Plush Piles

Celebrating the Roaring Twenties in a Special Series

Vintage 60s faux fur jacketSince time immemorial human beings have coveted beautiful things, and drawn to adorn themselves in them – for warmth, modesty, status and simple pleasure.

Regardless of one’s stance on the use of genuine fur in clothing, one cannot deny the beauty and opulence of animal fur: gorgeously patterned and gloriously coloured, glossy, reflective, soft and silky, comforting and cosy. In the bitter cold, nothing keeps one as warm as luxurious, natural fur – except perhaps a heated luxury car.

As a matter of survival, sealskin pelts were first used for clothing by Inuits who hunted the animal for food. Archaeological evidence suggests Native Americans and First Nations People of Canada have been hunting seals for 4000 years. The pelt is waterproof – not surprisingly – and was used to make jackets, gloves and boots. The seafaring Vikings were known to have worn them also.

1920s genuine sealskin jacket with bakelite buttons, sold in Etsy shop Delilahs Deluxe The Little Ice Age of 14th century Europe created a great demand for fur – most luxury fur came from Russia. In 1515, the first commercial cargo of fur seal skins were sent from Uruguay to Spain for sale in the markets of Seville. Used for sporting apparel in the early twentieth century, sealskin was beginning to become passé by the 1920s. But it is still used today by a few fashion houses, including Prada, Gucci and Louis Vuitton.

Genuine sealskin does have a beautiful sheen, but for those who would prefer to leave the fur on the seals and don’t need the boots for that trek across the icy tundra on their way to work in the morning, vintage faux fur is the way to wear. Even panné velvet mimics the look amazingly well, as can be seen in these vintage and modern examples below. So recycle, buy vintage and be nice to the seals and the planet.

A vintage 1920s faux fur sealskin coat sold by Waikiki Kitsch on Etsy, flanked by two silk velvet dresses from Winter Kate, Nicole Ritchie’s label

What I Actually Wore #0079

Serial #: 0079
Date: 02/08/2012
Weather: 15°C for C-c-c-cold!
Time Allowed: 12 minutes

It’s a very chilly day in the depths of winter, but with the sudden influx of packages from overseas I am spoilt for choice. I go for bright blocks of colour, starting with my new red skirt by Anthropologie that I bought from an eBay store. I choose accessories that are a complete contrast – both in colour and texture: a white rabbit fur pompom scarf, wool beret and suede boots. It’s a cosy look in unconscious response to the white sky outside.

I don’t think this outfit immediately recalls any particular past era – I certainly wasn’t trying to evoke one, and not a single one of the items is vintage, unless the classic beret which I’ve owned for the better part of two decades classifies as vintage. However, a work colleague admires my retro style and suggests it’s sort of 1950s, sort of après ski, and working really well for me. I’m happy to go along with that!

Items:

Top: Maxstudio
Skirt: Girls from Savoy for Anthropologie
Hat: Melbourne boutique
Scarf: souvenir
Stockings: Columbine
Necklace: pendant from Portobello Lane (the Melbourne boutiques have long-since closed down – this France-based online boutique may or may not be allied)
Ring: Etsy
Watch: Kenneth Cole
Boots: Robert Robert

Queen of the May

Did you know it’s May Day today? In the northern hemisphere this time of year was traditionally celebrated with dancing around maypoles and the crowning of a May Queen in honour of springtime fertility. The origin of May Day holidays lie in the festivals of Flora, the Roman goddess of flowers, and the Gaelic Beltane.

I am crowning myself Queen of the May today with a vintage 1950s red velvet bandeau bedecked in silk flowers. This gathering of red and white carnations is over-the-top in both senses of the word. 

Queen Guinevere’s Maying, John Collier, 1900

May Day, being a spring festival, is not celebrated in Australia since May falls in autumn (pardon the pun). What a pity, because what silly fun it must be to skip around a flower-bedecked maypole like Guinevere. Amusingly, Wikipedia describes a May Day procession as ‘cheerfully pointless’ – but that’s the point surely? Everyone feels more lighthearted when the sun shines, and when better to throw an alfresco party!

