A Serendipitous Loss

I love the smooth opacity of stones such as turquoise, lapis lazuli, malachite, chalcedony – such magical names! – and have collected quite a few pieces over the years.

One of them was an amazing cabochon turquoise ring, set in sterling silver. It was extraordinary because of its size, and the fact that there were no inclusions to mar its clear robin’s egg blue surface. It was egg-shaped, and about an inch in length. Then alas, one evening the stone felt out of its setting while I was walking home. I mourned its loss for a suitable period, and set about looking for its replacement.

It took me three years, and I found it in a little jewellery boutique in a laneway in the Barri Gòtic in Barcelona. The jewellery was displayed in the open on white cubes, each ring attached to a steel cable, but one was still able to try them on. I eventually decided on my favourite: it forms a solid, curved oval, hollowed out off-centre, and is inset with sterling silver. It is a ring of substance, minimal yet striking with its vivid colour. In fact, I like it much more than the original ring I lost.

Smooth as Glass

Enamelling has been around since the ancient Egyptians, who applied enamel to pottery and stone objects. Everyone was into it actually: the ancient Greeks, Celts, Georgians, Chinese, Romans. I particularly like Chinese-style cloisonné.

Cloisonné is the creation of compartments (cloisons in French), made by laying down thin strips of silver or gold wire onto a base, and thereby creating a pattern or design. It was the Byzantines who first used enamel in imitation of cloisonné inlays of precious stones. These cloisons are filled with powdered glass, which is fired, melts, flows and hardens to a smooth, vitreous coating.

This slick, glassy application of colour is so appealing, especially because the colour is so flat and opaque. Different shades of glass can be blended of course, in an ombré effect, but I much prefer the sleek and graphic look of plain colours.

The enamel necklace and matching earrings I am wearing are vintage 1950s, and so tactile. I love the closely interlocking flowers with their duck-egg blue petals (a pale robin’s egg blue x French blue), and centres made from lemon-tinted pearls.

And to go with the 1950s theme, I’ve bathed these photos in a warm yellow glow in homage to Blumenfeld, one of my favourite photographers of that era. I couldn’t decide if I preferred the grainy effect (top), or the faded version (below). It’s a bit like looking at the world through amber-tinted glasses (where can I get some of those?).

The Hat’s Out of the Bag!

This hat is most likely a reproduction, custom-made for a theatre

A shopping time limit and baggage allowance together are not two conditions conducive to tranquil vintage shopping. So when a friend and I were browsing in the Zoo Emporium in Sydney, I did not expect to buy anything.

Not until, however, I looked up at a looming mannequin and saw a 1920s style fan hat that literally made me catch my breath in awe. “Look!” I gasped. My friend’s eyes nearly popped out.

Our amazement was due to the sheer size of this theatrical extravaganza of ostrich feathers. It must have been a metre wide. “Try it on!” my friend urged. I paraded around, testing its balance, supposing it would be too expensive anyway. Upon enquiry, we heard everything in the store was half price, and the hat was $33. Our jaws dropped. Even $66 would be cheap.

“You must buy it!” my friend declared firmly. Assuredly, but what on earth would they say at check-in at the airport? She pooh-poohed my concerns. Easy for her. A plastic bag big enough to fit the hat was found. Conveniently, it was transparent, enabling the airline staff to see the harmless contents.

A more modest version of a fan hat from a 1914 fashion plate by George Barbier, for ‘Journal des Dames et des Modes’

Later that day …

Waiting in line at check-in, I hoped that I would get the male steward. They’re nearly always a little more easy-going than the gimlet-eyed women. Unfortunately, I was waved to another counter manned by a woman. And that’s when the trouble began.

My carry-on baggage clocked in at an acceptable 10.4kg, but the stewardess eyed my handbag and hat in disapproval. I had three items. Her lip curled. “Can you fit the hat in the bag?” No, I explained, I couldn’t possibly do that because the hat was vintage, fragile, and it would get squashed. Adding my handbag to my baggage still made the latter too heavy for the overhead lockers.

“I’ll have it under the seat in front of me,” I pointed out – but no: I would still be carrying three items. The woman asked the male steward his opinion. He shrugged. I had the distinct impression he thought his colleague was making an unnecessary fuss.

Helpfully, the stewardess suggested I remove clothing from my bag and put it on, so that the carry-on would be light enough to fit my handbag. I looked at her like the nincompoop she was. It was practically still summer – what did she think I had in my bag? A fur coat? I didn’t have enough clothes in there to put on to make a difference.

I needed to lose weight fast, or I would obliged to pay an extra $70 to check my baggage – which would defeat the purpose of buying a cheap flight. It seemed we were at an impasse, but for a divine inspiration that struck me suddenly: “What if I wear the hat?” I asked.

Did such an enormous hat actually count as a hat, or a piece of furniture?

The woman stared at me. I could see the cogs ticking over. Did such an enormous hat actually count as a hat, or a piece of furniture? She referred to the steward again. “It is a hat,” he shrugged. “People can wear hats.”

At last she was satisfied and warned me that I would have to wear the hat through security, and on board the plane. “Okay,” I replied meekly, suppressing my triumph.

