What I Actually Wore #0044

Serial #: 0044
Date: 17/09/2010
Weather: 16°C and cold
Time Allowed: 5 minutes

This was such an easy outfit to put together and required little thought. It was dictated by the weather, which was cold. I was working at the theatre company and would have to walk there through the Botanic Gardens, so reasonable shoes were a requisite.

The black linen skirt and striped jumper were a natural combination to create this storybook silhouette. I am not sure what to call this skirt shape: it is akin to a balloon skirt, in that the hem folds under, but the gathers are like the petals of a flower. A slim-fitting top is imperative; otherwise I really would look like a balloon.

I chose the blue suede boots for a bit of colour, and they are not too bad to walk in. The white enamel pussycat earrings add an extra bit of whimsy to a fun outfit. Red lips were the finishing touch, and my vintage red cape coat kept me warm. 

Items:

Top: DeCjuba
Skirt: Morrison
Earrings: Vietnamese souvenir
Ring: Autore
Bracelet: eBay
Watch: Kenneth Cole
Boots: Robert Robert

Day Dress

The Vietnamese national costume is the ao dai – a long, tight-fitting tunic worn over trousers – today most commonly worn by women. Having one custom-made was at the top of my list of things to do before I left Saigon.

A Capsule History

The ao dai, pronounced ow-yai in the South where I spent most of my time (ow-zye in the North) has had an interesting history since its inception in the 18th century. It began as a simple long, buttoned coat and trousers, but by the 19th century it became more elaborate: it was looser, with several more layers and favoured by aristocrats.

In 1930, inspired by Paris fashions it was redesigned along Art Deco lines and caused a sensation. But it was in the 1950s that Saigon designers tightened the fit to create the familiar modern version. The communists frowned on it during the 1960s and 70s; economic crisis, famine and war combined to make put the ao dao completely out of favour in the 1980s. It was worn only at weddings and other formal occasions.

A 1989 beauty contest began an ‘ao dai craze’ that lasted for several years… 

In the late 1980s the ao dai had a renaissance, when schools and state enterprise reinstituted the dress as a uniform again. A 1989 beauty contest began an ‘ao dai craze’ that lasted for several years and lead to wider use of the dress as a school uniform. Today the outfit is no longer politically controversial, and is in fact supported by the government and linked to patriotic feeling. During my visit I saw many women wearing it on the street.

Looking for a Tailor

My guidebook highly recommended a tailor on Pasteur St, and I set off on my motorbike taxi. However, the tailor turned out to be a grand boutique; the fabrics designer – with designer prices. The one I chose was a white silk background with a pattern of huge branches of coral all over it. It was quite graphic and very Roberto Cavalli. But the final cost was calculated at over $100. I did not have enough cash on me to pay a deposit, and since they could not accept a credit card, I regretfully left the store.

I decided on a sleeveless tunic, made from a white silk with a stylised chrysanthemum pattern…

Back in the humbler vicinity of my hotel, I found a little tailor where the fabrics were plainer. For US$25 I could have my ao dai tunic and trousers custom-made from silk fabric. I decided on a sleeveless tunic, made from a white silk with a stylised chrysanthemum pattern in black and a smoky blue. The high-waisted trousers traditionally are black or white, but I chose a flowing silver grey silk satin. The lady helping me seemed quite surprised at first, but then she grew enthusiastic as we looked at the fabrics side by side.

She took my measurements and I subsequently had only one fitting, and the ao dai was finished two days later. I love it and feel so elegant wearing it, and will do exactly as suggested by the lady fitting me: wear it to a wedding this March. 

When is a jumper not a jumper?

When it’s a sweater! Most of us would know it’s a jumper in Australia, NZ and the UK, and a sweater in America and Canada. There are other words too for this indispensible garment: pullover, sweatshirt, jersey or guernsey, but these are of old or uncommon usage.

