Le Chat Dans Le Chapeau

Late nineteenth century cabarets and music halls are an endless source of fascination to creative types: so many varied and colourful characters to draw inspiration from.

Le Chat Noir is one such venue, established in November 1881 by the artist Rodolphe Salis, and touted by himself as: “…the most extraordinary cabaret in the world. You rub shoulders with the most famous men of Paris, meeting there with foreigners from every corner of the world.”

Salis produced his own journal too, filled with illustrations, or ‘stories without words’ – comic strips virtually, featuring cats or other animals. Adolphe Willette, Caran d’Ache and Theóphile-Alexandre Steinlen were principal illustrators; it was Steinlen who created the image that is most famous today, hung on walls all over the world.

Work by Theóphile-Alexandre SteinlenI wonder what they would have thought of my pussycat, grasping for a dragonfly? Inspired in part by my striped hat (pounced upon last year in Dalat, Vietnam), I nevertheless found the notion of a cabaret cat far more appealing than the cartoonish antics of Dr Seuss’s The Cat in the Hat. Miaow.

Nice and Nautical

A perennial summer favourite, the nautical look is back for summer 2010. Navy and white with a few dashes of red, stripes, and plenty of gold hardware and sailing motifs – sailor’s bows and ships’ anchors – encapsulate the look.

But what is really the fascination? Is it really just a cute, playful look that nostalgically reminds us of lovely summers gone past, and hours spent idling away on the boardwalk?

Don’t get me wrong, I’m a total sucker for it (I’m wearing red and white stripes right now), but it is rather easy to forget that the origins of this fashionable trend lie in the military, a very serious subject indeed. This appropriation by women of men’s military uniforms has been going on for centuries.

Is it really just a cute, playful look that nostalgically reminds us of lovely summers gone past…?

It was war in fact, that made trousers – and uniforms – became acceptable wear and even fashionable for civilian women. In particular, rationing during the Second World War saw a minimalist, militaristic style influence women’s dress. Women donned trousers and proved that they were capable of doing a man’s work. Yet more than a century earlier during the Napoleonic Wars, French women were adopting the braid and lace of marshals’ costumes in the form of embroideries and epaulettes. The English soon followed in their footsteps. Few – if any – of these women would ever actually see a battlefield, or do a day’s hard work in a munition factory.

Were they honouring the men who went into battle, or did women’s fashion misappropriate the look and belittle the seriousness of war?

It is interesting that while fashion seems to trivialise serious world events or social and cultural issues, it does provide a mirror to these same social and cultural mores. Perhaps by turning a playful eye on these deep matters, fashion does its part to lighten the burden of difficult days. And all that is anything but trivial. 

Thanks to Kriss Szkurlatowski for the background image. 

Homage To An Australian Childhood

Snugglepot and Cuddlepie by May Gibbs (1918) is the quintessential Australian children’s storybook, all about little gumnut babies and their adventures with other creatures of the bush. I remember having it read to my third grade class by a favourite teacher, and being entirely enthralled.

After joyfully pouncing on it in a bookstore one day, I begged my sister to buy me my very own copy “for my 8^th birthday”, I coaxed. It cost six whole dollars; very expensive at the time. She bought it for me on the spot – or so I remember – and I have it to this day. The book is very decrepit now, having lost its spine through some misadventure long ago, and I have a recollection of spilling Coke on the cover. I was very upset at the time.

I’d had an idea to dress up as Ragged Blossom in homage to May Gibbs last year, but it was only when I found a vintage hat with all its unravelling tulle that it began to come together. Then I snapped up a pink Hawaiian skirt, and found a Ragged Blossom tree actually all in bloom just three weeks ago. Add a magenta wig borrowed from my cousin, a bit of Photoshop magic, and Little Ragged Blossom comes to life a hundred years after she is first written.

I particularly love the suave pair of gumnuts in the upper box. I distinctly recall being fascinated by this particular illustration. How apt.The End.

Hurrah for the circus!

The circus has been the inspiration for countless fashion editorials for decades. And it’s no wonder: what a source of colourful imagery, from acrobats and animals, to bearded and beautiful ladies (sometimes both at once); from clowns to unicyclists, jugglers to juggernauts – it’s a stylist’s Shangri-La.

Here, feathers, rhinestones and greasepaint reign supreme, along with gasps of laughter and children’s wonder. Carnival stripes and tulle tutus; flaming hoops and magic tricks – all belong to this troupe of dreams.

My outfit took many months to pull together: purple ostrich plumes and a vintage rose made from baby pink feathers; a beaded, pale turquoise silk top; a pink mini-crini; silver lurex stockings and glittery red heels. I am only missing a performing pony.

Scroll down for a selection of fashion editorials gone by. Apologies: I don’t know the source of all the tearsheets, but they do all come from early 1990s fashion magazines. (Don’t forget to check out the Out-takes & Extras gallery for a few more pics.)

Click on images for larger versions.

From a US magazine, ph: Guzman, c1990s.

‘Cubist Guitar’ hat and tangerine tutu dressPolkadots and piggies!

Napoleon in striped breeches, and vintage postcardsFlipper footwear; strongman strikes a pose

French Glamour, ph: François Halard, c1990s.

Festooned in stripes and exotic Oriental pattern upon pattern.

British Vogue, ph: Steven Meisel, c1990s. Isabella’s YSL jacket is to die for.Another (Givenchy) jacket straight out of fantasy, and an utterly thrilling Steven Jones hat.

Wonderland’s Wardrobe

NB Flash animation views best in Firefox or Safari.

Absinthe and personality crises notwithstanding, Tatiana finally makes it out into the marvellous garden glimpsed through that tiny door at the bottom of the rabbit hole…

I’ve very much enjoyed my little sojourn in Wonderland, but like Tim Burton’s grown-up Alice, I can’t promise I won’t be back. I just might take a leaf out of costume designer Colleen Atwood’s book though, and make my comeback in some new finery.

I finally saw the film only a few weeks ago. Leaving behind too high expectations (after reading middling reviews), I found myself thrilled most with the brilliant art direction and various costume changes Alice made. Why limit our heroine to one blue dress indeed? I particularly loved the scene where, accompanied by the sound of dressmaking scissors, the Mad Hatter – in fond reminiscence of Edward Scissorhands – swiftly fashioned a tiny gown for the shrunken Alice to don.

Check out the various incarnations of Alice’s classic LBD (Long Blue Dress) – and one red – below. (My own blue dress comes courtesy of Melbourne label Ammo, and the half-apron is a 1920s original.)

Alice, fresh from her engagement party, in ladylike powder blue.Deliciously en déshabille; precariously robed in Grecian folds, Alice nevertheless manages to run in this beribboned gown.A little snippet of a thing, Alice slips into a creation worthy of Wonderland's own couturier, the Mad Hatter himself.Scarlet befits the Red Queen’s court; back in blue, and back in the real world where shipboard adventure awaits.Many thanks to my cat Hero, who graciously consented to model for me.