What's That About? Snoods

Fashion's tastemakers, with blithe certitude,
Declared '09 to be the year of the Snood,
So you won't be caught napping
About this snuggly head wrapping
They mean a scarf you can wear like a hood.

Something about the word "snood" brings out the Dr. Suess in me. It's such a fun word to say. Go on. Snoooooooood.

Anyway, the tastemakers are inaccurate in calling a hoody scarf--or any sort of neckwrap--a snood, because this it ain't. The covering made trendy by Missoni (top) and others right on down to Gap is, properly speaking, a cowl.

Meanwhile, a snood, properly speaking, is some sort of ribbonlike or crocheted or cloth catchment for the hair, worn at the back of the head. Wiki tells us that the word comes from the Old English. In olde tymes in the northern regions of the British Isles, snoods were worn in ribbon form by women to indicate that they were unmarried.

Throughout their span of popularity, traditional snoods kept long hair tidily contained--either for social propriety or for professional safety. Here, a how-to posted by 16 Sparrows at the ever-informative Fedora Lounge. You have got to read this, it's hilarious.



Crocheting snoods became a popular pasttime in WWII, and patterns are easily found on eBay. I think they look especially great under hats, as a more formal alternative to a ponytail. And if anyone can tell me from which film this wonderful shot of Bette Davis originates, I'll write a bad poem in your honor.




(photo top of Missoni '09 show by AP, in the daily Telegraph; photo Bette Davis posted by Mean Jean on J-Walk Blog, thank you!)

Tales from the Crypt: A Tie for Your Guy

Grown men tend to come in two varieties when it comes to dressing up for Halloween. No fun at all--i.e. unwilling to don even the simplest of masks to lend a little verve to the proceedings, or Way Too Fun Altogether--samba-ing around the house in a Borat-inspired glitter thong that would make more conservative parents--hell, even libertarian parents--regret ever ringing your doorbell.

Here, I think, is an item of clothing that strikes a fantastic middle ground between stick-in-the-mud and sartorial flamethrower:

A tie. But not just any tie. Look a little closer, and it turns into a catacomb's worth of death heads, gorgeously jacquarded into a black ground.


It comes from Favourbrook, a London mens'- and womenswear designer that is not widely known outside of England, but does wonderful things with brocaded fabrics and hand tailoring, especially its vests (in the UK known as waistcoats, but nonobligingly pronounced "weskits"). These peek out from underneath the grey tailed suits that are standard issue at your posher sort of English wedding.

Favourbrook has been in business for just few decades but its clothes have a decided retro flair. Founder Oliver Spencer's stated aim was to commingle the brilliance of Comme des Garçons and the '20s English chic depicted in the novels of Somerset Maugham (Yanks might substitute Gatsby style and get the general idea).

There's a nice article on Spencer here. In the meantime, keep your eye out for the stealth brand Favourbrook in secondhand situations. These are fine, fine pieces of clothing, and certainly deserve more outings than a night out on Halloween.

Pennies in Heaven: Yves Saint Laurent Still Rules

Just read in New York Magazine's The Cut that Yves Saint Laurent is officially the top earning dead celeb, beating even Michael Jackson in earnings this year. And is it any wonder, with the house's phenomenal output under his helm, and its ongoing fruitfulness under Stefano Pilati.

As a quick reminder of the YSL bounty, above is a quilted white leather bomber jacket that I'd do dark deeds to own, even though it's probably too small (British 8 = American 4). Making matters worse is that it's currently sitting a mere stone's throw from my office.

But I already have a white leather jacket, which I don't wear nearly enough, so that's me out. How about you, in?

Have a Nice Day

Today, class, a history lesson, on one of the most iconic faces of the past half century. One that has had more revivals than Madonna. A face frozen in time--and unlike Madonna's, permanently set to a pleasant expression.

I speak of course, of the Smiley. First incarnated in the early seventies, when the "burn baby burn" sentiments of the previous decade were slowly ceding ground to "peace, man" and thence irrevocably to "have a nice day."

Smileys originally appeared in button form only, and then moved on to tee shirts. And then faded from public view, briefly . . .

Until fashion started ransacking the past in search of imagery to lend personality, instant recognizability, an ultimately, ironic knowingness to its lines.

