in Mexico, and were brought home by Americans and others on holiday as a festive reminder of south-of-the-border flair.

If you're considering a circle skirt today, in particular ones that are guaranteed to start conversation, you could hardly do wrong with . . .

This one, in which the souvenir theme goes international to include the Arc de Triomphe and the Taj Mahal . . .

. . . or this one, which is about as festive as it gets minus the actual mariachis and margaritas.

And finally this treasure featured on Lulu's Vintage. [When wearing this one, ensure that the burro is oriented around front. You're welcome].

Berets: Soft and Hard

2010-03-17T08:31:00.008Z

As apparel goes, there is no item as emblematic of a renegade faction within the working masses as the beret. For berets, no matter what their color, are the ideal camouflage.

They have been worn to keep the head warm by ordinary people, men and women, for centuries in France, Spain, Scotland (as the tam), and elsewhere. Girl Scouts and Boy Scouts have worn them as part of their dress uniform. At the more rarified level of high fashion, the style has cycled in and out so repeatedly that its latest incarnation is unremarkable. Under most circumstances in rural and urban life, a beret rarely merits a second look.

And yet . . . it has also given cover to the most subversive members of society's rolls. The French resistance adopted the beret as an unofficial insignia. Bonnie Parker wore one as she wielded her shotgun in the face of terrified bank tellers, giving Faye Dunaway the opportunity to make the headgear iconic in the costume realm.

In the paramilitary arena, Che Guevara managed exactly the same thing with his black version blazed with a gold star. John Wayne's Greet Berets might have little political ideology in common with the guerrillas in Cuba's jungles, nor the Black Panthers for that matter, but in style terms they were brothers in arms.

And so snipers and schoolgirls wear the beret with equanamity, as it is just right for both. Is there any item of clothing with the same kind of crossover appeal?

(girl scout photo here at Flickr, many thanks; photo of Milliciana, Female Revolutionary, by Alberto Korda, 1962, here at Museumsyndicate.com, many thanks; more pics of Bonnie Parker here.)

Clomp this Way: A Quick Appreciation of Clogs

2010-03-15T05:43:00.010Z

Don't know about you, but when fashion, in its necromantic way, revives a shoe style that was a fixture of my past, I think about the old shoes with the same sort of affectionate nostalgia that farmers must have felt for hardworking plowhorses that have since passed on to happier pastures.

Such is the case with me and clogs. Whatever the reason, this shoe in particular (rather than trainers/sneakers or some other form of walking shoes) were my absolute favorites. And so, a tribute to the clog past and present, with a special focus on a couple of styles in between.

It all started in simpler times when peoples of the Netherlands, Scandinavia, and elsewhere in rural Europe discovered that shoes carved from wood--also known as sabots--were a cheap way to elevate the feet off cold flooring and mud, protect them against accidental blows, and--once the feet were broken in to their contours--provide good support for long days walking, standing, and labor. This latter reason is why chefs still wear clogs in professional kitchens, though today's versions are as often as not plastic Crocs (about which no more will be said). In France, clogs came to be worn by factory workers during the industrial revolution, and disgruntlement with management might cause one to be tossed into the mechanical works, hence the term sabotage.

Closed-toe mules, which are essentially clog-style shoes with a lower vamp of fabric or leather, had a style heyday as a boudoir option among glamorous gals in the 1950s, and cyclically thereafter, especially in the early 80s, when Candies were the way to go if your Jordache jeans could use an extra hit of Lolita at the food court down at the mall.

But it was clogs per se that had their first major period of fad-dom in the US in the late 1970s, most especially the Swedish versions produced by Olaf's Daughters. These shoes, with their rounded toes, moderate wooden heels, and suede or leather uppers became de trop amongst preppier sorts of girls, typically worn with Levis cords and Fair Isle sweaters, and no socks ever, because if it was cold/wet enough to need socks, you wore your duck boots instead. What's more, a flying clog was a missile to be reckoned with, and bare toes prevented accidental launch. I would kill to have my taupe suede pair today, and do a periodic scan of eBay to see if any will surface, but they never do. However, Swedish manufacturers like Ollson continue to make like versions, if this is the sort of thing you're after.

Come the late 80s, clogs reappeared in an under-the-radar way as go-to footgear for a busy day around town. These had the contours of a cowboy boot, with a more pointed toe, an underslung heel, and tooled or otherwise decorated leather up top. Lucchese makes some of the coolest current examples, but a host of other manufacturers produced them back in the day and they are relatively easy to find under the keywords "cowboy clogs" or "cowboy slides."

And now, roll on Spring 2010 and its revived fascination with clogs as fashion, although this season's incarnations alternately have heels so high they are reminiscent of the Candies of yore, grafted onto a pricetag that is galactically higher still, or embellishments so trailingly odd (that's you, Louis Vuitton) that there might be some risk factor riding escalators in them.

As much as I love clogs I won't be going for the trendy versions, but if I can find a pair of taupe Olaf's Daughters (mine, mine!) that's another story.

(Olaf's Daughters clog image from this awesome gallery of Swedish and other clogs; Lucchese clogs on Amazon.com; Louis Vuitton clogs below from Fashionologie, many thanks.

Fashion Plates

2010-03-11T19:00:00.008Z

Vintage fans often find that the wardrobe is simply too full to contemplate another great find.

In such cases, the urge to acquire should be channeled into a different direction. Like the kitchen.

Because aren't these plates, part of the Les Femmes du Siècle series (1977-79) by Francoise Ganeau for D'Arceau-Limoges just great? One hundred years of French fashion, charmingly inscribed with the names of the models and their signature traits.

I love the little details. Like the cork-soled shoes on the intrepid Hélène, authentic to the limited resources of the war years. And the Isadora-style scarf and Fitzgeraldian name of flapper Daisy. Meanwhile Françoise goes for a walk in view of jet-set starting point Orly.

If you've got a fair amount of disposable, the entire series can be had here.

If you're minding the pennies (and who isn't these days) keep an eye out on the usual online outlets, for individual examples come up fairly frequently.

FCUK WFT?

2010-03-10T14:19:00.004Z

Am I the only one irritated to the teeth by these ads? All the worse because they're directly in sightlines out the window.

The photos are great. Running them without the text, that would have been brave. If only.

Athena at McQueen's Stele

2010-03-10T09:35:00.007Z

The photo above, in close up, from Alexander McQueen's last show in Paris yesterday.

The image below, from the Acropolis Museum: Athena mourning fallen warriors.

McQueen found inspiration in everything--works of art, nature's patterns, the mindless beauty of machines in action. There's no saying whether or not the model's feathered headdress was inspired by the helmet of the goddess. It could have as easily come from 70s punks in London's East End.

But the echoing resonance, the unanswered questions, and the poignancy, are symptomatic of the turns the mind takes in the presence of high art. I'm certain that throughout this last collection, the phenomenon occurs again and again.

(photo above from The New York Times, Chris Moore/Karl Prouse. Photo of Mourning Athena (460 BCE) from the Acropolis Museum, Athens)

Fashion CSI: Charlize Theron's Oscar Gown

2010-03-09T07:28:00.008Z

Gather round, loves, we're playing fashion detectives today. Our subject? The ravishing Charlize Theron, whose red-carpet gown at the Oscars received the fashion equivalent of capital punishment from a jury of onlookers the world over.

Exhibit A:

The perps? Those roses on the bodice, which, to shift metaphors for a sec, sit like a pair of coconut shells on a all-male grass-skirt kickline, comically emphasizing the breasts while underlining their absence of volume.

The gown is by Dior, a fashion house which, while guilty of some doozies in awards-shows past, rarely gets it this wrong. Can we recreate the scene? I think so. But to understand the motives, we need to step back in time . . . .

