Bathing Beauties

In the mid 18th century, Dr Charles Russel recommended the use of seawater for healing various diseases. Twenty odd years later William Buchan advocated the practice in his 1769 book Domestic Medicine. Suddenly it became fashionable to go to the beach.

But there was a hitch. Along with the healthful benefits, there existed the dreadful possibility of immoral behaviour. The solution? Bathing machines, segregated beaches, and voluminous costumes made from wool or silk taffeta preserved the modesty of the sexes. 

“Heartbreakers along the seashore’, 1898. Image from the Library of Congress, LC-USZ62-100442-1898.

Bathing costumes, 1910. Images from contentmentfarm.com

Two women in bathing costumes drying their hair, c.1925-1932. Image from the Library of Congress, LC-USZ62-106971.

Over the years, the bathing suit shrank – sleeves and bloomers becoming increasingly shorter – and by the 1920s with the popularity of all sporting pursuits, it was quite appropriate to wear sleeveless long tank tops belted over modesty shorts that stopped mid-thigh.

Today of course anything goes, and the only reason we might cover up is to prevent sunburn. But just think of the time and money (and pain!) we would have saved on all that depilatory paraphernalia!

Read a detailed history of Victorian bathing suits at Fashion 1900. For more fantastic images like this one below, look no further than Mack Sennett's Comedies Arcade Cards of the 1920s at Immortal Ephemera.

Fashion notes

I found my quaint navy ‘bathing’ dress in a charity shop, drawn to it by the quaint puff sleeves and skirts. It buttons down the front; is trimmed with white piping; and its brevity really does require modesty shorts. I first wore this dress on a beach weekend with friends in Ocean Grove, and preserved my feminine mystique by wearing black ‘pettishorts’.

The white shorts in the first image above are vintage 1950s, and were commonly worn by female tennis players, I was told by the elderly lady who sold them to me.

A beloved treasure of mine, the vintage paper parasol has been with me for years. It was in virtually pristine condition when I first bought it. It was I who accidentally – and lamentably – ripped a couple of holes in the paper. It is still, however, a perfect shade from the blasting Australian sun.

It Was Fifty Years Ago Today…

Lulue channels the Sixties in a houndstooth jacket, white mini, knee-high lace-up boots and of course the ubiquitous Vidal Sassoon bob (and, in the truest Sixties style, it’s a wig). Add giant white-framed sunglasses, hot pink fishnets, big jewellery and lashings of black warpaint, and she’s good to go … to a Sixties themed party at the very least.

The Sixties was the decade of youth: the new generation of Baby Boomers born following the war created a new market; a market that rebelled against all expressions of authority. Out went haute couture, and in came fashion off the streets.

The Mini

Tired of the neck and shoulders, fashion found a new erogenous zone: the midriff and thighs. The miniskirt was born in the early Sixties, first worn by art students in Manchester, and then marketed worldwide by Mary Quant in 1965. André Courrèges and Yves Saint Laurent also adopted the brief skirt in their Spring/Summer and Fall/Winter 1965 collections respectively. And also in 1965, what a scandal Jean Shrimpton caused by wearing a minidress to the Melbourne Cup Carnival! 

The Bob

“Everyone wanted more hair, adding thickness and height, whether the cut was short and bobbed, or long, heavy and swinging,” Georgina Howell tells us in her book In Vogue: 75 Years of Style (Condé Nast Books, 1991). Vidal Sassoon’s new do was hard and architectural, requiring a revolution in makeup and the correct hat to complement his bob. To satisfy this desire for height, hairdressers encouraged the use of hairpieces instead of constant and damaging back-combing. Eye makeup darkened – false eyelashes were an essential component of the Sixties look, and lips paled into insignificance.

The Boots

According to Howell, “in summer you went bare-legged and rouged your knees. In the winter you covered your exposed limbs in thick patterned tights or stretch lace, and boots climbed up the legs in pursuit of hemlines.” (How I love that last phrase, boots in pursuit of hemlines!) The go-go boot is the quintessential Sixties footwear, and were originally low-heeled; Lulue’s black lace-ups are more akin to ‘kinky boots’. The term was coined in the UK in the early Sixties, when boots became a mainstream fashion item. Prior to this they were worn predominately in the underground fetish world of the dominatrix.

It was certainly a youthquake, but everything grows tame in time. Young people grow up, and their glory years become a mine for their grandchildren’s theme parties. 

Check out more pics in the Out-takes & Extras album.

Thanks to Lulue for being such a gorgeous model yet again.

