tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-107365112024-03-13T21:48:59.430+11:00Footpath ZeitgeistStreet style and smart talkMelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08987383983530564029noreply@blogger.comBlogger158125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10736511.post-36877744510515852242017-02-19T20:46:00.003+11:002017-02-19T21:14:12.846+11:00I like the night life, babyThis week I went on a road trip with my parents to Barwon Park Mansion, Winchelsea, to see <a href="https://www.nationaltrust.org.au/exhibitions/night-life/">Night Life</a>, a National Trust exhibition of evening wear from the 1920s and 1930s. By pure chance, we managed to time our arrival just as a guided tour by exhibition curator Elizabeth Anya-Petrivna was beginning. This was an awesome way to navigate the exhibition. Anya-Petrivna offered lots of detail about the archival research she'd done into the garments' manufacture, provenance, cultural context and conservation.<br />
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Clearly I am like a pig in the proverbial when it comes to this stuff, and so of course I've since looked up Anya-Pretrivna's other work. What a wonderful job she has! I found <a href="http://www.heraldsun.com.au/news/victoria/meet-four-women-who-love-to-dwell-in-other-eras/news-story/eb62bcad4230f5fa0a382ca2608af8e2">this 2016 feature article</a> in which she's somewhat awkwardly cast as a <a href="https://footpathzeitgeist.blogspot.com.au/2012/05/high-retro-anxiety.html">high retro enthusiast</a>; but what immediately excited me was reading that Anya-Petrivna has researched the people who once lived in her house. I've done the same thing and found some really fascinating stories, although I've felt conflicted and angsty about writing about it because I don't want strangers to figure out my address.<br />
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But anyway. This is all to explain that I was extremely excited and had to try super hard to be cool during the tour. Because I was lazy, I decided to put all the photos I took at the exhibition up on <a href="http://www.instagram.com/incrediblemelk">my Instagram</a>, but then I relented and decided to do a proper blog post, which you are reading right now… <br />
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The interwar period is one of the most popular and well documented when it comes to fashion exhibitions. Thematically, it has an image of glamour and decadence. This was the Golden Age of Hollywood, and of the <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FB0zofK6tDM">Bright Young Things</a> in the UK. And the concomitant rise of the celebrity and society gossip media allowed ordinary people to follow the exploits of the wealthy and privileged.<br />
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Yet there's also an elegiac quality to these clothes. They're like a ballroom full of streamers, confetti, lipstick-smeared cigarette butts and half-full champagne glasses: evidence of a party that has now crashed. We can enjoy these looks, knowing – as the wearers had not – that the good times will soon end in economic depression and global war.<br />
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Just a few of the recent pop-cultural touchstones for interwar fashion have been <i>The Great Gatsby</i> (2013) – for which Catherine Martin won two Academy Awards – <i>Downton Abbey </i>(2010–15), <i>Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries</i> (2012–) and Woody Allen's ongoing obsession with the period in <i>Midnight in Paris</i> (2011), <i>Magic in the Moonlight</i> (2014) and <i>Café Society</i> (2016).<br />
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So how can yet another exhibition differentiate itself in this crowded space? Just recently there's been the NGV's 2014 <a href="http://www.ngv.vic.gov.au/exhibition/edward-steichen-art-deco-fashion/" target="_blank">Edward Steichen & Art Deco Fashion</a> show, and the vastly popular exhibition of <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_xMIPiiH8t4" target="_blank">costumes from <i>Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries</i></a>, presented around Australia in 2015-16 in collaboration with the National Trust.<br />
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Let's embark on the tour!<br />
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<blockquote class="instagram-media" data-instgrm-version="7" style="background: #fff; border-radius: 3px; border: 0; box-shadow: 0 0 1px 0 rgba(0 , 0 , 0 , 0.5) , 0 1px 10px 0 rgba(0 , 0 , 0 , 0.15); margin: 1px; max-width: 658px; padding: 0; width: 99.375%;"><div style="padding: 8px;"><div style="background: #F8F8F8; line-height: 0; margin-top: 40px; padding: 50.0% 0; text-align: center; width: 100%;"><div style="background: url(data:image/png; display: block; height: 44px; margin: 0 auto -44px; position: relative; top: -22px; width: 44px;"></div></div><div style="color: #c9c8cd; font-family: Arial,sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 17px; margin-bottom: 0; margin-top: 8px; overflow: hidden; padding: 8px 0 7px; text-align: center; text-overflow: ellipsis; white-space: nowrap;"><a href="https://www.instagram.com/p/BQpSj3IjTgd/" style="color: #c9c8cd; font-family: Arial,sans-serif; font-size: 14px; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 17px; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">A post shared by Mel Campbell (@incrediblemelk)</a> on <time datetime="2017-02-18T07:49:36+00:00" style="font-family: Arial,sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 17px;">Feb 17, 2017 at 11:49pm PST</time></div></div></blockquote><script async="" defer="" src="//platform.instagram.com/en_US/embeds.js"></script><br />
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Entering the exhibition in Barwon Park's downstairs drawing room, we encountered a stunning display of 1920s party dresses, coats and accessories, presented on rotating plinths that gave the impression the mannequins were dancing. In the dimness, spangles of light were projected on the wall. Rows of sequins and beads on the mannequins' heads sketched bobbed hairstyles. My shitty photography can't convey the glamorous impression.<br />
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What this exhibition does brilliantly is use lighting to show how the seductive textures of these clothes were intended to be seen at night: in dimly lit rooms or under dazzling electric and neon lights. Think of those flapper frocks encrusted with beads and sequins, and trimmed lavishly with fringing and tassels. Think of those slinky bias-cut 1930s frocks in satins and chiffons, worn with furs and velvets and fluffy ostrich boas. These are clothes designed to draw the eye and invite the touch. They were for energetic, <i>moving</i> bodies.<br />
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The iconic 1920s dress is the tabard. The original tabards were the loose, sleeveless medieval surcoats worn by knights over their armour, and usually emblazoned with their heraldic symbols, from which we get the term 'coat of arms'. In the 1920s, a tabard dress was a sleeveless tunic with a bateau, scoop or V-neck, sewn at the shoulders. Tabards were often open in the sides, held together at the hips with pins or a belt. You'd wear a matching or contrasting slip underneath. But they could also be sewn all the way down the sides.<br />
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<blockquote class="instagram-media" data-instgrm-version="7" style="background: #fff; border-radius: 3px; border: 0; box-shadow: 0 0 1px 0 rgba(0 , 0 , 0 , 0.5) , 0 1px 10px 0 rgba(0 , 0 , 0 , 0.15); margin: 1px; max-width: 658px; padding: 0; width: 99.375%;"><div style="padding: 8px;"><div style="background: #F8F8F8; line-height: 0; margin-top: 40px; padding: 50.0% 0; text-align: center; width: 100%;"><div style="background: url(data:image/png; display: block; height: 44px; margin: 0 auto -44px; position: relative; top: -22px; width: 44px;"></div></div><div style="color: #c9c8cd; font-family: Arial,sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 17px; margin-bottom: 0; margin-top: 8px; overflow: hidden; padding: 8px 0 7px; text-align: center; text-overflow: ellipsis; white-space: nowrap;"><a href="https://www.instagram.com/p/BQpTMmcDHXi/" style="color: #c9c8cd; font-family: Arial,sans-serif; font-size: 14px; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 17px; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">A post shared by Mel Campbell (@incrediblemelk)</a> on <time datetime="2017-02-18T07:55:09+00:00" style="font-family: Arial,sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 17px;">Feb 17, 2017 at 11:55pm PST</time></div></div></blockquote><script async="" defer="" src="//platform.instagram.com/en_US/embeds.js"></script><br />
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These glamorous looks were also becoming more achievable for ordinary women, as while the labour costs were considerable, the materials themselves were not nearly as precious as they looked. This 1920s dance dress has glass beads and is very heavy, but its vertical beaded panels offer a heft that makes the dress swing beautifully with the wearer's movement. Other dresses in the exhibition are embellished with lighter materials such as gelatin, tin and celluloid. Celluloid is the earliest thermoplastic polymer (pliable plastics that are moulded and reshaped by heating). It was often used for jewellery, toys, homewares and accessories such as buttons and buckles that would have previously been made of ivory, horn or tortoiseshell.<br />
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However, as film buffs will know, celluloid is incredibly flammable – lots of pre-1950s cinema has been lost in fires – and there was somewhat of a panic that careless flappers would turn themselves into human torches if they got too close to fireplaces or hands waving cigarettes. (There was a similar moral panic surrounding <a href="https://footpathzeitgeist.blogspot.com.au/2013/04/victorian-wardrobe-malfunctions.html">crinolines</a>.) Gelatin, too, was vulnerable to melting when subjected to heat or moisture. Or both, in the case of <a href="https://fashionpreserve.blogspot.com.au/2009/01/missing-sequins-can-tell-tales.html">the body heat of a dance partner's hand</a> in the small of the back. <br />
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<blockquote class="instagram-media" data-instgrm-version="7" style="background: #fff; border-radius: 3px; border: 0; box-shadow: 0 0 1px 0 rgba(0 , 0 , 0 , 0.5) , 0 1px 10px 0 rgba(0 , 0 , 0 , 0.15); margin: 1px; max-width: 658px; padding: 0; width: 99.375%;"><div style="padding: 8px;"><div style="background: #F8F8F8; line-height: 0; margin-top: 40px; padding: 54.21296296296296% 0; text-align: center; width: 100%;"><div style="background: url(data:image/png; display: block; height: 44px; margin: 0 auto -44px; position: relative; top: -22px; width: 44px;"></div></div><div style="color: #c9c8cd; font-family: Arial,sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 17px; margin-bottom: 0; margin-top: 8px; overflow: hidden; padding: 8px 0 7px; text-align: center; text-overflow: ellipsis; white-space: nowrap;"><a href="https://www.instagram.com/p/BQpVaPlD4Qh/" style="color: #c9c8cd; font-family: Arial,sans-serif; font-size: 14px; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 17px; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">A post shared by Mel Campbell (@incrediblemelk)</a> on <time datetime="2017-02-18T08:14:30+00:00" style="font-family: Arial,sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 17px;">Feb 18, 2017 at 12:14am PST</time></div></div></blockquote><script async="" defer="" src="//platform.instagram.com/en_US/embeds.js"></script><br />
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These gorgeous beaded garments require painstaking conservation if they're to be displayed on mannequins. Due to the sharp edges of bugle beads, and the propensity of antique and vintage silk to <a href="http://circavintageclothing.com.au/2013/06/05/shattering-silk/">shatter</a> from the metallic salts used to treat the fabric, the sheer weight of the embellishments can tear the dress apart unless it's displayed flat. This gorgeous frock weighs as much as two bottles of wine. It would've been hugely expensive, yet it belonged to a young woman of modest means. It's one of the standout items in the exhibition, and was much pored over by attendees during my visit. It's also been photographed extensively on Instagram, and indeed was my most-liked photo by my Instagram followers.<br />
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<blockquote class="instagram-media" data-instgrm-version="7" style="background: #fff; border-radius: 3px; border: 0; box-shadow: 0 0 1px 0 rgba(0 , 0 , 0 , 0.5) , 0 1px 10px 0 rgba(0 , 0 , 0 , 0.15); margin: 1px; max-width: 658px; padding: 0; width: 99.375%;"><div style="padding: 8px;"><div style="background: #F8F8F8; line-height: 0; margin-top: 40px; padding: 50.0% 0; text-align: center; width: 100%;"><div style="background: url(data:image/png; display: block; height: 44px; margin: 0 auto -44px; position: relative; top: -22px; width: 44px;"></div></div><div style="color: #c9c8cd; font-family: Arial,sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 17px; margin-bottom: 0; margin-top: 8px; overflow: hidden; padding: 8px 0 7px; text-align: center; text-overflow: ellipsis; white-space: nowrap;"><a href="https://www.instagram.com/p/BQpWBqWjpLF/" style="color: #c9c8cd; font-family: Arial,sans-serif; font-size: 14px; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 17px; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">A post shared by Mel Campbell (@incrediblemelk)</a> on <time datetime="2017-02-18T08:19:53+00:00" style="font-family: Arial,sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 17px;">Feb 18, 2017 at 12:19am PST</time></div></div></blockquote><script async="" defer="" src="//platform.instagram.com/en_US/embeds.js"></script><br />
