Head Over Heels

Fashion is a wonderful thing. Not everyone works in a creative field in everyday life, but personal adornment is a form of self-expression that anyone may indulge in and take flight in realms of fancy. There is certainly a place for basic or merely functional clothing, but those plain white tees and straight grey business suits don’t usually make your heart go pitter-pat (unless they’re designed by Roland Mouret).

Sometimes when shopping you might spy some item and instantly fall in love. (You know you’re in love because suddenly you realise life would hold no meaning unless said dress/shoe/bag was in it.) Usually such garments are utterly frivolous and unnecessary because you already own three – but this latest discovery happens to be just exactly the thing you’ve always been looking for but didn’t know it.

At this juncture you might pause for a moment of prudent reflection. Ignore this impulse. This is no reason to pull back. It is always better to give in immediately rather than regret it forever.

Last Christmas my entire department went as an Alice in Wonderland collective for the office costume party – I dressed up as the Queen of Hearts. I knew straight away what I would wear: five things I had purchased after following my heart. Here are their stories …

The Skirt

This dusky pink pinstriped silk skirt is an original piece from the 1920s. It has black velvet hearts and trim around the hems of the two tiers, and it is also sewn with bells all around. It’s the latter that make me suspect the skirt was a costume for a theatre group. Some of them are missing, which is probably a good thing as I’d jingle even more as I moved about in it.

I love the sense of history that comes along with the rust spots in the cream cotton underskirt …

As soon as I stumbled upon this skirt on Etsy I fell in love. It is not in perfect condition, but I couldn’t care in the slightest – I love the sense of history that comes along with the rust spots in the cream cotton underskirt. For the party, I borrowed a vintage petticoat from the theatre’s costume department (see previous story) to fluff out the full skirts on the day. The belled shape is lovely and story-bookish, but the skirt still looks beautiful without the added fullness.

The Coat

Probably the most expensive – and oldest – item of clothing I have ever purchased, this museum-worthy silk velvet striped coat is from the 1850s. Its many delightful points include the chenille fringing, the divine, tasselled hood (that is sadly just a bit too short for my head), frog closures at the front, and sleeve cuffs that are cut at an angle, with a slit at the back (to fit over a fur muff?). There is even a pocket on the inside that fits my iPhone exactly.

This coat was so gorgeous it made me swoon. How could it not? I positively adore coats; it was striped, red and white no less, and it was velvet. With a hood. And chenille fringing. And all the rest. I guarded it zealously in my Etsy wishlist for well over a year. Fortunately it was so expensive I knew it wouldn’t sell any time soon, but one day – to my horror – it disappeared from sale. I knew then that I ought to have taken the plunge and purchased it. A day or two later it returned, and I immediately emailed the seller. According to the measurements and the seller’s estimate in modern sizes, I felt fairly certain it would fit me. We discussed insurance and postage, and at last I made it Mine. All mine.

This coat was so gorgeous it made me swoon. How could it not?

I ought really to store it in a proper archival box with acid-free tissue, but I content myself with a heavy canvas garment bag and storing it flat – heaven forfend I should suspend such a precious vintage piece from a hanger! A costume historian would slap me.

I have worn it just a few times in the year it has been my pleasure to gloat over it. It just fits me, although my neck is patently too long for the hood to sit comfortably on my head, and I certainly wouldn’t want to have shoulders any wider. Its original owner must have been much smaller than me, and at 166cm tall (not quite 5’7”) I am no giant.

It is actually a skating coat, and I would love to know what some young lady wore with it so long ago. I have done some research online and haven’t seen anything like it at all anywhere, although I have gleaned that women usually wore matching coats and skirts. I find it hard to imagine that anyone would really pair such a bold coat with a similarly-striped skirt – perhaps it was merely a plain red skirt, with little red kid skating boots.

The Shell

You’ve all heard that old saying, ‘You snooze, you lose’. Well, once upon a time I spotted a red sequinned 60s shell top on Etsy. It was beaded with a fish scale pattern. It sparkled and it shone. It beckoned me and promised me many delights. The owner wanted $20 for it. I am not sure why I hesitated. A day or two later, my little top was snaffled from beneath my nose. I wiped away a tear or two.

A very long time later along came another shiny red 60s shell top. This one had a harlequin pattern and sported little sequin tassels all around the hem. The owner wanted $40 for it. I clicked ‘add to cart’ immediately.

Vintage beaded wool shell tops like this were extremely common in the 60s, and many of them were imported from Hong Kong. They are now extremely expensive to purchase in Australia (unless one is lucky enough to strike gold in some country charity shop perhaps). A top like this in a vintage boutique here would go for anywhere between $90 and $300 – I’ve seen them in a wide range of prices.

The Tiara

When I picked up this vintage tiara in the Salvos I saw it needed a little TLC, but in spite of this I was immediately charmed. Although I already owned one rhinestone tiara, a 50s or 60s number, I could see this one was very different, and guessed that it was older, perhaps 1940s. Even so, I wasn’t sure whether to purchase it, but some quick research on Etsy discovered that vintage tiaras of this ilk are few and far between – and three or four times the price, even in America. I’d already learned a lesson or two about passing up serendipitous discoveries so I added it to my basket (this one was real, a plastic one from the store was hanging on my arm).

The Shoes

At a cost-per-wear ratio, these Mary-Janes that I bought two Christmases ago from Australian shoe store Wittner must be really cheap by now, I have worn them so many times. I couldn’t go past these either when I saw them in the store: they were red and glittery and even better than Dorothy’s ruby slippers (except they don’t take me home with a click of the heels unfortunately, so maybe they’re not quite as good after all).

… they don’t take me home with a click of the heels unfortunately …

The lovely thing is that infallibly, every time I wear them several people exclaim in delight upon the sight of them. I do love to give fashion pleasure to those around me. Makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

Sometimes Fashion truly takes us to Wonderland. Don’t deny yourself the pleasure.