Ninety Bucks. ’Cause I’m worth it.

During my holidays I set myself a fashion mission: to find at least one vintage item in each of my holiday spots. It began in Sydney, with a rather spectacular feather hat, and it ended in Noosa – at Eumundi Markets to be precise, with this quaint pendant made from an 1890s cash register key.

I’ve often seen these types (no pun intended) of items at craft markets and on Etsy, but until now I had never shelled out for one. Initially (pardon the pun again please; I can’t help myself) I was looking at typewriter keys, but couldn’t decide on which letter – the initial of my first name? Too obvious? Too Carrie necklace?

And then I spotted the cash register keys. I knew exactly which one I was going to get (it didn’t actually cost $90). I showed off my purchase to my friends when they caught up with me. “Go for the most expensive key you could find, eh?” Kitty asked with a grin. But of course. Cute, huh?

Choose your own envelopeIt is from Wear Ya Bin, and they also make pendants, earrings and cufflinks from recycled Scrabble pieces, as well as typewriter and cash register keys. I was bidden to choose an envelope from an enormous stack: all were individually decorated with paper ephemera. And when I asked for a business card, it came as a sticker on an Admit One ticket. Even cuter! 

Clocks on Socks

Pantyhose are not the most romantic or seductive of feminine apparel – in this respect stockings are much more appealing, whether you call them thigh-highs, stay-ups or over-the-knee socks.

Pair of clocked stockings, European, 1650–1750Historically, they have been part of both men’s and women’s daily wardrobe. Before the 18th century and the invention of the knitting machine, knitted stockings were extremely expensive to produce, and they were at first sewn from ordinary woven fabric (ie, non-elastic). With the advent of the Industrial Revolution, stockings were knitted from cotton or silk on machinery, and were consequently much more affordable. The English city of Nottingham, already famous for its Lace Market district, dominated production.

Stockings were then made from two pieces: the main forming the shaft, heel and upper part of the foot, and the smaller piece the sole. When sewn together, the seam ran along the back of the leg. For better fit around the ankle and lower part of the leg, a wedge (known as a ‘clock’) was sewn in. These clocks were often decorated with embroidery, or cut from entirely a different colour than the main colour of the stocking – and often both.

Traditionally, stockings ended well above the knee. It can be seen in paintings that men often pulled their stockings over the hem of their breeches, and then folded them back down again. As stockings, no matter what they are made of, naturally follow gravity and slide down, garters are tied at the narrowest part of the leg, just below the knee.

In the past, garters were made from a band of woven material tied into a bow, or a strip of leather with a small buckle. Modern-day stay-ups employ a strip of adhesive elastic at the top, but with successive washings they will lose their ability to grip. (More than once I have nearly come to public and embarrassing grief, and was saved only by the length of my winter skirt!)

La Toilette, Françoise Boucher, 1742So why do contemporary paintings show garters tied above the knee? In the opinion of one online source, it is most likely that most of these pictures are genre paintings with erotic intent, affording the chance to show the skirt raised above the knee.

Silk stockings can still be found today. Most are manufactured in France by such labels as Agent Provocateur and Seraphina. They are very fine 15 denier, supposedly extremely luxurious, and expensive. Yet despite this luxury they are of plain and simple design, and are put to shame not only by their historical forbears, but by the intricate designs of modern stockings made from lesser fibers, such as nylon.

These floral stockings for instance (top), embroidered with tiny sprigs of flowers, are reminiscent of the embroidered clocks belonging to an eighteenth century fashionista. Black opaques will always be a staple in cold climates – regardless of the winds of change in fashion – but winter fashion is much more fun with the multitude of colours and styles on offer today. So go on – go get your clocks on.

Barberstripes

French evening dress from 1865 Straw Hat with Striped Bow, c. 1914I adore stripes with a passion. I find them so cheerful they instantly put me in a good mood. These days though they seem to go in and out of style, and are most often related to the nautical look – hence the yo-yoing of fashion.

In centuries past they have been very popular too. Obviously the weavers threw subtlety out the window – who wanted pinstripes when barberstripes* were possible?

