1940, Paris, Occupied France. There’s the usual Saturday crush of shoppers in the Printemps department store. But this afternoon is different- there are shouts and blowing of whistles, and the German soldiers are stopping shoppers, searching them, asking to see their papers. But what they are looking for is hidden in plain sight. For the head of the French Resistance and her intelligence contact from Alsace, motionless and stiff as mannequins, are now part of the window display of the new Spring fashions…
Yes, new patterns are up :)
This is where I wish I was right now- in the white hot light of a dazzling mediterranean morning. Standing on the terracotta shore of some sun drenched island. The livid blue of the sea stretching onto infinity, and the certainty that soon there will be a swim in waters warm as bathwater. Breathing in the scent of pine and eucalyptus. A balmy sea breeze ruffling my cool frock…
Instead of sitting here in two jumpers, a scarf and fingerless gloves. Ah, Winter! Some days I enjoy your stark beauty, on those bright clear icy days with a glittering frost. But no matter how many times you turn up, you’re always a shock, and never (to be frank) entirely welcome. It’s hard to believe in the certainty that you’ll be gone in a few months, but I guess we’ll have to rub along together till then. So here’s the plan- I’ll cook comforting food, knit more socks and wrap up warm, and you’ll lay off the monotonous grey skies, chilly dampness and colds and flu. Deal?
Image from Vie Parisienne Magazine, Feb 1922
I’m sorry to have been a bit slow on adding new patterns to the store lately- partly because it’s been a busy couple of weeks, and partly because I was waiting till the postal strikes in the UK were over. (They don’t show any signs of being over for good yet <rant deleted>. But patterns are still arriving safely at their destinations- they just may take a little bit longer than usual.) But now there’s a few new patterns up in the store.
Let’s talk a little about the one at the top of this post from 1948. What I find interesting about the 1940s is what I see as a bit of a Victorian revival- design elements like basque bodices, fitted little jackets with high collars and peplums reminiscent of Victorian riding habits. (I wonder if this was the knock on effect of movies like Gone with the Wind and The Mark of Zorro, although those are less bustle Victorian and more crinoline Victorian). Take a look at this croquis by Molyneux for a dress from 1949 below. This is not a historical fancy dress costume. (It does, however, remind me of a line in the film Four Weddings and a Funeral where Andie Macdowell seeks Hugh Grant’s opinion on a wedding dress similar to this. His response: “if you could find a little staff it would be great for looking after sheep”):
It was in the 1940s when dresses started to feature draped portions at the back or large bows to simulate a kind of Victorian bustle effect. I’ve always liked bustles (or the idea of them) but I guess they’re not very practical if you actually want to sit down. When I first saw the pattern at the top of this post I immediately thought “aha! front bustle”, although the pattern actually calls it a peplum. The peplum pattern piece is essentially an extension of the side skirt back pieces which drapes and ties at the front. I love the basque back to the bodice, that deep V waist, and the cunning way the bodice back darts flow on in a straight line into the seams in the skirt which flares out at the back. What a lot of technical talk! I guess all this would be more obvious if I show you line drawing on the back of the envelope and shape of the pattern pieces. Voila:
On a tangent, I know some vintage pattern sellers prefer not to show the back of a pattern in case that provides too much information, eg. the potential buyer might just go away and knock up the garment from the shape of the pieces on the packet. To which I say, if you can knock up something like this which fits from a packet line drawing then I am completely in awe and metaphorically take my hat off to you. There are those of us to whom the pattern design process is the fun bit- mentally drafting the pattern pieces and reverse engineering a garment, and the actual sewing itself is a lot less interesting. And then there are those of us who’d rather have all the pattern design all ready done for us and packed up in an envelope so we can devote our energies to enjoying the actual hands-on sewing, and the choosing of fabric and trims…
Which are you?
I’ve decided it’s time. This afternoon I will be picking up pair of scissors and trying to cut my own hair. Why don’t I just go to a hairdresser? Well, because I find the process of having my hair cut increasingly… traumatic. I never come out happy with the result, and always assume this is because the person cutting my hair just doesn’t understand my hair like I do. But then there’s no reason why they should- they haven’t lived with it, they don’t know where it kinks and how it doesn’t lie flat if it’s cut too short. Also, in a city like Oxford, a hair cut (to me at least) seems expensive. Cutting hair well is a skill and deserves remuneration like any other skill. For some people a hair cut is money well spent, but value is such a relative thing. I just come out thinking how many skeins of yarn, vintage patterns, groceries, etc, I could have spend the money on. (Plus I always seem to get sat in the window which means I get peered at by passersby. And I always seem to get blowdryed for half an hour and covered in Product which I will never have the time or inclination to do at home on a daily basis). Asked to make a choice between visiting the hairdresser or the dentist and I’d probably have to think about that decision for quite a while.