The first to tee up, quite literally, was Moschino (vintage Moschino Jeans tee below, from ClaireInc). This Italian designer has never shied from humor, even in its boutique lines, and here he one-upped the original with a "turn that smile upside down" spin.



Next, French designer Jean-Charles de Castelbajac had a go in Spring 2008 (top). This designer has never found a huge following outside France, arguably due to his extraordinary fondness for cartoons and other childlike motifs in his work. Smiley played straight into that sensibility, hence this dress. The fashion press was far from kind to Livia Giuggioli, Colin Firth's wife, for daring to show a sense of humor in wearing one to the premiere of Mama Mia.

Smiley's latest incarnation is from Aussie designers Ksubi, who cleverly transformed the ultimate 70s dude into a headphone-wearing noughties hipster.



For my money, though, you can't beat the original. Available online from the marvelous UK haberdasher Kleins.

No. YOU have a nice day.

Up for Auction: A World Trade Center paper dress

I've seen a number of extraordinary paper dresses: showing Warhol's Campbell's Soup print, for example, and another touting Nixon for President.

But this one tops them all. Isn't it ironic that dresses like these, meant to be the ultimate in disposable fashion, wind up becoming objects to preserve at all cost . . .

(WTC paper dress, Lot No. 1372, to be auctioned tomorrow, October 26th by Kerry Taylor Auctions, London. If you're interested, get in touch with them here, right now).

Ascots and Cravats: Dandies Rule, OK?

What a fine specimen.

No! Not of an Austen hero (in case you don't recognize him, Captain Frederick Wentworth of Persuasion, played by Rupert Penry-Jones). Thank you Rupert.

No, I'm talking about his neckwear, specifically a cravat. Tied in "Mail Coach" fashion and held in place with a stickpin, probably pearl.

A cravat was originally an element of the uniforms worn by Croation soldiers stationed in Paris in the 17th century. The French adopted it as a fashion item, finding it more comfortable and laundry-friendly than the ruff which preceded it. A narrow strip of starched linen, muslin, silk, or later, cotton, it was looped once around the neck to form a band and then tied in any one of a number of different manners through the 17th and 18th centuries.

Ascots, which became popular in the early part of the 20th century, were the flamboyant grand-nephews of the cravat. Typically made of heavier silk, they had wider ends and were often brightly patterned with stripes, dots or paisleys. Alternately known as "day cravats," they would be affected--notably by the stylesetting Prince of Wales--in outdoor leisure pursuits that weren't likely to leave the partipants ruffled, like rounds of golf or sturdy walks around the estate with the dogs.

Like cravats, ascots could be handsomely set off with a fine stickpin. These are gorgeous little pieces of kit, shamefully neglected in the actual and virtual vitrines of the vintage-jewelery world. I think they are long overdue for a revival.

The problem with them is, they will put an unsightly big hole in your lapel or expensive Hermès scarf. So why not pick up a narrow silk strip from a charity shop for pennies, tie it cravat style, and then find a lovely stick pin to set it off? (Tieing tip, from the flipping awesome Jane Austen Centre gift shop, where you can purchase an actual cravat, if you are so inclined: "hold the centre of the cloth up against the neck, cross the ends behind before bring them back to the front and tying in a bow or knot.")

A cool look for setting off round the estate, and one that's just right as necks begin to feel the autumn chill.

Wet-Look Leggings, Now and Then

Wet-look leggings, from Sass & Bide's high-end Rats to cheapie knockoffs bought at the mall, are inescapable on young, fashionable girls this autumn. Cover-up and show-off at once, they have rock chic attitude that makes them a staple that doesn't feel like a basic.

One thing they are not, is new. Because fashion-forward girls were rocking much same look at the seaside early in the last century. Granted, their hosiery was of wool rather than a polyamide fibre, but they served much the same purpose of lending a few degrees of modesty while leaving very little to the imagination.

The biggest difference? With the old ones, the wet look required getting into the water first.

(photo of Isabeli Fontana above by altamiranyc, at Altamira: Models Off Duty.

1920s bathing suits from Making a Splash: Beach Fashions, 1850-1920, 2008, at the Wadsworth Atheneum Museum of Art, Hartford, Conn.)