To American designer Charles James, whose over-the-top ballgowns, here photographed by Cecil Beaton, were assembled from acres of fabric, especially their billows at hip-level and artful folds at the bust. James specialized in presentation-type gowns worn by young, slender girls entering society. The voluminous silhouettes of these dresses amplified their figures, emphasizing curves that were not necessarily evident underneath.

John Galliano at Christian Dior drew heavily upon Charles James in his Spring 2010 couture show. Producing among others this dress, whose damasked duchesse satin poufs below are balanced above by emphatic corollas of fabric decorating the bust. This gown is, I believe, Exhibit B, where it all started to go badly wrong.

Not that the original is a wrongdoer itself. It is over-the-top and gorgeously so--even that dropped bustle/fanny pack assemblage round back must have looked fantastic in motion. But it is frankly too much to walk the carpet and moreover wholly unsuitable for a long sit in the Kodak Theater, where all that extraneous yardage would crush and wrinkle and look sullen. Charlize, as the face of Dior, was going to wear a couture creation, but it couldn't be this exact one.

So the swags were stripped off. Which meant [and this is a dramatic recreation now, who the hell knows what really went on] . . . the corollas at the bust must have looked top-heavy. More Mae West than Team Charlize thought apropos. So having vandalized the original shape in such a dramatic way the decision was made to just keep going, and the roses were shrunk into submission as well. But . . . the fatal misjudgment . . . left on!

And everybody managed to convince themselves that this was the right choice. An error in judgment that meant poor Charlene's version of gown will remain forever in the lineup of crimes against fashion. Case closed.

(photo of Charlize Theron by Jason Merritt, Getty Images. Cecil Beaton's photo of Charles James gowns here at Vogue.com. Photo of Christian Dior spring 2010 couture, by Monica Feudi/GoRunway.com, from style.com)

A Closer Look at: Haider Ackermann

2010-03-08T10:58:00.011Z

Have a massive new fashion crush on the young Antwerp-trained designer Haider Ackermann. Holy crow can this man cut, wrap and fold. His autumn 2010's line is here; I'm particularly taken with his ability to craft leather. This is goth for grownups, a dark, sinuous style that foresakes the ever-so-tiresome buckles, studs, and strapwork that have informed so-called avant-garde style for oh, twenty years now, for a far more organic and, to my eye, utterly more sensual use of the material.

In his hands, the leather, with its tendrils and furls, morphs between fauna and flora, all the while retaining its animal qualities of sheathing, suppleness, warmth.

Fleurs du mal that make you want to indulge . . . but I'm not prepared to drop the several thousands necessary to outfit myself in an Ackermann wardrobe, as alluring as the idea might be. Instead, I'm thinking about how to replicate his use of leather in a more modest way.

One way to do so would be to turn to the wide sash leather belts that were so popular in the eighties, and wear them tone-on-tone at the waist, or belted across a shoulder, bandolier style, or--if it's not too wide--looped several times around the neck like a scarf. Some nice examples currently available at online outlets are shown below.

Another possibility might be to layer the leather obi belts that were trendy a year or so ago against a like-colored deluxe material like cashmere or silk, or more leather. Do you have anything in your closet that you can twist and twine, Ackermann style? Have a look and a think . . . plenty of time to play around with ideas before fall.

Belts above here and here.

(photos of Haider Ackermann fall 2010 ready-to-wear by Marcio Madeira/First View.com, from Style.com)

A Closer Look at: Kabkabs

2010-03-05T16:04:00.010Z

Every so often eBay delights with an item of genuine historical costume interest, and such is the case with the pair of 19th-century wooden shoes from the Ottoman empire, inlayed with silver and mother-of-pearl, above.

Described by the seller as "harem clogs", they are properly known as kabkabs due to the clopping sound they make while walking. And while such shoes are associated with ladies of leisure, they would not ordinarily be worn in the seraglio (where slippers or bare feet were the norm), but instead in the hammams, or baths, where the elevated platforms would safeguard delicate feet from the hot floor stones, as well as from runoff from the steamed and scrubbed clientele.

The kabkabs above are missing the nailed-on straps of leather over the insteps--given the humidity they were routinely exposed to this is not terribly surprising. And, as kabkabs go, these are of modest height.

The most wonderful representations of these shoes in situ are found, I believe, in the works of French neoclassical artist Jean-Léon Gérôme, whose oriental scenes often centered on the baths, the better to show lithesome exotics in a state of steamy undress. In the scene below, the washing of a ivory-skinned lady by an ebony-skinned attendant is calculated to push all the buttons of his Parisian patrons, but Gérôme's depictions of the kabkabs nearby? Spot on.

(Jean-Léon Gérôme, The Bath, Fine Art Museum of San Francisco, image from www.orientalist-art.org.uk, many thanks)

Vintage Go Braugh

2010-03-04T09:18:00.007Z

Don't do many many holiday theme posts here at FP, but green is one of my favorite colors (after yellow and blue). So here's a little lineup in honor of the saint we call Patrick, whose special day will be here before we know it. All items courtesy of the fine sellers at Etsy.

The darling pin above is of sterling and enamel, and dates to the late 19th century. It's in beautiful shape and is tiny enough to nearly escape notice, which is oftentimes what you want when otherwise the rivers run emerald and the bagels are intentionally green.

Another option for a more discreet wearing of the color is to keep it indoors. This vintage Vanity Fair babydoll nightie is exactly what I mean.

If instead you wanted to go a more traditional route and flaunt your shamrocks in all their glory, could you possibly do better than this cashmere sweater? In the clover indeed.

Dressing for a Retro Vacation: What to Wear to the Gobbler Motel

2010-03-03T09:38:00.011Z

Before another word: a huge thanks to blogger LauraKitty at Sighs and Whispers for posting yesterday and today about the Gobbler Motel and Supper Club: a gem of mid-sixties American kitsch moderne that has tragically been lost to time, with much of it demolished and auctioned off in pieces.

Her blog has many fantastic photos of the interior, as well as background on its origins and demise. In brief, the Gobbler complex was built by a turkey magnate, explaining, kind of, its motifs and menu options, but not its insanely over-the-top-use of tufted leather, cupids as wall decor, and the color pink.

Oh to have lived in Wisconsin past when the ultimate in romantic getaways meant pulling up the GTO to the carport of this UFO-inspired structure ("built to resemble a turkey's head when viewed from the sky"), and then escaping into a world where circular water beds, carpeting on every surface of the interior that wasn't covered in petrified wood or prefab stone, and in-room 8-track players awaited.

What to wear to slip into the Gobbler ambiance? Remember, it's the Midwest. So probably a bipolar little number like the one here, which seems a perfect match in dateline and aesthetic, and somehow manages to successfully combine a ladylike cut with a retina-searing pattern. Like the club itself, the suit embodies that endearingly wide-eyed period between Mod and Psychedelic, a time when go-go girls in minis and white boots encountered their first wafts of hookah smoke and mind-altering chemicals. Groovy! See you in the bar, and order me--what else--a Pink Lady.

(photo of Gobbler Supper Club above by Mike DeVries for the Wisconsin State Journal, from Sighs and Whispers, many thanks!)

Is there such a thing as an "intelligent ruffle"?

2010-03-02T09:21:00.003Z

Cristóbal Balenciaga thought so.

"There are different kinds of ruffles. Some ruffles must be very, very elegant and light you know. You must make it become an intelligent ruffle. The flounce cannot look heavy; it should be soft and light. That is the way you make a ruffle."

See if this doesn't change the way you look at them.

