Fashion and shopping, Melbourne style

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Wednesday
May082013

Replicant

One of my most-loved films from the 80s is Ridley Scott’s Blade Runner. I have a fondness for sci-fi, and it still remains one of the best, and probably always will. Sean Young’s costumes in the film are fabulous: an 80s take on the 1940s, one of my favourite eras for fashion. There are exaggerated shoulders and wasp waists galore. Filmmakers are rather fond of this 40s noir look for futuristic thrillers, and it does work deliciously.

I love in the film how Rachael starts off so very straight-laced, with precision makeup, and by the end as her world entirely unravels, her hair (previously lacquered smooth) is in a riot of fuzzy curls, and her eye makeup is smudged.

Sean Young as Rachael in Ridley Scott’s Blade Runner (1982)Sean Young as Rachael in Ridley Scott’s Blade Runner (1982)In the scene where Rachael ventures onto the mean streets and shoots Deckard’s would-be attacker, she wears an enormous fur coat with a collar that envelops her and shields her from the clammy air. That huge collar has always put me in mind of Elizabethan collars, although the fabrics used could not be more different.

This Zara puffa bolero, when its shawl collar is flipped up has also always reminded me of the same Elizabethan craze for face-framing collars. The dress – which you can’t see at all – is a vintage 1970s-does-40s black crepe. My diamante earrings are actually vintage 40s. 

Sean Young as Rachael in Ridley Scott’s Blade Runner (1982)

Monday
Mar182013

Underpinnings

Petticoats

Historically, petticoats were a woman’s undercoat worn to be displayed beneath an open gown; or a tight, usually padded undercoat worn by men over a shirt and under a doublet (jacket). The origin of the word is the late Middle English period: ‘petty coat’, literally meaning small coat. Later, worn under outer garments, the function of the petticoat was to give warmth, or to create a fashionable shape by adding volume beneath a skirt or dress – rather than from notions of modesty.

The petticoat has gone in and out of mainstream fashion since the sixteenth century to Christian Dior’s New Look in the mid 1940s and 50s, and to the present day with subcultures such as gothic, steampunk and Lolita.

Arguably today the most popular notion of a petticoat must be the full, ruffled shape associated with Victorian times, or the tulle crinolines of 1950s prom queens. More often than not, these were white. In previous centuries though, petticoats were worn to be seen, either deliberately revealed by openings or draping of the overskirts, or by accident with the force of a high wind lifting a hooped or crinoline skirt. Petticoats were therefore highly decorative, made from beautiful fabrics in glorious colours and trimmed with ribbons and lace. They were gorgeous enough to be worn as skirts in themselves.

Petticoat, probably French, 1870s; click image for more information and alternate viewsCotton and linen petticoat, American, 1883; click image for more information and alternate viewsSilk embroidered French petticoat, 1895-98; click image for more informationSissi, Empress Elisabeth of Bavaria, wears a gown fully supported by petticoats in 1859Fashion that bustles, from The Englishwoman’s Domestic Magazine, November 1869Susan Lawrence (from Ipswich) wearing a dark coloured dress, with many folds of fabric pulled up over a large bustle at the rear, c 1887

Bustles

By contrast, the bustle was a rather unattractive foundation garment with little or no grace, in fashion predominantly in the mid-to-late nineteenth century. Worn at the back, just under the waist, the primary function of the bustle was to preserve the shape of full, draped skirts and keep them from dragging. The heavy skirts of the day tended to flatten from sheer weight during everyday wear, even merely sitting or moving about.

Different styles of bustles came and went over the decades, initially evolving from a crinoline in the mid 1860s when the shape was worn quite low and often fanning out to form a train. It was then lifted to form a pronounced hump shape immediately below the waist, with the skirts falling sharply to the floor, very much changing the silhouette. It grew to monstrous proportions in the mid 1880s but was out of fashion by the end of the decade.

British bustle made from cotton and metal, c 1871; click image for more information Linen and metal bustle, American, c 1885; click image for more information

The attractive ‘S-shape’ figure of the day that accentuated a tiny waist meant that a curve at the back of the skirt balanced the curve of the bust (exaggerated by corsets in their turn), and gentler versions of the bustle were worn into the early twentieth century.

Today bustles are rarely seen except in the realm of sensationalist haute couture, bridal fashion and the aforementioned subcultures – petticoats, with their more uniform silhouette are easier on the eye and more forgiving to wear.

