Archive
- Behind the Screens 9
- Bright Young Things 16
- Colour Palette 64
- Dress Ups 60
- Fashionisms 25
- Fashionistamatics 107
- Foreign Exchange 13
- From the Pages of… 81
- G.U.I.L.T. 10
- Little Trifles 126
- Lost and Found 89
- Odd Socks 130
- Out of the Album 39
- Red Carpet 3
- Silver Screen Style 33
- Sit Like a Lady! 29
- Spin, Flip, Click 34
- Vintage Rescue 20
- Vintage Style 157
- Wardrobe 101 148
- What I Actually Wore 163
Queen of Knitwear
French designer Sonia Rykiel has been creating knits for thirty years. She began her career in 1962, when she was pregnant, motivated by the fact that she could not find any attractive maternity wear. It was in knitwear that she found her metier however; she wanted to ‘be the only unique woman of St Germain des Prés, dressed so that the rest seemed not to exist’. A very worthy motive indeed!
It was the ‘poor boy’ sweater that became her trademark with its tight, high-cut armholes. I own one of these in distinctive purple and red stripes, in a thin, almost semi-transparent wool, and can testify that the cut does give knitwear a sexy edge. I also have a couple of her pompom sweaters, the grey one above, and a multi-coloured striped knit with bell sleeves. All were bought from eBay stores.
Click and read the story below for a little history on the Queen of Knitwear.
Who are you Mary Jane?
Celebrating the Roaring Twenties in a Special Series
The classic shoe of the Roaring Twenties must be the Mary Jane. Not to be confused with the T-strap (which was introduced in 1922), the Mary Jane was a broad, comfortable shoe, with a single flat strap across the instep fastening with a button on the side. The original Mary Janes flappers donned, unlike the modern versions today, were low-heeled – one to two inches high only – the more comfortable to dance all night in.
Traditionally, the Mary Jane was a child’s shoe that was worn when a toddler took his or her first steps, and was in fact worn by boys and girls alike. Alice in Wonderland and Christopher Robin are two characters in children’s literature that wore them, and they can be seen even as far back as in Tudor paintings of the 16th century.
In 1902 a comic strip named Buster Brown about a group of mischievous children, including Buster’s sister Mary Jane, and his dog Tige, was published in the New York Herald newspaper. By 1904 the cartoon was so popular it lead the Brown Shoe Company to licence the characters and to take a troupe of costumed actors across America, visiting department and shoe stores. It was not until 1909 however that Mary Jane’s name was immortalised, when it was applied to single-strap children’s shoes. In the years following, the shoe gradually became associated solely with girls, and disappeared entirely from boys’ wardrobes.
Flapper style was evoked by slender, boyish youthfulness, the quintessence of fashionable trends of the era, and the Mary Jane was adopted as the shoe of choice: Fashions of the 1920s deliberately rejected any hint of the matron, and the Mary Jane shoe, the most childish of shoe shapes, was a perfect foil for this fashion. [Vintage Shoes, by Caroline Cox, Carlton Books, 2008]
By the end of the decade however, Mary Jane shoes had become more sophisticated. Heels were higher and more tapered (particularly for evening) and they were constructed from more luxurious materials, with satins, brocades and hand-painted silks reserved for evening. The rest is history.
Thoroughly Modern Filly
CELEBRATING THE ROARING TWENTIES IN A SPECIAL SERIES
Those of us who love vintage clothing and shop for it today will probably have a fair idea of how much garments cost according to their age and quality. But have we thought about how much these same clothes cost back in the day?
Here is a breakdown of a well-dressed flapper’s ensemble, and what a pretty penny it cost: $346.50 to be exact. Doesn’t sound like much to us, does it? That silk faille coat trimmed in ermine fur on collar and cuffs cost $150 then; today it would fetch many hundreds of dollars or even thousands, depending upon where you did your shopping. On The Frock, a 1920s black silk evening cape in excellent condition fetches $1150 – which is really not that much compared with the cost of a similar modern designer coat, let alone haute couture. (Do browse through The Frock website – there are some truly amazing pieces there.)
