Shades of grey-blue

The dictionary will tell you that French blue is an ultramarine pigment, originally prepared from powdered lapis lazuli. Modern interior decorators however have a very different view. The generally accepted description is a chic, almost sombre shade of grey-blue. It is sophisticated, rather than girly.

Bleu de France: R49 G140 B231 exactlyBut what makes this shade of blue specifically French? According to Wikipedia its name is derived from the shade of blue associated with the heraldry of French kings since the 12th century. Referring to antique paintings, this is an ultramarine blue as in the French national flag of today. A brighter shade of this same blue is the ‘Bleu de France’ that was once the national racing colour of France. It is as clear as a summer sky.

An online search of images will produce many shades of blue that could also be variously described as wedgewood, periwinkle, petrol, aquamarine, ultramarine, pale blue and, to be tongue-in-cheek, even business shirt blue!

My very sweet vintage 40s hat of double bows, bought from the eBay store Tarnished Past Vintage Hats, is made from wool felt, with a bit of mink trim. The netting is trimmed along the edge with tiny light blue felt squares. 

Various shades of French blue you’ll find in an online search, including the French kings’ heraldry

A Neapolitan Flavour

Strawberry, vanilla, chocolate: the colours of ice-cream in my childhood. Chocolate was always coveted by my sister Star and I; vanilla a poor substitute; and strawberry only grudgingly accepted if there was nothing else on offer.

Sometimes, to disguise the unlikeable strawberry flavour (too sugary, and tasting nothing like strawberries in my opinion), I would allow the bowl of neapolitan to melt a little and then I would vigorously swirl the flavours together. Then, ‘Neapolitan’ was synonymous with the word ‘ice-cream’, and I never wondered about the origins of its name.

There is one word for these neapolitan-flavoured leather and patent leather Poetic Licence ‘Romance Pumps’: DELICIOUS!These striped blocks of ice-cream were so named after their presumed origins in Naples, Italy. Many Neapolitan immigrants introduced their many-flavoured frozen desserts to the American public in the late nineteenth century. Most likely chocolate, vanilla and strawberry became the standard flavours due to their popularity.

Here is a mouth-watering description for ‘Neapolitan Icey Cones’ from 1894:

These are prepared by putting ices of various kinds and colors into a mold known as a Neapolitan ice box, which, when set and turned out, is cut into slices suitable for serving. However small the pieces, the block should be cut so that each person gets some of each kind. They are generally laid on a lace paper on an ice plate. Four or five kinds are usually put in the mold, though three sorts will do.

The following will serve as a guide in arranging: First, vanilla cream, then raspberry or cherry or currant water; coffee or chocolate in the middle; the strawberry cream, with lemon or orange or pineapple water to finish. A cream ice flavored with any liqueur, a brown bread cream flavored with brandy, with a couple of bright-colored water ices, form another agreeable mixture. Tea cream may be introduced into almost any combination unless coffee were used. Banana cream, pistachio, or almond cream with cherry water and damson or strawberry water are other options.
[Source: Wikipedia]

Yum! I think I need to invest in an ice-cream maker next summer.

Check out a few more ice-creamy pictures in the Out-takes & Extras gallery.

The Lady in Cherry Red

Bedecked in red. Do not actually go out into the street like this.

The colour red follows a close second to robin’s egg blue (aka turquoise, tiffany blue) as my favourite colour.

When I attended TAFE in the year after high school, and prior to college, I used to wear a red tracksuit on painting days. This was in the days before Juicy Couture, but it’s not as horrible as it sounds. The top and pants were loose but not enormous, and the top had satin shirttails. I also carried a bright red folio – no boring black portfolio for me to carry my life-drawings around! One of my fellow students called me the lady in red.

I’ve moved on since then. I don’t wear tracksuits, and I am never completely decked out in monochrome. Fashion magazines advise it as a slimming technique, but I would feel a right fool going about in public like that.

Six shiny new buttons, and one of their predecessorsA little while ago I found this cute cropped wool jacket in a charity shop (for only $8!), but it was missing some buttons. The originals were covered in the same fabric, but I bought six new buttons, as shiny as boiled sweets. They were originally $5 each, but I managed to snaffle them during a sale, and paid only about $7.50 for the lot.

I find mending a tedious chore, and put it off as long as possible…

Now, I find mending a tedious chore, and put it off as long as possible. I had a visit with my family scheduled for last Sunday, and I knew I’d be sitting and chatting for a good couple of hours after lunch. This was a prime opportunity to undertake the boring chore. It was a rather cold day, and deliberately I took only this jacket with me so I knew I would have to sew the buttons back on in time to wear it home in the early evening when it was cooler.

Success! I sewed all the buttons back on in plenty of time. Ah, the lengths I have to go to psyche myself up for mending…

The three-quarter sleeves mean that my forearms get quite chilly, but these vintage leather gloves do the trick. The velvet hat is also vintage, by Otto Lucas Junior, and the leather belt I bought overseas, from Mango.

So, several lessons today: do sew (trick yourself into it if you have to); don’t wear all one colour (lest you feel silly); do wear ¾ gloves with bracelet-length sleeves; and do shop on sale. I probably don’t need to tell you that last one. 

Orange Punch

I’m singing in the leaves…

For the Dutch, orange is associated with the royal family, and is also their national colour. In Hinduism, orange – a deep shade like saffron – is a significant colour, regularly worn in religious ceremonies. And the Irish associate it with unionists, sporting it on their flag for this reason.

Not surprisingly, the colour is named after the fruit of the same name. The first recorded use of it was in 1512, in the court of King Henry VIII. Before that, it was referred to as yellow-red in the English-speaking world. The word was introduced from the French, by way of old Arabic and Persian. In 1839 ‘orange peel’ was first used to describe this exact shade of orange, and less than a hundred years later, in 1915, ‘burnt orange’ made its appearance.

For me, orange is autumn, with skies full of fallen, golden leaves. I own one particularly cosy wool bomber jacket in vivid orange, and it comes out of hiding with the first true cold snap late in the season.

I love burnt orange, but it’s a colour that is not often seen in clothing. When I’ve chanced across it in the past, I have snapped it up: here I wear a silk blouse by Veronica Maine, a silk skirt by Hannii, and orange patent peeptoes by Aldo. The orange umbrella is vintage, found on Etsy, and the fragile scarf sewn with olive, teal and violet ‘leaves’ I found years ago in the Olga Berg warehouse.

I’m still waiting for enough leaves to fall so I can kick up my heels!

(Don’t forget to check out additional images in the Out-takes & Extras gallery.)

Nina’s Colours

When I saw Black Swan about a fortnight ago, one of the things I really liked about it was the costume design, particularly the minimalist colour palette.

White, grey, black and pink were used to define the characters: Nina starts off in girlish sugar-pink and white, and by the end of the film she is wearing black and grey. Costume designer Amy Wescott explains this, “As Nina’s character unravels, her colours become darker.”

Vincent Cassel and Natalie Portman in ‘Black Swan’. Image from Life.Wintry and delicate, these colours suit the popular notion of a ballerina, and perfectly expresses the frightening transformation of the sweet white swan into the seductive and terrible black swan.

It would be a pretty palette to try out this winter, although I don’t think I could wear it exclusively (I’d get bored). Grey and white are always favourites with me; black I wear on rare occasions, but soft pink almost never. My one concession is this pink wool scarf that reminds me of cotton candy – and of the fluffy white scarf Nina wears in the film.

Read an interview with the costume designer Amy Westcott at The Ballet Bag, and check out some of her sketches at Clothes on Film.

From light to dark: ballerina, dove, smoke, noir