So, in short, I’m going to give it a bash myself. Even if I make a total pig’s ear of it, it’s only hair after all. And it’ll grow back.
I dug out a couple of photos from Harpers Bazaar 1938 to illustrate this post and realised that the man in the pic just above is actually hairdressing icon Antoine de Paris. He is said to have invented the shingle bob in 1917. Born Antoni Cierplikowski in Poland, in 1912 he opened his famous “salon Antoine” in Paris at 5 rue Cambon. His success was so spectacular that he opened the first of his American salons at Saks Fifth Avenue in 1925. (Apparently Antoine worked on hair for some MGM movies and was also a bit of a designer. The Central Museum of Textiles in Łódź, Poland has an archive of clothing and accessories he designed.)
Such was Antoine’s influence that the 8th April 1929 issue of Time magazine carried the following statement:
Antoine, famed Parisian hairdresser, last week issued a quasi-dictatorial prophecy: “Hair will remain short.” Hairdresser Antoine has already built his own tomb over which rise the figures of bobbed-haired women, symbolic of a freed soul. His latest inspiration: ancient Greek and Roman coiffures.
In her novel Mistral’s Daughter Judith Krantz sends one of her beautiful heroines, Maggie, to have her hair cut by Antoine in the 1920s. Antoine gives Maggie “the extreme Eton cut which only the most beautiful women could wear” and (of course) transforms her into a raging beauty. Entertainer Josephine Baker sports an Eton crop below:
However, Krantz points out in Mistral’s Daughter that
In this period a haircut could make or break a woman. Women who only ten years before had been considered lovely in their Edwardian draperies and the floating clouds of their elaborately dressed hair, were denuded and exposed to the cruel light of day without any grace or charm left to them all in the name of fashion. Women who would once have been reigning beauties were revealed as scarecrows, with scalped heads perched like knobs on top of unfashionably plump shoulders. A poorly shaped skull could ruin a young woman’s future.
The fun F. Scott Fitzgerald short story “Bernice bobs her hair” has a similar message. (You can read the text here.) I didn’t realise until I googled that Fitzgerald probably named his heroine after Berenice II, wife of the Egyptian Pharoah Ptolemy III. During her husband’s absence on an expedition to Syria in c. 246 BC, Berenice offered her hair to the goddess Aphrodite for his safe return, and placed it in the temple of the goddess when he did indeed return. Then the hair mysteriously disappeared. The astronomer Conon of Samos (who was either a bit of a creep or trying to save the temple priests from being put to death) explained the phenomenon by saying that it had been carried to the heavens and placed among the stars. A constellation became known as Coma Berenices (or Berenice’s Hair). Berenice appears on a coin below (image from Wikipedia Commons):
I won’t be doing anything drastic like bobbing my hair. I’m just going to give it a trim. I must be sure to offer myself a cup of tea and ask myself if I’m going anywhere nice for my holidays this year. Now, where are the scissors…
Caroline was a black satin kind of girl. A strappy sky-high stiletto loving Martini-drinking kind of girl. And Georgina, well, Georgina looked very much like a floral organza kind of girl. A ribbon sporting, slipper wearing, Babycham-drinking kind of girl.
All of which could explain why they’d never really seen eye to eye. But then there was also their longstanding rivalry for the affections of the Honourable Tarquin Ponsonby-Smythe. Their fight at the Prince Rupert Ball would never be forgotten, especially by those unfortunates caught in the crossfire of chrysanthemums and roses….
It’s that pattern time of week again- Hurrah!
