Innocent … Until Proven Noodle-y

Vintage 40s pink straw and black velvet hat, from The Vintage Hat Series; purchased from eBay store Tarnished Past Vintage HatsThis cute little 40s hat almost defies description. It is darling, funny, quaint and strange all at the same time. From the front it looks quite innocent… cute little black velvet bows above the temples, seductive black veil that tucks just under the chin, classic baby pink and black combination…

And then I turn around and there are pappardelle noodles dangling above my French roll. Funny little things.

Vintage 40s pink straw and black velvet hat, from The Vintage Hat Series; purchased from eBay store Tarnished Past Vintage HatsI searched on eBay for more 40s hats, just to see if I could find anything similar, and to my great surprise I did (see below)! This type of loop decoration was not that uncommon after all. 

Vintage 40s navy straw hat with loops, available from the Crinoline Lady on eBay Like this navy straw currently on eBay, I am guessing my hat is also made from polyester. I did not realise the man-made fibre was in use as early as the 1940s, but it was in fact invented by a group of British scientists who were working with synthetic polymers then.

While we think of polyester in terms of cheap and nasty textiles, it is, in fact, a plastic. Not a terribly glamorous thought, but at least it means my hat will stay in good condition for a long time to come. 

Check out the Out-takes & Extras gallery for another angle of the hat.

Put to the Blush

Definitely not sitting like a lady!

I was intrigued a few months ago when I came across a reference to women rouging their knees in the 1920s. I had never heard of this practice before. Subsequently I stumbled upon a reference from the musical Chicago: “I’m gonna rouge my knees and roll my stockings down and all that jazz…” sung by Velma.

Jaynie Van Roe at Here’s Looking Like You, Kid suggests that flappers, like courtesans who rouged their breasts, rouged their knees to attract attention to them. Most likely they applied it after they had pulled on their silk or rayon stockings, however. (Consider the unattractive red smear created if one dragged stockings over the top.) Skin toned stockings gave the impression of nudity, making the short skirts and blushing knees seem more shocking still.

Flappers are notorious for being the first to wear short skirts that revealed so much of their legs. For two centuries women’s legs had remained hidden beneath skirts that swept the floor. A change came in the Roaring Twenties, a decade of sheer excess and joie de vivre after the terrible years of war. Women were freed from their constricting underclothes and voluminous skirts. Worn by the working girl, practical and comfortable tubelike dresses no longer hugged the body, or exaggerated the bust, waist or buttocks.

Goodbye corsets, hello short skirts

Not only had fashion changed; so had the zone of erotic interest. The décolletage was no longer the primary focus: it was now the legs. Goodbye corsets, hello short skirts. Hemlines crept steadily upwards from 1922; by 1926 they were right on the knee where they hovered for three years – and truly shocked the old Edwardian generation.

Whenever a girl danced or walked into a breeze, one might be lucky enough to catch a glimpse of their knees, hitherto hidden delights. Although Charleston era dances were so energetic any loose skirt – regardless of length – might fling up, revealing the forbidden flesh made more titillating by powder or rouge.

Flapper style evening dresses have been a mainstay in fashion ever since the Jazz Age, although today you might apply a bit of shimmer powder or bronzer to your limbs, rather than a puff of rouge to your knees. It won’t scandalise anyone though.

Reference:
Dusk till Dawn – A History of the Evening Dress, by Alexandra Black, Scriptum Editions 2004

Chic clichés

I thought since we’re on the subject of French style, we should celebrate some quintessential items of French chic.

Stripes and berets are instantly associated with the French. In combination, a striped t-shirt and the classic floppy beret make a graphic statement, appealing and nostalgic.

Cute in pictures perhaps, but a little too cutesy to wear in the street? I am certain a Frenchwoman would never do so. The solution: split them apart, and they become quintessential items for every woman’s wardrobe. Which is fortuitous as stripes are back for spring…

It was Coco Chanel who first made Breton tops chic, pairing them with wide-leg pants…

A little history…

See, Coco’s not wearing a beret with her stripes…Any striped t-shirt will work, but to be truly authentic it should be a Breton stripe. These are traditionally associated with French fisherman—hence the classic nautical look—and date back to the 1800s. In March 1858, they officially became part of the navy seaman’s uniform: the block stripes of the shirt made him easier to spot if a sailor fell overboard.

