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

Pretty in Punk

Diane Kruger: I super-loved her hairdo, knotted and a little teased and dipped in pink. She wore punky eye makeup that managed to still look flattering and pretty. I don’t ordinarily like earcuffs (they’re too punky), but here it’s perfect. She also carried a spiky purse that I liked. Plus, she’s beautiful.Alright. I wasn’t going to do a story on this year’s punk-themed Met Ball because on first viewing I was a little bored. There were the usual suspects: those pretty glamorous gowns that are so safe they are like safety nets on the red carpet (and just on the occasion when it was actually safe to go with a safety pin or three hundred!); the unflattering sartorial errors that make one cluck one’s tongue and pitiably click the forward arrow; and those that are such car crashes one is simply spellbound.

But there were a couple of memorable outfits that actually struck me enough (SJP’s headdress, Allison William’s puddle of ink) that I decided to have another look for just a few gowns or accessories that I truly found arresting – in a good, or intriguing way.

Sarah Jessica Parker: that Roman Centurion’s helmet x punk mohawk by Philip Treacy is pure fun, and that fishtail braid is great. I really liked her tartan over-the-knee boots, but I think it is entirely unnecessary to reveal one’s crotch in a ballgown, so I refuse to grace SNAP’s pages with it. I found my way to British Vogue’s gallery (and was side-tracked occasionally by the numerous unkind comments left by others). Click here for the lot.

It may not surprise my readers to hear I am not particularly attracted to the punk aesthetic, so I can sympathise with those women who went for glamour with just a touch of punk in the form of some spiky accessory, or lurid eye makeup. It is a ball, after all.

Here are the pictures that made me go “Wow.” That’s cool, that’s striking, and that’s simply glamorous. 

(Images from Vogue, Just Jared, and Accoutrement Yourself. Click images for sources.)

Miranda Kerr: she is, of course, gorgeous in her Michael Kors gown, but those crossed bands of contrasting fabric are just a great graphic statement, especially with that stark black against her fair skin. I adore the spiky evening bag too.Allison Williams: this Altuzarra gown is admittedly more goth than punk, but look at the way the gown spills over the red carpet just like ink. Fabulous!Sienna Miller and Cara Delevingne: if it wasn’t for the enormous quantity of spiky studs, these Burberry gowns would be boring. The women look especially great side by side. I love Cara’s spiky jewellery and Sienna’s headband is so much fun (and a bit Statue of Liberty too). Anja Rubik: oh! I laughed aloud in delight when I saw this picture. So very eighties, so very punky! Shocking lipstick red leather; the pointy collar and cuffs and studded/grommeted hem are great details in this Anthony Vaccarello dress. Just so much fun. (Although not a ballgown, true. But punks break the rules after all.)And I’ll end with another shot of Diane Kruger’s hairstyle, this time from the rear. Pretty in punk … I am so sorry, I just couldn’t resist one last pun(k).

The Berber Weightlifting Champ

I honestly don’t know how some of these tribal ladies don’t collapse under the combined weight of all this fabric and jewellery. The cloak is a dead weight, and I am quite literally carrying a millstone around my neck in the form of a traditional necklace made from stone beads – amongst others. The weight is truly staggering.

I am wearing a number of Berber items that I bought when holidaying in Morocco nearly two years ago, although I am not wearing a technically correct traditional Berber ensemble. Research online was not definitive as there are so many tribal and modern influences to sift through – I became daunted and gave up. This is, after all, only a fanciful evocation of a Berber lady. In general, traditional costumes are made up of layers of coloured woven cloths; pounds and pounds of jewellery, many pieces dripping with silver coins; and henna tattoos. (I probably skimped on the kohl too.)

The 14th century Merenid Tombs, Fès, June 2011

The most spectacular piece is the cloak. This may look like a carpet, but the Berber merchant I bought it from in Chefchaouen told me that it was a traditional cloak, worn to ward of the desert night’s chill. I am uncertain of its fibre content (so taken with the jingling sequins, I forgot to ask!), but it is woven in subtly complicated stripes and shaggy sections that have been interwoven with silver sequins that are a little tarnished with age. The tarnish only adds to its charm. It is incredibly heavy however. Currently it sits across the bottom of my queen size bed and has become a comforting weight at night – in the winter months at least. It looks decorative though, and it is such a lovely souvenir of my holiday. I saw many of these cloaks used as rugs, some in my room in the Marrakesh riad I stayed in. 

A pile of rugs shown to me, with my favourite on topThe Chefchaouen Berber carpet seller modelling my antique cloak in his tiny store

Underneath the cloak I am wearing a vintage Berber kaftan that the seller threw in as a bonus. He let me choose from many that were hanging high on the walls in his shop. I also chose another free item – a traditional belt – that unfortunately you can’t see very well in these pictures. It’s pale green, embroidered in white and pink, and is glued onto a cardboard backing.

The kaftan is cream-coloured brocade woven with metallic silver thread – by the style I am guessing it dates back to the 60s or 70s. It’s quite scratchy to wear, and presumably it would have been worn with a cotton shift of some sort underneath. (As he recommended, I handwashed this in a gentle laundry detergent, and it washed up brighter. The belt I merely sponged, again at the seller’s advice.)

Most of the jewellery is from Morocco. The chunky necklace is made up from stone, glass and shell beads and is so heavy I could not contemplate wearing it for more than a few minutes. The long coloured beads are all made from glass – one of the necklaces is about 3m end-to-end. All of these pieces came from the souqs in Essaouira. The coin earrings I am wearing are made from replicas of Turkish coins, and were bought in a Melbourne jewellery boutique that specialises in ethnic jewellery from around the world (mostly Arabia and Asia). Although the necklace looks tribal, it was bought from an Australian jewellery chain store, Lovisa. 

I do not know the provenance of the hat. I actually purchased it for 50c from the Australian designer Karen Merkel’s garage sale a few years ago. I was undecided on its purchase as the chains were broken and tangled, and they said I could have it for 50c. “How can you lose?” asked my friend Sapphire, who accompanied me. True. I untangled the mess and managed to figure out its repair.

The slippers are tooled red leather, bought in Fez. I originally purchased two pairs, one in pumpkin yellow, and this red pair; I wore the yellow as house shoes, and they did wear out rather quickly, so I keep the red pair for special occasions only.

Shopping Notes

If you are planning to travel in Morocco, here are some shopping tips. Obviously you must bargain, and not appear too eager etc – that’s just common sense. I was rather chuffed when my Berber carpet seller opened his eyes wide at my opening gambit and ultimately complimented me on my bargaining skills: “You bargain like a Berber!” (You offer half their asking price to start with, and then go slowly up.)

I am not sure if he was merely flattering me, but for around €120 I bought the rug you see here and a vintage cloak, and had the kaftan, belt and a few bags of herbs and spices thrown in for good measure (most of which were confiscated by Quarantine at Melbourne airport). The textiles were very heavy though and did cost about $100 to FedEx home. (They arrived home the same day I did, and I believe the package had been opened for inspection by Customs.) I can’t imagine how much a rug like that would cost at home – probably up to $1000. The stone necklace was about $90, and five other necklaces for under $20.

The background image is of the 14th century Merenid Tombs overlooking Fès. 

View of Fez from the Merenid Tombs, June 2011The 14th century Merenid Tombs, Fès, June 2011

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

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