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In the 1920s, fake pearls were made by coating celluloid bead forms in (or filling hollow glass beads with) a disgusting iridescent goo made from fish scales, which was applied by mouth-blowing. Fish scales are still used today in iridescent cosmetics such as eye shadow. <br />
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<blockquote class="instagram-media" data-instgrm-version="7" style="background: #fff; border-radius: 3px; border: 0; box-shadow: 0 0 1px 0 rgba(0 , 0 , 0 , 0.5) , 0 1px 10px 0 rgba(0 , 0 , 0 , 0.15); margin: 1px; max-width: 658px; padding: 0; width: 99.375%;"><div style="padding: 8px;"><div style="background: #F8F8F8; line-height: 0; margin-top: 40px; padding: 62.5% 0; text-align: center; width: 100%;"><div style="background: url(data:image/png; display: block; height: 44px; margin: 0 auto -44px; position: relative; top: -22px; width: 44px;"></div></div><div style="color: #c9c8cd; font-family: Arial,sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 17px; margin-bottom: 0; margin-top: 8px; overflow: hidden; padding: 8px 0 7px; text-align: center; text-overflow: ellipsis; white-space: nowrap;"><a href="https://www.instagram.com/p/BQp1Cn_DiuO/" style="color: #c9c8cd; font-family: Arial,sans-serif; font-size: 14px; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 17px; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">A post shared by Mel Campbell (@incrediblemelk)</a> on <time datetime="2017-02-18T12:50:54+00:00" style="font-family: Arial,sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 17px;">Feb 18, 2017 at 4:50am PST</time></div></div></blockquote><script async="" defer="" src="//platform.instagram.com/en_US/embeds.js"></script><br />
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This is a metallic Assuit shawl from Egypt. Note the little pyramid and camel motifs! Named after the Egyptian town where they were made, they were hugely popular as souvenirs and lots of them were brought to Australia by WWI soldiers, although the <a href="https://www.thomascook.com/thomas-cook-history/">Thomas Cook</a>-led tourism boom, the opening of the Suez Canal and the 1922 discovery of Tutankhamun's tomb all made Egypt more fascinating and accessible than ever. They could be pinned or sewn into tabard dresses, worn as sashes or head wraps, or used as shawls. They came in heaps of colours and patterns.<br />
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One thing I really liked about this show was the way the garments were displayed to draw attention not just to their textures and manufacture, but also to their role in an 'outfit'. Modern slips were unobtrusively teamed with period garments so that it wasn't immediately obvious that the accessory – a shawl, coat or boa – was the featured garment, not the dress. But we get a much more aesthetically satisfying impression of how it would have looked in its heyday. Contrast with this Assuit shawl, which I found on the <a href="https://www.vintagetextile.com/new_page_756.htm">Vintage Textile dealer website</a>:<br />
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<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-WvTLDjoWgyc/WKlSZ3-KbjI/AAAAAAAACKo/S_DYizOtnFYd1qZ0avsIFhtXYXZQ4_jFgCLcB/s1600/assuit%2Bshawl.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-WvTLDjoWgyc/WKlSZ3-KbjI/AAAAAAAACKo/S_DYizOtnFYd1qZ0avsIFhtXYXZQ4_jFgCLcB/s640/assuit%2Bshawl.jpg" width="438" /></a><br />
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<blockquote class="instagram-media" data-instgrm-version="7" style="background: #fff; border-radius: 3px; border: 0; box-shadow: 0 0 1px 0 rgba(0 , 0 , 0 , 0.5) , 0 1px 10px 0 rgba(0 , 0 , 0 , 0.15); margin: 1px; max-width: 658px; padding: 0; width: 99.375%;"><div style="padding: 8px;"><div style="background: #F8F8F8; line-height: 0; margin-top: 40px; padding: 37.5% 0; text-align: center; width: 100%;"><div style="background: url(data:image/png; display: block; height: 44px; margin: 0 auto -44px; position: relative; top: -22px; width: 44px;"></div></div><div style="color: #c9c8cd; font-family: Arial,sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 17px; margin-bottom: 0; margin-top: 8px; overflow: hidden; padding: 8px 0 7px; text-align: center; text-overflow: ellipsis; white-space: nowrap;"><a href="https://www.instagram.com/p/BQpUzPaj-mD/" style="color: #c9c8cd; font-family: Arial,sans-serif; font-size: 14px; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 17px; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">A post shared by Mel Campbell (@incrediblemelk)</a> on <time datetime="2017-02-18T08:09:10+00:00" style="font-family: Arial,sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 17px;">Feb 18, 2017 at 12:09am PST</time></div></div></blockquote><script async="" defer="" src="//platform.instagram.com/en_US/embeds.js"></script><br />
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This striking display of 1930s evening wear is inspired by Max Dupain's silhouetted photos of the same period. <br />
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<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ud34BX06qVY/WKlELnjOdZI/AAAAAAAACKU/jk9ok4URRZc9IbLQvjnyE6It39y_LompwCLcB/s1600/max%2Bdupain%2Btop%2Bhat.jpeg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ud34BX06qVY/WKlELnjOdZI/AAAAAAAACKU/jk9ok4URRZc9IbLQvjnyE6It39y_LompwCLcB/s640/max%2Bdupain%2Btop%2Bhat.jpeg" width="462" /></a><br />
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Max Dupain, <i>Top Hat</i>, c1930. From the Peter and Olivia Farrell Australian Photography Collection, <a href="http://www.mopa.org/content/permanent-collection">Museum of Photographic Arts</a>, San Diego.<br />
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<blockquote class="instagram-media" data-instgrm-version="7" style="background: #fff; border-radius: 3px; border: 0; box-shadow: 0 0 1px 0 rgba(0 , 0 , 0 , 0.5) , 0 1px 10px 0 rgba(0 , 0 , 0 , 0.15); margin: 1px; max-width: 658px; padding: 0; width: 99.375%;"><div style="padding: 8px;"><div style="background: #F8F8F8; line-height: 0; margin-top: 40px; padding: 50.0% 0; text-align: center; width: 100%;"><div style="background: url(data:image/png; display: block; height: 44px; margin: 0 auto -44px; position: relative; top: -22px; width: 44px;"></div></div><div style="color: #c9c8cd; font-family: Arial,sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 17px; margin-bottom: 0; margin-top: 8px; overflow: hidden; padding: 8px 0 7px; text-align: center; text-overflow: ellipsis; white-space: nowrap;"><a href="https://www.instagram.com/p/BQpXzxxjAO4/" style="color: #c9c8cd; font-family: Arial,sans-serif; font-size: 14px; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 17px; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">A post shared by Mel Campbell (@incrediblemelk)</a> on <time datetime="2017-02-18T08:35:28+00:00" style="font-family: Arial,sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 17px;">Feb 18, 2017 at 12:35am PST</time></div></div></blockquote><script async="" defer="" src="//platform.instagram.com/en_US/embeds.js"></script><br />
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A gorgeous Chinoiserie evening shawl, although it also reminds me of traditional Polish/Slavic folk embroidery. Part of a display of 'orientalisme' on the landing of the mansion's grand staircase. There were also fireworks projected onto the wall, which of course are a Chinese invention, but also signal the celebratory occasions at which many of these gowns would have been worn.<br />
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<blockquote class="instagram-media" data-instgrm-version="7" style="background: #fff; border-radius: 3px; border: 0; box-shadow: 0 0 1px 0 rgba(0 , 0 , 0 , 0.5) , 0 1px 10px 0 rgba(0 , 0 , 0 , 0.15); margin: 1px; max-width: 658px; padding: 0; width: 99.375%;"><div style="padding: 8px;"><div style="background: #F8F8F8; line-height: 0; margin-top: 40px; padding: 50.0% 0; text-align: center; width: 100%;"><div style="background: url(data:image/png; display: block; height: 44px; margin: 0 auto -44px; position: relative; top: -22px; width: 44px;"></div></div><div style="color: #c9c8cd; font-family: Arial,sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 17px; margin-bottom: 0; margin-top: 8px; overflow: hidden; padding: 8px 0 7px; text-align: center; text-overflow: ellipsis; white-space: nowrap;"><a href="https://www.instagram.com/p/BQpXNQ-DM1d/" style="color: #c9c8cd; font-family: Arial,sans-serif; font-size: 14px; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 17px; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">A post shared by Mel Campbell (@incrediblemelk)</a> on <time datetime="2017-02-18T08:30:12+00:00" style="font-family: Arial,sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 17px;">Feb 18, 2017 at 12:30am PST</time></div></div></blockquote><script async="" defer="" src="//platform.instagram.com/en_US/embeds.js"></script><br />
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One of the star items in the exhibition is this amazing 1920s evening wrap/coat, which belonged to the same ordinary working woman as the pearl-encrusted dress. It was beaded using a tambour: a frame across which the fabric is tightly stretched and a small hook used to thread the beads through. Worked from the underside of the fabric, this technique ensures the inside of the finished garment looks as neat as the outside.<br />
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<blockquote class="instagram-media" data-instgrm-version="7" style="background: #fff; border-radius: 3px; border: 0; box-shadow: 0 0 1px 0 rgba(0 , 0 , 0 , 0.5) , 0 1px 10px 0 rgba(0 , 0 , 0 , 0.15); margin: 1px; max-width: 658px; padding: 0; width: 99.375%;"><div style="padding: 8px;"><div style="background: #F8F8F8; line-height: 0; margin-top: 40px; padding: 50.0% 0; text-align: center; width: 100%;"><div style="background: url(data:image/png; display: block; height: 44px; margin: 0 auto -44px; position: relative; top: -22px; width: 44px;"></div></div><div style="color: #c9c8cd; font-family: Arial,sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 17px; margin-bottom: 0; margin-top: 8px; overflow: hidden; padding: 8px 0 7px; text-align: center; text-overflow: ellipsis; white-space: nowrap;"><a href="https://www.instagram.com/p/BQpZSoUDZtj/" style="color: #c9c8cd; font-family: Arial,sans-serif; font-size: 14px; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 17px; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">A post shared by Mel Campbell (@incrediblemelk)</a> on <time datetime="2017-02-18T08:48:25+00:00" style="font-family: Arial,sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 17px;">Feb 18, 2017 at 12:48am PST</time></div></div></blockquote><script async="" defer="" src="//platform.instagram.com/en_US/embeds.js"></script><br />
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This screen-printed 1930s evening dress is ciré silk. Rather than the sheen coming from the weave (as in satin), the silk is wax-coated to produce volume, stiffness and a wet, shiny finish, which here is reminiscent of lacquered Japanese ware. Ciré fell out of fashion after WWII when synthetic fabrics could produce the same effect; but interestingly ciré cottons were popular from the 1950s-1970s, known as "polished cotton". The fabric's stiffness made it perfect for full-skirted 1950s cocktail frocks.<br />
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<blockquote class="instagram-media" data-instgrm-version="7" style="background: #fff; border-radius: 3px; border: 0; box-shadow: 0 0 1px 0 rgba(0 , 0 , 0 , 0.5) , 0 1px 10px 0 rgba(0 , 0 , 0 , 0.15); margin: 1px; max-width: 658px; padding: 0; width: 99.375%;"><div style="padding: 8px;"><div style="background: #F8F8F8; line-height: 0; margin-top: 40px; padding: 37.5% 0; text-align: center; width: 100%;"><div style="background: url(data:image/png; display: block; height: 44px; margin: 0 auto -44px; position: relative; top: -22px; width: 44px;"></div></div><div style="color: #c9c8cd; font-family: Arial,sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 17px; margin-bottom: 0; margin-top: 8px; overflow: hidden; padding: 8px 0 7px; text-align: center; text-overflow: ellipsis; white-space: nowrap;"><a href="https://www.instagram.com/p/BQpbPcbDo8m/" style="color: #c9c8cd; font-family: Arial,sans-serif; font-size: 14px; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 17px; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">A post shared by Mel Campbell (@incrediblemelk)</a> on <time datetime="2017-02-18T09:05:27+00:00" style="font-family: Arial,sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 17px;">Feb 18, 2017 at 1:05am PST</time></div></div></blockquote><script async="" defer="" src="//platform.instagram.com/en_US/embeds.js"></script><br />
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Upstairs was a lovely display of 1930s floral evening gowns. I'm often struck by how timeless these 1930s screen-printed floral fabrics are. I own several dresses whose prints are not too dissimilar – and I have lots of clothing in 'semi-synthetic' fabrics. These gowns are rayon, which was marketed as modern, easy-care 'art silk'. Today I own a lot of viscose clothing, and my friend Paulina has a <a href="https://shakuhachi.net/collections/shop-all/products/isabelle-wrap-dress-burgundy">glamorous Shakuhachi evening frock</a> that looks and feels like silk but is made of Tencel. Rayon is made from plant cellulose; Tencel (a brand name for lyocell) is from wood pulp and viscose is made from wood pulp or cotton lint.<br />
