One Glove For All

I’m starting a new trend. That’s right, you read it here first. I decree: One crocheted lace glove shall be worn at the breakfast table. That is all.

On Sunday my esteemed relatives and I were celebrating my birthday (and my sister Blossom’s too, but who cares about that because I’m Princess Tatiana), and early on in the proceedings, my mum came out gingerly holding one crocheted lace glove. It didn’t look like much, all shrivelled up, without a hand inside it. “Is this yours?” she asked.

My lip curled. “It is not.” A hazy yet precious memory of lilac-coloured cheesecloth drifted through my mind. “I believe it to be Star’s.” Nevertheless I tried it on. My sister Serena and I giggled, and she informed me that I looked like Michael Jackson.

I decree: One crocheted lace glove shall be worn at the breakfast table.

“I’ll leave it on and see how long it takes for anyone to notice,” I grinned wickedly.

Before long Blossom and her husband made their appearance. She sat upon the settee next to me and immediately inquired as to why I had on only one glove. I cannot be certain, but the One-Gloved-One’s name may have been mentioned at this time. Serena and I tittered musically.

Then Star, her husband, and her daughter arrived, and I was sure that numerous and ribald references to the Moonwalker would be made on the instant. But nothing was forthcoming. Quite half an hour later, Star finally ventured to say tentatively, “Why are you wearing one glove?”

“At last!” I exclaimed. My hand was getting hot. I peeled the glove off with relief. “I can’t believe it took you so long to notice!”

Star and her daughter replied that they had noticed immediately, but they had declined to remark, for fear of hurting my feelings. There were numerous mentions of Mr Jackson. Then Star told us that she had worn the gloves to a wedding, accessorising a purple cheesecloth dress. “It belongs to me,” she reached for the article.

“Nothing doing,” I denied, snatching up the glove and stuffing it into my purse. “It has lain unclaimed for more than twenty years. This is a Story, and photographic evidence is required.”

I’m serious about the new Fashion Decree though. No, really. 

Madame de Pompomadore

The True History of the Origin of le Pompon

We’ve all heard of Madame de Pompomadore. She was the Royal Ladylove of that decadent French king whose name I forget, and she adored her pompoms. She loved them so much she adorned her person with them – she wore pompoms in her hair, all her buttons were little mink pompoms and her boudoir was stuffed to overflowing with enormous vases of white chrysanthemums, plucked of their foliage.

… finally she relented and cried, “Très bien! Let them all wear le pompon!”

Pompoms were so much in favour with her that there was a court edict that only she was allowed to wear them – and so all the envious ladies of the court nicknamed her Madame de Pompomadore. In the street, the people took to strewing her path with flowers that resembled pompoms – dahlias, asters, chrysanthemums and purple hydrangeas. Overcome by this compliment, finally she relented and cried, “Très bien! Let them all wear le pompon!”

And that is the true story of how the pompom came into fashion.
Sort of.

According to the OED however, the origin of the pompom is in the mid eighteenth century, and originally denoted a bunch of ribbons, feathers, etc, worn by women in the hair or on a dress. It comes from the French pompon, of unknown etymology. Unknown until now, that is.

Fashion Notes

Vintage 1940s, the pompom headband is made from lamb’s fur. I watched one just liked it on eBay for months, stalling purchasing it as it was quite expensive. Then one day, I saw another exactly like it on Etsy for one quarter of the price. The rest is history. The pompom earrings I made myself from green jade and hot pink Indian beaded beads, and the striped jumper adorned with a black pompom tie is by Sonia Rykiel. 

There can never be too many pompoms.

Hang Up the Blues

Life’s too short to stand against the wall and blend in! It’s more fun when you’re eccentric and take a few fashion risks. Melbourne’s streets are so dreary in winter: everyone – almost everyone – is wearing black, grey, navy and forever the blue jean. It’s a tide of boringness. I say: swim against the tide!

Hang up the blues and greys, spring out the colour all at once. Wear that bright colour that scares you the most. Wear prints and mix ’em up. Break every single fashion rule you ever heard of: red and pink together; green and blue will ever be seen. Dress like it’s summer every day! (Erm, within reason – don’t get pneumonia now. Blue skin is not in.)

You know that old adage:

Dance like there’s nobody watching,
Love like you’ll never be hurt,
Sing like there’s nobody listening,
Live like it’s heaven on earth …
And dress like the fashion police have resigned their commission.

I made that last one up. But do it anyway, and do it elegantly.

PS You know how Englishwomen have that reputation for eccentricity? Well, take a gander at this article I ripped out from a British magazine years ago (sorry, I am not sure which). Click on the pictures to make them big:

Stripes Upon Stripes

Fashion editors keep on drumming into us that it’s a great idea to mix your prints. I have seen very few women brave enough to do this over the years. BUT how much easier is it to do this with stripes? The pattern only goes in one direction! One striped garment is an excellent thing, but how much nicer are stripes upon stripes? Don’t stop at clothing, wear striped accessories too.

Fat stripes and pin stripes, all stripes are good. Stripes make you smile. Stripes make you happy on a dreary morning. When in doubt: wear a stripe. No humbug this.

Why stop at striped clothes? Here we have a striped vintage 50s hat, striped Venetian glass earrings, and a striped windmill brooch. There are never too many stripes.

* See more stripes here. Historical ones!

Coco Mam’selle

It’s my birthday this week – another year’s flashed by. It’s a trite observation, but the older I get, the more I realise how short life really is, and the more I appreciate those little things that make life special. French perfume for one.

It was actually a few months ago at my mother’s birthday party when I first uttered those words. My sisters and I had pooled our resources and bought mum a bottle of Christian Dior’s Diorissimo, because she adores the scent of lily-of-the-valley.

She was so thrilled when she carefully unwrapped the paper and admired the prized contents. It was too precious to be used except on special occasions, she declared. I exclaimed, “Oh, mum! Life’s too short not to wear French perfume every day!” She immediately exclaimed at my profligacy.

My French perfume of choice is Chanel’s Coco Mademoiselle. Having traveled overseas and stocked up on perfume last year (the rare original Gucci Envy, a bottle of CK Truth, which also is no longer in production), I’m not hoping for any as presents, but you know, I wouldn’t complain.

Just as an extra treat, enjoy this beautiful commercial for Chanel No. 5, directed by Jean-Pierre Jeunet and featuring Audrey Tatou.