Blow By Blow

In homage to Isabella, I wear one of the very first vintage hats I bought: a green velvet turban, trimmed (by myself) with a vintage rhinestone brooch and feathers; feather capelet by Sportsgirl, purple blouse by Cue.

Last weekend I was chatting with a (very) young fashion designer and mentioned I was reading the biography of Isabella Blow. “Who?” he asked in bewilderment. I was dumbfounded. A fashion designer who hadn’t heard of Isabella Blow? But when I mentioned she was the woman who discovered (among others) Alexander McQueen, understanding dawned on his youthful face. He hadn’t heard of Philip Treacy either (one of her first discoveries), another shocking lapse. Really, what are they teaching kids today?

Rare Bird, Paris. Fringe hat. Silver peacock feather fringe, black satin and Swarovski crystal. ‘This hat was designed to accentuate the eyes; Isabella has beautiful eyes.’ Photo: Mario TestinoI picked up the book in a local bookshop and immediately bought it. I was long a fan of Isabella Blow simply because of our shared love of hats, and of course for her outrageous and daring personal style, and the styling work she did for various magazines. Her career spanned 33 years, beginning at American Vogue as Anna Wintour’s assistant, but she was truly made iconic through her championship of her discoveries, and images of her wearing their designs.

She also discovered models such as Stella Tennant and Sophie Dahl, and the book describes her encounters with them: Dahl she found crying on her doorstep, and instantly took her under her wing. She must have seemed like a fairy godmother to many.

(Left) Detmar and Isabella Blow at Hilles, Gloucestershire. Overblown Rose hat; both wear Alexander McQueen clothing; Isabella’s Marie Antoinette shoes by Manolo Blahnik. British Vogue Nov 1992, photo: Oberto Gili. (Right) Hamish Bowles dressed for a surrealist ball, 1990. Bouquet of Roses, silk roses with white cotton organdie ‘wrapping paper’. Photo: Mario TestinoHowever, I had no idea of the tragedy in her past, and the fact that there were many common threads in her husband, Detmar Blow’s life. Depression also dogged her, and towards the end she became ill with cancer, before she finally succumbed to suicide in 2007.

Written in an easily-read style, the story of Isabella’s life is told by her husband Detmar (with assistance of writer Tom Sykes) with great tenderness. It is an insightful, fascinating and inspiring portrait of a courageous woman who determined to cultivate creativity and beauty wherever she found it, even in the face of impossible circumstances.

(Left) Stefan Bartlett, Philip Treacy, Isabella Blow and Mr. Pig at the Hanover Grand Club, London. Flapper Pink Face Veil, pink veil, hand-curled duck feather ‘flowers’; McQueen dress, Givenchy coat. British Vogue, Dec 1999; photo: Mario Testino. (Right) Isabella and Philip portrait at Claridges, 6 May 2002. Tiffany pink DuPont Lycra stretch disc with feather arrows; McQueen clothing; photo: Donald McPherson.(Left) Isabella Blow at the yew hedge, Hilles, Gloucestershire. Deer Horns; her own antlers, which were ‘meant to look as though they were coming out of the skull of the wearer’, McQueen clothing; photo: Juergen Teller. (Right) Isabella Blow with lipstick on her teeth, Queen Mary Toque, blood red velvet, pleated silk, mink, lacquered black feather and Swarovski crystals; Galliano jacket. American Vogue, Sep 1996; photo: Richard Burbridge.

… an insightful, fascinating and inspiring portrait of a courageous woman who determined to cultivate creativity and beauty wherever she found it …

Blow By Blow, The Story of Isabella Blow by Detmar Blow and Tom Sykes. Find it somewhere near you, somewhere online, and you’ll zip through it.

Additional images from Philip Treacy ‘When Philip met Isabella’, published by Assouline 2002. (Out of print, and secondhand copies are very expensive.)

The First Vamp (in Hollywood, not Transylvania)

Theda Bara dripping with pearlsTheda Bara (1885–1955), an American silent film actress who never made a talkie, was one of cinema’s earliest sex symbols. Her exotic origin as the Egyptian-born daughter of a French actress and an Italian sculptor was entirely fabricated, an aura of mystery and an exotic background being at the time a popular method of promotion.

Her proclivity for wearing very revealing costumes in her films (jewelled pasties were a favourite accessory), eventually – and unsurprisingly – lead her to becoming typecast as the femme fatale. Early on, she had earned herself the nickname of ‘The Vamp’: short for vampire, and slang for a sexually predatory woman. She was even celebrated in songs of the era. Despite the fact that she took her craft seriously, Bara had played too many exotic roles as the vamp that no amount of wholesome heroines and tragic Juliets could eradicate. 

Bara as Cleopatra – only costume stills of this film survive todayAt the height of her fame, Bara was earning $4000 per week – a huge amount of money for the time (and still not bad for now!), and made more than 40 films between 1914 and 1926. Owing to a fire in 1937 at Fox Studios, when most of the studio’s nitrate films of the silent era were destroyed, only six complete prints survive today.