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<blockquote class="instagram-media" data-instgrm-version="7" style="background: #fff; border-radius: 3px; border: 0; box-shadow: 0 0 1px 0 rgba(0 , 0 , 0 , 0.5) , 0 1px 10px 0 rgba(0 , 0 , 0 , 0.15); margin: 1px; max-width: 658px; padding: 0; width: 99.375%;"><div style="padding: 8px;"><div style="background: #F8F8F8; line-height: 0; margin-top: 40px; padding: 50.0% 0; text-align: center; width: 100%;"><div style="background: url(data:image/png; display: block; height: 44px; margin: 0 auto -44px; position: relative; top: -22px; width: 44px;"></div></div><div style="color: #c9c8cd; font-family: Arial,sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 17px; margin-bottom: 0; margin-top: 8px; overflow: hidden; padding: 8px 0 7px; text-align: center; text-overflow: ellipsis; white-space: nowrap;"><a href="https://www.instagram.com/p/BQpfg4RDsW8/" style="color: #c9c8cd; font-family: Arial,sans-serif; font-size: 14px; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 17px; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">A post shared by Mel Campbell (@incrediblemelk)</a> on <time datetime="2017-02-18T09:42:47+00:00" style="font-family: Arial,sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 17px;">Feb 18, 2017 at 1:42am PST</time></div></div></blockquote><script async="" defer="" src="//platform.instagram.com/en_US/embeds.js"></script><br />
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The final room of the exhibition was set up as a 'workroom', displaying gowns from the Trust's collection that were unfinished or substantially altered. There was also a video explaining how the conservators had worked to restore the beading, and a tambour set up so you could give it a try.<br />
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This 1940 self-spotted evening frock is a 'transitional' gown – it was displayed alongside a 1919 gown that showed the transition from the corseted empire and princess lines of the 1910s to the boyish tabard. The later gown shows the next transition from the sylph-like bodycon gowns of the 1930s to the weirdly modest and structured 1940s gowns, whose emphasis shifted to the shoulders and hips. I hate 1940s evening wear; those big shoulders in dowdy black crepe with high necklines. I'm super glad fashion has never compelled me to wear this stuff.<br />
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<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-7krUTstvAFQ/WKlnLR1-d-I/AAAAAAAACK4/0JIIYBnbOfIY7dDcYAnLwYneZAhmHwejgCLcB/s1600/barbara%2Bstanwyck%2Bhates%2Bsequins.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-7krUTstvAFQ/WKlnLR1-d-I/AAAAAAAACK4/0JIIYBnbOfIY7dDcYAnLwYneZAhmHwejgCLcB/s640/barbara%2Bstanwyck%2Bhates%2Bsequins.jpg" width="427" /></a><br />
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Barbara Stanwyck, hating sequins, 1941.<br />
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Anyway. You can't see it in this pic, but this gown has a ruched 'polonaise' bustle, which is a retro look. It was first given to bunchy gathered overdresses in the 'Polish' style in the 1770s, but the polonaise made a comeback a century later as part of the early 1870s <a href="https://twonerdyhistorygirls.blogspot.com.au/2015/09/dressing-like-dolly-varden-c1870.html">Dolly Varden</a> fad.<br />
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-NJsdPAxAF1o/WKk4QvhgGnI/AAAAAAAACJ4/6O4rKXvCaow8jAFmEHtWh1j34G_jS2AowCLcB/s1600/robe%2Ba%2Bla%2Bpolonaise.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-NJsdPAxAF1o/WKk4QvhgGnI/AAAAAAAACJ4/6O4rKXvCaow8jAFmEHtWh1j34G_jS2AowCLcB/s640/robe%2Ba%2Bla%2Bpolonaise.jpg" width="510" /></a><br />
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This polonaise-style dress is American, from 1780-85, from the collection of the <a href="http://www.metmuseum.org/art/collection/search/83887">New York Metropolitan Museum of Art</a>.<br />
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However, the 1940s bustle is more like a peplum: extra decorative drapery in the back, shifting the dress's volume to the rear.<br />
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-sxpZIZz728k/WKk6Tt27EzI/AAAAAAAACKE/V_Q9SoPA4Z0mG3m3fsUK8jtCOAvFAnpVwCLcB/s1600/1940s%2Bevening%2Bdress.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-sxpZIZz728k/WKk6Tt27EzI/AAAAAAAACKE/V_Q9SoPA4Z0mG3m3fsUK8jtCOAvFAnpVwCLcB/s640/1940s%2Bevening%2Bdress.jpg" width="446" /></a><br />
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This is a McCall's dressmaking pattern from the period.<br />
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Night Life<i> is at Barwon Park Mansion until 26 March 2017, open Wednesday to Sunday from 11am to 4pm.</i><br />
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Melhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08987383983530564029noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10736511.post-17210814317019037832016-03-08T18:18:00.000+11:002016-03-08T18:28:34.314+11:00A closer look at fash-speakFashion writing is popularly understood to be a vapid genre. Most people see it as remote from their daily concerns, referring instead to a fantasy world of runway collections and red carpets. And it's written in a gormless, burbling dialect that I will call ‘fash-speak’.<br />
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‘Fashion’, by the way, is not a synonym for ‘clothes’. It's an industrial cycle of design, media and retail, which constantly renews itself to drive demand for new garments. Fashion is a dynamic, wealthy business sector that engages with politics, ethics and social ideologies, and writing about this is not stupid. To intelligent, discerning people, fashion offers plenty of food for thought – and some fashion writers are impressively knowledgeable and analytical.<br />
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However, the majority of fashion writing – from glossy magazines to weekend newspapers and the increasingly crowded blogosphere – is explicitly framed as ‘lifestyle’. That is, it’s all about the role clothing plays in an individual’s consumerist fantasies. And because ‘lifestyle’ is still consumed as part of a broad media diet, readers who aren't interested in fashion are likely to encounter fash-speak and find it meaningless.<br />
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In the style of <i>Star Trek</i>'s <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MULMbqQ9LJ8" target="_blank">Leonard 'Bones' McCoy</a>, let me point out that I'm a cultural critic, not a fashion writer. I don't go to runway shows and industry launches, or follow designers and trends. I've gone to fashion events before and felt completely unwelcome. To be frank, sometimes I see fashion journalists at media screenings of fashion-adjacent films (most recently, <i>The Dressmaker</i>) and experience a mean yearning to make them feel as unwelcome on <i>my</i> turf as I feel on theirs. So it would be easy for me to massage my professional self-respect by hanging shit on fash-speak.<br />
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But inevitably I want to defend fash-speak as a legitimate linguistic practice, and to explore what it might <i>do</i>. Like all industry jargon, it's a set of <a href="http://newsstore.fairfax.com.au/apps/viewDocument.ac;jsessionid=D665413068C1D452007A4B16107922AB?sy=afr&pb=all_ffx&dt=selectRange&dr=1month&so=relevance&sf=text&sf=headline&rc=10&rm=200&sp=brs&cls=1601&clsPage=1&docID=AGE110122VAMSF22DS85" target="_blank">shibboleths</a> that reflects shared concerns and polices insiders and outsiders. Industry aspirants learn to use it, because mastering fash-speak establishes professional authority and credibility.<br />
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Fashion writers have been playing with language for ages; Diana Vreeland was <a href="http://intothegloss.com/2012/09/50-shades-of-diana-vreeland-best-quotes/" target="_blank">an especially inventive wordsmith</a>. Stephen Fried coined the term <b>fashionista</b> in his <a href="http://www.theatlantic.com/entertainment/archive/2013/04/i-apologize-for-inventing-the-word-fashionista-20-years-ago/275048/" target="_blank">1993 biography of model Gia Carangi</a>, as an umbrella term for all the industry people in her orbit. It was a playful riff on the Nicaraguan <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sandinista_National_Liberation_Front" target="_blank">Sandinistas</a>, who were prominent in the media at the height of Carangi's career in the late 1970s and early 1980s. 'Fashionista' was irresistible because it connoted both exoticism and political militancy. It's since birthed <b>glamazon</b> and <b>frock star</b>.<br />
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But while Fried now regrets opening Pandora's portmanteau, fashion blogging has supercharged fash-speak. A brand-building exercise for individual bloggers is to create terms that go on to be adopted more widely. Self-declared Man Repeller <a href="http://www.manrepeller.com/2011/07/start-your-own-arm-party.html" target="_blank">Leandra Medine</a> is an <a href="http://www.manrepeller.com/dickshunary" target="_blank">avid neologist</a>, but she's best known for inventing the <b>arm party</b>: a term for a collection of watches, bracelets and bangles worn all at once.<br />
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Fash-speak can operate in two registers. When it's talking down, it's euphemistic and twee, aiming to generate solidarity with the reader. Hair is a <b>mane</b> or <b>tresses</b>; a mouth is a <b>pout</b>; eyes are <b>peepers</b>; fingernails are <b>talons</b>; toes are <b>tootsies</b>. When it's talking <i>up</i>, it's constructing an air of mystique and exclusivity around industry practices. But it does this in a vague, nebulous way that fudges the distinctions between different <b>price points</b> and market positions.<br />
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The word <b>couture</b> just means sewing; but <b>haute couture</b> is a trade appellation granted by the Parisian Chambre Syndicale (now the Fédération française de la couture) that entitles a designer to show at Paris Fashion Week. Nonetheless, fash-speak uses <b>haute</b>, <b>couture</b> and <b>high fashion</b> as adjectives that all mean 'labels that show at fashion weeks'. Other brands are described variously as <b>luxe</b>, <b>boutique</b>, <b>cult</b> and <b>niche</b> – all of which imply that they are still expensive and exclusive, but have a small, discerning market. <b>Bespoke</b>, strictly speaking, is clothing tailored to one person's specific measurements; yet fash-speak uses it <a href="http://www.forbes.com/sites/quora/2013/01/16/what-is-the-difference-between-made-to-measure-and-bespoke/" target="_blank">much more loosely</a> to connote things that are hand-made and customised.<br />
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Much of fash-speak reflects the palimpsestic nature of fashion’s trend cycle. The treadmill of seasonal collections moves so fast that writers are flat out just describing how outfits look on models. It's impressionistic rather than contextual, aiming to capture evanescent moments, moods and gestures.<br />
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Some words and phrases seem to be deployed primarily for literary effect. <b>Va-va-voom</b>, originally a 1950s term for the sound of a car engine revving, now connotes a buxom, old-fashioned kind of sex appeal. Outfits that are presumably not sentient are nonetheless <b>whimsical</b> and <b>flirty</b>; they're also <b>floaty</b> and <b>flippy</b> and <b>filmy</b> and <b>froufrou</b>. And mute objects have something metaphorical to say: they become <b>statement pieces</b>.<br />
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Because of the pace of the trend cycle, fash-speak valorises an ability to anticipate and lead trends rather than to follow or lag behind. We hear of a <b>fashion-forward</b> or <b>directional</b> person or garment. Things are <b>on-trend</b>, or even <b>bang on trend</b>. They're <b>edgy</b>, <b>cutting-edge</b> or even <b>bleeding-edge</b>. X is the new Y. However, you'll often be allowed a <b>sneak peak</b> (always misspelled) at what's coming up next.<br />
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Other elements of fash-speak refuse to view fashion as an industrial process of producing and marketing clothing, but instead see it as a rarefied aesthetic practice. I don't think it's accidental that what Alix Rule and David Levine have dubbed <a href="https://www.canopycanopycanopy.com/contents/international_art_english" target="_blank">International Art English</a> is an industry jargon almost as universally maligned.<br />
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When fash-speak is forced to consider the everyday practicalities of wearing clothes, it sounds almost grudging. It assures you that sober yet very costly garments constitute <b>investment dressing</b>, and that sometimes a garment must <b>take you from day to night</b>. Perhaps the most arch word in fash-speak's vocabulary is <b>wearable</b>, which faintly damns a garment as bland and unimaginative, but also contains a note of admiration that a designer has been so bold as to invite non-fashionistas to wear their garments.<br />
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By contrast, fash-speak is at its most free-wheeling and grammatically elastic when it ponders aesthetic choices. One of fash-speak's most commonly ridiculed quirks is the Fashion Singular. This is the tendency to depluralise things that come in pairs: <b>a pant,</b> <b>a lip</b>, <b>an eye</b>, <b>a shoe</b>. Could this refer to the fashion writer's <i>own</i> eye, which <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HP3wsNdANhM" target="_blank">has to travel</a> so quickly that paired objects merge conceptually into one? The fashion writer's gaze displaces itself onto the things gazed upon, which synecdochically become <b>looks</b>. And because this gaze has a velocity and a direction, fash-speak doesn't have contemplative colour 'schemes'; it has <b>colourways</b>.<br />
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Obviously you would never wear only <i>one</i> shoe, or make up only <i>one</i> smoky eye; but the Fashion Singular refers not to the actual object or body part, but more to the act of making a <i>single</i> aesthetic choice, or to the effect of any <i>one</i> element in a successful look. You can make the Fashion Singular buddy up by <b>teaming X with Y</b>. But if you want one element to quickly draw the eye, you <b>make it pop</b>. Colourful items in drab contexts so reliably do this that they become nouns: <b>a pop of colour</b>.<br />
