Full Complement

Nude shoes, vintage 60s bag, David Lawrence beltGone are the days when true chic required that a woman’s accessories all matched in colour and material, depending upon whether she was in the city or visiting the country. It is much more interesting and modern today to mix and match and complement the outfit as a whole.

Vintage 70s bag, Zoe Wittner heelsThis doesn’t mean that you merely choose accessories at random: it is in fact more difficult to mix disparate items than to simply wear a complete matching set. Obviously the colours, textures and patterns of your clothes must be taken into account. Also consider the occasion and time of day; sometimes evening accessories such as a sequinned scarf might work with a daytime ensemble, sometimes they won’t.

Mango belt, Diana Ferrari heelsA nice way to combine non-matching items is to match finishes or textures, even if the items are different colours. Here are four sets, using patent leather, snakeskin, pony hair and cowhide. The patent set tones peach and dove grey with glossy black; the similar shadings of reptiles in the snakeskin set unite black patent and white plastic; black pony hair and suede is matched with a zebra-printed obi belt of pony hair; and finally the cowhide set achieves an earthy, rustic look through warm tone and texture. 

So go ahead and mix and match and wait for the compliments to roll in! 

Vintage belt, Hong Kong souvenir bag, Wittner sandals

No Sparkle During the Day

Vintage 1980s sequinned silk top I read somewhere that a lady should never wear sparkle during the day. Pffft, I thought.

Then I found in Ines de la Fressange’s book Parisian Chic the declaration that a sequinned dress was a siren of the fashion world that should be avoided at all costs. That was the stupidest thing I ever read.

In 1957, Alison Adburghan, a retail historian and journalist said, ‘The ugly can be elegant; the vulgar never. And vulgarity nearly always begins with sequins. When sequins fall into the wrong hands, all appears to be lost and there is no saying what may happen.’ [A to Z of Style, by Amy de la Haye] Now, this was said in 1957. I contend that there are much more vulgar crimes against style today than the mere wearing of sequins in daylit hours.

It’s just when you look like a Christmas tree from head to toe that we venture into vulgar territory. 

As long as said sequinned item isn’t an overtly evening garment (such as an evening gown), one can easily work sequins into the daytime wardrobe. If you’re feeling nervous about attracting too much attention, try an accessory such as a scarf, or a bit of sequinned trim on the sleeves of a top, for instance. Away from the office it’s even easier – don a sequinned top with jeans, or other plain basic item. A delicate chiffon or knit top with a bit of sequin trim would look fantastic with a pair of trousers made from tweed or plain woven suiting – a classic case of contrasting the feminine and masculine, the whimsical with the practical, the yin and yang.

A judicious sprinkle of glitter is fun. It’s just when you look like a Christmas tree from head to toe that we venture into vulgar territory. 

Here are some fun ideas. 

Call That a Beanie?

After seeing beanies featured on Broadsheet today, I immediately thought of my nightcap style beanie that I bought at the Crazy House (otherwise and more formally known as the Hang Nga Guesthouse) in Dalat, Vietnam, years ago.

As soon as I glimpsed these nightcaps hanging in the Crazy House gift shop, I was captured. Knit in stripes with a pompom on the end of the very long tail, they looked like something out of a vintage storybook. In short, they were irresistible.

But has it occurred to you that ‘beanie’ is the oddest name for a hat? Where does it come from, I wonder? A beanie is a small, close-fitting hat that sits on the back of the head, with or without a button or pompom on the crown. It can be sewn from leather or cloth, or knit from yarn. According to the OED, the origin is 1940s America, perhaps from ‘bean’ in the slang sense of ‘head’. 

These beanies featured on Broadsheet are pretty darn cute too. Click here for the full slideshow. 

Beanie by Benah. Dress by ACNE. Sweater by Jac + Jack. Image by Nick Blair, from Broadsheet. Beanie by Coal. Sweater by Sportmax. Image by Nick Blair, from Broadsheet.

