Head in the Clouds

Quite a few years ago I bought this little 1950s bandeau made from cello, an artificial straw material. I was attracted to it because I thought its puffy shape resembled a naïve drawing of a fluffy cloud. Aptly, it is an icy blue and as light as air to wear.

I like the bandeau as an alternative to either hats, or headbands, for the latter put me too much in mind of schoolgirls wearing Alice bands. However, I have never worked out how to wear my hair with 1950s hats without looking too vintagey.

To set them off properly, they should really be worn with the hair up in a French roll or the like (as it would have been worn back in the day), but this combination that feels far too prim and ageing for me. I had in fact taken a series of photos nine months earlier, when I had long hair. I styled it in a low bun, and added 50s clip-on earrings, but the look displeased me so much I never used the pictures, and consequently reshot them.

Yet I’m not sure the bob is right either? (Irrelevant to me now as I no longer have a bob of course.) I am not sure I like the look of some of the hats of the era worn with long hair either – the proportions can often look all wrong to me.

Oh dear, a millinery dilemma! This jury’s head is still in the clouds. Perhaps I should take this up as a sartorial challenge?

Photos: February 2013, May 2012

The Hidden Truth About Eelskin

Last year I bought this vintage 70s eelskin handbag in a charity store. It is not the only eelskin bag that I own: I also have a soft red pouch. However, I have not often used them in the belief that the softness of the skin meant it was quite fragile. Research lead me to discover that the opposite was in fact the case. But it was not the only thing I learned …

I found out the real truth about eelskin. I was so shocked I consider it my duty to expose the infamous lies of the fashion industry.

EELSKIN IS NOT EEL’S SKIN!

It is in fact the skin of an unpleasant and unattractive scavenger that lurks upon the ocean floor, eats dead and dying fish, and kills its enemies with slime.

Yes, slime. I am not joking. (If you want to read more about this revolting defence mechanism, click here.)

The creature is the Pacific hagfish, one of few jawless (Agnathan) fish, and it does resemble an eel, being long and thin. Perhaps it was simply a poor and inadvertent translation into English that produced the misnomer, or perhaps it was a deliberate marketing ploy, but whatever the truth of its origin, ‘eelskin’ is certainly a more appealing name than ‘hagfishskin’!

… whatever the truth of its origin, ‘eelskin’ is certainly a more appealing name than ‘hagfishskin’!

This jawless fish is eaten in Asia, so its skin is a culinary by-product, which is ethically pleasing. The resultant leather is highly prized, being very smooth (it feels like silk) and exceptionally strong, making it almost maintenance-free, and is used in the creation of every kind of accessory, clothing, and even furnishings.

Clean & Care

While eelskin can be conditioned occasionally with colourless shoe wax, this is not recommended for lighter-coloured items as over time added oils can darken the pigment of the skin.

For oil stains (grease, suntan oil, lotion etc) apply rubber cement (available from art and craft stores) sparingly to the stain, let dry and peel off. Many applications may be necessary, but it should eventually come out.

For liquid stains, let dry naturally overnight. Water will not stain, but in the case of some other liquid, splash with water to thoroughly rinse out. Blot excess water, but do not rub.

For ballpoint ink stains, rub with clean finger, or if that does not do the job, try a pencil eraser, rubbing very gently. It’s best to attempt this while the mark is fresh. Permanent ink cannot be removed. [Tips from Coast]

Shop

To buy new, check out Maiden Voyage, Sova Leather, and Coast.

Photos: January 2015, April 2016

All Buttoned Up

One of my amazing vintage finds recently was this 1950s emerald green shantung jacket. The label reads ‘Lynn SA, Melbourne’, but there is no other information. I am not sure if the fibre is silk or rayon, but it does have a very rich feel and lovely weight. It’s so beautifully lined there is not even anywhere to snip a piece of fabric to conduct a burn test without making an unsightly hole.

The jacket is tailored and fits me exactly (which is always an extraordinary experience with vintage); the only problem was that it was missing all the buttons. The other extraordinary thing was that it was priced at only $5, most likely because the buttons were missing. It’s unusual to find a vintage item from that era priced so low, even in an op shop.

