Location, location, location…
Petunia couldn’t believe it. Not only did she get to model Mr. Forquet’s dress in Italy, but at a lavish dinner for eighteen at La Cisterna, one of Rome’s swankiest restaurants. It was too good to be true, and it certainly hadn’t made any sense. Until, that is, her neighbour had confided to her over dessert (and a glass or six of chianti): the Vogue Patterns team had rather a lot of budget to use up before the end of the financial year.
Petunia thought she understood: so they had money to burn, and in a hurry! She nodded, and smiled- it was a simply marvellous place, after all. Their waiter had told them all the stories about its history- about Sinatra dancing on the tables with Ava Gardner, and about high jinks in the underground caverns during the war. Then the waiter had whisked them all off for a tour- and shown them the old underground well that gave the restaurant its name. He’d suggested they might like to throw a coin in for luck (and a tip, presumably) and the Vogue team had spotted an opportunity. They’d starting flinging about wads of notes and oodles of cash, and then asked the waiter (who looked just about ready to faint with joy) if they could have a receipt for their accountant…
I always find the photos on Vogue Couturier (and Paris Original) patterns from the 60s chuckle-worthy. Because there’s always a tiny tagline that tells you the model was shot at an incredible location, but you always have to take their word for it. And so little of the location is actually visible that you wonder why they didn’t just schlep up to the road to the local curry house and shoot it there. Then there’s this pattern (and this one) which is the ultimate craziness: “shot on location in Paris”… in front of a white screen.
The particular pattern above tells you a little about the designer on the flap (not all of the Couturier patterns seem to do that- the only other ones I’ve across are for Emilio Pucci):
Whoever wrote it obviously had an advanced certificate in stating the incredibly obvious, as we learn very little about Mr Forquet (pronounced “For-kay”) apart from such gems as “the design evolves as he cuts the toile and works with fabric” and (my favourite) “to Forquet the object of designing is beautifying”. (As opposed to uglifying, earning pots of cash, or simply filling in a bit of time between meals?)
Nice dress, though.