As I’m interested both in fashion and linguistics, I wanted to know the origin of these curious words. Sweater is fairly obvious. Indeed, I read on Wikipedia that “A garment of this type was originally named a sweater either because it was designed to absorb sweat, or the garment was designed to promote a sweat during exercise.”

…the garment was designed to promote a sweat during exercise

That sounds a bit gross. Let’s move on to jumper.

I could find nothing online about the origins of this curious word. Stumped, it occurred to me to turn to my very good copy of the Oxford Dictionary of English. Here is what I found:

jumper¹ > noun 1 Brit. a knitted garment typically with long sleeves, worn over the upper body.
2 historical a loose outer jacket worn by sailors
3 N. Amer. a pinafore dress
– ORIGIN mid 19th cent. (in sense 2): probably from dialect jump ‘short coat’, perhaps from Scots jupe ‘a man’s (later also a woman’s) loose jacket or tunic’, via Old French from Arabic jubba. Compare with JIBBA.

Who knew?

A jibba, in case you’re interested, is a long coat worn by Muslim men. It is also of 19th century origin, and is an Egyptian variant of the Arabic jubba. Interestingly, considering the origins of the word, I discovered that a jumper is actually called a pullover in Egypt, and in the UAE a sweater! Go figure. (Or should I say, go knit?)

Fashion Notes

This is a favourite jumper from Zara that I bought in Dubai (I don’t recall how they labelled the garment there, sadly). It is very cosy and warm, and I really like the bracelet length sleeves. It is an unusual mix of 55% acrylic, 30% nylon and 15% alpaca. I normally don’t buy synthetic fabrics, but I could not for the life of me find a wool jumper in Dubai when I very much needed one – it was unseasonably cold during my visit. It’s perfect for autumn (not fall!) here.

Inflation 1986: Girls’ Night On the Town

It’s 1986, and Birdie is in her mid twenties. It’s the era of big hair, and big shoulder pads. Never one to hide her light under a bushel, Birdie sports both, with her hair wrapped in a high Madonna-style ponytail, and shoulders clad in a massive leopard print coat. “I loved that coat,” Birdie says. It came from Clarence Chai, an ‘amazing’ shop in Collins St, Melbourne. Her girlfriend Louise made her earrings from black resin and rhinestones. (Big earrings were big then too.)

It’s a girls’ night out on the town, and Birdie is at Inflation nightclub with three friends. Two of them – Zan and Sherine, sisters – were singers in hot bands: Zan in funk-rock band I’m Talking, and Sherine in the seven-piece pop/rock band Big Pig. It was Zan’s big night: she was recording a film clip for the song Trust Me, a current hit – hence the enormous sequinned stars! Her other friend Jasmine, Birdie adds, always sported a great pillbox hat. All are wearing that other Eighties staple: frosty eyeshadow.

Birdie herself was staying at the Regency Hotel with her friend who was a music reporter for the National Times. She was on the road with Cyndi Lauper, so she and Birdie were hanging out in an all-expenses-paid hotel room waiting to chat to Cyndi. Ah, good times. 

Gilt-free

Yesterday I was passing by an Indian boutique and a pair of magnificent, OTT Bollywood-style earrings in the window caught my eye and drew me into the store. I have shopped there before, and it is always so much fun.

As well as saris and shalwar kameez (trousers and tunics), they sell a multitude of Western-style clothing made in India … which means totally blinged out. I love it! The prices are very reasonable too. I have my eye on a slim pencil skirt that is a mass of subtle, slightly matt silver sequins. 

I bought these wooden earrings –
at $5 the pair virtually guilt-free, 
and gilt-free!

The chandelier earrings turned out to be actually made from papier-maché, although you’d never guess. But in the end I bought these wooden earrings – at $5 the pair virtually guilt-free, and gilt-free! I really like their chunky simplicity, and the shape is reminiscent of Oriental or Islamic art. A faint whiff of exoticism lingers…

But how long will I resist the lure of Bollywood chandeliers, and silver sequins?