Wear Something Pink Day

In honour of my niece, Rosie Cheeks, who has created an ‘Other – Festival’ event on Facebook titled ‘Wear Something Pink Day’ because she, er… just likes pink, I have donned a very fluffy wool scarf that looks like fairy floss, and some (cotton) candy pink lippie.

However, it cannot be said that I truly need the excuse, as I have discovered over the years – I’m sure I must have mentioned it before – that quite an unhealthy quantity of pink garments have somehow snuck into my wardrobe. These include, but are not limited to: dresses, blouses, jumpers, scarves, shoes, hats (four, two winter, two summer), a silk raincoat, a velvet coat with attached scarf… oh, and one pair of velvet jeans that have since sadly been donated to charity.

Dear me. That is quite a list. And I probably could go on if I got up from my desk and went to my closet to see what else is buried there.

I am quite embarrassed.

I am in fact WORSE than Rosie Cheeks. And to exacerbate my mortification, I am now going to remind you of a few of them. Please scroll down.

But before you do, go put on something pink. It’s Wear Something Pink Day, for heaven’s sake.

(Click on the images to go to the original post.)

The waterproofed silk raincoat… and look ma, pink suede shoes!I need say no more. Except: pink tulle and parachute silk.The infamous pink velvet jeans, and how I love that ombré wool jumper! I feel happy just wearing it. Oh, and it's warm (of secondary importance).Yes indeed, I first wore that dress when I was a teen. It is actually coral pink with white polkadots, as if a balloon skirt wasn't enough on its own.

Mohair Undies Anyone?

Hold onto your seat: I am going to coin a new fashion term! At least I think it’s new; I’ve never heard anyone espouse this concept before. Here it is: monomaterial.

What the? Well, you’ve heard of monochrome, right? The theory of dressing all in one colour that fashion editors and stylists everywhere tout in order to flatter and elongate your figure? I am merely going one step further. Monomaterialism is dressing head-to-toe all in one fabric.

Think of the possibilities. Silk stockings: what luxury! Cashmere catsuits (for lounging at home): what decadence! Paisley pedalpushers; boucle blouses; taffeta turtlenecks; and of course the ubiquitous mohair underwear. It’s a whole new world. Which is not to say that in the picture above I am wearing white leather undies.

And when you combine the two: monochrome and monomaterial, why, the mind boggles!

…Which is not to say that in the picture above I am wearing white leather undies.

Alright, alright, so all that is a little tongue-in-cheek. On a sensible note, I do advocate monochrome dressing, although there are only two non-colours I personally would wear all over (unless we are speaking of a dress): white, and grey. You could include neutrals such as beige, and black in that list of course, but I try to avoid like the plague the stereotype of Melburnians wearing all black.

I read in Glamour’s Big Book of Do’s and Don’ts (2006) under The Rules for Flattery: “Know the power of being monochromatic. Wearing the same colour or shades of it, from top to bottom elongates your shape, thinning you out.” It was a pity I could find very few examples of this principle in the book, excepting dresses and suits. I’d like to know how many women actually do this, as I would feel a little silly clothed in say, varying shades of pink from top to bottom.

However, here I am all in white … and all in leather! I have managed over the years – unintentionally – to amass a collection of white leather garments, mostly vintage. My most fabulous find was a 1970s calf-length trench, pristine white in the most supple leather, for only US$45 on eBay. The obi belt I am wearing here is the only item I’ve bought new from Witchery, when obis were all the rage a few years ago. The panelled vest is Bebe, the shoes Scanlan & Theodore, and the skirt is in storage so I can’t check the label.

A Lara Croft type in black leather is as likely to ravish you as kill you, but who could be sure of one in white?

The connotations of wearing black leather from head to foot are patent. White, however, manages to retain that tough-girl image, but in a far more subtle way. It’s the contrast of angelic white crossed with animal hide: danger is implicit rather than overt. A Lara Croft type in black leather is as likely to ravish you as kill you, but who could be sure of one in white? There lies the advantage.

Of course, it would be a trifle difficult to execute any head-height kicks in that pencil skirt (the waistband is so tight I can hardly breathe). I’d better keep my eye out for some white leather pants. Evildoers everywhere, watch out!

Thanks to Rolve from stock.xchng for the background images.

The Colour Winter

When I was in high school, maybe grade 8, some of my friends, studying seasonal colour palettes, declared positively one lunch time that I was an Autumn. “How did you arrive at that decision?” I asked, lifting a brow. (Alright, that’s a bit of poetic licence.) Apparently it was the colour of my hair and eyes that decided them, but they didn’t take into account that I was dyeing my hair with henna shampoo, and it was not, in fact, red. 

I am sure over the intervening years I must have tried to once or twice decipher these mysterious codes, but at some point I worked out on my own which colours suited me. I used to prefer slightly dirty colours – until I figured out they actually look awful on me. In fact, they make me look sick and sallow. I always disliked pastels too; perhaps they reminded me too much of the early 80s. As for pink – waaay too girly for me.

Hot pink was another epiphany. Cobalt blue quickly followed on its heels…
I was disgusted: all these 80s
jewel tones!

Icy pinkAnd guess what? Yep, it’s bright colours that suit me best. I discovered that pure white looks brilliant on me. (I once read in a magazine of a bridal designer who declared that pure white suits hardly anyone, only girls with dark olive skin. I immediately decided she had no clue, and pitied her poor clients.)

Icy lavenderHot pink was another epiphany. Cobalt blue quickly followed on its heels, and emerald, and amethyst (there I am above, decked head-to-toe in it). I was disgusted: all these 80s jewel tones! So I rebelled, and limited my wardrobe to a colour palette that I actually liked: mostly white, grey, taupe, and a limited amount of black (because I’m from Melbourne and like to buck the trend).