Approaching security, I paused. Was I really going to put on the hat now? I rather suspected that the mere sight of it on my head would be enough to have security tackle me to the floor and slap handcuffs on me. I decided I would not wear the hat, and I sailed through with flying colours. No-one was at all interested in me or my belongings.

I did suffer a slight check when I saw the same steward from check-in scanning our boarding passes, and rather sheepishly tried to obscure my hat behind my body. He grinned and waved me through. I was going home!

Trademark Blue

My favourite colour is robin’s egg blue. It is such a lovely, clear colour, soothing in its purity. One glimpse of it in a shop and I’m drawn unerringly to pick it up.

To be specific, I prefer the paler rendition of robin’s egg – a shade actually trademarked by Tiffany & Co – than the darker shade sometimes seen, and which is more like turquoise. Tiffany’s has even trademarked the name ‘Robin egg blue’, as well as the Pantone shade #1837, the exact formula of which is a secret from the world –it takes its number from the year Tiffany’s was founded.

Real robin’s egg blueA perfect match!A match ‘maid’ in heavenAlthough I admire some of Tiffany’s elegant designs, it is not a brand I particularly covet – especially not their diamond rings, usually beloved of brides-to-be everywhere. (I once was engaged, and my ring was set with a South Sea pearl, not a diamond.) So my love of the instantly recognisable shade has nothing to do with its fame in Western culture. I do like their packaging though.

Happily the colour suits me so I can indulge my love for Tiffany blue through fashion. Whatever you like to call it: turquoise, cerulean, aqua, robin’s egg blue or even Tiffany blue, I find it delicious, and I’m not the only one. 

Robin’s egg hueA soothing interiorMum thinks I need gumboots this winter

Vintage canisters on Etsy (sold already, darn it)And for sheer whimsy …Even Grace liked it – who could argue with that?

From Country Girl to Princess Grace

Click the image and jump to another reviewOn Sunday I travelled with some friends to Bendigo to see the Grace Kelly: Style Icon exhibition at the Bendigo Art Gallery. It’s been many years since I visited Bendigo last, and I was charmed by the many old buildings – it is such a quaint, though small, country city.

I enjoyed the exhibition very much, although the experience was somewhat marred by my very sore toes. I had elected to wear a new pair of berry red suede 40s style heels in honour of Grace – a big mistake! Preoccupied with this agony, I did not take any notes, so am left only with impressions. It is a shame then that photography was forbidden, even without a flash, and the catalogue was sold out. (The latter didn’t surprise me – it was the same thing when I visited the Valentino exhibition in Brisbane a couple of summers ago.)

One of the exhibition roomsGrace Kelly in High Society, wearing that goddess gown over her bathing suitThe 1950s gowns were absolutely divine, especially the costumes by Helen Rose (who also created two of Grace’s wedding ensembles) for High Society – the goddess gown Grace wore by the pool over her bathing suit in that film was incredibly elegant (right). It was most impressive too, to see how tiny her waist was! (Although if the sartorial education regarding feminine underpinnings many of us have received watching Mad Men is anything to go by, perhaps she was architecturally reinforced underneath?) I only wished the yellow and white floral gown she wore in Rear Window had been part of the exhibition – it’s one of my favourite movie costumes. Though I liked her 60s and 70s gowns less, many of them were flowing couture gowns and still wonderful to see. In the main, she favoured demure, high-necked gowns, and simple, streamlined garments that did not overwhelm her figure. She wanted to be noticed for herself, not her clothes.

Grace Kelly and Frank Sinatra dance drunkenly in High SocietyI was really looking forward to the last room, in which many of her accessories were displayed, so I was a bit disappointed to see the kind of hats she favoured: 50s style turbans – not at all the kind of hat that inspires envy in me (I prefer 20s–40s). However, she had a fantastic collection of sunglasses – about 85, if I recall correctly, although they weren’t all on display. I didn’t know that she was shortsighted, and she was not at all precious of her image and shy of wearing glasses, as other actresses were. She thought it preferable to squinting.

Click image and jump to a review from the Toronto leg of the exhibition’s itineraryThere were also many archival photographs and video footage, including some of her own family home movies – which provided insight into her life, and who she was when she was not acting. I managed to sit on a floor cushion to watch these (and rest my pinched feet, thank goodness!). The general consensus of the women around me was that Grace did look genuinely happy about her engagement to Prince Rainier. It was lovely to see how natural and unaffected she was, however, considering her status.

Yes, Grace Kelly was lucky, beautiful and privileged – but how much more elegantly did she live up to her name than many of today’s spoiled society princesses?

~

Since I was unable to photograph the exhibition or purchase a catalogue, I’ve picked out a few photographs of her I think are particularly lovely. Click the images for links and more stories on her.

The exhibition runs until 17 June, but most weekend sessions are sold out. Be quick!

Grace au naturelClick for a link to more archival imagesOne of my favourites: Grace in Jamaica, 1955; ph Howell Connant. Click for a link to more archival images of Grace relaxing on the beach.Grace in Jamaica, 1955; ph Howell Connant.