Ah, Australia, the land of the mini

January 20, 1969 is the date stamped on the back of the photos in very faded red ink. I can just make it out. My parents and sisters have emigrated not long before, and the girls evidently discard the shackles of communist Yugoslavia in favour of native dress as soon as possible.

Knowing full well that mama and tata do not look kindly upon the mini even to this day, I questioned my eldest sister on a recent visit to the family estate as I raided the archives. “What on earth did mum say? How did you get away with it?” I asked in astonishment. She laughed, and her answer was characteristically irrepressible: their voluble protests fell on deaf ears (and sprightly feet).

There is a lot of leg in these photos, to be sure. These cartoon dresses with their tight bodices, full skirts, peter pan collars, bibs and ties, ribbons and frilled socks must have been a far cry from the scratchy wool and wrinkled tights I have seen in older photos. (Please note: my littlest sister – the one with her hand on the emu’s rump – is wearing a polka-dot dress!)

I love how chuffed my dad looks in the last photo: “check out my girls!” his puffed chest is saying. Mum’s pink dress has a pleated skirt, and what possibly may be a pussycat tie; it is hard to tell.

The photos may be faded, but the optimism in them remains as bright as the Australian sun.

Sail away on a sea of polka-dots, cherries and nostalgia

These quaint little photos – and I mean that literally: they are all about 4cm x 6cm – are out of my friend’s family photo collection. They show her Great-aunty Belle and friends on a cruise to Europe, in the late 1940s, presumably well after the war. Also, below you’ll see the original photo packet.

What I find fascinating, apart from the peek into a personal past, is how alike all the women dressed! Of course we all know already that serious followers of fashion had to abide by certain rules: dresses were a certain length from season to season, gloves in the city, etc. Even all these women’s hairstyles are similar. It makes me appreciate just how eclectic fashion is today and how spoiled for choice we all are.

I am also pleased to see polka-dots appear in the picture on the top-right. The beach photo shows two women wearing high-waisted shorts with matching polo-style shirts.

And a great chapeau moment on the right: not plain old polka-dots, but cherries, which makes me completely ecstatic!

In the bottom-right photo, the woman on the right is carrying a box-shaped bag – a real vintage gem that I’d love to get my hands on. All the women’s outfits are similar, featuring pleated skirts, fitted jackets and very sensible shoes so that one may traverse the wilds of Italy in comfort.

I feel a forties blog or three coming on. And there will be polka-dots, that I can assure you!

I'm seeing spots!

This photo has always fascinated me. A bed in the field! Children romping in shortie dresses — that may be my second oldest sister on the far left. I love the plethora of patterns: stripes and florals, spots and plaids. I love the baby (my cousin) in her little white bonnet. There seems such a story to be told in this candid moment, but there is nothing even written on the back. I am sure I must have asked my mum why there was a bed in the field but I can’t recall what she answered.

That is my aunt in the wild print dress which dates the photo to some time in the fifties, although her hair looks distinctly thirties style with the marcel waves. My mum is wearing the polka-dot scarf and numerous layers (the topmost of which is spotted too). Seems safe to say she was not the fashionably-minded one in the bevy of sisters!

However, she continues to be enamoured of spots, as you will see in the photo below. This is 1967, making my sister in her spotted dress nearly four years old. I bet that dress my mum is wearing is made of polyester, and I like to imagine the print is purple, as that is her favourite colour. Note the sensible loafers both women are wearing.

I know hardly anyone prints their photos anymore, but I adore the deckle edge of these, and the slipshod, off-centre printing; the spots and scratches. They need to bring the deckles back and then they might see a resurgance of photo printing the world over. Everyone loves a bit of instant nostalgia.

$22 for apples

Ah, what the fashionable toddler was wearing in 1973! (Thanks dad for writing the date on the back.) I believe this fetching red number is a top-and-pants combo, in red knit, accessorised with colour-coordinated lace-ups. My sister is undoubtedly wearing a polyester mini, and her legs are clad in the double fashion crime of white ribs and open-toe sandals! Gold.

What makes me most nostalgic are the hairpins we are both wearing: enamelled apples. Who else remembers those? They also came in cherries, and I recall my sister and I used to wrestle over them. Sometimes she would win (being a brute) through sheer strength, but very often the baby of the family got her way (moi). Sadly these hairpins disappeared along with my baby fat.

Imagine my joy when a few years ago whilst browsing in a vintage boutique on Barkly Street in St Kilda, I discovered hanging behind the counter a large card to which were pinned ten pairs of apple hairpins! When I excitedly questioned the salesgirl, she informed me that these were the original seventies hairpins, imported from Germany, and no, she regretfully told me, they didn’t have the cherry ones. I immediately bought a pair for $22 – a bit steep, but no cost is too high for recaptured youth.

Here they are:

Their only design flaw is that the apples pinned to the right side of my head will always be upside down. A small price to pay.