And the dressmakers weren’t shy to put them to good use either. In the late 18th and 19th centuries big dresses were all the rage, and stripes weren’t used just for trim: the entire gown was boldly striped. You couldn’t possibly make a bigger sartorial statement (literally and metaphorically). These pink and red numbers in particular made me gasp. Amazing.

*My own term, signifying stripes wide enough to put a barber’s pole to shame.

Bustled gown, c. 1885Robe retroussée dans les poches, c. 1780 FranceRobe à la Française, 1778–1785

Step Away From the Mangle

Vintage Vogue Pattern girls from A Dress A Day

Yesterday I attended a fashion workshop at Circa, a wonderful vintage boutique in Fitzroy, and learned how to identify vintage fabrics using the burn test and how to launder them. I used to call myself the queen of stain-removal, but there were plenty of things I didn’t know.

Washing is the worst thing you can inflict on vintage clothes, Nicole Jenkins of Circa told us. Silk, for example, will not stop at shrinking once the first time you wash it – every time you wash it, it will shrink a little more. (So I’m not putting on weight – that’s the good news!) Rayon crepe is the worst offender. It will shrink a lot if wet: something that started life as a size AU14 will shrink to a size AU10, so always dry-clean. Most – in particular 1950s or older – vintage silk garments should be dry-cleaned too.

Check out the cute wooden dolly pegs in this 1920s photo; image from Things Your Grandmother KnewWe heard an amusing anecdote about the Melbourne Cup in 1932. Apparently, many women were wearing rayon crepe dresses, and when it poured with rain (as it often does during Spring Racing Carnival), all their dresses shrank. (This was long before Jean Shrimpton’s time.)

Cotton and linen can stand a lot more rough stuff, especially lingerie and shirts, which would have been made for constant wear and regular washing. And of course we no longer use copper cauldrons, wringers and mangles, so hand-washing these more sturdy items will not ruin them (if they’ve lasted this long…). Still, it is always better to dry garments flat and in the shade to prevent fading from the sun.

Washboard and mangle; image from Just B Cuz (Flickr)

Wool is a much more sturdy fibre, and as most marks will brush off. Anything tailored should be dry-cleaned, although knits can be hand-washed, especially before storing away over summer. Moths will go straight for dirty spots in clothes, looking for protein to munch on. I use wooden balls impregnated with cedar oil to keep moths away, rather than the stinky regular mothballs. I make sure to keep them well away from the garments, however. Lavender is a delightful alternative.

Moths will go straight for dirty spots in clothes, looking for protein
to munch on.

Laundry trivia

• Vintage dyes are quite unstable, especially red, and prints, but Dylon’s run remover can help seemingly ruined garments.
• Don’t use a eucalyptus-based cleaner for elasticised items, as the oil will degrade it; use another product for your lingerie.
• 1940s shoulder pads can be full of all sorts of scraps – sawdust, soiled bandages (yes, really – shudder).
• Freezing is very good for silk: hand-wash, roll in towel to remove excess water, freeze, then iron.
• In an emergency, makeup smudges can be carefully spot-cleaned using makeup wipes (although launder asap, in case of bleach spots appearing later on); otherwise do not spot-clean.
• Spray vodka onto stains and remove body odour.
• To clean vintage fur, put the item in a pillowcase with a cup of bran and shake. The bran will pick up the dirt.
• Iron velvet inside out so pile goes into pile, rather than flattening out.

I love this article at Fashion Era if you’re looking for more detail on how to launder your precious vintage garments. Nicole’s blog at Circa is also full of interesting articles about very unexpected problems, accompanied by full colour photos. Happy laundering!

Darling and Daring

This late 40s little peaked hat is adorable! When I saw it on eBay at Tarnished Past Vintage Hats, I fell for it immediately and decided I had to have it. Fortunately no-one else felt the same and I had no rivals in my bidding. Is that really because it’s totally crazy and only a mad hat lady would wear it, or because it’s too daring for this conservative hat age? (But go tell that to young Princess Beatrice.)

It’s made from synthetic grosgrain in dark blue and ivory. I love the stripe effect, perfect for a nautical summer theme. Happily, the milliner had the good sense to create a curve at the back – that softens the severity of the conical shape and gives it a playful chic. Darling and daring!