It was Coco Chanel who first made Breton tops chic, pairing them with wide-leg pants, and wearing them on the Riviera. European and American socialites followed suit, and the striped top is still a classic today.

The beret is of course a timeless hat, and like the fedora, it often appears in the wardrobes of women who will wear few other hats. It was once considered the national cap of France in Anglo-Saxon countries, and forms part of many military uniforms.

The beret also goes hand in hand with the popular stereotype of arty types: intellectuals and artists; bohemians and beatniks… a cool notion to keep your head warm in winter.

Audrey sports a white beret. Click on the image for more, much more on berets at Dolly Rocker Girl!

The Count of Orsay’s Pumps

These satin d’Orsay pumps are pretty trifles I came upon by accident in a charity shop during a visit to my parents. I was waiting for my dad to pick me up from the train station, and only had time for a quick circuit around the shop.

The sun was winking on the marquise shaped rhinestones when I snatched these up from the shelf and saw that miraculously they were my size. They are only a tiny little bit worn, and I certainly could not leave them behind, for surely there is something irresistible about bejewelled shoes?

…surely there is something irresistible about bejewelled shoes?

D’Orsay pumps take their name from Alfred Guillaume Gabriel, the comte d’Orsay (1801–1852) who invented them. He was a distinguished and handsome man; an accomplished painter and sculptor; friend of Lord Byron and Benjamin Disraeli; and an expensive arbiter of fashion. Pumps were at that time commonly worn by men, and he realised that cutting away the sides of these shoes would make them fit more snugly. A dandy such as he would have been most concerned to present a polished appearance.

Since then, men’s heels have lowered, and it is women instead who don the count’s namesake, the d’Orsay pump. 

Tickle Me Honeysuckle

Honeysuckle pink trapunto hat, no label. The Vintage Hat Series.

Pantone's Honeysuckle swatch. It's a very close match for my hat.Tan-tan-tara!* Behold, the Mighty Oracle Pantone speaks! Honeysuckle (18-2120 TCX) is 2011’s Colour of the Year!

‘Energizing Honeysuckle Lifts Spirits and Imparts Confidence to Meet Life’s Ongoing Challenges’ Pantone announces grandiosely on its press release.

Crikey, that’s a lot for the humble watermelon pink to live up to.

I’ve talked about pink before. Some people are afraid of it; some revile it; and yet others love it. I used to dislike it, deeming it too girly, until I discovered that it suits me. (Did you know between the 1920s and 30s, pink was used for baby boys, and pale blue for girls?) Pantone tells us that Honeysuckle is guaranteed to deliver a healthy glow to anyone who wears it. I’d like to qualify that bold statement by adding: only if it actually complements your complexion.

Whenever any authority makes uncompromising statements like this my natural contrariness makes me long to buck the trend. However, I must confess that presciently, I purchased this mad hat not three weeks ago, and long before I had any inkling of Pantone’s forecast. 

Honeysuckle pink trapunto hat, no label. The Vintage Hat Series.

After all, a honeysuckle by any other name is just as pink.

And isn’t it divine, with its tulip-bud tassels? It stands up just like that, all on its own. That type of stitching is called ‘trapunto’. The parallel rows give strength to sculpted fabric; Jeanne Lanvin used it extensively in her designs. I’m guessing this hat is a Sixties model, and it complements the pleated sleeves of the Veronika Maine top beautifully.

I guess this all means that stores will obediently flood the market with honeysuckle-coloured items. But what about us Australians? This is not a flower that is native to our shores, and it does not inspire ‘waves of nostalgia for its associated delicious scent reminiscent of the carefree days of spring and summer’. Watermelon does that though, so I am quite happy with that designation. After all, a honeysuckle by any other name is just as pink.

* Well, that’s how Enid Blyton announced the blare of trumpets!