… That puts the cost of Clara’s outfit at nearly three months’ wages!
To give you some perspective, the average yearly income of the American worker (across all industries) in the 1920s was $1407. That puts the cost of Clara’s outfit at nearly three months’ wages! Back then, a new-fangled electric washing machine cost $85; a bicycle $43, and a dozen eggs set you back just 78¢.
So Mr Pierce is not joking when he writes: ‘As a matter of fact, it costs about as much to dress a modern girl in a genuinely modish flapper outfit as it does to equip completely a reasonably well-furnished three-room flat.’
Above is my comparison with the well-dressed flapper: a well-dressed filly, taken from the current issue of Australian Grazia magazine, in a fashion editorial aimed at young ladies attending the Spring Racing Carnival. The total cost of this outfit is $4,684.96. That’s not including the cost of the Chanel makeup used in the shoot. Suddenly I can visualise the scoffing exclamations an average 1920s flapper lass must have made when she flipped through the magazine that page was torn from.
Suddenly I can visualise the scoffing exclamations an average 1920s flapper lass must have made when she flipped through the magazine …
The average Australian female salary (excluding overtime) is around $61,760 – and that before tax. Take that out, and this outfit costs nearly two months’ wages. A dozen free-range organic eggs, by the way, (which is probably what that flapper girl was paying 78¢ for) costs around $8.
So, beautiful clothes have become a little cheaper, and ‘quite nice’ clothes from high street brands are within the reach of most of us, but it’s worth remembering that there are still some true vintage bargains to be had out there. And I’m not talking about The Frock prices – I mean thrift shops where you could strike gold and find an amazing garment for $5 or $10. Thrifting, op-shopping, flea-market shopping, whatever you call it – that’s thoroughly modern, and thoroughly kind to the earth.
Secondhand Havens for Vintage Mavens
Once upon a time, I was the Op-Shopping Queen. True, it was a self-styled title, but I deserved it. All my friends would vouch for it as they gasped in awe over my brilliant vintage bargains. Nowadays I do more shopping online – why shop in Melbourne alone and risk swollen feet when the world is just a few clicks away?
Yesterday I suddenly decided to go back to my roots. I caught the bus to Abbotsford, one of my old hunting grounds. There are two Salvos stores there – secondhand havens for vintage mavens.
In the first store, I found a few pieces of vintage jewellery, including this marvelous tiara. I was a bit dubious at first – I mean, do I really need another tiara after all? But then I tried it on and hello: Princess! I also found an almost-periwinkle tee and a hot pink wide belt. Onwards, fashionistas!
I headed to the other Salvos, a matter of ten-minute’s walk. There I hit a bonanza as soon as I stepped in the door and confronted another jewellery rack. An tribal neckpiece that jingled (I’d seen similar things in Vietnam), followed in quick succession by a hot pink tank with ribbon appliqué; a cherry print tank (adore!); a pair of red leather and wooden heeled shoes; a striped blue and grey marle knit – so soft and comfy; a cute little dot-printed fluttery-sleeved blouse in navy and white; a houndstooth pleated wool skirt (by Aussie schoolgirl icon Fletcher Jones), also in navy and white; an opera-length pewter-coloured bead necklace; a red wool beret … I think that’s everything. Oh yes, and a stack of DVDs, including Stephen Frears’ Dangerous Liaisons, which for some mysterious reason I had omitted to add to my collection already. [See a few more pics on the SNAP Facebook page.]
… I hope for one of those magical shopping trips that will shine in my memory and eventually ascend into glorious legend
This doesn’t happen every time I go op-shopping of course. This is why I call it ‘hope-shopping’ – I hope for one of those magical shopping trips that will shine in my memory and eventually ascend into glorious legend. Sometimes I come away with only one or two items – other times I go home with my tail between my legs. Or occasionally, I might just hit the jackpot (ching! ching! ching!) with one incredibly brilliant, amazing, jaw-dropping find – like the crazy enormous feather hat I bought in Sydney earlier this year. But when it’s such a haul as yesterday, it’s so satisfying to come home and lay out all my loot on the bed and gloat over it.