Dress Like an Egyptian

Nothing says summer like cool blue and white stripes. Linen knit from flax, by Zara.When I was a teenager I remember being warned against linen fabric: “It’ll crease terribly,” doomsayers were fond of declaring. Linen suffered from a bad reputation in the fashion world, but it had a renaissance in the 1990s, when about 70% of linen production contributed to textile apparel. This was a huge leap from the 1970s when only 5% was used by the garment industry.

Jaw-dropping: a field of growing flaxFlax flowerLinen, a fibre made from the flax plant, has been used for millennia. The ancient Egyptians wrapped their mummies with it; in the days of Homer warriors used linen to make a type of body armour called a ‘linothorax’, while in the Middle Ages it was used for shields, bowstrings and gambeson (a type of jacket worn as armour). From pool cues and bread couches (a kind of mould to hold dough), to canvases and dollar bills, linen has many and varied uses.

Garments made from linen are expensive however, and this is due to the labour-intensive manufacturing process. The crops must be nursed along, being more difficult to grow, and more expensive to produce than cotton. Flax thread is difficult to weave without breaking threads because it is non-elastic. Those random slubs, or knots visible in some fabrics are actually flaws, associated with low quality – fine linen fibres will be very consistent. The rewards of perseverance are there: fabric is cool and smooth to the touch, lint-free and unlikely to pill, and it softens the more often it is washed.

Flax fibre looks at first glance like sheep’s woolAs for the dreaded wrinkling: this is due to linen’s poor elasticity – it does not spring back readily and formal garments must be ironed often. Happily it is a hardy fabric, and is the only one that is actually stronger when it is wet, although constant creasing or folding in the same places will weaken those threads. Interestingly linen fabric can absorb and lose water rapidly, and can gain up to 20% moisture without feeling damp, which is why it is perfect for hot weather. It was the Egyptians’ favourite fabric, and they wore only white in the desert heat.

Linen weave is a plain, almost coarse weave with large holesAlthough I overcame that early fear instilled by some nameless adult, today I particularly love linen knit fabrics: the somewhat loose (almost holey) weave makes up such light, airy garments. I own two tees by Zara made from flax linen (the term ‘linen’ can also be applied to garments made from other fibres such as cotton or hemp when the textile features a linen-style weave) and they have held up beautifully over two summers and are so comfortable to wear. In a hot climate, you just can’t do better than to dress like an Egyptian.

Click on any of the images and jump through to learn much more about the history of flax and the manufacturing processes of linen.

Botanical drawing of the flax plant

Autumnal Tunes

Autumn seems finally to have really and truly arrived here in Melbourne. The temperature has dropped to lovely mid-20s; the sun shines gloriously with that special golden tone you see in autumn; leaves are slowly beginning to turn and the birds chirp busily about their business.

Inspired by the season, I’ve styled an outfit here I’ve never worn before. It’s all cosy knits in tones of warm greys and pinks and peach (ugh, never thought the day would come that I donned peach – summer fruit season is over!).

The newsboy cap – a style I almost never wear – has an asymmetrical cut in peach coloured velvet, and is designed to sit on a jaunty angle. So here is a hat with two crosses against it: newsboy and peach, and yet I’m rather fond of it. The vintage cap is from Georges, Melbourne, a posh department store that has opened and closed over the decades.

From Pony Clothing is a sugary pink scarf knit with random ribbons and tinkling shells. It’s extremely long so can be wound round and round the neck, which epitomises the perfect winter scarf, don’t you think?

The cardigan was bought last winter, by Lili’s Closet for Anthropologie, and the grey knit tee underneath is Italian merino, bought many years ago. Some basics really do last the distance. My beautiful cream leather gloves with a lace insert are vintage, and were bought on Etsy, also last year.

Excuse me while I commune with my little Robin Red breast now.