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The fashion writer's knowing, expert gaze is also implied in the fash-speak terms for choosing clothes – the prepositionless <b>to shop</b> (never 'to shop <i>for</i>' or 'to shop <i>at</i>'), or the connoisseurship implied by <b>to source</b> (that is, to track down items to the place where they originate). Even the fashion editor's job of choosing garments for an editorial is displaced onto the designer, whose runway collections are <b>an edit</b> – especially <b>a tight edit</b>.<br />
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Because the fashion world deals in exorbitantly priced luxury goods, it encourages mercilessly commercial writing that hypes the merch. In grammatical terms, this is the Fashion Imperative. Fash-speak deals heavily in hyperbole: journalists announce their <b>current obsessions</b>, what's <b>hot and not</b>, <b>dos and don'ts</b>, the <b>essential</b> clothes they're <b>really feeling</b>, which <b>you need right now</b>, the <b>It bags</b> and other <b>must-haves </b>they're currently <b>all about.</b> This garment <b>is everything</b>. It's <b>killer</b>. <b>I die</b>.<br />
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Here, it's important to acknowledge that a lot of fash-speak is appropriated from the language of people of colour – especially queer people of colour – and that this political redolence is neutralised in its use within mainstream (white) fashion journalism. In fash-speak, as in US hip-hop, people look <b>fresh to death</b> in what they're <b>rocking</b> – their <b>kicks</b> are totally <b>on point</b>, <b>on lock; their brow game is</b> <b><a href="http://www.bustle.com/articles/55940-what-does-on-fleek-mean-a-brief-timeline-of-the-phrase-that-no-one-really-understands" target="_blank">on fleek</a></b>.<br />
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The underground <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ball_culture" target="_blank">queer ballroom scene</a> is deeply entwined with fashion. Voguing is named after <i>Vogue</i> magazine; its moves are inspired by the poses of models and the performance space of the runway. Ballroom collectives are also called 'houses' – like fashion labels – and many have even been named after fashion houses. Competitors <b>walk for</b> their house, much as fash-speak refers to models appearing in a given designer's show.<br />
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The ballroom use of language to commentate on performance emerges in fash-speak when someone is <b><i>slaying</i> it</b>, <b><i>worked</i> it</b>,<b> <i>did</i> that </b>or<b> <i>went</i> there. <a href="http://www.bustle.com/articles/91565-where-did-yas-queen-come-from-and-why-is-it-taking-over-pop-culture" target="_blank">Yaaaaas queen!</a></b> And fash-speak<b> </b>expresses enthusiasm by declaring the writer is<b> living for</b> or <b>is <i>here</i> for</b> expensive designer merchandise.<br />
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Popularised by designer Christian Siriano during his time as a <i>Project Runway</i> contestant in 2007, the term <b>fierce</b> is older; it appears in drag artist RuPaul's 1992 single <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Nqs6FzpsVTA" target="_blank">'Supermodel (You Better Work)'</a>. To call black women 'fierce' is to <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Reappropriation" target="_blank">reappropriate</a> racist myths that they were savage and primitive, less feminine and deserving of less respect than white women. 'Fierce' became a term of pride in and admiration for a racialised (trans)femininity.<br />
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But fash-speak's attachment to 'fierce' has had the unfortunate effect of <a href="http://www.telegraph.co.uk/women/womens-life/11067473/Angry-black-women-problem-Why-the-hell-do-TV-producers-think-inside-every-white-woman-is-a-fierce-black-diva.html" target="_blank">dehumanising black women</a>, while granting white women access to feelings of playful power.<br />
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The terrible irony is that fash-speak is not a very good idiom for citing or paying homage to aesthetic influences. It will freely admit that something is <b>iconic </b>and that certain people are <b>style icons</b>, and will even dabble in spiritualism to suggest that a garment or person is <b>channelling</b> someone or something else. But its ideas of <b>classic</b>, <b>vintage</b> and <b>retro</b> are vague, unmoored from specific periods in fashion history, and relying much more on the reader's emotional stake in the past.<br />
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Like any other industry jargon, fash-speak only becomes meaningful in the encounter between fashion writer and fashion-savvy reader. It's a connotative rather than a denotative argot – surprisingly poetic in its use of allusion and onomatopoeia, and intended to create moods – of urgency, of pleasure, of possibility – as much as to actually describe things. But fash-speak's innate elitism means it's troubling that it's so happily adopted the language that disempowered people use to assert their own dignity and sense of style.Melhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08987383983530564029noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10736511.post-10142798948513012322015-09-26T18:05:00.001+10:002015-09-28T11:55:11.958+10:00Does fancy dress have to be sexy?It's such a cliché that there are regular fancy dress costumes, and then there are 'sexy' ones for women, which focus on revealing cleavage, midriff, silhouette and legs at the complete expense of fidelity to the idea of the costume.<br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/pKuF3fV8_yc" width="560"></iframe><br />
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In <i>Out of Shape</i>, I argue that the vocabulary of sexiness we draw on when we dress up for costume parties comes from what I call 'exploitation culture':<br />
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So-called because it exploits viewers’ crudest impulses, this genre discards such piffling irrelevancies as plot and character; instead, it visually represents ‘sexiness’ to excite its (male, heterosexual) audiences. </blockquote>
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Flimsy, form-fitting, and tantalisingly unbuttoned and unzipped, women’s exploitation costumes represent the ordinary world viewed through a fog of lust. ‘Sexy teachers’ and ‘sexy librarians’ doff their glasses, unbutton their prim cardigans and shake out their severe updos. ‘Sexy policewomen’ wear skin-tight military-style shirts, tiny hotpants, and stiletto heels that would be very impractical for chasing criminals. ‘Sexy waitresses’ and ‘sexy flight attendants’ promise personalised ‘service’, while ‘French maids’ know what ‘dirty’ means. (<i>Out of Shape</i>, p. 166)</blockquote>
I have been thinking about fancy dress because my friend Andy's birthday is coming up tonight, and for his party we have to dress as something beginning with the letter A.<br />
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My first instinct was like Cady's in <i>Mean Girls</i>: to come as something nerdy and enthusiastic, not something sexy. Asparagus would be funny – I'd wear a green T-shirt and tights and make myself a pointy bonnet. Or an armadillo: I would wear a brown T-shirt and tights and wear a laundry basket as a backpack. I discounted an apple because it would be too demanding, structurally.</div>
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But Anthony, my co-author on our romantic comedy novel-in-progress <i>The Hot Guy</i>, just shook his head when I told him these ideas. He said that the entire purpose of costume parties was to dress in sexy costumes in order to get laid.<br />
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As a compromise, I decided I would dress as the Greek goddess Athena. Of all the Greek goddesses whose names begin with A, I identify with her most: she represents wisdom, courage, inspiration, learning, the arts, and war strategy (one of her epithets is Promachos, 'she who leads from the front'). As Athena Parthenos ('Virgin Athena'), she also isn't married and doesn't have sex, so… there's that too.<br />
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She's often depicted wearing a war helmet, and holding a spear and a shield in the centre of which is <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gorgoneion" target="_blank">Medusa's head</a> (which Athena was gifted by Perseus). She is also often seen with a pet snake, Erichthonius, and a pet owl (those animals are sacred to her).<br />
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I only settled on this costume on Thursday night, and didn't have time to find or make myself a Spartan-style helmet, or to make myself some weaponry out of materials to hand (garbage bin lids, broomsticks, cardboard, gold paint). However, I have researched ancient Greek clothing and have made myself a <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chiton_(costume)" target="_blank">Doric chiton</a> out of a curtain I got in an op-shop for $5, plus a flannel <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Himation" target="_blank">himation</a>, which I already had as part of a previous Virgin Mary costume (see below). I also bought some gold sandals, and five metres of gold ribbon to wear as a girdle, and I'm going to pin a gold necklace in my hair as a diadem. And I was pleased to remember that I own a pair of gold earrings in the shape of wings.<br />
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Here's what Athena looks like, in a marble Greek copy signed “Antiokhos”, a first-century BC variant of the famous sculptor Phidias’s fifth-century Athena Promachos that stood on the Acropolis. (Her empty left hand is meant to hold a spear.) She's wearing a <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Peplos" target="_blank">peplos</a>, under an armoured breastplate bearing Medusa's head.<br />
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<img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-hvRGMEYwC5o/VgZIDfCb0eI/AAAAAAAAB6g/fJKIUrBE2Ug/s400/320px-Athena_Parthenos_Altemps_Inv8622.jpg" /><br />
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But then here's some of what came up when I Googled "Greek goddess costume":<br />
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<img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-RRcruadHnmQ/VgZGc6_GC_I/AAAAAAAAB6A/htS0yH4matE/s400/greek%2Bgoddess%2Bhermes.jpg" /> <img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-lJpcx6886d8/VgZGde9MRHI/AAAAAAAAB6I/6r0rBN_WTm4/s400/greek%2Bgoddess%2Bsexy.jpg" /><br />
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<img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-5JrmfHlBA-0/VgZGeGs6GJI/AAAAAAAAB6U/NlgXL4BvmYA/s400/greek%2Bgoddess%2Bsuper%2Bslutty.jpg" /> <img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-71Iw8DBA_S4/VgZGc2Aj_FI/AAAAAAAAB58/2zQxbgUAJAM/s400/greek%2Bgoddess%2Bincredibly%2Bslutty.jpg" /><br />
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Yawn. This tendentious sexualisation of fancy dress isn't new, however. Fashion historian Amber Butchart <a href="http://amberbutchart.com/2012/10/26/in-the-spotlight-an-unofficial-history-of-fancy-dress/" target="_blank">argues that fancy dress began</a> with the Venetian carnival masquerade tradition. <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Carnival" target="_blank">Carnival</a>, a medieval festival immediately before Lent, was a time when dominant social and moral standards were <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Carnivalesque" target="_blank">subverted and mocked</a>, and people could mingle freely and behave eccentrically without being punished.<br />
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In my research for <i>Out of Shape</i>, I learned about the elaborate historical fancy-dress society balls in late-19th-century Canada:<br />
<blockquote>
Wearing old-fashioned clothes temporarily freed the members of high society from prevailing social mores – women could wear their hair down and don revealing dresses, while men flaunted their legs in tights. After an 1898 ‘historical ball’ that had featured many eighteenth-century-esque outfits, the <i>Montreal Star</i> wistfully reported that ‘those beautiful old-fashioned pink and white gowns, and great skirts of rich brocaded silk that fell in such heavy clear folds, made one wonder if the nineteenth century had not lost the art of dressing.’ (<i>Out of Shape</i>, p. 259)</blockquote>
There's so much to say about the history of costume parties and their use in either avant-garde or reactionary aesthetics and politics. There are 'exotica' trends that veer from Egyptian and Middle Eastern motifs to straight-up blackface. There's the whole 'bad taste' trend, which links back to carnival's burlesque of social conventions. And there are attempts to use costume to playfully transcend the usual shapes and functions of the human body – dressing up as abstract objects or ideas – which we can see in the Surrealist and <a href="http://curbed.com/archives/2014/10/31/bauhaus-costumes.php" target="_blank">Bauhaus</a> costume parties.<br />
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Salvador Dali dressed up as the <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lindbergh_kidnapping" target="_blank">kidnapped Lindbergh baby</a> at 1934 New York society party, and was forced to apologise publicly, only for his Surrealist mates to give him a dressing-down for the apology. (I once dressed as <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Murder_of_JonBen%C3%A9t_Ramsey" target="_blank">JonBenet Ramsey</a> for Halloween.)<br />