(botanical of Narcissus major from the World Museum Liverpool; photo by Helmut Newton of Balenciaga gown for Vogue, 15 March 1968, © 1968 Condé Nast Publications, published in Balenciaga and His Legacy, Myra Walker, © 2006 The Meadows Museum)

Ruff Riders

2010-03-01T09:06:00.010Z

It's most unlikely that the lovely Jessica Alba was consciously channeling the Elizabethans when she wrapped her scarf around her neck like a ruff. But the visual and sartorial effects are so similar. The face is framed, the neck stays warm, and a ring of color or lace above the collarbones subliminally denotes nobility.

Silly Puritan Phillip Stubbes disagreed, writing in 1583: if Aeolus with his blasts, or Neptune with his stormes chaunce to hit uppon the crafie bark of their brused ruffes, then they goe flip flap in the winde, like rags flying abroad, and lye upon their shoulders like the dishcloute of a slut. [bad idea to diss the Red Queen, Phillip!]

Anyway, if you're interested in the historical precedents for this look, there is a great visual gallery of ruffs here.

If you're interested in actually recreating an Elizabethan ruff with a ring of linen, a starch water bath and a curling iron (!), instructions are here.

If you simply want to wear one of your scarves in a fetching way, wrap it around ruff-style. The best materials for this treatment are chiffon, gauze, and cotton web (seek out army-surplus scarves--also known as scrim scarves or shemaghs), which will provide volume without weight, which, as the days warm, is exactly what you want).

(photo below, German Elle, February 2008)

Tiggy-Winkle Charms Again

2010-02-26T11:34:00.011Z

I am always enchanted by vintage charms that open up to reveal adorable contents. Above is another one, which according to the seller is circa 1970.

I sadly can't explain why the little 9K hedgehog is wearing a crown, and moreover is sitting in an eggshell. These mysteries aside, it bears an uncanny similarity to a recent photo from one of the UK's most distinguished news journals of an actual pygmy hedgehog, so wee it too will fit into an eggcup.

The real hedgehogs, which are currently popular as household pets, will run you £200. The charm is about half that, and housebroken.

The Next Best Thing to Being There

2010-02-25T17:32:00.006Z

Rain rain rain all day today. Exactly the sort of weather to dream about wearing a dress like this, and, more specifically, wear a dress like this in its intended habitat--on the lanai of a beach house on the Big Island, with mai tais at the ready and tiki torches flaming nearby.

I'd never before heard of the label before, but the cut, fabric selection and pattern matching all bespeak brilliant dressmaking. Mahalo Tanya. The world is a better place for this frock.

Why I Love Ebay, Part 8

2010-02-24T11:02:00.005Z

We all know a woman who loves cats too much. These are her frames.

(The seller claims these are possums. No way.)

New Ways to Wear Scarves for Spring: DIY Scarf Ring

2010-02-24T09:32:00.005Z

I've always been fascinated by the idea of rings made solely to hold scarves in place, but have never gotten around to actually sourcing one. Probably because a little item that already resides in the back of the costume jewelry box is such a good substitute.

I'm talking about my adjustable ring--c'mon, we all have one, even if we're no longer four. This one is a stonking 10K faux diamond -- the kind meant to be worn over a black velvet glove that would need only a ciggie in an ultra-long holder to complete the homage to you-know-who.

The ring's faceted fauxcity is the perfect match for this unusually understated souvenir scarf, from Venice. It too has pretentions to greatness, being made of a polyester that really oughtn't get too close to open flame.

Once folded into a long strip, the scarf ends are simply threaded through the ring, which is then clamped snug using its sensible adjustable feature. I think the two will look smashing worn with a classic white shirt, and I plan to try it as soon as I get dressed this morning.

New Ways to Wear Scarves for Spring: Knotting Balenciaga-style

2010-02-23T09:09:00.010Z

A few months ago I was fortunate enough to find this vintage Balenciaga scarf for a shockingly low price (given his preeminent stature in fashion history). So it goes with so many vintage accessories: scarves bearing the names of great fashion houses sit around gathering dust while the (frankly less wearable) suits and dresses by the very same masters are snapped up by museums and wealthy collectors.

I don't get it, but that doesn't mean I don't profit by it. This scarf is particularly emblematic because it bears one of the hallmarks of Balenciaga's designs round about 1960--a fuschia pink bow, which appeared again and again as a flourish on his dresses and ballgowns. The bow dominates the cream ground, surrounded by a border of broken pink brushstrokes. (The design itself looks as if it might be by the hand of fashion illustrator René Gruau, who frequently collaborated with Balenciaga). The edges of the scarf are raw, which is typical of those from this house. Another point to note: Balenciaga scarves were sold only in his shops in Madrid, Barcelona, and Paris, and it's nice to think that at some point his own eyes might have glanced at this object.

I became slightly obsessed by the idea of wearing this scarf in a way that would accord with the designer's stringent eye. This meant combing the internet for images of late 50s/early 60s Balenciaga ensembles that included a scarf--and guess what, none did. I believe this is because during that period, a scarf, even of gorgeous heavy silk, fell more into the category of sportswear than city dress: worn to mainstay the coiffure on the beach or while horseback riding or driving along the coast in a convertible.

But then Myra Walker's wonderful book Balenciaga and his Legacy came to the rescue, with this photo of what I originally took to be a hat. But it's not, or not entirely--it's a low pillbox, more like a skullcap, that has been artfully trussed with a scarf of approximately the same vintage as mine.

I could do this, and you can too, given just such a molded hat and a beautiful silk scarf. Here's how:

1) halve the scarf into a triangle and set the broad end at the front of the cap.
2) loop the ends in back and knot several times
3) if the scarf has a signature that you'd like to show, foof around with the ends until it's on display as desired.

Of course you could leave out the cap and simply tie the scarf on your head without it, but if you want the sculptural quality that marked Balenciaga's work, do go for some armature underneath.

Cristóbal Balenciaga cocktail dress at top, 1958 (Photo courtesy of the Museum at FIT). Balenciaga hat, c. 1960, in Balenciaga and His Legacy, Myra Walker, 2006.

Martial Spirit: Ways to Wear Scarves for Spring

2010-02-22T08:51:00.006Z

German Elle Magazine. It's fantastic--even if you don't read the language (and therefore miss editorial gems like "Which Philosopher Are YOU Most Like: Kant, Nietsche, Plato" lol), you can still take great pleasure in innovative fashion shoots (no jumping models here!), and the chance to see cool local brands that have yet to make the leap to international notoriety. For example, Windsor, a German fashion house that melds the minimalist tailoring of Banana Republic with accessories just unorthodox enough to blast a safe-enough look into empyrean cool.

Case in point, below. The diagonal pocket square + white tee combo: brilliant. The diamante oval buckle + cargo pants + Armani-style jacket: this shouldn't work, but blow me, it does. And best of all: the scarf, with one end of the knot tucked down the sleeve, to cut down on the bulk in front. Great!

And now, please forgive a little rambling about the scarf. The checkerboard pattern is slightly reminiscent of a keffiyeh (which at this point has been leached of all political potency as a Palestinian national symbol by fashionables eager to look as though they too would throw stones at tanks were they not so busy sipping cappucinos after a hard morning's shop at Colette).

However, given the color of the pattern and the absence of fringe, this scarf is not quite that. In fact, to my eyes it's most closely reminiscent of a textile that's about as unpolitical as it gets--the linens used in a classic French bistro like the Fontaine de Mars in Paris (below, underneath a yummy-looking salade lardons and cassoulet), which themselves borrow bigtime from old-school kitchen towels.

The point: try tucking an end of a lightweight scarf down your sleeve as a new variation on an old accessory. Not quite as soul-satisfying as a bibbed napkin in Paris, but the check's a lot lighter, and you won't need a nap.