Christmas Cap

The Vintage Hat Series: 1940s long velvet turban

How cute is this velvet cap? It looks like something a 40s snow bunny might have worn après ski, or perhaps one of Santa’s helpers handing out gifts and brewing mischief of some sort.

It is very soft velvet – perhaps silk or rayon – and flops gently to one side. The eBay merchant I purchased it from described it as a 1940s long turban – and very unique. It certainly is that. I can’t find anything similar in my numerous books on hats, or online.

Here are two more quaint hats from Head Hunter Vintage Hat Boutique and Greta’s Vintage on Etsy: perfect for potential Santa’s helpers. You can be both naughty and nice in these numbers.

1940s brown velvet elf hat from eBay’s Head Hunter Vintage Hat Boutique 1930s black velvet asymmetric hat with bow from Greta’s Vintage on Etsy

Twisted Teardrops: A Short History of Paisley

Once upon a time there was a boutique called Lost Vegas. It was very funky and perfectly catered to the whimsical desires of an art student. During one particularly mad moment I purchased a very early 90s midriff-baring top with enormous bell sleeves, masses of fringing and a riotous multicoloured paisley print. It only took me a few hours to come to my senses, and I returned it the next day. That was my last foray into paisley purchases.

How a cashmere shawl was worn in 1865 over a crinoline… An original cost £70-100 back in the day. Image from victoriana.com.

Paisley takes its Western name from the Scottish town where much of the high quality textile was manufactured during the 19^th century. However, it of course originates in the East: in Persia and India. The twisted teardrop shape has associations with various flora (mangos, palm trees, pines and cypresses) as well as religious themes of life and eternity. In Paisley up to 15 colours could be woven at once, but that was still only one quarter of the colours used in the glorious shawls imported from Kashmir by the East India Company.

The paisley motif has been used to decorate Persian royal and commoner garments alike; draped the shoulders A modern-day pure pashmina paisley shawl (6.7ft x 3.5ft) will set you back $356.25 (on sale from $475). Image from exoticindiaart.com.of nineteenth century European aristocrats; adorned the furnishings of Uzbekistan and Iran – and finally it became a symbol of rebellion during the Summer of Love, its swirling patterns a perfect expression of psychedelic visual art. 

…finally it became a symbol of rebellion during the Summer of Love…

Earlier this year a sudden and inexplicable desire for paisley arose in me once more. I decided to trawl Etsy and eBay for something a little more interesting than the traditional Kashmiri shawl. I found this sweet vintage bag, embroidered and beaded with a paisley pattern on pretty raspberry silk. The finely woven silk shawl (also found on Etsy) is not paisley, but complements the bag beautifully anyway.

But I really should have kept that 70s-inspired top from Lost Vegas.

For a wonderful much longer history of Kashmiri shawls, click here.

The Woman in White

Inspired by the book The Woman in White, by Wilkie Collins, this ensemble is only Victorian in spirit, for it is comprised from clothing of very different eras, some separated by 100 years.

The white linen skirt is Victorian – or possibly early Edwardian. Just floor length on me, it features a ruffle on the hem, and a slight train – possibly a remnant of the Victorian bustle, as the owner of the Etsy boutique suggested. As the average height of a Victorian woman was 5’3” (three inches shorter than me) with a waist of 25”, this skirt must have been made for a giantess. (Some incidental trivia: Jane Austen was my height, and considered tall for her era.)

Its texture is ribbed; a very sturdy fabric that has stood the test of time – and the rigours of modern-day cleaning products: oxygenated Napisan (a stain-remover and whitener that is safe for most garments). There are also two period mends that are barely discernible.

The shirt is by She’s Beck, a now-defunct Australian fashion label. I bought this in the early Noughties on sale. I loved the pinstriped shirting, the gathered sleeves, and the military detail of the single pleated epaulet attached to a purposefully ripped shoulder seam. The latter detail always astonishes people.

A white leather obi belt by Witchery is reminiscent of a corset (without the associated agony and breathing difficulties).

The white straw hat is vintage 1930s, bought on eBay for a song. There is a darling little black velvet bow that nestles just under the upturned brim, above my chignon. The black onyx and sterling silver earrings I made myself, when I realised there was a gap in my earring collection for simple bauble drops that go with anything.

Black and white stripes always add a storybook flavour: the striped stockings are new, also found on eBay. White leather Boston Belle sandals that have managed to turn up in a few photoshoots were a good find in a charity shop for a few dollars.

I roam the gardens of Daylesford Convent, a 19^th century mansion built in 1860, the same year The Woman in White was published. A fitting setting for an outfit inspired by one of the first mystery novels. 

To see additional angles and extras, check out the Out-takes & Extras gallery.