Choosing buttons at Buttonmania, Melbourne

Sewing on the new buttons with matching fine rayon thread

Here was another Vintage Rescue project! I of course bought it, and knew exactly where I would go to find replacement buttons for it: Buttonmania, formerly in the Nicholas Building on Swanston Street in Melbourne, but now further out in Highett where I have not yet been. This old shop was such a lovely place to visit, and the staff were very helpful – and zealous about finding just the right button for you!

I looked at quite a few different buttons, mainly from the 1940s, but eventually decided to go with the most discreet ones – the buttons that matched the emerald fabric perfectly rather than contrasted with it. I bought five for $2 each, which I thought a very good price.

The emerald buttons are pressed casein, which is a type of plastic made from milk protein that was developed in Europe at the close of the nineteenth century. The casein was ground into powder then mixed into a paste, which was then hardened by prolonged immersion in formaldehyde. Thick slabs could take nearly a year. This plastic was hard and could take a good polish, and importantly was easily coloured to imitate natural materials such as horn, ivory and tortoiseshell. In France and Germany casein was known as galalith (Greek for ‘milk stone’). The bangle I am wearing (above) is made from transulucent galalith, coloured with black and brown splotches that look like ink blots.

While jewellery and also fountain pen casing were made, casein found its niche in buttons. Production however began to be reduced in the 1960s, and manufacture was almost completely phased out by the 1980s. Today, a small amount of buttons continue to be made, and also knitting needles, which are prized for their tactile qualities.

I have worn the jacket here with a 1960s black crêpe dress that I have had for many years, a black straw beret – possibly 1980s or 90s – and a relatively new pair of suede sandals with awesomely-shaped banana heels by Wittner.

Photos: April 2016

What I Actually Wore #114

Serial #: 0114
Date: 05/04/2013
Weather: 25°C / 77°F
Time Allowed: 10 minutes

I chuckle every time I open up the folder of one of these archival fashion shoots and see some outlandish outfit like this one. It’s so OTT! But I should reiterate at the time I was on a real Ballet Russes kick that year. That ballet company was famous for its extravagant and wildly colourful costumes, many of which featured a multitude of patterns.

I remember buying that Anthropologie cardigan new on eBay (and we still don’t have a brick-and-mortar store here in Australia). I deliberated for a long time because it was quite expensive, but I did love it. I’ve teamed it with a classic black and white striped t-shirt from Zara (bought in Portugal while on holiday to replace a previous iteration that just became too worn), and a vintage 1920s navy straw hat that has a striped effect by way of the velvet piping. There are pearls scattered over the hat too, and two little velvet bows at the back. I bought it on Etsy from an American seller.

Black patent T-bar heels (by Scooter, a brand that no longer seems to exist) and bag (vintage 60s), grey over-the-knee socks, and sterling silver and enamel earrings complete my accessories. I made the earrings myself, from small sterling silver ridged beads, and larger beads that are enamelled in blue with silver stars. The design is a variation on my favourite simple style of a dangling single round bead – I call them bauble earrings.

The effect of the whole outfit is quite doll-like, and far too cute for me to wear anything remotely resembling that these days. The cardigan has since been donated to charity, the linen skirt as well I think (or it may only have made it as far as a bag of prospective donations, in storage) and the shoes also wore out and were trashed. The other items I still own – a 50% retention rate is not too bad, I suppose.

Items:

T-Shirt: Zara
Skirt: Kokomarina
Cardigan: Anthropologie
Hat: vintage 20s
Earrings: hand-made by me
Bag: vintage 60s
Socks: ASOS
Shoes: Scooter

Photos: April 2013

Nouveauté

When I was shopping for vintage paper to use in my fine art work, I bought a French women’s fashion and lifestyle magazine called Nouveauté (Novelty). This issue was published on the eve of World War II, in August 1939.

I do find the cover rather odd however: the model’s attire is unappealingly reminiscent of juvenile folk costume – and what on earth is that strange spiky thing skewering her straw hat? I cannot hazard a guess!

Most of the content inside is uninteresting to me (and unintelligible since I only speak a few words of French), but there are a few wonderful fashion illustrations, which you can see below. What I’d really love is to get hold of some French Vogues from this era!