Sing O Muse Week: Heart String

2010-02-19T08:27:00.007Z

The last--and my favourite--of this week's attire-inspired poems is an ever-so-romantic recreation of loss and remembrance. Edward Rochester is rattling about Thornwood in anguish after Jane Eyre left him, after the revelation that he had a previously undisclosed mad wife locked away in the tower. Jane also forsook Rochester's gift of pearls . . .

Jane's Pearls

Rochester called her all day
like you would a dog or cat,
up and down corridors, behind
curtains and in the orchard
where only the owls answered.

The second night he put candles in
her room, opened wardrobes, drawers,
found nothing he’d given to her gone.
He picked up a narrow, suede box,
flicked its little gold catch.

Pearls curled round themselves,
a slight bloom like an apricot.
Each bead different from the next,
each pearl a supplication in his hands,
a rosary he could tell to bring her back.

It fitted round his neck,
hidden under his cravat.
The diamond clasp fixed.
Pearls cool against his sallow skin,
the touch of fingertips at his throat.

Alicia Stubbersfield

(from the anthology Out of Fashion, by Carol Ann Duffy, ed., Faber and Faber, 2004)

Sing O Muse Week: Lost and Found

2010-02-18T08:34:00.006Z

First, many thanks for your kind words about these poems about fashion on the blog this week. FB will be back refreshed next Monday with the regular collection of tips, sightings, and styling info about vintage fashion.

Today's poem, by Andrew Motion, is about the mundane occurance of misplacing one's things. Yet is there not something more forensic in the image of gloves lying crumpled in the yellow glare of a sodium streetlamp . . .

Red Gloves

Reaching the restaurant late
I find the empty shells
of your gloves on the cold curb:

stretchy, crushed red velvet
which slithered off your lap
to float in the sodium stream.

What could they mean except
you have arrived before me
and taken your place already?

The things we forget, or or lose,
live in a heaven of debris,
waiting for us to collect them;

already your naked hands
are fluttering over the table
missing they don’t know what.

Andrew Motion

(crocheted gloves here at eBay; poem from the anthology Out of Fashion, by Carol Ann Duffy, ed., Faber and Faber, 2004)

Sing O Muse Week: Thinking Cap

2010-02-17T08:27:00.004Z

Today's poem imagines a hat that is brimming with ideas about its owner. Which makes perfect sense. We love some of our clothes beyond reason--why shouldn't they love us back?

Your Favourite Hat

Believe me when I tell you that
I long to be your favourite hat

The velvet one. Purply-black
With ribbons trailing at the back

The one you wear to parties, plays,
Assignations on red-letter days

Like a bat in your unlit hall
I’d hang until there came the call

To freedom. To hug your crown
As you set off through Camden Town

To run my fingers through your hair
Unbeknown in Chalcot Square

To let them linger, let them trace
My shadow cast upon your face

Until, on reaching the appointed place
(The pulse at your temple, feel it race!)

Breathless you whisper: ‘At last, at last.’
And once inside, aside I’m cast

There to remain as time ticks by
Nap rising at each moan and sigh

Ecstatic, curling at the brim
To watch you naked, there with him

Until too soon, the afternoon gone
You retrieve me, push me on

Then take your leave, (as ever in haste)
Me eager to devour the taste

Of your hair. Your temples now on fire
My tongue, the hatband as you perspire

To savour the dampness of your skin
As you window-gaze. Looking in

But not seeing. Over Primrose Hill
You dawdle, relaxed now, until

Home Sweet Home, where, safely back
Sighing, you impale me on the rack

Is it in spite or because of that
I long to be your favourite hat?

Roger McGough

poem from the anthology Out of Fashion, by Carol Ann Duffy, ed., Faber and Faber, 2004

Sing O Muse Week: Doing the Laundry

2010-02-16T07:58:00.004Z

In many cultures, every day is laundry day, because there aren't enough clothes in the wardrobe to afford the luxury of parceling it out. What's more, getting clothes clean is just as physical an act as those that got them dirty. Today's poem elaborates these ideas beautifully--ennobling both chore and the handwork that it sustains.

Sari

The street stretches its back.
Its spine cracks with satisfaction.

There’s no bustle, no sense of rush,
just the determined slip and slap
of soap on slate
and cloth on stone,
morning light thrashed out
on the wet step
above the water tank.

Her arm an arc, her haunch
pushed back,
the whole length of sari
thwacked.
Legs apart, she attacks the sweat of yesterday,
the cooking smells,
the dribble from the baby’s mouth,
drives them out
of thin and daily thinning cloth.

Today she wears the purple,
washes green,
tosses it out to dry,
smacks it down across the stones
like an accomplishment
of fine clean weave.

Imtiaz Dharker

poem from the anthology Out of Fashion, by Carol Ann Duffy, ed., Faber and Faber, 2004

Sing O Muse Week: Amber

2010-02-15T14:48:00.005Z

Something a bit different this week: poetry with a vintage theme, because in these cold days of late winter, we all need more sustenance than mere pretty pictures.

First up is Gillian Clarke's wonderful "Amber". In the poem she takes inspiration from authentic amber's tactile warmth and from its use as adornment since Neolithic times.

Coveted week after week on the market stall,
coiled, nonchalant, arrayed under the lid
of locked glass, they grew familiar.
She’d finger them, slip them over her head,
try them for size, spoilt for choice—
red-amber, yellow, cut Russian ruby,
or those sad rosaries, widow’s beads of Whitby jet.
In each bead surfaced the cloudy face of a woman.

Warmed by the sunlight on dressing tables,
or against a woman’s skin, then laid safe
in a drawer each night between the silk leaves
of her underwear. Never cold, as if
each bead were the unquenchable flame
that burned a million years like a sanctuary lamp
beneath the ice, each drip of sticky gold
hardening to honeyed gold.

As if nothing that has ever contained heat
can be cold again, mirrors never empty
and our rooms, furniture, hoarded amulets,
could reassemble themselves into a life
and still pass hand to hand from underneath
the permafrost, ice woman to living daughter.

If you'd like to learn more about amber and its uses, there's an excellent reference page here.

"Amber" by Gillian Clarke, from from Carol
Ann Duffy, ed., Out of Fashion, Faber and Faber, 2004

Fashion Icon: Patty Smith

2010-02-12T15:21:00.003Z

Who knew?

Patty Smith, style insurrectionist--in that she has always resolutely dressed to please herself and no-one else, and insodoing inspired generations of rocker-chic imitators--absolutely loves clothes.

She tells of her ardor in this month's British Vogue

"As a young girl growing up in modest circumstances in Camden, New Jersey, [Smith] found copies of Vogue in some rubbish near her home. 'There were Irving Penn pictures of his wife, Lisa Fonssagrives, with her pencil-thin neck, three-cornered hat and gloves. These magazines really attracted me; I began to hoard them and I learnt a lot of things -- what to wear at a fox hunt and so on. But I also learnt about art, because they'd have articles about Dalí or Picasso, and I developed a sense of style.' Camden was also where Philadelphia's wealthy sent their clothes to charity shops. 'So I knew what Dior was, what Balenciaga was, the other great houses. I scouted out the labels. I learned how to put together my look. I was a teenager working in a factory wearing a cashmere Balenciaga jacket, flannel and work boots.'"

R.I.P. Alexander McQueen

2010-02-11T16:33:00.005Z

The greatest designer of our time is dead at 40. The story here. He compulsively and relentlessly broadened the boundaries of his art and craft, and his influence on young designers past, present, and future will be everlasting.

(photos of Alexander McQueen Fall 2006 ready-to-wear via Style.com, by Marcio Madeira)

Classic Vintage Scents: Chasing Cary Grant

2010-02-11T08:48:00.008Z

Last night I inhaled the scent of Cary Grant. It was delightful.

