My Very Own Polka-dot Puffball

Polka-dots! Puffballs! Pink! What dress more fit for a self-proclaimed non-princess to reminisce fondly on?

Oh, I am so happy that I kept this dress – possibly the only relic from my teenage years. What a pity that I long ago threw out the stretch corset-belt; the lace fingerless gloves; the rah-rah skirt; the pastel mesh tank tops… need I go on? Yes, I was a teenager in the glorious, tacky 80s, when fortunately no-one could tell if you had good taste or not.

I wore this darling dress with white patent court shoes (of course), and – the pièce de la résistance – a spiral perm!

Yes, I was a teenager in the glorious, tacky 80s, when fortunately no-one could tell
if you had good taste or not.

And if you need further proof than my word, here I am (left) on New Year’s Eve, accessorising with pearl necklace, pink button earrings, wavy plastic white bangle and a white shell ring. I am glowing with youthful spirits and a tan courtesy of the Queensland sun.

Thank you puffball dress, a good many years have passed, but you still put a smile on my face.

My Love Affair With Red

I have had a love affair with the colour red all my life. It’s true that turquoise is my favourite colour, but I still like to flirt with red.

I am particularly attracted to red shoes (and red bags, and red belts and I have a bright red, butter-soft leather jacket too), and I make a beeline for them whenever I see them in some boutique. In fact, once I accidentally sleep-shopped and bought the cutest pair of Wizard of Oz patent red sandals, only to realise later that the plastic stench in my apartment was emanating from my brand new shoes. I had mistaken the diamond symbol signifying nasty PU for the pretty little leather mark! But that’s another story…

A few months ago I saw the loveliest pair of red platform heels that made my heart go pitter-pat. They were by Alex & Alex. Late at night I would walk past the window of Ebony and smile fondly at them. The peeptoes had a 40s look about them and featured the most exuberant, upstanding double bow on the toe. This was no ordinary bow: it sprang up with joy and shouted, “Look at me!”

This was no ordinary bow: it sprang up with joy and shouted, “Look at me!”

By the time I managed to get to the boutique during business hours, I was devastated to find that they no longer had my size in stock. Black or cream simply would not do. They could not be got for love or money from anywhere. They were gone. I would never see their like again. I mourned.

Then I rolled up my sleeves and went on the hunt on eBay. I hit paydirt when I discovered these little wonders a charming young English lady was selling. Apparently she had worn them only once to a party. They were my size (39) and the starting price was low. But even here I did not escape the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune. The auction was about to run out, and I needed to know what the postage would be to Oz. Suffice to say I did not hear from the seller in time…

But the fairytale does not end here (obviously). She agreed to put them up for sale again, just for me. Here, in true Hans Christian Anderson form, the tale turns down a murky path: I had a rival for the shoes of my affection! I anxiously chewed my fingernails for seven days… and this time money won out. I finally scored the sparkly red shoes of my heart’s desire.

Here they are, immortalised, inspired by Powell & Pressburger’s movie poster. I have danced (painfully) in them indeed, but there will definitely be no chopping off of the feet in my case.

In Anderson’s timeless words: “There is really nothing in the world that can be compared to red shoes!”

Read the full fairytale here.

An Entirely Healthy Obsession With Hats

I could almost open up my own hat shoppe. Although I haven’t actually counted exactly how many hats I own, all these hatboxes are full of them, and I possess more than what is hidden from view in this picture. At time of press, my sister Blossom is still storing some boxes for me, and I also keep those hats in current rotation stacked on a milliner’s block on my tall boy. Oh, and there are a few more cocktail hats and headpieces in a prop box.

I have loved hats for a very long time. Most of them are vintage, found in opportunity shops or vintage boutiques all over Victoria. The oldest dates from the 1900s (or so the eccentric seller informed me); I actually used to wear it. From the same place in Castlemaine, I bought a 1920s hat with faded black gabardine trim; I wore it to my grandmother’s funeral many years ago. Other hats I have bought on eBay, from the UK and the US: quite a few tulle frivolities that have already featured in this journal.

It is too bad that there are few specialty hat shops open for business nowadays – it must have been a wonderful experience to shop in them in their heyday. Also glove shops. I would love to own a couture pair of kid gloves – just imagine!

Below are some images of boutiques from the golden age of hat shoppes.

(Left) 'Chez la Modiste', c. 1895; (right) 'The Hat Shop', August Macke, 1913

Hat Shops
Buying a hat is not something to be undertaken lightly. It requires thought, consideration and professional advice. In the days when hats were an essential part of everyday life, there were often only a few yards between one millinery establishment and another on the fashionable streets of Europe and North America.