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The Pre-Raphaelites and their intellectual circle popularised vaguely medievalist 'artistic dress', which then morphed into 'aesthetic dress', and became a mainstay of Liberty of London, which from 1884 maintained its own Artistic and Historic Costume Studio, where you could buy dresses that combined late-19th-century silhouettes with design elements from medieval, Renaissance, Jacobean, 18th-century and Regency fashions. (In 1909 it was renamed "Picturesque and Fancy Dress".) Interestingly for me, I read that from 1887 Liberty made a Grecian gown called 'Athene', in "Arabian cotton with silk Himation".<br />
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In the 1960s and 1970s, these historical dress-up fantasies found their retail equivalents in <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Biba" target="_blank">Biba</a>'s visions of Golden Age Hollywood and <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Laura_Ashley" target="_blank">Laura Ashley</a>'s pastoral nostalgia.<br />
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Because fancy dress parties are often private events rather than public displays, they can also be insular, reinforcing membership in elite in-groups. For instance, the 'Bright Young Things' of 1920s and 1930s England famously favoured <a href="http://artblart.com/tag/cecil-beaton-in-his-first-costume-of-the-night/" target="_blank">elaborate costume parties</a>.<br />
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Dressing as Athena Parthenos basically reveals that I have given up on the idea of being sexually attractive. But I do remember in the past putting a lot of effort into looking as 'sexy' as I could at costume parties, and yet not attracting any flirtatious attention whatsoever. So now I think, "why bother?"<br />
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Here are a few pics of me in fancy dress, which I ripped off Facebook. </div>
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<img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9izwGMIDLqs/VgT6VI521DI/AAAAAAAAB4s/lD46q2IcCTo/s400/mel%2B30th%2Btoga%2Bparty.jpg" /><br />
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I always wanted to go to a toga party, so I made my 30th birthday a toga party. You can see that the Doric chiton always slips off the shoulders if you don't watch yourself. I was trying to be sexy at this event by not wearing a bra. In hindsight, I should probably have worn a bra.<br />
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<img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-VIWIP7jd2LQ/VgT6U5HG9YI/AAAAAAAAB4o/AzN2sOkUbPY/s400/mel%2Bas%2Bcorey%2Bworthington.jpg" /><br />
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I can't even remember what the theme of this party was (it could have just been 'party' – but I (left) went as Corey Worthington.<br />
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<img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Ug9Biii2h2U/VgT8R3_OFPI/AAAAAAAAB5s/hAO52AOPyTM/s320/corey%2Bworthington.jpg" width="236" /><br />
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Best party ever; that's what everyone's been sayin'. To be honest though, while I was pretty happy with the humour value of my costume, I felt so gross and unfeminine all night with my jeans pulled down below my underwear. For me, dressing butch is not sexy. For someone who is butch or is into butch women, it might be.<br />
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<img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-sNm4Q9qiUJg/VgT6VAefAKI/AAAAAAAAB4w/ztb3QbKH2Po/s400/mel%2Bas%2Bcyndi%2Blauper%2Bwith%2Bstuart.jpg" /><br />
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Here I am (left) dressed as Cyndi Lauper earlier this year. In the pic (taken at the <i>Filmme Fatales</i> launch I went to before the party), I am looking really pissed off but I was actually deliberately doing this to try to approximate Lauper's squint.<br />
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The theme was New Wave, and basically Lauper was the only person I could think of where I could use my hair, and had all the components of my outfit already. I was inspired by <a href="https://www.pinterest.com/pin/69946600438274873/">her look at the start of the 'Girls Just Wanna Have Fun' video</a>. At the bus stop on the way to the <i>Filmme Fatales</i> event, two teen girls asked if they could take a selfie with me. I agreed, unsure if they thought I looked cool or if they wanted to mock me. I choose to believe it's the latter.<br />
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<img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-LobKGGdFhNU/VgT6WAaOfSI/AAAAAAAAB5A/AhFNpR9Gj-s/s400/mel%2Bcarrie.jpg" /><br />
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This is me (centre) in 2006 doing the 'Thriller' dance at an <i>Is Not Magazine</i> Halloween party, dressed as Carrie from the film <i>Carrie</i>. The paint I drenched myself in looked red in the bottle, but as you can see, it was really hot pink. I am covered in fabulous hot-pink pig's blood.<br />
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<img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-kNTUGVO7Sg8/VgT7iFVljZI/AAAAAAAAB5c/kWuBWxKz84g/s400/mel%2Bqueen%2Bof%2Bdiamonds.jpg" /><br />
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Here I am in 2005, dressed as the minor TV <i>Batman</i> villain <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Marsha,_Queen_of_Diamonds" target="_blank">Marsha, Queen of Diamonds</a> for a superhero-themed ball. I wanted to wear something 'hot' to impress a guy I was crushing on at the time; but he didn't even go to the ball, and nobody else was interested in me.<br />
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<img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-GpIZgxh0y5k/VgT7osOO5AI/AAAAAAAAB5k/sqDw4ChPqmc/s400/mel%2Byacht%2Brock.jpg" /><br />
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Here I am going to a Yacht Rock-themed party in a hipster bar. Again, I was trying to impress a guy I was into at the time, but basically nobody else dressed up, so I looked like a total idiot.<br />
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<img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-3ZMAGepDe6Y/VgT6WQ5XxVI/AAAAAAAAB5M/GMp1CHA6dsU/s400/mel%2Bdressed%2Bas%2Bvirgin%2Bmary.jpg" /><br />
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Bless you, my child: here I am at my 33rd birthday (my 'Jesus year') dressed as the Virgin Mary. I had an LED torch hidden in my bra that made my Sacred Heart glow. This is not sexy at all, but it is my favourite fancy-dress costume of all time. I think I look amazing. Mother of Christ? That'd be nice.Melhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08987383983530564029noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10736511.post-49777376609158946622015-07-06T21:38:00.001+10:002015-07-06T21:42:02.430+10:00Lorna Jane has a fit model problemBoutique activewear brand Lorna Jane is currently enduring a severe tutting from the online media after it posted a job advertisement for a dual role at its HQ: as a receptionist and a fit model.<br />
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<img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-G_6DY8je2Hw/VZppWqI08RI/AAAAAAAAB3I/Br0wtpxrWR8/s1600/lorna%2Bjane%2Bad%2Bcrop.jpg" /><br />
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My initial response was to <a href="https://twitter.com/incrediblemelk/status/617925960139018241">tweet</a>: "Fit model is a legit job that needs specific body dimensions. But Lorna Jane shouldn't combine it with another job. Obviously anyone can do a receptionist job; but not everyone can be a fit model. Your measurements need to embody the brand's sizing."<br />
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Fit modelling isn't 'fitness modelling' – which is a genre of modelling in which the models look athletic and have very defined muscles and very little body fat. Rather, fit models work in the back end of the industry. Unlike regular models, who get booked by matching a designer, art director or stylist’s desired ‘look’, fit models stay employed by winning another kind of genetic lottery – possessing a body whose proportions match the vital statistics of a manufacturer’s target customer.<br />
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When I was writing <i>Out of Shape</i>, I did a fair bit of research into fit modelling that didn't make it into the final book. There really isn't very much discussion of this fascinating subset of the modelling industry – just as we prefer to concentrate on the glamorous world of fashion weeks and couture rather than the nuts-and-bolts business of garment production.<br />
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At many clothing manufacturers, employees step in as fit models when required, in addition to their regular jobs. And at some fashion labels – including, famously, <a href="http://www.smh.com.au/lifestyle/leona-edmiston-dress-ups-20140809-3d6bb.html" target="_blank">Leona Edmiston</a> – the designer uses himself or herself as the fit model. (I wish I could've got one local designer to go on record with his yarn that, having used himself as his fit model, his sizing began to get smaller when he lost weight – something he only realised when a longtime customer pointed it out.)<br />
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Kathleen Fasanella – who to me is <i>the</i> authoritative resource on the technical aspects of fashion – had a great <a href="http://www.fashion-incubator.com/archive/what-is-a-fit-model/" target="_blank">two</a>-<a href="http://www.fashion-incubator.com/archive/how-to-get-a-job-being-a-fit-model/" target="_blank">part</a> blog series about fit modelling. Natasha Wagner has fitted for jeans brands ranging from Gap and Old Navy to Levi's, 7 For All Mankind and Proenza Schouler, leading <i>Vogue</i> to dub her "<a href="http://www.vogue.com/13276750/best-jeans-butt-model-natasha-wagner/" target="_blank">the model whose bottom is shaping a nation</a>". And here are some <a href="http://www.xojane.com/fashion/fit-modeling" target="_blank">fun first-person accounts</a> by <a href="http://www.racked.com/2014/10/23/7572057/fit-model-salary-lifestyle">Sable Yong</a>, who at 5'2" works as a fit model for petites.<br />
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When I interviewed Clea Garrick of Australian fashion label <a href="http://www.limedrop.com.au/" target="_blank">Limedrop</a>, she told me she tests her sample garments on several fit models who wear a size 8 differently – taller or shorter, and with varying body proportions – so she can get a sense for how each garment will look on different body shapes, not just sizes.<br />
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“We still do make garments that are fluid and flowing, so our sizing is not as strict on some pieces as they appear in measurements,” she added. “We aim to make fashion that looks great on real people, not just models.”<br />
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Lorna Jane, on the other hand, needs a fit model more than many fashion labels because all its products are form-fitting and stretchy. The way tight clothes compress the body can't properly be predicted from using industrial fit mannequins, which is why it's so important to use a live model who can report how the tightness <i>feels</i>.<br />
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When I looked at the the websites of specialist fit modelling agencies, I was struck by their galleries of pretty girls, photographed at full length and labelled with specs of height and body measurements. The effect is slightly unnerving – like a flipbook of mugshots or mail-order brides. They all hover around a standard Australian size 8-10, and all have a similar svelte, leggy look.<br />
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Yet it’s heartening and strangely touching to see how even these girls, whose job it is to be living dress forms, represent the shape variations of the human body, their proportions all slightly different. And this is important! A fit model isn't always a 'house model' – like Clea, some brands bring in several differently shaped women to test the tolerance of the size being fitted.<br />
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However, fit models are inextricable from the practice of targeted sizing. As Christina Cato commented at Fasanella's site <i><a href="http://www.fashion-incubator.com/archive/a_perfect_fit_model/" target="_blank">Fashion-Incubator</a></i>:<br />
<blockquote>I’ve worked with fit models at a very well known company. In the time that I worked for them we went through 4 different fit models. We were also working on an identity crisis with understanding our customer. Once it was determined who she was the fit model was replaced with someone that would better fit that ideal. It is not a general ideal or an average. It is specific to the woman that buys this line of clothing. Through constant customer feedback the fit is refined and if needed the fit model is changed.<br />
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The clothes certainly don’t fit everyone (I couldn’t wear them), but the customers that can wear them are extremely loyal. The fit is the “signature” of the industry. I think it’s very clever to keep that a secret and to keep it unique. It ensures that the loyal customers remain loyal.</blockquote>Lorna Jane, however, has the same image problem as its fellow 'fashion sportswear' label <a href="http://www.nydailynews.com/life-style/fashion/lululemon-wrong-article-1.1543225" target="_blank">Lululemon</a>. In claiming to champion health and fitness, yet targeting a particularly small, thin customer, Lorna Jane has been accused of <a href="http://www.essentialbaby.com.au/forums/index.php?/topic/1148338-about-lorna-jane/" target="_blank">excluding potential customers</a> who also aspire to be healthy, sexy and stylish, but who fall outside its target size range.<br />