His cologne, I mean. № 89 from Floris, the British perfume house, which has been perfuming the great and good and best-not-to-say since 1730. My friend Richard entered the shop--in 89 Jermyn Street--specifically to buy Cary Grant's preferred cologne. He made inquiries about which one that might be. The woman behind the counter wasn't sure, but Floris remains a family business (nearly three centuries! amazing) so she called one of the scions to find out. He apparently wasn't sure either, so the decision was taken to "call the old man."

"№ 89!" the old man responded. He divulged that this was also the favorite fragrance of Ian Fleming, notoriously meticulous about dress and grooming. And so Richard claimed his prize and brought it to our dinner table. We all spritzed liberally. The scent, as the company tells, is:

"Orange and bergamot blended with lavender and neroli . . . warmed with a touch of spicy nutmeg, the floral heart is underscored by the dominant woody accord of sandalwood, cedarwood and vetiver in this quintessentially English gentleman’s fragrance."

In the words of the lass in the Irish Spring soap ads, I like it too. And come this spring, when an eau de cologne seems the best way to scent linen and lace, quintessential English gentlemen might have some company.

How to Dress for Valentine's Day

2010-02-10T15:05:00.002Z

This old-time madrigal beautifully sums mens' attitudes on the outfit you so feverishly select for the big day:

My Love in her attire doth show her wit,
It doth so well become her;
For every season she hath dressings fit,
For Winter, Spring, and Summer.
No beauty she doth miss
When all her robes are on;
But Beauty's self is she
When all her robes are gone.

International Harvester

2010-02-10T08:44:00.008Z

I'm still feeling soothed and enchanted by the Chanel Spring 2010 details video, below. The wheat-embroidered fabric is a standout (for Lagerfeld as well? Was this the underlying inspiration for the show's barnyard theme?).

Whatever. Here's Chanel's version (click to see detail).

And here is a vintage original--which I reckon to be '60s era, by the master beaders in Hong Kong--that is much of like, at least in its whole-grain goodness. Update it with a pair of skinnies for spring, and know that you are wearing the very chicest of forage.

(photo of Chanel jacket via Style.com by Monica Feudi / GoRunway.com)

A Closer Look at Vintage Shooting Glasses

2010-02-09T09:11:00.010Z

Whether you're an actual hunter, or your first name is Hunter, or you simply want a supercool twist on the usual sunnies, you can do no wrong with a pair of vintage shooting glasses, like the marvelous 1920s version below from Etsy.

The amber-tinted lenses heighten contrast when conditions are hazy, overcast or glareful. (You can actually see the effect in the photo -- note the greater clarity of the pearls and starfish behind the glass.)

For stalking big game or living life as fashion shoot, specs like these, or later versions, as illustrated in the ad below, are right on target.

Chanel Details, Spring 2010

2010-02-08T18:50:00.004Z

I case you haven't seen it, here is a wonderful silent film from Youtube showing Chanel's spring line, with a focus on the details that make it special. For me, the high points are the raw-edged chiffon (which could so easily be replicated with an inexpensive vintage scarf and a sharp pair of scissors), the lovely floral embellishment on the straps of a dress (here, all you'd need is a length of decorative ribbon and an ability to tack with needle and thread), and the gorgeous wheaten embroidery in gold against black velvet (don't try this at home, guys, leave it to the experts at Lesage . . . )

(many thanks to AdoreVintage for the tip!)

Pucci Prints Know No Season

2010-02-08T08:46:00.005Z

Need a shot of glam to get you through several feet of snow? Have a shoe size that is, shall we say, substantial? Have $249.99 in loose change to spare? (yeah, me neither).

Even if none of the above is true, aren't these slushcutters just splendid. They've cheered my Monday morning immensely, and pricey though they are, they're a lot less expensive than a week in Ticino.

A Closer Look at Mr. John

2010-02-05T07:35:00.005Z

Am thinking today about hatmaker Mr. John, and how peculiar it is that this stellar designer from America's midcentury has fallen into near total obscurity. Perhaps if we all continued to wear hats as beautifully as Mad Men's Trudie Campbell does here his name would remain emblematic of all that was chic in the American style.

Himself a German with a background in medicine and art, John Pico Harberger came to the States in 1919 and set up shops in New York, Miami, and Palm Beach. Over his long, long career his most noteworthy achievements were designing the millinery for Scarlet O'Hara in Gone with the Wind, Marilyn Monroe in Some Like it Hot, and winning countless awards, including fashion's highest honor, the Coty American Fashion Critics Award. His clients included Greta Garbo, Jackie Kennedy Onassis, and the Duchess of Windsor.

As a dictator of style, he was a master of propaganda:

"A hat cannot actually give one golden curls if the hair is mouse-colored and stringy; it cannot lift a face, pay overdue bills, subtract ten years from one's age, or transform a plain soul into a reigning princess. But it can lend practically any woman a temporary out-of-herself feeling. For the right hat creates a desired mood, and that isn't fiction or fancy, but fact, fact, fact."

I suspect the man would be less than pleased to see his creations for sale on eBay, but so they are, and well undervalued they are too. Case in point: this ravishing feather toque, complete with a box that itself is so wonderfully evocative of its age and station.

I'd say a Mr. John revival is well overdue.

And Why NOT Make a Bag Out of . . . .

2010-02-04T13:49:00.004Z

Can't make a silk purse out of a sow's ear, but, unlikely as it sounds, you can make a damn cute bag out of an old vinyl record album.

I can't think of a better way to accessorize a rockabilly outfit--shake it up baby!

What's That About? Peter Pan Collar

2010-02-03T12:13:00.005Z

This photo of actress Carey Mulligan reminded me of how wonderful a peter pan collar can look given a great set of bones and a charming refusal to kowtow to notions of how much bare skin a young woman in the public eye actually owes that eye. I'm not sure if Mulligan is consciously channeling Audrey but either way she's doing a fine job.

But about the collar. How odd is it that it is named after a character who, in J.M. Barrie's own words, "was clad in skeleton leaves and the juices that flow from the trees" -- i.e., nothing so restraining as an actual neckband.

Online sources are scant as regards the precise origin of the term, but it's safe to say that this style had its heyday among girls and teens in the 1950s, when, worn peeking over the neckline of a cardigan, possibly with a set of starter pearls, it was emblematic of chaste good grooming.

As for Peter himself, chaste he may have been by default, but good grooming? Most unlikely.

(photo of Carey Mulligan from the Frisky, photo of Audrey Hepburn from Doctor Macro's High Quality Movie Scans, Peter Pan illustration from Wikimedia, many thanks to all.)

Exercise in Utility: Double Hole Canvas Belts

2010-02-02T08:47:00.010Z

The "utility look" is big fashion news this spring, with everyone from Gap to Galliano going for epaulets and grommets in a big way.

The concept isn't new, of course--khaki and sand-colored cotton reappear perennially under the names "safari look," or "military look,"--but the genius this time around is in fashion having lit on a term that sounds hip and economically-mindful at the same time. Utility! Yeah, I need more of that!

You probably have a lot of this kind of stuff already. There's only one item that seems to me a must, if you care about trend-riding to any degree, and that is a two-holed canvas belt, like the one issued by Burberry above. (Aside--I love how bleached the model looks in this photo--not just her hair, but the whole package, as if she'd been plucked from the deadwood on a windy beach somewhere).

Anyway, the belt. Burberry's version will run over £125/$200. An army-surplus version will be two decimal points cheaper. Burberry's hardware and canvas will be much nicer, obviously, but if, as they say, it's all about utility, the secondhand versions can do it, yes they can.