In order to compete, milliners had to provide a high level of service. The good milliner was expected to be familiar with the social life of her customers as well as being au fait with the latest fashion developments in Paris. It was no use creating hats that were the ‘dernier cri’ if they were not suitable.

Milliners in major cities not only made their own creations, they also frequently imported expensive French original models. Their success in a highly competitive field rested on the speed of their reaction to fashion’s changes: it was essential to stock the latest novelty trims and ribbons as quickly as possible.

Images and text from Hats – Status, Style and Glamour by Colin McDowell, Thames & Hudson, 1992; pp164–165.

If you are interested in millinery and live in Melbourne, Australia, visit Torb & Reiner’s, a place I know of thanks to an American friend of mine.

The Grand Entrance

I’m a little crazy about hats, and it must be said this hat is a little crazy. It’s big. It’s OTT (pun not intended). It looks like something a grand dame might have worn out on a morning call a hundred years ago.

I’ve never actually worn it out in public, but when I first saw it in Scally & Trombone in Fitzroy years ago, I decided I simply had to have it in spite of the equally enormous price tag. The designer’s name was Sandy F (with a cute zebra drawing on the label), about whom I can find out nothing now.

…the only thing my hat seems to have in common with Kate’s is sheer size…

The woman presiding over the shop however, told me the designer was inspired by the hat Kate Winslet wore in Titanic. From memory I think she referred to the scene when Kate makes her grand entrance with her darling husband-to-be dangling from her arm, a role played with aplomb by the dishy Billy Zane. However, as these pictures below show, the only thing my hat seems to have in common with Kate’s is sheer size – and the ability to have someone’s eye out if one is not careful.

Nor is my outfit quite as glamorous as Kate’s costume, but I rather like the Belle Époque silhouette. Though I think the coat, which I unearthed at Camberwell Sunday Market, dates from the 1940s rather than the 10s.

(NB. See me ham it up a little more in the Out-takes & Extras gallery.)

A hat retrospective

“Father has a business strictly second hand
Everything from toothpicks to a baby-grand
Stuff in our apartment came from father’s store
Even things I’m wearing someone wore before
It’s no wonder that I feel abused
I never get a thing that ain’t been used

I’m wearing second hand hats
Second hand clothes
That’s why they call me
Second hand Rose…”

Unlike Barbara, I do not find it such a tragedy to wear second hand clothes, nor do many others these days. In fact, I would be overjoyed if my father owned a second hand shop. What fun!

A while back a friend suggested I write a post on the difference between antique, vintage and retro. Many people probably don’t know the difference, and possibly don’t care. A few might be interested enough in the question to research it; I can point you in the direction of a succinct article on Wikipedia. For those of you who can’t be bothered clicking on the link, read on.

I decided to illustrate the definitions by comparing apples with… er, hats with hats. I thought about using other items, but as I am obsessed with hats, and actually own many from different eras, they seemed the obvious choice.

ANTIQUE

First up we have a hat c. 1910. Anything manufactured prior to the 1920s is considered antique. This wool felt hat is trimmed in the original ostrich feather and netting, very tattered. I used to wear it more often than lately, but you can see it here in context. I bought it many years ago in Castlemaine from a strange elderly woman who ran a vintage shop in an old building that was once a stately home, or perhaps a hotel.

My sister, who lived there for a while, took me there, whispering that the old lady kept a doll in a pram, and talked to it as though it was her baby. I found three hats there that I wanted to buy: a black 1920s hat and a gold straw bonnet of unknown provenance trimmed in Parisian roses, the lady told me, as well as this hat. I put this hat on the counter, and continued to look at her merchandise. When I turned round, I found she had put the hat back in its cabinet. I retrieved it. This happened a few times until I finally convinced that I did indeed want to purchase it.

VINTAGE

The second hat is from the 1940s, and falls under the distinction of vintage, as does any clothing made from the 1920s to 1980. I can’t recall where I found this little cap, but it’s very sweet and perches just at the back of one’s head. The two little flowers on either side make me think of mini Mickey Mouse ears.

RETRO

Retro, which is short for retrospective, usually refers to items that imitate those from another era, for example props from a costume department (which is what I guess this 1920s style hat is), or emulations, such as the Art Deco style prevalent in the 1970s. (Just think of Faye Dunaway in Bonnie and Clyde: set in the 1920s, but unmistakably made in the 70s.)

In the last twenty years or so we’ve seen every style of fashion from every era inspiring our modern designers. It’s certainly fascinating, and I gasp in awe at the creators and image-makers, but in real life, as much as I love vintage clothing, I don’t want to feel like a stray from a film set. I’ll still mix in some vintage into my wardrobe, but I’ll do it circumspectly. I’ll do it ‘My Way’.