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So it seems extremely tone-deaf of Lorna Jane to advertise the fit model job – which legitimately has very specific requirements – alongside the receptionist job, which can, and indeed legally must, be offered to applicants of any age, gender, ability, and body shape and size. A Lorna Jane spokesperson told <i><a href="https://www.crikey.com.au/2015/07/06/lorna-jane-puts-the-call-out-for-a-receptionistmodel/" target="_blank">Crikey</a></i>:<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">As a fit model is only required in a part time capacity, Lorna Jane felt it appropriate to combine this position with the part time receptionist role which is also currently vacant. … There are a number of positions within our business that combine roles to accommodate the needs and interests of our staff.</blockquote>For me, this media outrage stems from the same "<a href="https://www.facebook.com/incrediblemelk/posts/636311979804189" target="_blank">what about me?</a>" attitudes that I see again and again in media discussions about clothing size. I really hoped that <i>Out of Shape</i> would help dispel them; but they keep being repeated in <a href="http://www.theaustralian.com.au/news/why-dont-designers-make-clothes-in-my-size/story-e6frg6n6-1227299199772" target="_blank">article</a> after <a href="http://www.smh.com.au/national/shoppers-in-a-twist-over-inconsistent-clothing-sizes-20141129-11ua1x.html" target="_blank">article</a>. And as I noted in 2013 <a href="http://footpathzeitgeist.blogspot.com.au/2013/05/abercrombie-and-fit.html" target="_blank">about Abercrombie and Fitch</a>, people really struggle to get their heads around the legitimate marketing practice of targeted sizing in the fashion industry.<br />
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There is a widespread belief that consumers 'deserve' to be able to wear whatever brand they want as long as they have the money to buy it; and that if they don't fit into the brand's clothes, then this is the brand's <i>conspiratorial moral judgment</i>. We hear things like, "X brand doesn't care about real women", "X brand doesn't want to tarnish their brand with customers like me" and "X brand promotes unhealthy body image".<br />
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Conversely, when a brand decides to offer a broader size range, the media report this as an act of <i>generosity and moral acceptance</i> rather than what it really is: a decision to target a different market. And we'll hear things like "Y brand understands real women", "Y brand is welcoming and inclusive of customers like me" and "Y brand promotes healthy body image".<br />
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For me, the main problem with Lorna Jane's two-for-one job ad is that it has allowed the perceptions of exclusion and discrimination associated with its brand to extend to its broader hiring practices. Workplace law specialist Peter Vitale <a href="http://www.smartcompany.com.au/people/human-resources/47545-lorna-jane-pulls-job-ad-for-receptionist-and-fit-model-with-bust-and-waist-requirements-be-careful-what-you-recruit-for.html#">told <i>SmartCompany</i></a> that it's unlawful in some jurisdictions to discriminate against someone based on their personal appearance. Much depends on the way a job ad is phrased, and “the way [Lorna Jane] have structured the ad hasn’t done them any favours … Because it’s for a receptionist as well, the ad probably sailed a bit close to the wind".<br />
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Lorna Jane has made it easy for onlookers to infer – as <a href="http://www.dailylife.com.au/dl-people/dl-entertainment/lorna-jane-job-ad-for-receptionistfit-model-sparks-outrage-20150706-gi65d5.html" target="_blank">some</a> <a href="http://www.news.com.au/lifestyle/fashion/lorna-jane-receptionist-and-model-job-ad-includes-physical-measurements/story-fnjev30n-1227430876631" target="_blank">media</a> <a href="http://www.smartcompany.com.au/people/human-resources/47545-lorna-jane-pulls-job-ad-for-receptionist-and-fit-model-with-bust-and-waist-requirements-be-careful-what-you-recruit-for.html#" target="_blank">reports</a> have done – that the company only wants to hire employees with very small body sizes, in <i>any</i> role. But the company is perfectly entitled to seek a fit model whose proportions reflect those of its target customer.Melhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08987383983530564029noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10736511.post-89320011223421494612014-11-15T19:50:00.001+11:002014-11-15T19:51:20.375+11:00Wearing the same thing every day<img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-CsAYV7H-NtI/VGGlvxFzwjI/AAAAAAAABsU/PMtqPk-1a0E/s640/Screen%2Bshot%2B2014-11-11%2Bat%2B4.56.15%2BPM.png" width="580" /><br />
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Check out this guy, always wearing the same grey T-shirt and charcoal hoodie. You don't need a facial recognition algorithm to know who he is.<br />
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It's Social Overlord Mark Zuckerberg, of course. (Captured by his nemesis, Google.) Recently Zuckerberg did a Q&A at Facebook headquarters and was asked why he always wears the same grey T-shirt. <a href="http://vimeo.com/111171647">He answered</a>: "I really want to clear my life to make it so that I have to make as few decisions as possible about anything except how best to serve this community. […] I feel like I'm not doing my job if I spend any of my energy on things that are silly or frivolous."<br />
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I decided to blog about this, but as the blog post got more detailed I thought, "Why don't I actually pitch this as a feature story?" So I did… and <a href="http://junkee.com/why-the-bro-cult-of-productivity-wants-you-to-wear-the-same-thing-every-day/45048">you can read the rest of it over at <i>Junkee</i></a>. I'm glad they have a 'Style' section over there, so I can pitch these kinds of stories.<br />
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This has been one of my more popular stories lately. I'm surprised by the pageviews and the number of comments, and that it's got the biggest reach of anything I've posted on my Facebook page in the last three months. That said, the comments seem to have taken issue with the way I situate 'wearing the same thing every day' within a culture of technologised neoliberalism. Jeff Sparrow's <a href="http://www.counterpunch.org/2014/05/19/solyent-neoliberalism-and-the-politics-of-life-hacking/" target="_blank">essay on Soylent</a> has been very influential in my thinking about this. <br />
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But of course there is the broader truism that anyone who actually uses the term 'neoliberalism' tends to do so suggesting it is a socially corrosive, structural phenomenon. Whereas those who might actually practise and enable neoliberalism rarely acknowledge it as a guiding philosophy at all, preferring to couch it as a climate of ideologically empty 'individual choice'.<br />
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To me, it seems obvious that much of tech culture's thinking about the body is instrumental – obsessed with what the body can be used to achieve, rather than how it looks or feels – and also can't be disentangled from the historic disparagement of the 'nerd body' and the way it's dressed.<br />
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Popular culture has created this category of the 'nerd' or 'geek' as someone who lives 'in his head' (the nerd is a historically male category) and so consequently is either incompetent or uninterested in the social and aesthetic aspects of dress. When I as much as <i>raised</i> the issue of gender and the way that 'being interested in clothes' is feminised and hence devalued, commenters told me I was "reading too much into this". So I guess it's really about ethics in videogame journalism.<br />
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I also feel that some people who either identify as or get categorised as geeks might experience clothing primarily as a weapon of social distinction rather than as a source of joy or pleasure. At school, clothes are used to police in-crowds and are adopted as badges of honour by defiant subcultural outsiders. If you felt victimised by or wanted to opt out of all that bullshit, you might say, "I don't care about what I wear." <br />
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But as a researcher of clothes, I think very few people <i>genuinely</i> don't care about what they wear. I suspect that people who deliberately wear the same thing every day (rather than dress randomly from a limited pool of utilitarian clothes) actually have much more invested in the issue of clothing, and have a keener awareness of what their clothing says about them, than your stereotypical absent-minded professor whose mum or wife or workplace supplies his clothing.<br />
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So the semiotic question – what wearing the same thing every day might express about a person – is the issue I focus on in the <i>Junkee</i> feature.<br />
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Melhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08987383983530564029noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10736511.post-48200567312875908782014-09-22T21:19:00.000+10:002014-09-23T10:20:44.198+10:00Back on deckOn the weekend I went away and got a pretty good haul at the Venus Bay op shop.<br />
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This was a proper country op shop, with old-fashioned prices – the lambswool/angora jumper, stretch miniskirt, Glomesh wallet, glitter shoelaces and leather shoes cost me a grand total of $12. You can probably also tell that it's <a href="http://footpathzeitgeist.blogspot.com.au/2012/12/seven-sisters-summer.html">Seven Sisters Spring</a>! (A trans-seasonal period that's <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-BNwiqDGz5g">not too hot and not too cold</a>.)<br />
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And it's the class dimensions of this look that I find quite confronting. Even though they were only $5, I really angsted over whether to buy the boat shoes. When I was at school and uni, boat shoes were the uniform of private-school louts, along with rugby shirts and chino pants. I associate them with the sexism and political conservatism that come with being complacent about gender and class privilege.<br />
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<iframe allowtransparency="true" frameborder="0" height="710" scrolling="no" src="//instagram.com/p/tJyohiMbYG/embed/" width="600"></iframe><br />
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But in recent years I've noticed that cool young people are wearing chinos (albeit skinny-legged rather than the pleated, baggy sort popular in the '90s), boat shoes, and chambray shirts (often worn buttoned to the neck). It's as if they are reinscribing these garments' connotations of wealth as aspirational and glamorous, similarly to the way 'Ivy Style' and 'prep' are nostalgic for a <a href="http://online.wsj.com/news/articles/SB10001424052702304367204579268301043949952">vanished WASP elite</a>.<br />
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Recently I read an <a href="http://www.tatler.com/news/articles/september-2014/the-future-of-scotland">eye-opening <i>Tatler</i> feature</a> about the Scottish aristocracy (reading <i>Tatler</i> always sends me into a tailspin of "who even <i>are</i> these people?") and thought to myself, this is the culture that produced my beloved <a href="http://footpathzeitgeist.blogspot.com.au/2013/07/british-country-winter.html">British Country Winter</a> aesthetic. What do I love about this look? If I'm being honest, it <i>is</i> that it's an elite look, one that speaks of the low-key luxury and leisure that intergenerational wealth can enable.<br />
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Boat shoes (also known as deck shoes or top-siders) are intended to be worn for leisure boating, as their name implies. (Interestingly, John Sipe, the innovator of cutting grooves in the rubber tread of tyres to increase their traction in slippery conditions, is frequently said to have cut lines in his own shoes while working in a slaughterhouse – hardly an elite occupation.)<br />
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The recognisable style – sturdily stitched leather; deep-treaded rubber soles; moccasin-style top-seamed toe; leather laces threaded through eyelets – was invented in 1935 by avid boater Paul Sperry, who called them the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sperry_Top-Sider">Sperry Top-Sider</a>. They took off in 1939 when the US Navy decided to make them standard issue for sailors.<br />
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Traditionally they are <a href="http://www.esquire.com/style/ask-nick/top-siders-0309">never worn with socks</a>. Because of the historical association of leisure boating with the monied US north-east, who also sent their sons to Ivy League colleges, a practical item became a signifier of privilege.<br />
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But as Jessica Friedmann commented on my Instagram, "There's definitely a class connotation but I like the idea of 'casual' shoes that are as meticulously and carefully made as dress shoes, to be chucked on with jeans on the weekend. It's one of the 'old money' affectations that I like - investing on good quality no matter the situation."<br />
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And she's right. There's something alluring about the zero-fucks way that old-money people buy expensive, beautifully made clothes and then just wear the shit out of them. That, I think, is why the modern Ivy/prep style revival can look too fussy and overdressed compared to the carefree fratboys captured in <i><a href="http://www.powerhousearena.com/shop/take-ivy/" target="_blank">Take Ivy</a></i>.<br />
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<img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-W9cghUGT7FQ/VB_x7Vnu5cI/AAAAAAAABpY/C_tNrpweH4Y/s320/take%2Bivy%2Bchambray.jpg" /> <img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-zvAVCKRd4Oc/VB_x8ZDv0wI/AAAAAAAABpc/7ZhWzId93Rc/s320/take%2Bivy%2Bloafers.jpg" /><br />
