The Wonderful Wizard of Oz

Lady of Oz :: Tinto 1848 // Pistil // No flashSix or seven years ago in Hong Kong I bought the Most Fabulous Nail Polish Ever. A rich cherry red, it is chockfull of glitter, and shines like Dorothy’s ruby slippers on the end of my fingertips. It is by Revlon, and aptly its name is Firecracker. It was on sale too, I recall. Its only drawback is the difficulty in taking it off – the glitter is pernicious, so I haven’t worn it as much as I ought to have over the years.

Firecracker :: Melodie // Pistil // No flashIt is so old now that when I do apply it, the polish lasts only a day or two before it starts chipping – even with a base coat, a double coat of colour, and a top coat. Sadly, I can’t find a replacement anywhere.

Bue on Blue :: Melodie // Pistil // No flashRecently I found a clear nail polish infused with blue glitter, also by Revlon. It would look fantastic layered over the Christmas beetle iridescent teal nail polish I already owned, I decided. (A combination sure to appeal to the little girl still lurking in all of us.) But this would take commitment I knew: two layers of blue, and then two more layers of glitter, and then a top coat.

I watched a movie while I applied the polishes.

Christmas Beetle Teal :: Melodie // Pistil // No flashAnd what a spectacular result! Instead of Dorothy, I look like a denizen of Oz’s Emerald City. For now, I’m happy – no need to click my heels just yet. 

Here’s a free tip: if your polish is not the super speedy drying sort, stick your fingers under cold running water to harden the polish and hasten the drying process. Sounds like a contradiction in terms, but it works.

Glitter :: Melodie // Pistil // No flash

No Sparkle During the Day

Vintage 1980s sequinned silk top I read somewhere that a lady should never wear sparkle during the day. Pffft, I thought.

Then I found in Ines de la Fressange’s book Parisian Chic the declaration that a sequinned dress was a siren of the fashion world that should be avoided at all costs. That was the stupidest thing I ever read.

In 1957, Alison Adburghan, a retail historian and journalist said, ‘The ugly can be elegant; the vulgar never. And vulgarity nearly always begins with sequins. When sequins fall into the wrong hands, all appears to be lost and there is no saying what may happen.’ [A to Z of Style, by Amy de la Haye] Now, this was said in 1957. I contend that there are much more vulgar crimes against style today than the mere wearing of sequins in daylit hours.

It’s just when you look like a Christmas tree from head to toe that we venture into vulgar territory. 

As long as said sequinned item isn’t an overtly evening garment (such as an evening gown), one can easily work sequins into the daytime wardrobe. If you’re feeling nervous about attracting too much attention, try an accessory such as a scarf, or a bit of sequinned trim on the sleeves of a top, for instance. Away from the office it’s even easier – don a sequinned top with jeans, or other plain basic item. A delicate chiffon or knit top with a bit of sequin trim would look fantastic with a pair of trousers made from tweed or plain woven suiting – a classic case of contrasting the feminine and masculine, the whimsical with the practical, the yin and yang.

A judicious sprinkle of glitter is fun. It’s just when you look like a Christmas tree from head to toe that we venture into vulgar territory. 

Here are some fun ideas. 

The Mystery of the Missing Umbrella Handle

I have the worst luck with umbrellas. They break all the time. I promise you, it’s not anything I do – it’s caused by gale-force winds, or poor manufacture, or freak accidents such as trams stopping suddenly, or other unexplainable incidents.

There was one such unexplainable incident last Thursday night. I swung my bag onto a bar stool and suddenly my umbrella (which had been hanging off one of the handles) went clattering to the floor. I picked it up and stared bemused at it: the handle had snapped off. I looked around, but it was nowhere to be seen.

When my friend returned to our table I pointed out the handleless shaft to her. “I don’t know where it went,” I said to Sapphire.

“I do,” she replied, nodding at the next table, a couple of metres away. There was the handle, lying forlornly under the occupants’ table. I retrieved it sheepishly, and began to photograph the remnants from all angles.

“I’m glad you’re not broken up about it,” Sapphire remarked, amused.

I shrugged philosophically, being used to such occurrences. “It was inevitable,” I answered her. For to everything there is a season … a time to weep, and a time to laugh … a time to keep, and a time to throw away*, a time to get wet and a time to stay dry.

It’s obviously not my time to stay dry. But it’s certainly time to throw away this polka-dotted umbrella.

