Round and Round: A Closer Look at Circle Skirts

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].

Done and Dustered--A Quick Look at Duster Coats

Just like Darwin's finches, garments evolve and adapt as a class to new environments. A nice example is the duster coat. Originally this was a shin-length, unwaisted, lightweight coat that was worn while riding to protect the clothes underneath from dust (the Driza-Bone company of Australia still makes very handsome oilskin duster coats, but I reckon very few do any actual time on the back of a horse). With the advent of the automobile, the duster coat carried on its protective role, though now in the open seat of a roadster.

When cars became sedans and road grime was no longer an issue for passengers, the duster coat underwent a peculiar yet perfectly apt transformation from the great outdoors into the dust-bunny strewn interior. The 1940s, 50s and 60s saw its heyday as a front-buttoning, light cotton cover-up a domestic goddess would throw on as she set about her household duties.

The term duster is now used interchangeably with housecoats and housedresses, especially when they appear as vintage collectables. I think the entire category is vastly undervalued -- many of these pieces are absolute treasures, especially those that for whatever reason saw little active duty as a functional cover-up.

I'm no expert on these particular garments (if you are, please write in!). But general buying tips do occur and seem worth passing along:

1) Go for a great print, like the jam jar special at top.

2) There are a great many examples for sale at extremely reasonable prices. For that reason try to be patient and find one that's mint.

3) The simplicity of the cut of these garments means you can accessorize to the hilt--ideally with more modern pieces so as to avoid a Lucy Ricardo-style costume effect.

4) Consider wearing a great duster like the one at left over a sheath dress, or atop muted-color leggings, or unbuttoned over jeans and a tee . . .

Happy hunting!