In a Ruffle

Celebrating the Roaring Twenties in a Special Series

Here’s a real flapper silhouette for you: straight and long with a close-fitting cloche on top. Something about the combination of black and white – and silver in this case – seems quintessentially Twenties; minimal and slick. This ruffled woven raffia hat is actually from the 1960s, designed during a resurgence of interest in Art Deco style at that time.

During and after WWII, Art Deco had fallen out of favour not only due to wartime austerities, but also because it was perceived to be inappropriately luxurious. Its influence was felt with the 1974 film version of The Great Gatsby, and we are surely set to see modern flapper fashion with Baz Luhrman’s coming interpretation of F. Scott Fitzgerald’s book.

Fashion Notes

I bought the hat from The Victory Theatre on a daytrip into the Blue Mountains when I visited Sydney back in February. The blouse is by Oxford, the skirt Veronika Maine, and the necklace from Eccentrix.

Blown Away

Celebrating the Roaring Twenties in a Special Series

A few years ago I came across an evocative image by Georges Lepape (1887-1971), a French illustrator working for magazines such as Harper’s Bazaar, Vanity Fair and Vogue during the Belle Époque era at the turn of the twentieth century.

He is best remembered for his fashion illustrations of the Art Deco period, and more than a few depict wild atmospheric conditions, of which The Hurricane is one. It is not frightening as the name might imply, but rather suggests the winds of change that blow one in a new direction. One might say that the changes in women’s garments in the early twentieth century did blow in like a hurricane in fact – corsets and hobble skirts gave way to the easy movement of flapper fashions. 

While I have never experienced a fierce storm, I do enjoy being out on a windy day – I find it invigorating, and the sound of the wind in the trees exciting. Somehow the sound of the wind always suggests adventure to me, a bit like Vianne, the heroine of Joanne Harris’ book Chocolat, who is beckoned onto the road when the wind blows in a new direction.

Here then nearly a century later is my homage to Lepape’s 1915 picture L’Ouragan. Although his image was made in 1915, I have styled mine à la the 1920s – I deliberately waited until I cut my hair to create this picture. I am wearing a vintage 1970s dress (home-made from what I suspect is curtain material in the style of a flapper dress), a 1950s raspberry striped cloche, and a pair of Noughties ballerina heels.

The backdrop is an image of a storm coming in over Victoria’s Port Phillip Bay, viewed from Rosebud beach that I photographed last year.

Devoré du Jour

What is it about the French language that so prettifies commonplace notions? Devoré fabric refers to velvets that have been dissolved to create transparent patterns. In French, this literally means ‘devoured’. More prosaically, in English this fabric is sometimes referred to as ‘burnout’, which conjures up some rather horrid images.

The process was first created in Europe in the 1920s, and requires velvet that has a blend of cellulose fibre – viscose, cotton, rayon – and a protein-based fibre such as silk. A chemical gel is applied in the desired pattern to the fabric, and the cellulose is dissolved away to leave behind the silk, which appears as a semi-transparent gauze, and thereby creating the pattern.

Devoré was popular during the 1920s unsurprisingly, as it was then invented, and the dresses of the time were so much more inventive with the use of this innovative fabric than the ubiquitous scarves and fringed kimonos of today. 

A 1920s devoré evening frock

If the Cap Fits …

Celebrating the Roaring Twenties in a Special Series

The Vintage Hat Series: 1920s red velvet pixie cloche by S. J. Maughan of Convent GardenAnother hat in my collection is this red velvet pixie cloche, an original chapeau from the 1920s.

I purchased it on eBay, from a UK seller. They had photographed it completely flat, so it was difficult to visualise how it would look on, and the measurements were suspect. However, they simply couldn’t be bothered answering my queries. (Note to any online sellers reading this: service is important.) Annoyed by their inability to reply to emails, I sadly decided not to bid. (That would punish them.)

However, months later I happened upon the hat again: it had been relisted. 1920s … cloche … red velvet, extremely low asking price … It all added up to one thing: I couldn’t say no. If I recall correctly, I believe I won the auction for a measly £7 or so.

When the hat finally arrived, I fortunately found it did fit me even though the original supplied measurements indicated it was an inch too small. It took some time for me to work out the correct way to wear it though. Because this looks ridiculous:

Looking sillyI look like one of those red-hatted garden gnomes (how apt that the cap was designed by a milliner based in Convent Garden), and I strongly suspect this is the reason why the seller ignored my polite request to see the hat on a model. Worn this way, however, looks very very cute, don’t you think? There is a positive WORLD of difference between a pixie and a gnome! 

Looking demure

Underwater Treasure

Beautiful, red coral, a living sculpture that has captivated both men and women since antiquity – from the warriors of Gaul who ornamented their weapons and helmets, to Roman children who wore branches hung around their necks to keep them from harm – has been harvested almost to extinction. Coral was especially popular in the Victorian age, but nowhere more so than in the Far East, travelling from the source in the Mediterranean Sea – the Italians were specialists in working it up into jewellery components.

Portrait of a Girl, Domenico Ghirlandaio c1485Paulina, first wife of Sir Codrington Edmund Carrington; Thomas Lawrence, c1806Prized for the skeletal branches and its rich reddish pink hue, coral can be polished from the naturally matte branches to a glassy shine. Due to its relative softness, it is usually carved or used to make beads. Today coral beads are made of non-precious sponge coral, with branches made from bamboo coral. Both are dyed red.

Rare coral Bacchante cameo necklace, circa 1860Pair of Italian hand carved vintage coral cameos set in 14k gold bezel and wire. The profiles depict the goddess Hera, wearing a tiara, and the goddess Ceres wearing ears of wheat on her head.

My two vintage necklaces are Berber, made from coral-like beads. They probably aren’t precious, given that the rest of the beads are composed merely of brass – I bargained hard for them in Fez though. I also saw the most incredible antique Berber necklace in Essaouira, a coastal town in Morocco, that dropped more than two feet (seriously!) and was composed of branch coral. The antique seller’s asking price? Over £1000. 

My red ring is carved jade from Vietnam; the blue ring on my middle finger is lapis lazuli and sterling silver that I made myself; and the second glass and sterling silver ring is a copy of a 1920s Rhoda Wager piece.

To see more breathtaking antique coral jewellery, check out this Pinterest page.

This picture was inspired by a wonderful under-the-sea 1933 Vogue by the illustrator Benito (below). For censorship reasons the fish in the foreground was positioned to prevent a birthday suit malfunction.