Stripes Upon Stripes

Fashion editors keep on drumming into us that it’s a great idea to mix your prints. I have seen very few women brave enough to do this over the years. BUT how much easier is it to do this with stripes? The pattern only goes in one direction! One striped garment is an excellent thing, but how much nicer are stripes upon stripes? Don’t stop at clothing, wear striped accessories too.

Fat stripes and pin stripes, all stripes are good. Stripes make you smile. Stripes make you happy on a dreary morning. When in doubt: wear a stripe. No humbug this.

Why stop at striped clothes? Here we have a striped vintage 50s hat, striped Venetian glass earrings, and a striped windmill brooch. There are never too many stripes.

* See more stripes here. Historical ones!

Fine Feathers

Soft suede fringe in exaggerated proportions, jade green and magenta feathers, and beads plaited through the collar make this necklace fit for an Indian princess. Pocahontas even.

It caught my eye many moons ago in Sportsgirl (where I often hunt for accessories), but I decided that I would not spend 60-odd dollars on it. Then came the end of summer and I wandered back into the store at sale time to find it reduced to $10. A bargain – that I didn’t bargain for! 

A Train Romance

Oooo, who can deny the sheer romance of train travel? That first step onto the platform in a strange country is delightful – how much more exciting when the train clacks in, one boards and finds one’s seat! The endless possibilities and adventures lying ahead transfix one into reveries, and it is far more interesting to gaze out the window and daydream than read a book.

These pages from a mid-90s French Vogue just make me sigh. And laugh reluctantly when I recall the stark contrast of the train I boarded from Fez to Marrakesh (which sounds romantic enough itself, but I can assure was most definitely not). Dominique Isserman’s black and white photographs are beautiful; Amber and Hervé’s marriage may not have lasted, but the romance of train travel will last forever.

Gaudi’s Fruitcups

Background image taken at Park Güell

Antonio Gaudi’s gloriously colourful and imaginative architecture epitomises Barcelona for me. Who could fail to gasp at the Sagrada Familia, or be delighted by the whimsical mosaics snaking around the perimeter of Park Güell? Meandering through the giftshops of several monuments to his genius, I looked in vain for suitable mementoes of my visit. It was all ugly, touristy and tacky, I decided, unworthy of my euro (not to mention my miserly baggage allowance). 

Background image taken at Casa Batlló

In tandem with this goal was my desire to find some traditional Spanish costumes to feature in this Foreign Exchange section on SNAP. But I had not anticipated that traditional costumes would not be easy to unearth in Barcelona. I had found an antique white lace blouse, and also a vintage fan, but that was all. On my last day I found some nasty polyester flamenco dresses in an out-of-the-way costume shop, but they too I deemed unworthy of my tourist dollar. 

On the other hand (literally), I had been delighted to purchase some lovely ceramic jewellery, and it dawned on me that the two chunky ceramic rings reminded me of nothing so much as some of Gaudi’s architectural devices, namely those bonbon-like fruitcups soaring high above Sagrada Familia. They would be a fair reminder of Gaudi and this magical city Barcelona, I decided. 

Fruitcup spire on Gaudi’s Sagrada Familia

Fruitcup spire on Gaudi’s Sagrada Familia

And in the few minutes before my departure, I found something else quite by chance. I had already browsed through Custo Barcelona and had seen nothing I particularly liked. I was all too gaudy for me. I really tried though, because after all, the label is named after the city. Killing time, I walked into a duty-free store at the airport, and there on a table I found some sequinned tank tops. One took my fancy: colourful and fragmented, catching and refracting the light, it too reminded me of Gaudi’s mosaics. But it’s particularly the rings that remind me of Barcelona: whenever I wear one of them I smile – the mark of a good souvenir. 

Background image taken at Park Güell

Clocks on Socks

Pantyhose are not the most romantic or seductive of feminine apparel – in this respect stockings are much more appealing, whether you call them thigh-highs, stay-ups or over-the-knee socks.

Pair of clocked stockings, European, 1650–1750Historically, they have been part of both men’s and women’s daily wardrobe. Before the 18th century and the invention of the knitting machine, knitted stockings were extremely expensive to produce, and they were at first sewn from ordinary woven fabric (ie, non-elastic). With the advent of the Industrial Revolution, stockings were knitted from cotton or silk on machinery, and were consequently much more affordable. The English city of Nottingham, already famous for its Lace Market district, dominated production.

Stockings were then made from two pieces: the main forming the shaft, heel and upper part of the foot, and the smaller piece the sole. When sewn together, the seam ran along the back of the leg. For better fit around the ankle and lower part of the leg, a wedge (known as a ‘clock’) was sewn in. These clocks were often decorated with embroidery, or cut from entirely a different colour than the main colour of the stocking – and often both.

Traditionally, stockings ended well above the knee. It can be seen in paintings that men often pulled their stockings over the hem of their breeches, and then folded them back down again. As stockings, no matter what they are made of, naturally follow gravity and slide down, garters are tied at the narrowest part of the leg, just below the knee.

In the past, garters were made from a band of woven material tied into a bow, or a strip of leather with a small buckle. Modern-day stay-ups employ a strip of adhesive elastic at the top, but with successive washings they will lose their ability to grip. (More than once I have nearly come to public and embarrassing grief, and was saved only by the length of my winter skirt!)

La Toilette, Françoise Boucher, 1742So why do contemporary paintings show garters tied above the knee? In the opinion of one online source, it is most likely that most of these pictures are genre paintings with erotic intent, affording the chance to show the skirt raised above the knee.

Silk stockings can still be found today. Most are manufactured in France by such labels as Agent Provocateur and Seraphina. They are very fine 15 denier, supposedly extremely luxurious, and expensive. Yet despite this luxury they are of plain and simple design, and are put to shame not only by their historical forbears, but by the intricate designs of modern stockings made from lesser fibers, such as nylon.

These floral stockings for instance (top), embroidered with tiny sprigs of flowers, are reminiscent of the embroidered clocks belonging to an eighteenth century fashionista. Black opaques will always be a staple in cold climates – regardless of the winds of change in fashion – but winter fashion is much more fun with the multitude of colours and styles on offer today. So go on – go get your clocks on.