(photo by David Sims in American Vogue, January 2010)

Fashion DIY: How To Make Lace Leggings

2010-02-01T10:05:00.006Z

So Yves Saint Laurent was in a lace-leggings frame of mind for the house's Resort 2010 collection, as the pumpkin versions at left demonstrate. While store-bought lace leggings are all well and good, is it wholly necessary to buy a dedicated pair WHEN, as often as not, lurking in the closet, are the makings of much the same thing, in the guise of an old pair of lace tights that for one reason or another rarely get worn?

Once the toe-caps have been snipped off these do a remarkably good imitation of the more finished versions. Just grab a sharp pair of scissors, cut approximately at the ball of the foot, and pull on, adjusting from the top rather than the bottom.

Black lace is nice at night (a bit too 80s Madonna for my taste for day). And perfect for spring: a pair of pastel or nude leggings, for a barely-there lacy look, along the lines of what Marc Jacobs was showing here. For whatever reason lace tights in unusual colors are frequently found in the bargain basket at secondhand stores--see if you come across a pair you can transform.

From the Street to the Fourth Floor: Trainers Take Harvey Nichols

2010-01-27T06:48:00.009Z

Harvey Nichols, one of London's great department stores, has just introduced their Fourth Floor Project, which, along the lines of Paris's Colette, is dedicated to achingly hip merchandise, from handbags to phones. One of the floor's standout features is a trainer wall for ladies only, filled with sneaks by high-end designers going street, among them Christian Louboutin's £660/$1070 gold-studded white high-tops.

High-design trainers are fantastic, as these recent snaps from Barcelona show. But do they need to cost in triple digits? Don't think so. Below are some pairs picked pretty much at random from Etsy, in great condition (obv. a critical requirement for vintage footgear)--high-top Jordaches from back in the day, some adorable Liz Claiborne slip-ons that play into the whole color-block thing going on, and these great great New York Transit neon sneaker/brogues.

A girl can never have too many foot-friendly shoes--and in the vintage world, £660 will nab you quite a few.

On the Origins of a Species of Unnatural Fur

2010-01-26T13:49:00.007Z

Quick Quiz:

What's the very first thing that springs to mind when hearing the term "Princeton's Mutations?"

a) a tiger mascot with an extra tail
b) a freshman class turned hideously crimson by an evil bioengineer in Cambridge
c) a football team that beats Yale more than once per decade

None of the above! The answer, of course, is d) a faux-fur coat

Yes indeed, back in the '50s somebody thought this would be an excellent name for a high-end faux garment. Which ranks right up there with Droopy & Browns formalwear in England and Sweden's Acne Jeans as one of the most questionable marketing decisions in fashion history.

Nonetheless, Life magazine's December 5, 1955 issue, which devoted its cover and an illustrated feature to man-made mink, and had this to say about Princeton's Mutations. . .

"After four years of beaverlike work in the laboratory, an eye-fooling duplicate of a Cerulean mink stole is now available for about a fiftieth of the price of the real thing . . . . Called Princeton's Mutations, after the firm that makes it, the cloth has just been introduced in gray, brown, and taupe . . . Hopeful guys who assume that this mock mink solves their fur-for-Christmas-problems should be warned that their dolls may say, "Take back your coal-water-and-natural-gas mink!"

Etsy seller renouveauclothing has this one on offer and I think it looks great. And the label's on the inside, right?

This Old Stiletto

2010-01-25T08:52:00.008Z

In the immortal words of Billy Joel, some ladies are so good with their stiletto that you don't really mind the pain . . .

He's talking about mean girls with a bad attitude. Stiletto heels are another story. If they pinch, or rub, or squeeze your toesies into an impossible little ^, then you do mind the pain, and then some, and typically retaliate by sending the offender to the back of the closet, the Azkaban of evil footwear.

But there's an alternative to the banishment . . . make the shoe do some hard labor. I saw this ad for a little plastic stiletto that works as a doorstop and thought "how cute!"

And then realized that an actual shoe would work just as well, as long as the toe is shallow and you dislike it intently enough to risk scuffing the leather.

How seductive would one of these babies look holding open your bedroom door? If the shoe doesn't fit, wedge it.

(Shoe wedge designed by Liz Dubois and Anthony Petrie, available from www.worldwidefred.com. Stuart Weitzman stiletto image from shoewawa.com)

Kiss-Clasp Me Deadly

2010-01-22T08:53:00.006Z

Like Ava, above, there's something in classic film noir that grips and won't let go . . . the rainslicked nights, the melancholy of the hero, the dead-souled beauty of the woman that destroys him . . . all wrapped in looming black curves that were a nightmarish exaggeration of the Deco sensibility.

That design ethos crept into the late-40s daylight as well, with Buick's Roadmaster automobile, the furniture designs of mid-century modern architects like Henry Glass . . .

and, now getting to the point of this post, handbags.

The beauty above, made by the dubiously-named François of California, captures all the nasty dark volupté of the time, right on down to the pink vinyl interior. François bags are marked by this overblown sculptural quality. Notwithstanding the calibre of design, examples can be found at very reasonable prices online and in vintage shops. This particular example is from Vintage à la Mode in San Francisco.

If you're into channeling your inner Noir heroine, a bag like this would be a reasonably safe way to go.

(photo top from The Killers, 1946, review on electricsheepmagazine.co.uk; Henry P. Glass chair design from the ArchiTech Gallery's show Future Perfect: Mid-Century Modern Design Drawings, 1947 Buick Roadmaster from www.supercars.net, many thanks)

In the Zip File

2010-01-21T07:11:00.007Z

We've all been here, yes? Working up a zip just so far and then hitting the DMZ between southerly and northerly leverage. If there's a helpful man around the house, he's happy to oblige, but that's not always the case.

Which is why this little device seems so genius. With a Zippade on hand, you'll never get stuck, seems to me a must for every vintage fan's drawer.

Photo above, Bare Your Bare Bones, Sea Legs Snapshots' on photostream, here at Flickr, many thanks!)

Not Your Granny's Apron

2010-01-20T08:44:00.005Z

The shorts-over-leggings look is a trend with staying power. But girls, honestly, it's getting old.

Wouldn't this darling apron, its satin ribbon tied in front, be so much cuter over black leggings or white, especially with a cropped leather jacket up top? Because honestly, there is no way this garment should stay tied to the stove.

Wrist Candy: Vintage Needlepoint Bags

2010-01-19T08:56:00.005Z

After years and years of Dominatrix Chic in the handbag department, I am so glad to see that designers are ditching the chains and padlocks and moving back to the center with traditional frame bags . . .

But why stop there? What's catching my eye these days are vintage needlepoint bags by the likes of Koro Creations, Souré, and the pictured example from Christine Custom bags of Detroit . . . outlandishly feminine and so well suited to spring's forecasted pastels and lace. Or even right now, when the promise of violets helps dispel winter's gray . . .

A Closer Look: The Mexican Rebozo

2010-01-18T08:37:00.006Z

Still thinking about hoods. Then, yesterday, came across this beautiful cover photograph by Clifford Coffin for Vogue's April 1951 issue. According to the caption, model Jean Patchett'a headwrap is a Mexican rebozo, a term I'd never encountered before.

What fascinating garments these are. Essentially, they are the living fabric of Mexico, rectangular shawls that were traditionally handloomed, initially from maguey cactus fibers, later from cotton, wool, or silk. They were worn to lend warmth, modesty, and/or the ability to carry babies and other cargo hands-free, and then, with the Spanish conquest and sweep of Catholicism, they became mandatory head-coverings upon entering church. Today, according to this in-depth article by Vicky Cowal in The Herald Mexico, rebozos are still universally worn in Mexico across class and regional culture. Frida Kahlo, below, was rarely without one.