Fashion Notes

My vintage petticoat was borrowed from the Melbourne Theatre Company’s costume department to give fullness to my own 1920s skirt, which made part of my Queen of Hearts costume for the theatre’s Christmas party last year. The full skirt is gathered at the waist, with rope sewn into the hem to create shape and give weight. There is also what I have dubbed a ‘mini bustle’ at the back.

When I first donned it, the petticoat felt quite heavy, but I became accustomed to it surprisingly quickly and managed to spend quite a bit of time on the dance floor without feeling the weight at all – it created a pleasing swing in fact. The camisole, possibly 80s or 90s, is my own, and was bought in a charity store years ago. 

Gallery

(Left) wire and cotton American bustle, c1880; (right) cotton and metal bustle, probably American, early 20th centurySilk petticoat, British mid-eighteenth century; click image for more information and alternate views(Left) American silk petticoat from the early 1900s; (right) cotton and silk petticoat, American, 1900-1948

* All images in the above gallery are from The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York

Tuesday
Feb262013

The Oscars Checklist

Best Column Gown: Naomi Watts in ArmaniA perfectly proper awards ceremony gown must go through a checklist before it can be presented to an actress for consideration. It must tick at least four of these boxes for it to be a serious contender: Column Dress, Strapless, Frills, Beads/Sequins, Monotone, Train/Fishtail, and, of course, Could Be Worn as a Wedding Dress If It Was White. Check, check, check, check.

And for most popular silhouette the Oscar goes to … the column dress with a train (Naomi Watts, Charlize Theron, Nicole Kidman, Sandra Bullock, Queen Latifah) or without (Stacy Keibler, Jessica Chastein). I don’t know about you, but I’m growing a little bored with these. Don’t get me wrong, some of them are perfectly nice and the actresses have gorgeous figures, but it’s just so … dull. And so many of them are strapless! Yawn.

Let’s not forget those other important ingredients: hair, makeup, jewels. I do generallly prefer an elegant updo (Stacy Keibler) with a formal gown, but I can appreciate a cascading Veronika Lake mane when worn beautifully (Reese Witherspoon, Jessica Chastain) as opposed to tousled-gone-straggly (Kristen Stewart). Jewellery of course need not be worn with a heavily bejewelled and bedazzled gown, but a necklace may complement a neckline (Jennifer Garner) or it may not (Anne Hathaway). 

Best and Most Uplifting Updo and tied for Best Column Gown: Stacy Keibler in Naeem KhanBest Interpretation of Gustav Klimt: Nicole Kidman in L’Wren ScottBest Incarnation of Veronika Lake: Reese Witherspoon in Louis VuittonBest Impression of One of Those Toilet Roll Cover Dolls: Amy Adams in Oscar de la RentaOf course there’s the odd youthful lass that chooses a fantasy princess dress with frills (Amy Adams) or without (Jennifer Lawrence) as an alternative. But no one takes chances anymore (even Helena Bonham-Carter was relatively tame this year), as though they’re terrified of the world’s press or something. 

Best Anatomical Purgatory: Brandi Glanville in Brandi GlanvilleBest Rendition of an Oscar Statuette: Jessica Chastain in ArmaniWhat does strike me however is the number of ladies who don ill-fitting dresses (Anne Hathaway again) or gowns utterly unflattering to their figures (Sunrise Coigney), or alternatively did very strange things to their boobs (Brandi Glanville, who is wearing her own creation). It’s quite remarkable. Don’t they have stylists? Or don’t the stylists have good taste and a good eye? Was the mirror in their hotel room broken? Or are these actresses simply headstrong and deaf to the pleas of their gently weeping fashion aides? This is a worse mistake than going safe.

And the winners are …

Best Column Gown: it’s a tie! Naomi Watts and Stacy Keibler
Best and Most Uplifting Updo: Stacy Keibler
Best Interpretation of Gustav Klimt: Nicole Kidman
Best Incarnation of Veronika Lake: Reese Witherspoon
Best Impression of One of Those Toilet Roll Cover Dolls: Amy Adams
Best Anatomical Purgatory: Brandi Glanville
Best Rendition of an Oscar Statuette: Jessica Chastain
Best Borrowed-From-Her-Bigger-Sister Gown: Sunrise Coigney
Best Jewellery and Neckline Mismatch: Anne Hathaway
Best Exploding Bustle: Jennifer Garner
Best and Biggest, Reddest Train Ever: Sally Field 

See a full slideshow here.

