Dangers Underfoot

Yes, More on Socks

Since I have started wearing socks again I have become aware of a fashion hazard that has hitherto escaped my notice. Not entirely, I hasten to add, for I have long worn black opaque trouser socks under trousers. It’s just that then I didn’t care, because trouser socks are in the main worn only for warmth and are completely hidden by said trousers and winter boots. But now that I have graduated to attractive socks that I want to show off, I have become aware of dangers lying (ahem) underfoot.

What? What could it be? you wonder. Here it is: HEEL RUB.

I can’t be the only one who’s noticed it surely?

You know after you’ve worn a pair of socks a few times you notice that you’ve accidentally worn them every which way, so your heels have rubbed both sides of the sock? What an unsightly appearance they present in shoes with low vamps. Impossible to venture out in public like that. Your socks and your sartorial reputation both in tatters in one fell swoop.

Your socks and your sartorial reputation both in tatters in one fell swoop.

Sure it’s easy to tell which is the right way to pull them on … AFTER THEY’RE RUINED. I remember in the old days they used to sew a little tab or contrasting stitch on the backs of pantyhose so you could tell back from front. They need to do that with socks. And in the glory days there was this thing called a SEAM.

I’ve just recently bought a number of lovely cotton and woollen over-the-knee socks on ASOS and happily these are real socks, with proper fitted heels and toes – some of them even have contrasting colours. No mistakes with those.

But what of the seamless knitted socks like the polka-dotted and transparent frilly ones I am wearing in the picture above? I may have to obsessively resort to sewing on some invisible-to-the-naked-eye identifying mark myself as a preventative measure.

But I’ve just thought of something else even more horrifying … HOLES.

Darn it! Once, every salty young woman knew how to mend those. Holey-moley, another new-old skill to learn. 

Heeeere Kitty, Kitty, Kitty!

Kitty, where are you?I was looking for kitten heels for a long time. But not just any kitten heels: I had a specific picture in mind. They had to be black, pointy-toed and thin, with delicate sling-backs. I was on this self-appointed mission for a year or more at the height (no pun intended) of the mania for the toweringest platform heels it was humanly possible to build. (I actually own some of these too – so big a crane is required to lift my foot into them.)

I searched every brick-and-mortar store, glimpsing neither hide nor hair of a pair. Exhaustively I trawled every shoe emporium online, to no avail. My hopes were dashed, my crest was fallen. I read, in online forums, of a curious antipathy many women have towards kitten heels: they are judged to be inexcusably dowdy. But I had nothing but fond recollections of a pair I owned many years ago. Who were these women taking as role models? I wondered in surprise.

I have only to think of Audrey Hepburn who must always be considered stylish, and another actress of the 1960s, the Italian Monica Vitti to be convinced that kitten heels are elegant, as well as comfortable.

Audrey Hepburn as Holly Golightly in Breakfast at Tiffany’sMonica Vitti wears kittens in Michelangelo Antonioni’s classic L’EclisseMonica Vitti in kitten heels only looks cooler with Alain Delon at her side, on the set of L’EclisseHistorically, kitten heels were intended for teens. They were introduced in the late 1950s as trainer heels for teenagers, and also because higher heels ‘would have been considered unseemly for girls as young as thirteen because of the sexual connotations’ [Wikipedia]. By the 60s though, women of all ages were wearing them; the aforementioned Audrey Hepburn helped make them popular. They re-emerged in the 1980s and again briefly in the noughties. Of course since then the wedge and the platform have driven them firmly out of the fashion landscape.

Manolo Blahnik’s elegant rendition of kitten heels, Vogue Australia, May 1999I finally found my obscurely-branded pair on a sale site a couple months ago, but the leather is soft and they are comfortable to wear and walk in. Patently the fashion world has finally begun to tire of monster shoes, for once more the demure kitten heel is having a renaissance – I wouldn’t mind adding a pair of nude kitten heels (that sounds so naughty!) to my arsenal of shoes. It will be a novel sensation to put away the platform and feel the pavement beneath thin-soled shoes once more. 

The Isabel kitten peep toe pumps, by Jimmy Choo – click to buyDaniel beige slingbacks, the polar opposite of my black pair – click to buy

What is ruching?

What is ruching? A friend recently revealed her abysmal ignorance on this important sartorial question. A decorative sewing technique, ruching is perhaps most familiar to us today in the form of hideous 80s shot-taffeta prom dresses, and those crinoline-wearing plastic dolls that cover the extra roll of toilet paper in suburban bathrooms (I’m sorry, I couldn’t find any pictorial example of these).

It is also the most commonly misspelled word of all sewing techniques – ‘rouching’ seeming to be the most popular incarnation, with ‘rusching’ coming a close second.

Put simply, ruching is the gathering of fabric or ribbon on two parallel sides, that is then stitched to an underlying fabric to form ruffles, scallops or petals. The knit top by Anthropologie above has no underlay however; the fabric is gathered with elastic. To ensure even gathers, modern tailors use a plastic guide to mark the zig-zag pattern that will afterwards be stitched. Historically, seamstresses would have used a similar tool.