The Most Beautiful Coat in the World

A Fashion Emergency

Late last Wednesday evening on my commute home, a sartorial tragedy occurred. The last closure on my vintage 70s suede and rabbit fur coat tore from its moorings. Devastated, but preserving a remarkably calm front in the freezing conditions of a Melbourne winter’s night, I examined the mutilated coat. My knees would be cold on the way home, but the damage could be repaired. I breathed a sigh of relief.

The next evening I assembled the tools I would require in the reparation of this fashion emergency: needle, thread, scissors … and a pair of tweezers to retrieve the recalcitrant strip of leather that kept trying to escape its foundations even as it was being sewn back into place.

Fortunately I was able to access the reverse side of the leather as the lining (painstakingly replaced my lovely and charming adored sister Blossom several years ago as a birthday present pour moi) was left open at the base. Let me state at the outset: I am not a seamstress. I loathe needles and thread, and only reluctantly assume the rôle of mender when it is thrust upon me in direst circumstance.

The needle is not made for sewing leather. It’s tough to push through the hide, and my fingers hurt. Bits of fur are caught up in the slit. The tab keeps slipping from my grasp. But intrepidly, I sew on until I am finished. My repair is rudimentary and would probably amuse said lovely sister, but no one will ever see it as it’s on the inside of the coat (ahem). I give the closure a tug, and the stitching is firm.

a stitch in time saves nine and all that jazz …

And voila! The coat is repaired and fit for a princess to wear! In passing I notice that the closure above is loose by a few threads and ought to be reattached (a stitch in time saves nine and all that jazz), but one fit of industry is certainly enough for a single evening and was exhausting for my nerves besides. I must rest from my labours.

It was all worth it though. This coat is unutterably fabulous, and friends and strangers in the street constantly accost me to exclaim and marvel and pat me. I fear however, that it is one of those infamous garments that wears me, rather than the other way around. But I don’t care, I’m persuaded it’s the most beautiful coat in the world and I will love it forever. Or until it falls completely apart.

Fawning Over Fédora

Theft

Did you know the fedora hat was originally designed for women? I was not in possession of this sartorial fact until recently. But it is men who have most commonly worn it (until recent decades at least), misappropriating it in the 1920s (in emulation of the Prince of Wales) and ruining its reputation by consorting with gangsters and bootleggers and other unsavoury types, such as financiers and advertising cads executives on Madison Avenue (Don Draper, I’m lookin’ at you).

I am outraged at this outright theft. Men are always stealing our clothes, like the trouser, and the oversized shirt that fits them properly, and the so-called boyfriend sweater (which was really a girlfriend sweater first) … ahem. 

History

There once was actually a Princess Fédora. I cannot believe that I was ignorant of this important information. Well, okay, she was actually a fictional character, but that’s just a petty detail. She existed in a play by the dramatist Victorien Sardou, written for the great Sarah Bernhardt in 1882.

Sarah Bernhardt. Click image for larger version.Bernhardt – and this I also did not know – was a notorious cross-dresser, and she wore a centre-creased, soft brimmed hat in the play. After its appearance on the American stage in 1889, women’s rights activists adopted the stylish yet practical hat. Then along came Prince Edward and it was all over for us girls until the 1970s.

Vital Statistics

Fedoras are creased lengthwise down the crown, and usually pinched in the front on both sides. The crease comes in many shapes, including teardrops and diamonds, while the exact position of the pinches can vary. This fawn fedora (top) has a teardrop crease, with two delicate pinches on either side, and the height of its crown is also exactly the typical 11.4cm (4.5”). Brims usually are about 6.3cm (2.5”), but can vary; mine is 10cm, or 4”, which gives it its dramatic appearance. Black, grey, tan, and dark brown are the most common masculine colours, but modern fedoras can be found in many colours. 

The Trilby

The trilby is actually a type of fedora, but its brim is shorter, with the front angled down and the back slightly turned up – to saucy effect. I have a rather fetching red trilby (above) which features this design, but at the sides. 

So now that you know the distinguished history of the fedora, wear it with respect ladies – and gents (I’m lookin’ at you).