These Boots Were Made For Walking

The Cat’s Meow :: Watts // Big Up // No flashOoo! I was so excited when my Jeffrey Campbell for Free People Skyler boots finally arrived in the land of Oz. I had seen them ages ago on the Free People website (we don’t have the store in Australia) and wish-listed them. Sadly, the black pair were sold out.

One day, months later while drooling over my wish list, I discovered the boots were back in stock! I bought them immediately, as well as a cute black and white striped layering top I’d been wanting for ages. I waited breathlessly for them to arrive. It took two or three weeks. And how cute is the box?

I’ve worn the top countless times since, but have ventured out in the boots only twice. The second time I even walked to work in them (a 20–25min stroll), which shocked the girls at the office. It shocked me too. Surprisingly they are quite well-balanced and not too difficult to walk in. I even forgot myself once and dashed a few steps in front of an oncoming car – not an effort I wish to repeat may I hastily add. These boots were made for walking – not running!

They really are stunners and will draw all eyes if you dare to wear. I love them.

Hang Up the Blues

Life’s too short to stand against the wall and blend in! It’s more fun when you’re eccentric and take a few fashion risks. Melbourne’s streets are so dreary in winter: everyone – almost everyone – is wearing black, grey, navy and forever the blue jean. It’s a tide of boringness. I say: swim against the tide!

Hang up the blues and greys, spring out the colour all at once. Wear that bright colour that scares you the most. Wear prints and mix ’em up. Break every single fashion rule you ever heard of: red and pink together; green and blue will ever be seen. Dress like it’s summer every day! (Erm, within reason – don’t get pneumonia now. Blue skin is not in.)

You know that old adage:

Dance like there’s nobody watching,
Love like you’ll never be hurt,
Sing like there’s nobody listening,
Live like it’s heaven on earth …
And dress like the fashion police have resigned their commission.

I made that last one up. But do it anyway, and do it elegantly.

PS You know how Englishwomen have that reputation for eccentricity? Well, take a gander at this article I ripped out from a British magazine years ago (sorry, I am not sure which). Click on the pictures to make them big:

A Stitch in Line

Last year – literally a year ago – on my last night in Barcelona around 10pm after a Spanish guitar concert in a medieval church, I managed to squeeze in some last minute shopping before I left for Lisbon the next day. It was a cool and rainy night, and as I was slowly making my way back to my hostel in L’Eixample, I found one little boutique still open. I slipped in, and determined to find something to buy.

I saw little that interested me except for this one sweet shirred dress that reminded me of the floral frocks I wore as a child. Impulsively, I decided to buy it – it was only €30 or so, and it made me feel nostalgic, honestly. It had nothing whatsoever to do with the fact that deep down I felt I had not bought enough souvenirs from Barcelona. In fact, I was doing my bit to help the flailing Spanish economy.

A day dress from 1836–40, Victoria & Albert MuseumAnyway, I am rather partial to shirring – or smocking, if you prefer to call it that. It’s a popular decorative technique for children and women’s clothing (and maybe men’s clothing in the 1970s) that involves the creation of a multitude of tiny gathers in the fabric in parallel rows. It works best on soft fabrics. Today elastic thread is usually used, but once upon a time it was painstakingly sewn by hand using ordinary thread.

Check out Make It and Love it for a tutorial if you want to try your hand at it. I won’t be – I’ve two left thumbs when it comes to the sewing machine. I’ll just be buying mine. 

The Shirred Dress

Oh, how I chuckle over this photo of me as a little girl. I am not sure how old I am – maybe five or six. I look so sweet: resigned but patient of dad’s mission to fill the family album. He was always taking photos, and was fond of posing his four daughters in front of foliage. We must be on some family outing, for this is certainly not our garden.

I often wore these shirred, spaghetti-strapped dresses as a child. Mum must have made me wear the t-shirt to prevent sunburn. I really liked that style of dress, but I loathed the necessity of wearing a t-shirt – it totally ruined the line. It gave me an ugly tan line too.

Those Roman sandals I am wearing were extremely ubiquitous then too. I’m not sure that I can call them fashionable, as they were plain and sturdy brown leather, and all little girls wore them. Worn with socks, they were part of our school uniform. Even some little boys wore them during the summer – and hence spring a generation of sock-and-sandal-wearing granpas! School principals have a lot to answer for …

Beribboned

In honour of Eurovision, I bring you the epaulet. Mine are yet another frivolous rendition, concocted from fur, velvet ribbon and sequins. But this is not so far from the origins of the epaulet as you might imagine.

Louis the XIVEpaulets bear some relation to the tooled leather ‘pteruges’ of ancient Roman military uniforms. However, it was towards the end of the 17th century that bunches of ribbons were worn on the shoulder of the military coat. Men were far more frivolous about fashion in those days, even the military gentlemen, for these shoulder ribbons were in part a decorative trim. Just take a look Louis the XIV’s over-the-top numbers. They did serve a practical purpose too, preventing the shoulder belts from slipping.

It was only after the 18th century that epaulets denoted rank, whether worn on right or left shoulders, or both. Officers were distinguished by more ornate gold or silver epaulets. They came fringed, or winged, or balled, depending upon a man’s division.

Today epaulets have been largely replaced by shoulder straps made from cloth and sewn into the shoulder seam. How boring.