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This aesthetic also challenges me because it is a conservative style. Fashion – by which I mean the industrial cycle of trends – recognises and rewards innovation and eccentricity, which is why <a href="http://footpathzeitgeist.blogspot.com.au/2014/04/whats-my-age-again.html" target="_blank">older women</a> are celebrated when they dress boldly and individually, and dismissed as 'frumpy' when they stick to unshowy, utilitarian 'classics'.<br />
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Young people can potentially make conservative clothes fashionable, due to the incongruity of fresh-faced, taut-bodied beauties wearing otherwise 'ugly' and 'unflattering' clothes. Hence the popularity (ironic or unironic) of <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Normcore" target="_blank">'normcore'</a> and the 'Elaine from <i>Seinfeld</i>' look. But if you are 'plain', fat, or once you get over a certain age-related event horizon (which I constantly fret I have done), you have two options.<br />
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First is to dress flamboyantly and eccentrically in order to 'read' as youthful, beautiful and stylish. (This was Diana Vreeland's <a href="http://www.stylebistro.com/Fashion+News/articles/UBPjO-GIyHQ/Diana+Vreeland+Parents+Emotionally+Abusive" target="_blank">sartorial philosophy</a>.) Second is to embrace <a href="http://the-rosenrot.com/2013/08/defining-minimalism-in-fashion.html" target="_blank">minimalism</a>: a cerebral and challenging 'fashionability' that flatters the non-normatively beautiful because it radically de-emphasises the body and focuses on the textural and sculptural qualities of the materials. (Coco Chanel was a <a href="http://fashion.telegraph.co.uk/news-features/TMG3360675/Coco-Chanel-la-dame-aux-camelias.html" target="_blank">prototypical minimalist.</a>)<br />
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So, to return to items such as these boat shoes, I have this paranoid conviction that I can only 'get away with' them if I don't wear them with other 'preppy' items. Here they are today, on their first spin under my ownership:<br />
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<iframe allowtransparency="true" frameborder="0" height="710" scrolling="no" src="//instagram.com/p/tPCaQusbYN/embed/" width="600"></iframe><br />
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I chose the skirt to match the shoes, and decided not to emphasise the black in the skirt, so I chose a white top with stripes of similar thickness, to highlight the block colours rather than the blackness of the stripes. I also wore my denim jacket because it added both colour and casualness to the outfit, and because blue denim is inextricable from Seven Sisters Summer in my mind.<br />
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I don't think long skirts are the go with these shoes; the effect is daggy. I feel like they go best with pants. (I don't wear jeans or shorts.) But perhaps I could also wear them with simple, non-uber-femme dresses, with miniskirts and leggings (I exposed my naked thighs to the world once – as documented in <i>Out of Shape – </i>and am never doing it again), or with knee-length pencil skirts.Melhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08987383983530564029noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10736511.post-69027957398719476852014-07-30T22:59:00.002+10:002014-07-30T23:37:29.035+10:00Beret fashionableI am not really a hat person, but when I do wear a hat, it's a beret. I own five: in black, navy, charcoal grey, yellow and red. I find the yellow one the jauntiest, but really struggle to match it with outfits because it's easy to look like you're in uniform if, like me, you wear a lot of block colours.<br />
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<img src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-UGak3VqtD8U/U9i-z_Qn3pI/AAAAAAAABj4/WHQqgMmKBww/s400/2014-04-19+17.46.40.jpg" /><br />
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When I wear my caponcho (my navy-blue knitted poncho with epaulettes, brass buttons and arm slits, like a cape) with my yellow beret, the effect is very Madeline:<br />
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<img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-si2JZHLYCfM/U9jDsQNwGTI/AAAAAAAABkI/5LxvzwWLTeg/s400/Madeline.JPG" height="400" width="274" /><br />
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I end up wearing the black one most often. This was a miserable wet autumn evening in the Carlton Gardens, when I basically wore it to keep my head warm and dry.<br />
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<img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-RbqtxX75IsA/U9jF7TuxhSI/AAAAAAAABkU/E1R9sHP8-Sk/s400/2014-04-08+18.02.01.jpg" /><br />
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Most recently, I purchased a bright red beret at Savers. However, I couldn't really decide how to wear it.<br />
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<img src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-SHKld3S0mNE/U9i-o1l1YUI/AAAAAAAABjw/4FQJ7Aclz3Y/s400/2014-07-28+13.55.51.jpg" /><br />
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So I decided to investigate the beret's history, to see how it was actually worn. While beret-like soft hats have been worn throughout Europe <a href="http://dismagazine.com/discussion/23379/boinas-and-berets-a-little-history/" target="_blank">since ancient times</a>, what we think of as the beret is the traditional headgear of Basque shepherds in the Pyrenees between France and Spain. In the Pyrenees it's worn straight across the forehead and piled loosely on the crown.<br />
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They began to be made commercially during the 17th century; Oloron-Sainte-Marie in south-western France became known as the beret capital. By the 19th century, beret-making had become industrialised. The beret was the working-man's hat – worn by Breton onion-sellers along with striped Breton shirts, it became part of the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Onion_Johnny" target="_blank">'Onion Johnny'</a> French stereotype that circulated in England after these farmers brought their produce across the English Channel to sell.<br />
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Soldiers have worn berets for hundreds of years – especially those who come from mountainous terrain, the beret's traditional home – but it first became internationally known when French mercenaries fought in the 1830s Spanish civil war between the crown and the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Carlists" target="_blank">Carlist</a> rebels. The beret was later adopted during the 1880s by the French <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chasseur_Alpin" target="_blank">Chasseurs alpins</a>.<br />
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But it was a new technological development that made it the ubiquitous military signifier it is today: the tank. Basically, soldiers' brimmed and peaked uniform hats – designed to shade the eyes – just got in the way in the cramped spaces of armoured vehicles, while wearing goggles and headphones.<br />
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French tank crews in WWI wore berets, and despite some grumblings that they looked too 'feminine', the British Tank Corps adopted them as early as 1918 – usually in black, which didn't show the oil stains from the tank. (The UK now has nine different colours for different branches of its military – <a href="http://usmilitary.about.com/cs/generalinfo/a/berethistory_2.htm" target="_blank">the most in the world</a>.)<br />
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Military berets have a drawstring and a leather band around the edge to keep them in place. My grey beret apes this style. Today, they're favoured by elite units – the US Army Special Forces are known as <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Green_Berets" target="_blank">Green Berets</a> – and UN peacekeepers are instantly recognisable by their sky-blue berets.<br />
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<img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Wc8z8rQ9OmQ/U9jjQbCw2GI/AAAAAAAABmo/5JNTunhnuvc/s400/beret+UN+peacekeepers.jpg" /><br />
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These military associations have also made berets popular among revolutionaries.<br />
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<img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-98gRZdwDcZw/U9jPthEbRyI/AAAAAAAABkk/PtkwQ6d5VTk/s400/beret+che+guevara.jpg" /><br />
<i>"LOL, Fidel forgot his beret!"</i><br />
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<img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-htahGEtv1IM/U9jQYcHzYlI/AAAAAAAABks/jCTZV7v_ma0/s400/beret-black-panther.jpg" /><br />
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In Scotland, beret-style hats with pompoms have been worn since the 15th century; but the poet Robert Burns nicknamed them the Tam O'Shanter, after the hero of his <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tam_o%27_Shanter_(poem)" target="_blank">1790 epic poem</a>. But what's interesting is that in the 1920s, tam o'shanters were popular sportswear for teenage girls. As fashion historian Geoff Caulton <a href="http://www.photodetective.co.uk/Tam-A.html" target="_blank">notes</a>, historical photos show sporting teams wearing tam o'shanters.<br />
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<img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-oed3auzg9zw/U9jRJHMZp6I/AAAAAAAABlI/ZyR9I-7NjnM/s400/Screen+shot+2014-07-30+at+7.28.03+PM.png" /><br />
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<a href="http://www.photodetective.co.uk/Beret-20-A.html">During the 1920s</a>, berets were worn pulled down low over the ears, the same way as cloche hats:<br />
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<img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-xa3pBUsU0As/U9jRIKHwD8I/AAAAAAAABk8/sVpzIGNc7D4/s400/Screen+shot+2014-07-30+at+7.24.47+PM.png" height="129" width="400" /><br />
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But <a href="http://artdecoblog.blogspot.com.au/2006/08/hats-1930s.html">during the 1930s</a> – when hats became more sculptural and were worn tipped back at a jaunty angle, berets were <a href="http://www.photodetective.co.uk/Beret-A.html">also worn this way</a>.<br />
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<img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-sGNQlfVFBfw/U9jRIBayvKI/AAAAAAAABk4/kIxkRfrx2Fc/s400/Screen+shot+2014-07-30+at+7.25.12+PM.png" /><br />
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In <i>Bonnie and Clyde</i> (1967), set in the 1930s, Faye Dunaway wears a beret, alternating between wearing it straight on her crown, but with the mass of fabric to one side (which is my own preferred way to wear berets)…<br />
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<img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-MlVLI5Pp4KY/U9jUdtfDe6I/AAAAAAAABlU/Tyn99GQc4VQ/s400/beret+bonnie+and+clyde+2.jpg" /><br />
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…to wearing it on the side of the head, '30s-style.<br />
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<img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-SxhujsO49X0/U9jUfTMsFzI/AAAAAAAABlc/UXlrlqtFMNI/s400/beret-bonnie-and-clyde.png" /><br />
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By the 1960s, berets tended to be worn tipped backwards on the head, like pillbox hats:<br />
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<img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-02TJBNSSFWc/U9jX4mAUFJI/AAAAAAAABmE/Jb66KZ0GDXY/s1600/beret+1960s+2.jpg" /> <img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-k83jURl-o6k/U9jX43-Cb9I/AAAAAAAABmI/vwcl7ArZ63U/s1600/beret+1960s.jpg" /><br />
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That's how Peggy Olson wears her tam o'shanter in <i>Mad Men</i>:<br />
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<img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-jMV7katjUc0/U9jZ7BL16GI/AAAAAAAABmY/igD712HJGTc/s400/beret+peggy+olson.jpg" /><br />
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Almost as big a beret cliché as the stripey-shirted Frenchman is the 1950s beatnik in a beret, black turtleneck and cigarette-legged pants. But berets have a long history among artists and bohemians.<br />
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<img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/--_xAO_fAteE/U9jWC8q8YGI/AAAAAAAABls/W8CI6r2oS3w/s400/beret+rembrandt.jpg" /><br />
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In 1659, Rembrandt painted his <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Self-Portrait_with_Beret_and_Turned-Up_Collar"><i>Self-Portrait With Beret and Turned-Up Collar</i></a>. He also painted himself wearing a beige beret; scholars argue this is in homage to similar paintings by Titian and Raphael. Thus, the beret signifies Rembrandt's trade as a painter.<br />
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<img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-DJdsM7dkChI/U9jWEdd1awI/AAAAAAAABl4/OkD_xxthxOs/s400/beret-monet-self-portrait-with-a-beret.jpg" /><br />
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In 1886, Claude Monet also painted himself wearing a beret. And in 1888, Vincent van Gogh painted his friend Paul Gauguin as <i>Man in a Red Beret</i>:<br />
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<img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-tf4pvpRMGKs/U9jl0vQM5WI/AAAAAAAABm0/HUcDngX6gBc/s400/beret+paul-gauguin-man-in-a-red-beret-1888.jpg!Blog.jpg" /><br />
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Pablo Picasso was well known for wearing berets, especially late in his life:<br />