(As ever, click on a pic for the listings…)
Once upon a time, on a dusty counter in a small haberdashery store, there lived an old 1941 catalogue for McCall’s patterns. And right at the very back of this catalogue, further back even than the Boy’s and Men’s section, there lurked a tab simply marked Miscellaneous. It was here where all the exiled patterns dwelled that had no other place to live. And tucked away almost at the very end of that pattern purgatory, there, banished into obscurity, dwelled the only two patterns for the elusive TROUSER…
Ha! Isn’t that odd? For some reason here the pattern illustrators seem to have painted themselves into a quandary. Perhaps they realised that they couldn’t illustrate their glamorous models wearing blouses or sweaters or tops with these trousers, for that would imply that these garments could be made from the same pattern. (And all manner of lawsuits might ensue.) But for some reason they chose not to just illustrate just the leggy lower half of these models, despite that being their method of dealing with the plethora of skirt patterns in the catalogue. To cut to the chase, they chose bizarrely enough to illustrate the models wearing NOTHING AT ALL on top, apart from a few carefully placed props. But, BUT, lest the viewer be scandalized that these models were wearing nothing under that strategic hat or bag, they gave their models flesh coloured underwear. And then promptly wiped their paintbrushes with satisfaction; propriety had been maintained!
In a slightly random way (because today seems like a restless and random day) this “false modesty” reminds me of a painting by Victorian master Lawrence Alma-Tadema. It’s called the Baths of Caracalla, and actually I’m reminded of it very often because a poster of it is hanging in our bathroom:
I’m showing you this not to drool over the light blue fabric swathed around the central brunette (although I covet it often and wonder what fabric it is) but to invite your attention to the bathers in the background. I remember a visitor once commenting on “the naked men hanging in your bathroom”, and it took me a couple of seconds to realise they were talking about this poster. I had to break it to them gently that the poster was not as exciting as it seemed and that the nakedness was an illusion. For most of the men are actually sporting flesh coloured loincloths, or the Roman equivalent of nude underwear. Again, propriety had been maintained :)
A stroll with Lucy through the glass and china section of Bendicks department store was always unbearably exciting, Sheila thought bitterly. Lucy would insist on parading around in her new swing coat, and every time she turned Sheila was left frantically fielding falling glassware. Should she tell Lucy about the magic of simple button-on half-belts? Maybe later, for, great heavens!, Lucy and her dangerous back-fullness were sailing ominously towards the Royal Doulton. If only she could get them both out of there before Lucy went anywhere near the Waterford Crystal…
I’ve always liked the idea of 1950s swing or swagger coats, but thought that for practicality they wouldn’t be “lifestyle appropriate” for me. Although they always look comfortably roomy and stylish, that’s a lot of fabric to have behind you (although I bet very warm). So I love this 1950s pattern by Simplicity, which cunningly allows you to gather in that back fullness with a half-belt that simply buttons on. Ingenious. (I also love the way the model on the left is wearing her tweedy version with the collar nonchalantly turned up). This coat pattern is now up in my Etsy store, along with a couple of others below. Happy pattern Thursday :)
Saturday teatime is definitely made much more magical by the new series of Merlin on BBC TV.
For those of who you who haven’t seen it, Merlin follows the adventures of the young warlock Merlin as he arrives in Camelot for the first time. Merlin becomes servant to the obnoxious Prince Arthur (yet to become the legendary King Arthur), and friends with fellow servant Gwen/Guinevere (yet to become Queen), and her mistress, royal ward Morgana (yet to become baaaaaaad). The twist that runs throughout is that Arthur’s father, King Uther (played by Anthony Stewart Head), is so terrified that magic will undermine his authority that he has made practicing it punishable by death. So the young Merlin must keep his own powers secret while using them to save Arthur and Camelot on a regular basis.
On what I imagine is not a huge budget the production team have managed to create an interesting fantasy take on Camelot. Particularly from a wardrobe perspective. The use of colour is interesting- with the more magical characters in blue and greens and purples, and the more “down-to-earth” knights and courtiers in earthier reds and yellows. At least that’s how I read it. Morgana (played by Katie McGrath) has some beautiful outfits, like the blue silk one above. And remember my post a while back on beetlewing embroidery? Well my excitement knew no bounds when I saw the neckline of her dress below. (I think I literally bounced up and down in my seat squeaking “beetlewings! beetlewings!” and had to be dosed with strong liquor.)
You know when you’re a fan of a show when you start coveting bits of the characters’ wardrobes. And you know you’re a crazed knitting fool of a fan when you start actually knitting them up. In the last series Morgana wore a gorgeous purple pair of cabled fingerless mittens, which you can just see in the screenshots below:
So I thought I’d have a bash at making my own, similar but not identical, mitts. I used Rachel Kurchin’s free pattern for Almost Fingerless Gloves (with modifications) and a beautiful merino/silk sport weight yarn from the Woollen Rabbit. The colourway is Black Velvet. (Of course I can’t watch Merlin without wearing these now!)
