Ó Ceallaigh Green

Kelly green is such a lovely shade of green: strong, bright and happy. I always thought it was an American term, and an odd one at that, after a person’s name.

Then I looked it up and discovered that the description in fact originated in Ireland, and was first used in 1917 – because of the excess population answering to the name of Kelly, and the popularity of the colour green. How funny! 

The green, green hills of Ireland – amazing

The surname Kelly is actually the Anglicised form of the Irish Ó Ceallaigh, although it has also transferred to a given name for males and females.

Of course, over a million Irish emigrated during the terrible Potato Famine in the late 1840s, many to America, which explains the popularity of the term there.

Here’s a little collection of Kelly green, but the ultimate, you must admit, would have to be a Kelly bag in Kelly green. 

Click for a closer lookKelly greens from (left to right):

1. Photo by Tim Walker, British Vogue, Nov 2010
2. Vintage transparent bugle beads from Bead Paradise
3. Kendra tote by Cole Haan at Style Mojo
4. Madeline Weinrib fabric ikat cushion at Digs 
5. Striped straws pinned by Michael Miller Fabrics 
6. Miles Redd kitchen cabinets at Chinoiserie Chic
7. The Irish shamrock 

Boots: Ins and Outs

In: Isolabella. Out: Donna Velenia.

Years ago I found a pair of dark brown leather ankle boots in a charity store that looked barely worn. Perhaps that was due to their avant-garde, cutout, non-winter-proof design? Were they a mistake purchase? Or, (WARNING: DANGEROUS PUNS AHEAD), had the owner got cold feet? Whatever, someone’s dud purchase was my, “Dude!* Look at these cool boots for only twenty bucks!”

I wore them lots. Despite the pointy toes, they were quite comfortable. In fact, I wore them out so much I had to stop wearing them.

Then a few weeks ago I stumbled across a pair of calf-leather ankle boots on a sale website. I had always wanted a pair of lace-up granny boots. Admittedly they were a little more expensive at $60, but Italian calf-leather at that price is a bargain.

And then they arrived. They smelled delicious!** They were so soft, so supple! The first time I slipped them on they felt like a dream, and I wore them all day with nary a blister to show for wantonly courting danger like that. Bliss.

* I lie. I have never said the word dude. Taking a bit of punning license here.

** Stinky shoes are a horrible fashion penance, and you’d think I’d have learned after the first lapse in judgment, but no, I inflicted them on myself a second time!

It Must Be Love

Gorman Stripes :: Loftus // DC // No flash

You know those times when you’re out shopping and you fall hard for some delectable little item? You know you don’t need it, you know you can’t afford it, but none of that matters because you really, really love it? It’s like a bad boyfriend, tugging on your purse strings.

It was like that for Lidushka. She had an on/off relationship with Gorman, but one day she gave it another chance, walked through the door, and fell in love all over again … with a striped jumper. Ah, romance.

It was expensive, and she managed to tear herself away from it the first time, but it just kept on tugging at those heartstrings. Finally, one day she could stand it no longer. She marched right back in, laid her money down on the counter and took the little striped beauty home with her.

Here she is in her Gorman jumper, Sportsgirl jeans, Wittner boots (replacements for a dud online purchase that she made in the teeth of my sage advice), and a scarf she inherited from a bridesmaid gig. You can tell by that wide smile that Lidushka is really in love this time. Sigh.

Lisbon Meringue

Standing in Rua Augusta, before the Arco da Victória Lisbon is a pretty city. Its buildings are like pastel-coloured wedding cakes, iced in white marzipan in thick loops and curlicues. Pistachio, apricot, strawberry, coffee – you’ll see them all, but it is the glorious lemon meringue of Praça do Comércio that takes the prize.

This enormous square is surrounded on three sides by 18th century colonnades, dripping with lemon butter and white frosting. The fourth is the riverfront, and everyone arriving by boat in Lisbon would disembark here and was greeted by this dramatic sight. Pass through the triumphal Arco da Victória and enter the city lying beyond the square.

In keeping with my mission to collecting the traditional dress of countries I holiday in, I had been looking for a Portuguese costume in Porto and Lisbon. As in Barcelona, I hadn’t had much luck: the only costume I found was not only prohibitively expensive (€250), but it was incredibly heavy. I could not possibly cart it through Portugal and Morocco.

Traditional Portuguese dress – the costume I saw was made from heavier fabric, with simpler embroidery

I tossed aside this scheme and thought of another: some kind of pretty, macaroon-coloured dress, preferably trimmed in guipure lace, was in order. I actually find one in my favourite boutique on the Rua Augusta – and yet I didn’t want to pay $120 for a scrap of polyester. I decided to find something else that evoked the Lisbon ambiance at home.

I knew I had a 60s lace shift in mint green that had a matching coat, but this wasn’t quite right. I hankered after yellow. Not just any yellow – it had to be the same golden colour of that enormous plaza.

It took me a year to assemble this little confection of an outfit: an embroidered skirt by Anthropologie; a lace top by Karen Millen that I already owned; and the perfect awning-striped knit on eBay. I already had yellow strappy sandals and the pearl chandelier earrings too. The antique silk ribbon, from the turn of the last century, I found on Etsy. I originally intended to wear it as a sash, but an enormous floppy bow atop my head seemed the perfect finishing touch to this lemon meringue outfit.

So sweet it makes my teeth ache, but I love all the yellow. A pretty outfit to greet spring with – minus the bow! 

All Abroad!

Click for a closer look at the paper-doll princessLast week I had a hankering for some old Hollywood glamour. I chose to watch Alfred Hitchcock’s classic The Birds. I just love all that melodrama, the little supernatural chills I get as the story unfolds. But never mind Hitchcock’s magnificent skills as a storyteller … let’s talk about Tippi Hedren’s character Melanie. Doesn’t she look so prim and proper – a look, mind you, entirely belied by her mischievous behaviour?

However, I don’t want to talk so much about her clothes (she doesn’t have much of a wardrobe here), but rather something Melanie says to Mitch: “When I was abroad last year …”

Going abroad is a much more enchanting notion: it makes me think of cruise ships and trans-Atlantic crossings …

Abroad! I thought, on hearing that line. What a wonderful expression – so much more evocative than saying, “When I went overseas last year …” How dull, how prosaic. Going abroad is a much more enchanting notion: it makes me think of cruise ships and trans-Atlantic crossings; old suitcases plastered with old fashioned luggage labels; long glamorous gowns fluttering in the wind; parties, cocktails, all manner of frivolities (such as being pushed into a fountain in Rome, like Melanie was), and of course, a holiday romance.

Inspired, I off and purchased my imaginary capsule wardrobe on Etsy and packed my bags (in paper-doll style): a discreet little navy suit to sail away in; a polka-dot dress for lazy afternoons strolling along foreign boulevards in the sun; a candy-pink evening gown for those ship-board evening parties, and the cutest little ruched and shirred swimsuit you ever did see. Of course I didn’t forget a lovely selection of accessories.

You can check them out here:
Navy Suit from Catie Nienaber
Polka-dot dress (now reserved, sorry) from Zacharie Boyle
Evening gown from C. R. McCarthy
Swimsuit (sold, alas) from My Vintage Valentine
White sunhat from Cindy
Pink bandeau from Terri
Navy hat from Margaret Kennedy
Black suede oxford heels from Sticky Lipgloss
Satin sandals from Julie Bergmans
Wicker bag from Curious Fawn Vintage
Beaded purse from Dandylioness