This classic 80s ruched party dress from Gravel Ghost Vintage sold on Etsy early last yearThis form-fitting shape is quintessentially 1980s – click to buy at Zwzzy now!Ruching was an extremely popular technique in the 19th century, when it was used to decorate all items of women’s clothing including hats and petticoats, although it has been around for many years, possibly even as far back as medieval times. The technique also made a resurgence in the 1950s, more often than not in formal gowns and ruched gloves, as in the 1980s. Most familiar is horizontal ruching, but vertical ruching is far prettier in my eyes simply by virtue of its rarity. However, vertical ruching should not to be confused with multiple rows of gathers, which would more correctly be defined as shirring.

There you have it. I gather the confusion is all cleared up now.

Read more about the history and techniques of ruching at Wise Geek.

This ruched gown hung with swags was popular with 1950s debutantes – and beskirted toilet-roll holders; gown available at Etsy store Vintage VortexA couture gown of the 1950s features vertical ruching on the bodice; gown from Posh Porscha on Etsy

Eyelet Them Alone

I’m not convinced about eyelets as a decorative device. Buttons, I can tell you immediately, I loathe, particularly when formed into jewellery (although trompe l’oeil buttons do not offend me – you know, those buttons that masquerade as functional buttons on pocket flaps and such but don’t actually do anything). As far as studs go, I’m Switzerland. I don’t hate ’em, but I don’t love ’em either.

Technically these little metal rings are called eyelets when they are used in shoes, but grommets (an unfortunate name that rhymes with something else I won’t mention) when utilised in clothing. Either way, though, I’m not sure of them. I decided to take some eyelets for a test-drive in the form of decorative yoke on a white silk tank. But the top is actually too big and shapeless on me, so now I can’t make an informed decision about the eyelets themselves.

But perhaps if the eyelets formed a kind of sculpture, like these Ferragamo high heeled sandals …

Ferragamo’s nude 110mm Sharon suede ankle sandalsWow-eee!

Tommy Hilfiger grommet steel drop earringsMichael Kors has also used grommets in interesting ways, such as this lime green handbag, and I adore this Coach Legacy duffel for its colour contrast. Over on Modcloth’s site, the dress with the oversize grommets is really striking too (it makes my tank top look kind of pathetic). The Tommy Hilfiger steel earrings are elegant in their refined simplicity, and the J.Crew belt shows a unique take on eyelets – most belts simply feature a single row of oversize rings, but this version overlaps the grommets to create a futuristic kind of armour.

Michael Kors lime green pebbled leather tote and Modcloth dressCoach Legacy Collection duffel bagJ.Crew overlap grommet belt

All of these items I have picked out have one thing in common: they are minimalist. The circular shape of the grommet lends itself to this look, and is far more appealing to me than creatively grommeted corsets, for instance (shades of medieval tavern serving wench).

However, if you want to look really, really classy for a night out on the town, you just can’t let these alone …

Eyelet eveningwear from Clubwear Central

Pale and Interesting

The Vintage Hat Series: 1960s black cellophane straw lattice hatQuite a long time ago I decided that tans were not for me. For one thing, I found it extremely boring to lie in the sun carefully broiling each side like a pale jellyfish, and another, living in Australia made it a serious health hazard, what with holes in ozone layers and wicked burning rays. Of course, as a child and young teen I was as brown as a berry (as they say), simply from playing in the sunshine. But by the time I reached my mid-teens, I decided I would much rather be pale and interesting.

See more parasols on PinterestAt some point I conceived a passion for hats. I am not sure if this was serendipitous – coinciding with Australia’s first skin-cancer awareness campaign* – or if it was actually inspired by my loathing for sunscreen. It’s so gross and sticky, although I should hasten to add I do wear it when swimming. In Australia, however, a hat – unless it has a simply enormous brim – is not enough. I decided to revive the usage of parasols. My very first parasol was a Victorian-inspired calico and Battenberg lace affair that I bought nearly twenty years ago in Queensland. I still use it.

[the hat’s] resemblance to my lace parasol and its dubious ability to protect me from the sun is mildly amusing …

Last year I purchased on eBay a quaint 1960s black cellophane straw hat that is woven into a lattice pattern. I’d never seen anything like it before. Its resemblance to my lace parasol and its dubious ability to protect me from the sun is mildly amusing though. (If you act fast, here’s a similar hat on eBay from Cat’s Pajamas Vintage on sale right now). Unfortunately the hat arrived quite crushed in its box. It would have to be revived.

A different millinery seller had thoughtfully included an instruction sheet for the care of hats with another purchase.

Restoring straw hats

Poor, crushed hat

Brush off any dust with a soft brush. If you need to reshape the crown hold it upside down over steam and move it about for a couple minutes and then place it on a wig stand or stuff the crown with tissue or soft t-shirt material – never, never use newspaper because the ink will transfer. Let it cool and the shape will be restored.

The procedure is simple, but beware of burning your fingers. And the verdict? The shape of the hat has improved, but I do think it could do with another session in the sauna. I may have more luck using a kettle, with the steam coming out with more force, or else the problem lies in it being made from cellophane, rather than natural straw.

Getting my fingers burnedOn the first occasion I wore the hat to work, all the girls exclaimed in delight. In fact, I was so tickled by it when I saw an almost identical white version on eBay I had to buy that too. Just what I need: another holey hat for the summer sun.

For more information on hat care, visit Hat Shapers.

*Australia’s first skin-cancer awareness campaign slogan: “Slip, Slop, Slap – Slip on a t-shirt, slop on some sunscreen and slap on a hat.”