Some of you reading this will be nodding and grinning, remembering your most recent prizes captured on your last thrifting excursion. Others of you will be bemused, confused, fluttering your eyelashes like vintage virgins – just like my old work friends who begged me to teach them my way. I promised to take these girls on a grand op-shopping tour one Saturday, and in preparation wrote a mini manual for them. And now I am going to share it with you …
Once upon a time, I was the Op-Shopping Queen. True, it was a self-styled title, but I deserved it. All my friends would vouch for it as they gasped in awe over my brilliant vintage bargains. Nowadays I do more shopping online – why shop in Melbourne alone and risk swollen feet when the world is just a few clicks away?
Yesterday I suddenly decided to go back to my roots. I caught the bus to Abbotsford, one of my old hunting grounds. There are two Salvos stores there – secondhand havens for vintage mavens.
In the first store, I found a few pieces of vintage jewellery, including this marvelous tiara. I was a bit dubious at first – I mean, do I really need another tiara after all? But then I tried it on and hello: Princess! I also found an almost-periwinkle tee and a hot pink wide belt. Onwards, fashionistas!
I headed to the other Salvos, a matter of ten-minutes’ walk. There I hit a bonanza as soon as I stepped in the door and confronted another jewellery rack. An tribal neckpiece that jingled (I’d seen similar things in Vietnam), followed in quick succession by a hot pink tank with ribbon appliqué; a cherry print tank (adore!); a pair of red leather and wooden heeled shoes; a striped blue and grey marle knit – so soft and comfy; a cute little dot-printed fluttery-sleeved blouse in navy and white; a houndstooth pleated wool skirt (by Aussie schoolgirl icon Fletcher Jones), also in navy and white; an opera-length pewter-coloured bead necklace; a red wool beret … I think that’s everything. Oh yes, and a stack of DVDs, including Stephen Frears’ Dangerous Liaisons, which for some mysterious reason I had omitted to add to my collection already. [See a few more pics on the SNAP Facebook page.]
… I hope for one of those magical shopping trips that will shine in my memory and eventually ascend into glorious legend
This doesn’t happen every time I go op-shopping of course. This is why I call it ‘hope-shopping’ – I hope for one of those magical shopping trips that will shine in my memory and eventually ascend into glorious legend. Sometimes I come away with only one or two items – other times I go home with my tail between my legs. Or occasionally, I might just hit the jackpot (ching! ching! ching!) with one incredibly brilliant, amazing, jaw-dropping find – like the crazy enormous feather hat I bought in Sydney earlier this year. But when it’s such a haul as yesterday, it’s so satisfying to come home and lay out all my loot on the bed and gloat over it.
Some of you reading this will be nodding and grinning, remembering your most recent prizes captured on your last thrifting excursion. Others of you will be bemused, confused, fluttering your eyelashes like vintage virgins – just like my old work friends who begged me to teach them my way. I promised to take these girls on a grand op-shopping tour one Saturday, and in preparation wrote a mini manual for them. And now I am going to share it with you …
An Op-Shopping Training Manual for Novices
(Authorised Revised Version)
Welcome, new trainees!
Please take time to read your instructions before your first training session. Feel free to print this out and study it carefully.
BEFOREHAND
- Start looking for ideas for your seasonal look in magazines – this will also give you ideas on how to style outfits, and put you ahead of the game when eyeing dubious items. Tag or rip out ideas.
- Do some ‘scouting’: go into shops to see what’s out there; check out what people are wearing on the streets that you like.
- Objectively assess your current wardrobe and make a list of what you need.
- Think about what things you are always wishing you had, or really want.
OPTIONAL
Before the big day, if there are any charity stores in your neighbourhood, you may like to take the time to check them out and familiarise yourself with the layout and atmosphere so that you do not suffer from ‘op-shock’ on the day of your first class.