What sets rebozos apart from other varieties of shawl--from pashminas to paisleys to Cantonese--is the distinctive patterns that may be knotted into the fringe, macrame-style. Also, tells Cowal, traditionally-dyed black rebozos--often used as shrouds--are known as "rebozos de aroma," as the black dye has an unpleasant smell which is subsequently masked by soaking in rose petals, orange leaves, and fragrant herbs, whose scent may linger for years.

Authentic rebozos are still found across Mexico, and are ubiquitous in markets around the country. ¡Viva rebozos! Long may their tradition continue.

(photo of Frida Kahlo by Nickolas Muray, 1939, via thealameda.org, © Nickolas Muray Photo Archives. Red rebozo on loom from Glenda Alexandra Suarez's Flickr photostream, many thanks!)

Auction Alert: Roger Vivier (??) vintage shoes

2010-01-17T18:25:00.005Z

Quick note: just came across this lot on eBay, for a fine Coblentz vintage bag and a matching pair of shoes, which will close in a couple hours. The bag is lovely, but more importantly, the shoes are listed as "Roger Vivien" of Paris--which seems likely to be "Roger Vivier," who, as collaborator to Christian Dior, was defining the footwear of the midcentury. As always, buyer beware, but if you wear a narrow 8.5 US and fancy a bit of vintage shoe fashion history . . . take a closer look.

Postscript: The sole bidder got bag and shoes for $20!! A steal.

How an Off-Duty Model Wears Vintage

2010-01-15T07:06:00.007Z

If you're not personally camped out in a café at the corner of Cool and Hip, Altamira: Models Off Duty is a great place to see street fashion worn as its designers intended. One of my favorite postings in recent weeks was of German model Aymeline Valade.

Check out her necklace, a big old pocketwatch strung on a long chain. I have a sneaking suspicion it's not actually old, but it's a great inspiration, no? Because how much more better would a real, slightly tarnished old silver one look? Plus the keffiyeh scarf, draped model style.

My favorite element? Those grey suede brogues. Brown suede is fairly common but I've never seen them in quite this shade before, which seems perfect for when winter's blacks start making the shift into springtime's navy and white.

What's best about Aymeline Valade's look? You don't have to look like Aymeline to pull it off.

(photos from Altamira: Models Off Duty, many thanks!)

What to Do With a Vintage Muff

2010-01-13T18:30:00.008Z

My mom's been cleaning house again--translation: THROWING AWAY COOL OLD STUFF--and thank goodness, instead of consigning it to the town dump, or to the local resale shop, where it would have sat unloved until the end of days, she packed up and shipped, in a Harry & David Fruit of the Month cardboard box (they're still getting those? Grapefruit in January! Whoohoo!!), my great-grandmother's mint beaver muff.

As I unpacked it, the kids, eating their breakfast cereal, were agog.

"What's it for?!"
"To keep your hands warm, sillies."
"Didn't people have gloves in olden days?"
"Well, yes, but . . . "
"Didn't they have mittens?"
"Um . . ."

Logical questions on the part of my genius children, for which I didn't have adequate answers.

Further interrogation of mom revealed that the muff was worn on long car rides, in the days when cars were unheated. Hmm. A handful of mouseclicks determined that muffs have been popular among men and women since at least the 17th century, and that beaver pelts were favoured for their fine, dense fur. They were showy bits of kit in the Regency days, the bigger the better, and were frequently worn during bracing outdoor strolls.

So that's the history. But how to make the muff functional today, when cars have not only central heating, but bum warmers, and bracing outdoor walks no longer involve ankle-length skirts and pelisses?

I tossed and turned the muff, considering. One end could be sewn up and straps attached, to make for a cunning fur backpack. Which, come on, I'd never wear. Or it could be cut in half, and the ends attached to a cloth coat to make showy cuffs. But again, no not really.

Then, bing, the answer. The one true place to carry a vintage fur muff--on an airplane, back in the usual accomodations in cattle class. Where the air is always frigid. The blankets are hopelessly inadequate. And the seat configuration makes it impossible to squash a pillow into a comfortable headrest. The muff would solve all of the problems and more.

So once again, this old muff is going places. Prepared for takeoff? Yes indeed.

(fashion plate from Nicholas Heideloff's Gallery of Fashion, 1794-1802, from Catherine Decker's Regency Fashion page, many thanks!)

Pattern Matching with Grace Kelly

2010-01-13T13:13:00.006Z

Just learned of the Victoria & Albert Museum's plans for a show on Grace Kelly's wardrobe next April (nice Daily Mail article on it here). CAN NOT WAIT, but in the meantime was most intrigued by the tidbit that the dress Kelly wore to meet Rainier for the first time was not couture, but in fact whipped up from a McCall's Easy Sew pattern.

It wasn't difficult to find Michou Simon's photos (via Paris Match) of their first encounter (and doesn't Rainier look pleased as punch), but digging out the pattern itself yielded only half-satisfactory results. The one below, with its dropped bodice, seems the best match, absent the long sleeves.

Will the exhibition reveal whether or not McCalls 3151 is indeed the model? Time will tell. But it was fun digging around the internet archives (especially So Vintage Patterns and the Vintage Patterns Pool at Flickr) to find the best match.

New Ways with Old Lace: How to Restyle Vintage Separates

2010-01-13T08:51:00.009Z

Every so often some fashion expert will declare that vintage is OVER, the 20+ year movement has finally run off its legs. Impossible, I say. There are simply too many ways to wear it, renew it, make it feel fresh--especially those pieces that are not mainline elements but instead played a supporting role in the past. Today's entry is about thinking these sideliners out of old roles and into new.

The January issue of British Vogue, in their essential-reading More Dash than Cash, featured the model above in a vintage petticoat worn as a shrug. Not a look every one of us can pull off--but a great way to rework an underrepresented and easy-to-source piece.

In the brilliant Zuburbia vintage blog (bookmark now if you love old clothes and great writing about them), Mary Kincaid recently highlighted a gorgeous bedjacket that would feel right at home on the street this spring.

My favorite has to be this example from Etsy vintage seller PranceandSwagger. Wear an old frilly apron as a capelet? Absolutely, especially when it looks this cute.

Who's a Sexy Nun, Then? Why the World Loves a Wimple

2010-01-12T09:00:00.006Z

Not a lot of explaining necessary here . . .

Sophia Loren, Audrey Hepburn, and most recently, in the December Paris Vogue, Lara Stone demonstrate how to work a wimple.

Call me crazy, but I think Nicolas Ghesquière at Balenciaga is going for much the same effect from an entirely different direction, with his sleeveless hoodies for Spring 2010. Yes they're black leather rather than starched linen, and owe as much to the hood rat as they do to the lamb of God, but don't they make the wearer look alluringly untouchable--encased--in exactly the same sort of way?

Audrey Hepburn in The Nun's Story, Sophia Loren in White Sister, Lara Stone photographed by Cédric Buchet for December 2009 Vogue Paris.

Pimp My Down Coat

2010-01-11T08:27:00.007Z

In a land where small talk is overwhelmingly dominated by what's up with the weather, even the Britons are wearying of chat about the recent spate of snow and cold, and the insufficient supply of sandy grit to lend traction to the roads. Given that this is an island nation, i.e. ringed with beaches, the latter seems a bit mystifying to the non-native, but the whys and wherefores seem best left unasked.

Anyway, apart from conversation, the weather has lent an excellent excuse to revisit my Land's End down coat. Fashion writer India Knight, in her brilliant blog Posterous, recently rhapsodized about her own brand new one. I'm less thrilled about my ten-year-old one, because it's dowdy and it's black and I've worn it through rain and snow and sleet and hail and pregnancy on my appointed rounds. In this case, familiarity has bred contempt. Nowadays I'll only put it on when conditions are so dire nobody can see properly anyway.