Critical reception to Merlin has been pretty mixed, but I really enjoy it (and suspect the key to this enjoyment is not to take it too seriously!). Yes, Merlin has its weaknesses. It seems to have temporarily forgotten it’s called “Merlin” (I certainly want to hear more about Merlin and Morgana and less about Arthur and Guinevere.) But it has a strong supporting cast, and actors like Charles Dance, Emilia Fox, Adrian Lester, Mackenzie Crook and Santiago Cabrera queueing up to make guest appearances. Ultimately, though, it’s just good clean magical family entertainment. And you can’t argue with that :)
Catch the extended trailer for the second season on youtube:
Images copyright BBC: www.bbc.co.uk
Too late Roger realised his secretary had double-booked him: lunch dates with two different women at the same restaurant! While Miss Perkins was clearing her desk, Roger was skidding to a stop outside the plate glass window of Bistro Bernard. Oh, hang it. There was Genevieve, pretty as a picture, being shepherded by a waiter towards his usual table. And there, on a collision course, sashayed Carlotta, sophisticated in black, trailing another waiter at her heels. Roger watched the imminent train wreck with grisly fascination. (No, he still couldn’t choose between them.)
But there was Genevieve, smiling and extending her hand, and Carlotta was laughing and gesticulating. And then they both sat down at the table- his table! – and signalled the drinks waiter! The two of them certainly looked as if they were settling down for a high old time, Roger thought bitterly, his ears already burning. The hot dog vendor had suddenly become a much more attractive option.
It had been an afternoon of heavy losses: his secretary, Genevieve, Carlotta, and his own usual lunchtime table in prime position at Bistro Bernard. Roger could have wept- it took years to build up that kind of relationship….
Happy pattern Friday :)
(This one is up in the Etsy store, along with another- what a bumper week on the pattern front!)
How do you pose for photos? Unless caught off guard I generally have a a tendency to look suspicious and ever so slightly grumpy. If only I could pose with the easy confidence of Ruth St Denis, above. What sublime poise and self-assurance!
If you haven’t met Ruth before, or even heard her name (as I hadn’t before I came across these pictures), you won’t be surprised to learn that she was a dancer. In every single photograph of Ruth the dynamic tension in her pose makes me think she is just on the edge of movement, of coming alive.
(Is anyone following America’s Next Top Model? In photos Ruth generally epitomises what host Tyra Banks’ calls ‘modeling HTT’ (or Head to Toe for those not versed in Tyra-speak). Remember that Tyra has started to worry about one of the contestant’s dance training working in ‘the wrong way’ in photos? I’m sure if Tyra saw Ruth St Denis’ pictures she’d agree that Ruth was “fierce”.)
Don’t you wish you could meet Ruth- after all, she could turn a trip to Yosemite from An Event into AN EVENT:
Ruth kicked off her dancing career as a humble “leg dancer” in the dime museums and vaudeville houses of New York in 1892. Before long she was spotted by Broadway producer/director David Belasco and toured with his company as a “featured dancer”. In 1905 she went her own way as a solo dancer, formulating her own theory of dance inspired by her interest in the dance of Egypt, India, Japan, and the philosophy of Eastern and ancient cultures.
Ruth in “The Peacock”
Recognition in Society circles followed, with Ruth becoming perceived as more of “an artist” than simply a dancer. Eventually Ruth and her husband, Ted Shawn, founded the Denishawn dance company and school. Dance legend Martha Graham performed with the company, and so did silver screen siren Louise Brooks. (In his biography Louise Brooks Barry Paris writes how Ruth St. Denis abruptly fired Brooks from the company by telling her in front of the other members “I am dismissing you from the company because you want life handed to you on a silver salver.” The words apparently left a strong impression on Brooks- when she drew up an outline for a planned autobiographical novel in 1949, “The Silver Salver” was the title she gave to the tenth and final chapter.)
Ruth in Greek Veil Plastique, c. 1918
Ruth St Denis also founded Adelphi University’s dance programme in 1938- one of the first dance departments in an American University, and is basically considered as one of the pioneers of contemporary or modern dance in America. (Incidentally, another university, Florida State University owns a large collection of the Denishawn company’s costumes and accessories. I bet that makes very interesting viewing indeed.)
All these images are taken from the Flickr public photostream of the Denishawn Collection in The New York Public Library. There are so many beautiful images that it took just about forever to choose a few to illustrate this post- go and enjoy them all :)
This blog is where I ramble on about fashion history, costume, sewing, knitting and anything else that takes my fancy.