ON THE DAY
- Wear comfortable clothes and shoes that are easy to slip on and off.
- Wear a simple hairstyle that won’t be ruined with pulling things over your head (and bring a clip or hairtie to put your hair up when you become hot and bothered).
- Wear plain underwear that will to flatter anything you try on; skintone is best.
- If you wish to match a specific item, take it with you if not too cumbersome.
- Be prepared to sift through racks carefully; a gem can easily be hidden between garments of dubious quality and/or cleanliness. When exhaustion overtakes, an easy technique to employ is to run your hands, and eyes, along the edges of hanging garments to locate good quality or appealing fabric – this is a quick way to avoid the dross.
- Do not forget to check the accessories (shoes, bags, belts, scarves, jewellery etc); shoes and bags can be risky – check for odours etc.
- Before purchasing, examine items carefully for stains, damage, missing buttons, cleaning instructions etc. Garments can be washed, mended, dyed or altered to fit but you need to factor in that cost.
You may like to take an experienced thrift-shopper with you; in this case:
- Do not discount potential garments immediately – if in doubt, consult your guide.
- If you find yourself beginning to develop ‘op-shop blindness’ ie, you are suddenly overwhelmed with disgust at the sight and feel of the hideous trash before you, immediately call for your trainer, who will be able to calm you down and prevent a panic attack.
- Above all, you need to have VISION. This may take time to develop, so don’t be disheartened.
PRICES
After continued exposure, you will develop a finely-tuned sense of what things should cost. Different op-shops have different pricing structures, not only taking into account which charity the shop is supporting, but the locale, and the nous of the staff. Many times obscure designer gems can be found at ridiculously low prices, while some high street chain store rag is priced at $20.
Suburban op-shops can hide treasures at dirt-cheap prices, but that does not always hold true. It is true, however, that inner-city thrift shops have been heavily picked-over, by the vultures of society who are depriving you of shopping joy, and thus the triumph is sweeter when you do manage to pounce on an irresistible piece.
After the initial euphoria of finding your first bargain, you may start to become indignant at the ridiculous prices some op-shops will charge, or you may begin to notice the onset of symptoms of opshopus desperadus – in lay terms, an increasing desperation to buy something – anything!
… you may begin to notice the onset of symptoms of opshopus desperadus …
In these cases you need to weigh up the pros and cons: what would you be willing to pay retail for this item – or would you actually even consider buying it if you had to pay retail prices? Usually items are in the op-shop for a very good reason. Do you really need this item? A bargain is not a bargain if you’re not going to use it. On the other hand, a $5 designer jumper that may have shrunk a little hurts your pocket considerably less than the $200 equivalent, the colour of which looks disgusting on you (you didn’t notice that under the flattering lights of the boutique), and consequently never wear.
WHAT TO TAKE WITH YOU
- Bottle of water
- Sustaining snacks
- Large, hopeful tote bag
Happy hunting!
A Hat Intervention
A Story in Pictures
I love green and white together. It’s such a summery combination. So when I saw this houndstooth hat on Etsy recently, I immediately snapped it up. Ironically it’s wool, so it’s really more of a winter hat. However, there was something else wrong with it: it had a rose attached to the band. I didn’t like that. Not at all.
It’s not that I dislike roses. Sometimes I like them very much (especially when people bring a whole bunch of them round to my house). It’s all in the execution (if the roses are accompanied by a box of chocolates, even better).
This fat squishy one made from tweed immediately put me in mind of the Mills & Boon logo. It looked just a little naff on the side of the hat. Twee, even (sorry, I couldn’t resist that pun). And I mean, whoever heard of a fedora with a rose on its side? That’s just so wrong; it goes totally against the grain. Fedoras are hats with attitude. It had to come off.
I really like using a seam ripper. There’s something satisfying about hacking straight through a row of thread. I like the little snapping sound the thread makes when it breaks …
Pick, pick, rip, rip …
OFF WITH ITS HEAD! Now this fedora is worthy of its name, and can sit up on my head. Fedora, I adore ya.