But it's a perfectly serviceable coat. And I have the services of Sagheer, the wonder tailor. There's no reason apart from the dowdy factor that I shouldn't be wearing it when it's cold. So instead of rushing out to buy a Uniqlo Jil Sander puffa like countless fashionable others, I decided to give the old warhorse a makeover.

The first problem was the length. Mid-calf is great if you live in Fargo or Land's End and need that extra two feet of goose featherage to make subzero liveable. In London it's a sacrifice you can make in the name of style. So I had Sagheer cut it down to mid-thigh.

The next problem was the volume. The coat hung straight down from the shoulders, a silhouette designed to fit all shapes and sizes, i.e. dead boring. What it needed was a belt. Since we had like fabric aplenty from the cut-down, some of it was used to make an inch-wide, snap close belt. Just enough to lend some shape.

Finally, the special effects. How I would love to have added a pelmet or shawl lapels like Giambattista Valli did brilliantly for his Gamme Rouge line of down coats for skiwear specialist Moncler (above), or Junya Watanabe's marvelous line for Commes des Garcons (below).

But this kind of refashioning was beyond even Sagheer's formidable skills so I'm going to settle for draping on my faux fur scarf, pinned crosswise in front, so that it will sit like a collar.

And presto! A new look from old, for much less money than it would cost to buy afresh. If you'd like to try this at home but don't have a tailor on call, consider revitalizing your down coat by:

1) Just add a belt in similar nylon fabric, or go for a bold contrast. A bit of snug around the waistline could transform the coat's look. Keep the belt in the pocket when the coat is not on.
2) Fold the sleeves under to 3/4 length and wear with gorgeous long leather gloves.
3) Instead of wearing any old scarf, find one that suits your coloring brilliantly, and experiment with ways of tying it. If you want to splash out, check out this very cool down scarf by Nau.

So here's the end result. Sometimes a few tweaks are all you need.

See You Next Year!

2009-12-26T09:30:00.004Z

Given that so many of you are enjoying the festive season away from your screens, Fashion Preserve is taking the opportunity to clean house. Gone all the defunct photos from auctions long past, more YouTube where I can find it, now that I know how to embed, and entries updated and relinked to make the blog more functional.

Thank you so much for your readership, support, and wonderful comments over the blog's first year. FP be back with all-new all-old fashion on January 11th.

2009-12-25T09:05:00.002Z

No matter where you live between the Poles . . . Fashion Preserve wishes you warmth, wisdom and style. On to the stockings!

Mr. Dino, I Presume: More Jetset Knit Dresses

2009-12-24T13:10:00.005Z

What I love best about the glorious jersey-knit frocks of 60s maestro Mr. Dino are, in no particular order:

1) The insanely great use of op-art prints right on the body, which essentially gave onlookers leave to stare at the wearer's parts with the excuse that those cubes were going to flip sooner or later.

2) As a Pucci for the masses, Mr. Dino created great-looking dresses out of nylon, double-knit polyester, and Arnel triacetate, fabrics that could be thrown into a washer, drip-dried, trampled on by a herd of elephants and still emerge reassuringly crease-free.

3) Mr. Dino was the adopted name of designer Max Cohen. He and his family chose it in homage to his wife's affection for Dean Martin.

His designs not only nodded to Op Art, but to Ming vase decoration, Rajasthani decorative patterning, Aubrey Beardsley, and, at bottom, Accornero's Flora scarf designs for Gucci, scoring himself a twofer in the Knocking-Off-the-Italians division of the garment wars.

Quick note: the images here are from Roseann Ettinger's Signature Prints: Jet--set Glamour of the '60s and '70s, which has finally come in from Amazon. If you love these exuberant prints as much as I do this is a must-have for your library. The examples are wonderfully styled with period jewellery and shoes, giving a real sense of how they were worn.

Jetset Knitwear, American Style: The Goldworm Look

2009-12-23T10:30:00.008Z

Continuing in this week's look at the masters of patterned knit dresses is today's entry on Robert Goldworm, who wedded American mercantile drive to the artistry of Italian printmakers, creating a line of dresses that overturned the barriers between garment and art.

There is a wonderful interview with Goldworm's daughter Susan on the vintage site Playing Dress Up All Day Long . . . choice tidbits include how Robert came to reshape a business founded by his mother in the late 1920s into one of the most innovative knitwear operations in the world. Robert went to Milan after graduating from New York University with the idea of creating a new kind of dress. It was knit along the simple lines of a t-shirt, but finished to the highest standards of Italian hand craftsmanship in terms of seaming, closures, and other technical details.

Susan relates how her father was influenced by the stacks of art books that filled their home -- especially the near- and pure abstraction of van Gogh, Picasso, Paul Klee, Jasper Johns, Mondrian. His eye was also caught by the exotic . . . the dress at top, featuring an Indian-inspired print, would have captivated buyers eager to convey their own cosmopolitan inclinations in a time when the world was opening up to long-haul air travel.

While his lines could be categorized under the category of 'art to wear', Goldworm was also designing to a mandate of ease and suitability for travel. Knit dresses filled that role perfectly, as this extraordinary report in Sports Illustrated (which actually wrote about cutting-edge sportswear for women in the '50s) shows . . .

Seated above in a spider web of his own designs is the gentleman who is responsible for the knitted fashions favored by the American woman who travels fastest, farthest and neatest.

Goldworm's dresses are widely available at vintage outlets at prices that seem very reasonable, given their significance in American fashion history. Look around, and see if you don't catch a sense of how marvelous these designs must have seemed to women seeking to expand themselves . . . through travel, through art, or, barring that, an expedition through the rails of a great department store.

Sports Illustrated ad from Viviene18328 at Photobucket. India-print dress at riceandbeansvintage.com. Van Gogh dress from legacy-nyc.com. Many thanks to all.

Who Dressed the Jetset: Emilio Pucci

2009-12-22T06:52:00.014Z

Tom Ford, please enough with the Isherwood--for your next trick make a film of the life of printmaker, sportsman, U. of Georgia aggie and politico Emilio Pucci. Born to a noble family in Florence in 1914, he maneuvered from a role abetting the Mussolini family in WWII to seeing his own Apollo mission logo land on the moon. Jackie O loved him. Marilyn Monroe loved him so much she is wearing him now (maybe). This is a big life, even for an Italian fashion designer, people not generally known for doing it small.

Pucci is best known, of course, for his brilliantly hued biomorphic prints, which, when applied to the slinky stretchiness of silk jersey knit, came to define the pack-and-go lifestyle of the late-sixties jetsetters.

This week I'd like to follow the trail of the great printmakers who catered to this particular tribe. Pucci, was, of course, the first and foremost. The impact of his signature style was so distinctive it remains instantly recognizable today under current head-of-house Peter Dundas, and is still as covetable on the streets of Ibiza and Southhampton as it was in the marchese's heyday.

Pucci's genius, I think, lies in his ability to lay down a multitude of not-necessarily agreeable colors in a pattern so jumped-up and lively that all arguments are off and they simply must get along. Nature can manage this nicely (above); it's harder for humans, as the heaps of bad vintage psychedelic prints for sale online make clear. It's a testament to Pucci's eye that he accomplished it routinely, and what's more he created a template for others to follow.

These sunglasses, currently for sale on eBay, seem a brilliant way to wear Pucci if you personally are not boarding a Cessna for a fresh island every weekend. High-quality vintage dresses will cost a fortune, but accessories (and his uniforms for Braniff, described here), offer a more affordable option.

More on the great 60s printmakers on through the week.