Best Borrowed-From-Her-Bigger-Sister Gown: Sunrise CoigneyBest Jewellery and Neckline Mismatch: Anne Hathaway in Prada and Tiffany & CoBest Exploding Bustle: Jennifer Garner in Gucci and Neil LaneBest and Biggest, Reddest Train Ever: Sally Field in Valentino

Thursday
Nov292012

Just the Right Side of Purple

Ah, that lovely shade of blue somewhere between violet and blue. Real periwinkle flowers of the myrtle herb range in shades from a rather fake candy pink that makes my teeth hurt, to lovely celestial blues, and hues just on the wrong side of purple. Wikipedia places it exactly at #ccccff which is a disgusting sickly sweet lilac colour. I’m putting it somewhere like #6989e5.

From left: hyacinths (from edenbrothers.com); periwinkle (from flowerinfo.org); hydrangeas (from Wikipedia)The first recorded use of periwinkle as a colour name in English was in 1922, although it seems to be used more often in American English than Australian in my somewhat limited experience – I only discovered this evocative name fairly recently via Etsy. I would have formerly associated the shade with hydrangeas, or hyacinths – both flowers I love and certainly more majestic looking than the humble myrtle herb.

The common periwinkle, a marine molluscThere is also a little marine gastropod – or mollusc – that moonlights under the name of periwinkle. It is pointy and cute looking, and apparently a rather tasty sea snail. It is believed that they have been a common food source in Scotland since 7500 BC (where they are called simply winkles), and are considered a delicacy in Africa and Asia today. They were introduced to North America in the mid nineteenth century, but I don’t believe they have emigrated to Australia as yet.

Fashion Notes

My lovely 30s style blouse came from Rosebud store Vintage Now. By Melbourne label Kinki Gerlinki, it is made from white silk, and I fell in love with the polka-dotted pattern of playing card suits – too sweet! There is a little ruffle down the front closure. The only drawback was the fact the belt was missing, but I soon fixed that.

The velvet bandeau is vintage 50s, and I utterly fell in love with it just for its colour when I stumbled across it at Etsy store Izzy’s Vintage Garden. The chandelier earrings I bought in Bijou Brigitte, a cute jewellery boutique in Lisbon last year – they are just cheap tin, but they create a lovely circusy tinkle when I wear them. The belt I made myself from vintage Swiss ribbon and a refurbished rhinestone vintage buckle, and the ring is almost vintage too, being a repro of 1920s jewellery designer Rhoda Wager

A Periwinkle Gallery

Here is a gallery of other periwinkle tinted things that also look almost good enough to eat.

(Left) Buttons from Etsy store Becall Jewels (sold); (right) Leaf series necklace in periwinkle blue by Jess Dare, from http://jessdare.com/w/leaf-series/43(Clockwise from left) Banjo & Matilda top in periwinkle, available in other colourways at www.banjoandmatilda.com; Macau cushion in periwinkle, from www.ecochic.com.au; vintage dress from Etsy (since sold) seen at Oh So Lovely Vintage at ohsolovelyvintage.blogspot.com.auThe jaw-dropping Mondrian Soho, New York, inspired by Jean Cocteau’s La Belle et la Bête

Tuesday
Oct232012

The Artists Mock

I have owned this grey Veronika Maine top for years, and have loved it. It’s always reminded me of the traditional artist’s smock with its floppy sleeves and bow on the neckline. Unfortunately there are a couple of small stains on the front, created when I put it on one morning too soon after applying body lotion – nothing I have done has succeeded in removing them from the cupro material (a cellulose fibre made from recovered cotton waste).

Each time I go to cast it from my wardrobe though, I can’t bear to part with it. Probably it is in such condition now that it would be suitable to actually use as an artist’s smock!

Artist wearing smock: Franck-François-Genès Chauvassaignes (French, 1831–after 1900)

Here you’ll find a couple of examples of the artist’s smock, from the traditional to the fashionable. In fact, I own a somewhat similar white and black polka-dotted blouse with little puffed sleeves – you can see a little bit of it here. I do love Balenciaga’s designs from the 50s and 60s. Might be time for a Gordon Parks homage.

Polka dotted smock top over black skirt by Balenciaga, ph Gordon Parks, LIFE magazine March 1951