* From the Bible: Ecclesiastes 3:1,4,6

Call That a Beanie?

After seeing beanies featured on Broadsheet today, I immediately thought of my nightcap style beanie that I bought at the Crazy House (otherwise and more formally known as the Hang Nga Guesthouse) in Dalat, Vietnam, years ago.

As soon as I glimpsed these nightcaps hanging in the Crazy House gift shop, I was captured. Knit in stripes with a pompom on the end of the very long tail, they looked like something out of a vintage storybook. In short, they were irresistible.

But has it occurred to you that ‘beanie’ is the oddest name for a hat? Where does it come from, I wonder? A beanie is a small, close-fitting hat that sits on the back of the head, with or without a button or pompom on the crown. It can be sewn from leather or cloth, or knit from yarn. According to the OED, the origin is 1940s America, perhaps from ‘bean’ in the slang sense of ‘head’. 

These beanies featured on Broadsheet are pretty darn cute too. Click here for the full slideshow. 

Beanie by Benah. Dress by ACNE. Sweater by Jac + Jack. Image by Nick Blair, from Broadsheet. Beanie by Coal. Sweater by Sportmax. Image by Nick Blair, from Broadsheet.

The Flapper By Day

Celebrating the Roaring Twenties in a Special Series

Most people today associate beaded and fringed evening gowns accompanied by the ubiquitous headband and cigarette holder with the quintessential flapper look. But this is not what women wore in the 1920s during the day.

With the emancipation of women and the rise of designers like Coco Chanel and Jean Patou, women’s clothing became simpler and more relaxed in the 1920s. While knit fabrics (pioneered by Chanel who famously donned a long jersey sweater on the Normandy beach as early as 1913) were popular for sports or resortwear, day dresses were more formal and constructed from woven fabrics.

Black, white and floral dresses. Click the image and jump through to a great story on recreating the 20s daywear look, at Style High ClubThese flappers wear their white dresses with knits and black stockings. Purchase the photo at Etsy store Ephemera Obscura.The familiar elongated garment shape of the 1920s carried through from day to evening, and dresses were cut on very simple lines. These straight tubes were sewn at shoulder and at the sides, making them ideal for easy home construction. Always dropwaisted, and often featuring scoop or low V-necklines, town dresses usually had sleeves of varying lengths – from cap to three-quarter to wrist.

A very simple black dress with sash. Purchase the original photo from Acanthe, on Etsy.Another very simple day dress, in white with a black sash. (Original photo sold on eBay.) Daytime Modes for Summer, Simplicity Patterns advertisement, 1920s. Note the spelling of pleats as ‘plaits’! Print sold on eBay by art.deco.diva. Click image for larger version.The trademark details of 1920s dresses include fluid fabrics, pleating, layering, and geometric patterns. They were often designed to look like a separate top and skirt, with a sash or other detail round the middle. Matching scarves were often worn with them. It was not until 1927–28 that dresses reached their shortest length, with hemlines sometimes rising above the knee. Black was very popular for day, and colours in a more muted tonal range.

Of course no outfit was complete without the cloche (proof that one’s hair was cut fashionably short), high-shine stockings, low-heeled bar shoes, and a long necklace. Short necklaces were matched with knee-length dresses, and the very long opera length necklace was worn with longer dresses.

Styling the Look

My twenties-style outfit – very much in keeping with the flapper spirit – is actually made up of a separate top and skirt, but I’m so pleased with how well they match. The black and cream blouse is a souvenir from Vietnam (as are most of the bangles), and the black wool skirt with its cream silk insert is by Melbourne designer Obüs, from many seasons ago. The wool hat trimmed with grosgrain ribbon is original 1920s, and was in fact my very first vintage hat purchase. The sunglasses (since broken) are vintage 1980s. 

Scroll down for more vintage 1920s dresses, all available to purchase on Etsy (as at publication date). Click images to jump through to individual stores.  

Ivory silk dress with peach collar and cuffsBeautifully draped cinnamon brown silk crêpe de chine dress with amazing bow detail at drop waistExquisitely detailed chocolate brown silk afternoon dress, featuring bishop sleevesAmazing geometric design and cinnabar ring in the neckline make this dress stand out – note the separate top and skirt appearanceLilac jacquard dress features unusual fluttering details on sleeves, matching the sash and ‘swag’ dropping from the vee neck