I like to terrify innocent passers-by with fierce yellowsFor colour I added bright reds, oranges, and turquoise, and a bit of green and purple. I never wore them with black though – that also was too 80s – but with other neutral hues. Some time later I developed a new-found love of bright sunshine yellow – a colour which has often provoked both fear and admiration whenever I have worn it.

Icy blueWhen I started researching this story however, I learned that I am a ‘cool, clear, bright’ winter. All the colours I wore were actually in that colour palette, as well as all these icy pastels – which makes sense, since they are bright whites with a hint of colour. And there is a veritable carafe of reds, pinks and purples! That explains how more and more shades of pink had managed to creep into my wardrobe. That had always bemused me.

Some favourite colours: periwinkle, turquoise, tomato red, magenta, pink and raspberry. I usually combine these with neutral greys.

So if you’re curious to test this theory out yourself, click here to visit College Fashion for an easy diagnosis, based on hair and eye colour, or drop in to the Personality Café for another take (although I think some of their eye colours are a bit simplistic – I have never seen anyone with natural violet eyes, for instance, and though I am certainly a ‘clear winter’, my eye colour [hazel] is not listed). The Chic Fashionista’s not bad either, and has a troubleshooting page too. Mail Online has a story that breaks it down simply. And here’s a good one for men. Any one of these will help you.

Anything that makes your skin
glow and your eyes sparkle most likely suits you.

You don’t need to buy a colour palette swatch book either: just go through your own wardrobe (or a boutique) and hold different items to your face. Anything that makes your skin glow and your eyes sparkle most likely suits you. They’re also probably the items you were wearing when you received lots of compliments. Remember, if there are colours you really love that you find aren’t your best, you can always wear them away from your face: in skirts or trousers.

And if, like me, you always deeply appreciated reading through your older sister’s or mum’s Avon catalogue when you were a kid because the colour names were so hilarious, click here for a multitude of colours, some with very perplexing names (grullo, anyone?).

Happy colouring this Easter!

Golden Delicious

I’m a bit like a magpie: I go for the bright shiny pretty things. Like a kid in a candy shop, I just can’t help reaching for them.

The gold foil skirt has featured before in this journal, but as I find it completely irresistible, here it is again in another incarnation. I’ve told the story before, but I was searching for an outfit to wear to a wedding when I spied this skirt in the front window of a charity shop in Windsor. I dragged my friend across the road and snatched it up before anyone else could get their mitts on it.

…why wear one metallic fabric when you could wear TWO?

Indian-made from 100% rayon, it is just like the gold foil from a chocolate box. I think I have, ahem, made that comparison before. As mentioned previously, I ultimately teamed it with a chocolate-brown top, but I had such trouble deciding what to wear with it at the time. Most colours looked too gaudy, and I discovered since (when the pressure was off) that neutrals worked best; I’ve subsequently worn it out with a charcoal grey polo neck jumper.  

Here I’ve paired it with a silver ruched t-shirt, because why wear one metallic fabric when you could wear TWO? Nothing so much fun as going giddily OTT. Just ask Cecil, that master of golden deliciousness.

Silver velvet and pearls, against silver walls: Baba, Cecil's sister in 1925. Ph: Cecil Beaton. Click on image for larger version.

(Left) Goldfish or mermaid? Paula Gellibrand, 1928. (Right) A seahorse with such fronds, surely. Tilly Losch, 1929. Ph: Cecil Beaton. Click on images for larger versions.

Petrol Blue

For a long time I have had a secret obsession with the term ‘petrol’ as applied to a certain shade of blue. I always thought it sounded a little affected – you know how pretentious those colour-forecasters are.

However the notion was strangely attractive to me. Petrol is not universally thought of as something pretty (particularly as it has been the catalyst for war in latter years). Something unattractive describes an object that is beautiful: like the ugliness that is prized for its sheer disparity and courage in the face of a world that is obsessed with youth and beauty.

A pair of David Lawrence peeptoes out of my own wardrobe… and could my bedspread be described as petrol too? (Cllick on image for larger version.)I have a leather coat that I always described to myself as petrol blue, without really knowing if it was. There is some controversy about the word’s spelling: the OED defines it as a shade of greenish or greyish blue. Apart from discovering here that the appellation was first coined in the 1940s by the British Colour Council, Wiktionary has this to say:

Many people erroneously believe that this is a misspelling of ‘petrel’ blue, and that the term refers to the sea bird. However, the OED gives only this spelling. The term may originally have pertained to petrol-derived compounds such as paraffin, which is often coloured blue.

Most likely the word ‘petrol’, which describes a colour of bluish green, is derived etymologically from the word ‘petroleum’ (crude oil). Petroleum varies greatly in colour, some are colourless, many of them are of nice bluish green colour.

Certainly my coat falls under this description. Consulting that oracle Google, I find a few more things petrol-coloured blue, below.

(Clockwise from left) A swatch of petrol blue; 1965 Jaguar Mk2 from greatescapecars.co.uk; glass vases from copenhagenfurniture.net; three strap pumps by Vivienne Westwood; Spectrum staggered drawers from dwell.co.uk; fresh water pearl studs with petrol blue ‘button’ drop from hamiltonandinches.com; a living room with touches of petrol blue from channel4.com; extra fine merino wool from thelittleknittingcompany.co.uk.N.B. I thought it rather apt to place myself against a backdrop of the Middle-Eastern desert. I took this photo after a wild 4-wheel drive across the dunes in Dubai in December 2008.