You have to admit though, that those early days of Hollywood in the 20s did produce some pretty fabulous costumes. One can’t blame her for being tempted – or tempting.

Note: thanks to Hannah K at Stuff Nobody Cares About for bringing The Vamp to my attention.

Bara as CleopatraBara as CleopatraBara as Salomé

Theda Bara dressed, as herself, 1916. Image from icollector.com.

The Silver Rose

Once upon a time (about two years ago), in a land far, far away (the Antipodes), a fake princess dreamed of a series of fairytales. Here is the first …

The castle at sunsetThe Silver Rose

n a kingdom long-forgotten, in a town right by the edge of a sea, there lived the last girl who could remember.

All the townspeople about Elisabetta went about their daily business, they knew their own names and what trade they practised, and how to bake bread and which mushrooms in the forest nearby were safe to pick, but from one day to the next, they forgot what happened the day before.

The shoemaker’s daughter was the only one now who could remember how the town had lost its memory. And she was the only one who knew how to restore her people: with a silver rose growing in an enchanted garden, in a great castle on the hill. But there was one catch. The castle was inhabited by an enchanter, whom she didn’t think would willingly give up his silver rose …

The gauntletMaking the picture

initially had the idea of creating fairytales based on different countries, and was inspired by a silver rose languishing in my dresser. The image I had was of a girl running away through a forest, clutching the rose she had just purloined, and looking fearfully over her shoulder at the castle on the hill from which she’d just fled.

Since I had no hope to actually go on location and shoot this in front of a real castle, the original plan was to combine the photograph with a drawing – give myself super-long hair, lengthen my skirt etc. The entire backdrop would be hand-drawn too. But I was a bit lazy and had never got round to executing these grand plans.

The guardian at the entranceThere were hideous gargoyles everywhere …Then today I had the sudden idea of using one of my photographs taken in Sintra, Portugal, which is chock-full of fairytale palaces. I would in fact be spoiled for choice.

It was an easy matter to change the scene from day to night; my only difficulty was in deciding which of the three images I produced most evoked my original vision. But finally, we have Elisabetta fleeing the wicked enchanter inhabiting the Castelo dos Mouros, a 9th century Moorish castle. She’d better be careful not to twist her ankle too, on that hazardous path. There are rocks sticking out everywhere.

As for what happens in the story … who knows, except I feel quite certain it has a melancholy ending. Because who believes in fairy tales any more?

The silver rose gleamed in the dusk

The Cat’s Pyjamas

I thought this was such a cute little novelty necklace when I bought it from the chainstore (no pun intended) Hello Gorgeous. It was also cheap: $10, so I thought no harm done if I don’t wear it much.

On the first day I wore it (to the office), Amelia-Jane complimented me. “It’s the cat’s miaow*!” she said. Well, she didn’t really say that exactly, but I’m sure that’s what she meant. I looked down lovingly and then shrieked with dismay, for I saw that one of the dear little pink pompoms was gone!

I lamented and cursed alternately, even though I knew it would be easy to repair. I know it was only $10 and you get what you pay for, but it’s the principle of thing. I was indignant!

On my way home I remembered to keep my eye out for it, in case it had fallen off on my walk to work. It was bright pink, I reasoned, so it should be easy to spot. I didn’t hold out much hope though. Then to my astonishment I saw it on the stairs going up to the Shrine of Melbourne!

It was a fashion miracle, and that’s the cat’s pompoms indeed.

~

* The cat’s miaow, the cat’s pyjamas and the cat’s whiskers are all delightful slang phrases originating in the 1920s, meaning something highly sought after.

I love this snippet from Wikipedia:
“A report in the New York Times of a publicity stunt by an unknown woman in 1922, in which she paraded along 5th Avenue clad in yellow silk pajamas and accompanied by four cats similarly dressed, may indicate the phrase was already current by that date, as ‘the cat’s miaow’ certainly was.”

What I Actually Wore #0053

Serial #: 0053
Date: 26/11/2010
Weather: 25°, rainy
Time Allowed: 20mins to get ready, trying on numerous outfits!

It’s a slightly humid evening, rainy. I have the Illustrators Australia combined AGM and Christmas party to attend tonight. I haven’t really thought about what I would wear, and consequently take longer than usual to get ready.

I finally decide on a vintage blue dress trimmed with guipure lace, and because of the odd weather need to select a coat to wear with it. Ordinarily I wouldn’t wear the matching coat because the combination marks it too distinctly as vintage 1950s. To offset this look, I choose a pair of tan suede summer boots, and a leather obi belt – unusual accessories for a Fifties dress!

And because it’s a party, I bring out the blue tiara that flashes with diamantes. It’s Christmas after all – one should have some lights on.

Items:

Dress & Coat: Vintage
Belt: Urban Originals
Headpiece: Mimco
Earrings: Moyou
Ring: Autore
Watch: Kenneth Cole
Bag: Vintage
Shoes: Zoe Wittner