Chukkas then and now

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

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

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

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

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

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

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 . . .