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<img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-AsqOL2kmQjQ/U9jWCzu2jGI/AAAAAAAABlo/u0d0yU5z51k/s400/beret+picasso.jpg" /><br />
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When Picasso's work was shown in Britain's Institute of Contemporary Arts during the late 1940s and 1950s, his acolytes would show up to the exhibition <a href="http://www.independent.co.uk/arts-entertainment/art/news/shows-lost-berets-at-the-ica-paint-a-picture-of-pablo-picassos-influence-on-britain-8960894.html">wearing berets</a>, which became a common item of lost property. Around the same time, American jazz musicians and writers began to wear them. (Interestingly, 1960s musicians seemed much more into Greek fishermen's caps; Bob Dylan wore one in 1962, and they took America by storm when John Lennon wore one on the Beatles' 1964 tour.)<br />
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Ernest Hemingway was a massive beret aficionado. He'd served in WWI in Italy, lived in Paris during the 1920s, and was a foreign correspondent during the Spanish Civil War in the 1930s. Perhaps the beret was his way of showing he belonged in Europe.<br />
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<img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7Zui0OgtVUU/U9jpIniyMtI/AAAAAAAABnE/-NCHhdODg8c/s400/beret+hemingway+1926.jpg" /><br />
<i>Hemingway (far left) on the 1925 trip to Spain that would inspire </i>The Sun Also Rises.<br />
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<img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-wiZPFY2pEjY/U9jpIjCAS1I/AAAAAAAABnA/Sj6tb_uAO7U/s400/beret+hemingway+spain.jpg" /><br />
<i>Hemingway in Spain during the Civil War, 1937.</i><br />
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Perhaps it's in Hemingway – in many ways an intensely macho figure, yet one who, like Picasso, inspired legions of slavish young boho imitators – that the beret's military, creative and cosmopolitan European meanings coalesce.Melhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08987383983530564029noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10736511.post-89793408719111911812014-04-03T02:30:00.001+11:002014-04-03T02:38:31.827+11:00What's my age again?I was mildly annoyed to see the April 2014 issue of <i>Australian Women's Weekly</i> has a story about "the women who refuse to dress 'appropriately'". Just by glancing at it as I went through the supermarket checkout, I knew it would be a story about older women who wear sculptural, brightly coloured and patterned clothes with bold accessories.<br />
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And today I saw that vintage dealer Trish Hunter has <a href="http://www.trishhunterfinds.com.au/the-women-who-refuse-to-dress-appropriately/" target="_blank">blogged about the article</a>.<br />
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<img src="http://www.trishhunterfinds.com.au/wp-content/uploads/2014/04/australian-womans-weekly-women-refuse-to-dress-appropriately-4.jpg" width="500" /><br />
<i>Image: Trish Hunter</i><br />
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Trish was struck by the way 'appropriate' is put in scare quotes:<br />
<blockquote>
So who is the mysterious great and powerful OZ who dictates what is considered appropriate and inappropriate dressing? Who or what made the word ‘appropriately’ have to be placed in talking marks here?<br />
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I personally dress for no one but myself and I’m so happy that other people enjoy how I dress and tune into my blog to see my outfit posts. <strike>Sometimes</strike> Often I dress quite over the top, I style my hair, wear bold makeup and dress in a style that doesn’t follow main stream fashion, but does that also put me in the inappropriate dressing category to the ruler of appropriate dressing?</blockquote>
No. And here's why: Trish is young. Because our culture values women primarily for their youthful sex appeal, men learn to treat older women as if they are invisible, and women learn that as they age, the most tasteful and, yes, <i>appropriate</i> thing they can do is to fade gracefully into the background. We learn this in dribs and drabs, through culture, and through the media genre of orthovestia which teaches us which clothes are 'appropriate' to occasions and ages.<br />
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Here are a couple of examples of the little ways that culture teaches us what old women are 'meant' to be like. I have a lip tar in a peachy-coral colour that I thought looked quite fetching on me… until I noticed the shade was named 'Grandma'. Similarly, I love classic 20th-century perfumes, but I constantly notice people saying disparagingly that they 'smell like old ladies'.<br />
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However, the <i>Australian Women's Weekly</i> article is part of a broader cultural trend celebrating older women's style, led by Ari Seth Cohen's blog <a href="http://advancedstyle.blogspot.com.au/" target="_blank">Advanced Style</a>. Last year, Sue Bourne's Channel Four documentary <i><a href="http://www.channel4.com/programmes/fabulous-fashionistas" target="_blank">Fabulous Fashionistas</a></i> profiled six British women, average age 80, whose sartorial approach "is about more than following the latest trends; it's about an attitude to life itself."<br />
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It's easy to champion cool old ladies as feminists rebelling against sexist double standards by insisting on their individuality and visibility. However, <a href="http://www.theguardian.com/lifeandstyle/2013/sep/23/fabulous-fashionistas-older-women">writing in <i>The Guardian</i></a> about that documentary, Michele Hanson points out how patronisingly ageist our admiration is: "Telly has just picked out something they've done all their lives, and called it remarkable because they're old. Really it's just because they're them."<br />
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As I observe in <i>Out of Shape</i>, we allow certain older women to be celebrated for their zany, eccentric 'signature looks' – but only if their professional identities grant them the cultural power that older women are otherwise denied. From the photos Trish has posted on her blog, the "women who refuse to dress 'appropriately'" share a key trait: they are professional aesthetes and fashion insiders. They include former <i>Vogue</i> staffer Marion von Adlerstein, <i>Marie Claire</i> executive fashion editor Jane Roarty, fashion designer Jenny Kee and textile and homewares retailer Joan Bowers.<br />
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Internationally, 'advanced style' icons include English stylist Isabella Blow, American 'plus-age' models China Machado and Carmen dell'Orefice, American interior designer Iris Apfel and legendary <i>Vogue Italia</i> editor Anna Piaggi.<br />
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Linda Grant's book <i>The Thoughtful Dresser</i> (which is <a href="http://footpathzeitgeist.blogspot.com.au/2011/01/fewer-and-better-shoes.html" target="_blank">excellent, by the way</a>) devotes a chapter to the invisibility of older women in public. She writes acidly that past the age of 50, careful dressing is vital for women, "if we want to have a presence in the world. If we don't want to be famished ghosts at the feast of life."<br />
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In <i>Out of Shape</i> I explain that<i> </i>fashion was once very dictatorial, but has splintered into a smorgasbord of market segments catering to different age groups, budgets and lifestyles. I argue that this is in response to "the baby boomers’ refusal to go gentle into that good nylon":<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
The boomers grew up during the 1960s ‘youthquake’, but they’ve followed fashion, and it has followed them, through their changing lifestyles – from 1970s hippie and folk apparel to 1980s power dressing. And they continue to adopt new ways of shopping; women aged over 35 account for 65 per cent of online apparel sales.</blockquote>
The word 'appropriate' is a hangover from the days of rigid dress codes, when there really were right and wrong things to wear in various social scenarios, and social penalties of ridicule and embarrassment for disobeying. But as Grant recognises, it's the very fact that fashion's rules are now more flexible that puts today's older women in fear of being socially penalised for the clothes they choose. They can no longer take refuge, as their mothers could, in etiquette, occasion and the artifice of glamour.<br />
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In her essay '"No-One Expects Me Anywhere": Invisible Women, Ageing and the Fashion Industry' (in <i>Fashion Cultures</i>, eds Stella Bruzzi and Pamela Church Gibson, Routledge, 2000), Pamela Church Gibson points out the cruel irony of the current popularity of retro: that "these garments cannot be worn by those who wore them first time around." This is especially cruel, she writes, given that the boomers were "the first generation to grow up with and within fashion".<br />
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Indeed, younger women are fascinated by old-fashioned glamour precisely because we've grown up in a fashion world that valorises <a href="http://footpathzeitgeist.blogspot.com.au/2006/12/doing-street-style.html" target="_blank">carefree, intuitive dressing</a>, and looking 'fresh' and 'natural'. Trish mentions <i>Snog, Marry, Avoid?</i> – which is a 'makeunder' show obsessed with replacing its participants' chosen style with a codified notion of 'natural beauty'.<br />
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It makes me wonder about my current <a href="http://footpathzeitgeist.blogspot.com.au/2013/10/reliving-my-teenage-years.html">1990s renaissance</a>. How long will it be 'appropriate' for me to dress in the styles of my youth? When will I begin to notice disapproving glances and overhear stifled sniggers in public? Knowing that your clothes make you publicly visible in a vulnerable rather than powerful way, yet refusing to feel disempowered, is the act celebrated by the <i>Australian Women's Weekly </i>article.<br />
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Orthovestia does offer advice to older women: cultivating a wardrobe of safe, unobtrusive ‘classics’. The crisp white shirt; the little black dress; the string of pearls; the tailored blazer; the striped Breton T-shirt; the cashmere cardigan; the beige trench coat; the black leather loafers or ballet flats.<br />
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"Depicted on Bianca Jagger or Catherine Deneuve, these classics look sensational," Grant observes, "but they look good not because these women are in their fifties or sixties, but because they happen to be the kind of style that suits them. And because, being ravishingly beautiful to begin with, they can wear a sack (clinched at the waist with a chocolate suede belt, with heels and a gold necklace) and look as if they were doing the runway for Yves Saint Laurent."<br />
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Again, what makes an older woman's style admirable is a certain self-asssurance – the paradox of classics is that if you wear them with timidity, they don’t confer sophistication; they confer invisibility. Life's too short to be 'appropriate', says Grant. "There will be more than enough time for neutrals in the darkness of the grave."Melhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08987383983530564029noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10736511.post-91909454639906671352014-02-16T01:16:00.000+11:002014-02-16T01:17:09.745+11:00Fractionally excitedMy friend Clem is doing an intriguing project called <a href="http://twentyseventy.com.au/">TwentySeventy</a> in which she is spending a year 'living in the '70s' – wearing, eating, reading, viewing, making and buying the products of that decade. <br />
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Inspired, today I bought some vintage polyester summer shirtwaist dresses. I already own quite a few '70s polyester dresses, but they're all winter.<br />
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Sorry, I didn't photograph them very well – I was concentrating on the labels. One of my new acquisitions is a jaunty navy and white number by Norman Hartnell! I wonder if Norm Himself designed this (he died in 1979). It has an A-line skirt, white vinyl belt and cute little cap sleeves with the same contrast print as the collar. They peel back in wings like mini collars, and button with two little white buttons per sleeve.<br />
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<img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-r2QfMPhlc3I/Uv9bTsQ3uYI/AAAAAAAABbY/4jCWqas9L2c/s400/2014-02-15+22.08.57.jpg" /><br />
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My other dress is by a label called "Antoinette Fractional Fittings" that crops up quite often on eBay and Etsy. Interestingly, almost all the examples that I've found being sold online are in the same style as mine: fit-and-flare silhouette, with either a pussy-bow or a shirtwaist bodice, and a self-belt.<br />
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<img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-R4Ud6-FY8Pc/Uv9ukgiOFzI/AAAAAAAABbs/7NhB9m5wFZk/s400/Screen+shot+2014-02-16+at+12.33.34+AM.png" /><br />
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<img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-TvmMjYmc_gA/Uv9ul5aAcKI/AAAAAAAABbw/VcDM8c64R80/s400/Screen+shot+2014-02-16+at+12.34.33+AM.png" /><br />
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<img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Rj_Md6gdFSA/Uv9uoNklPSI/AAAAAAAABcA/OlskYSzozJI/s400/antoinette+1.jpg" /><br />
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<img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-_-IjqmngyMg/Uv9un8glJEI/AAAAAAAABb8/f1KsNWppfLU/s400/antoinette+2.JPG" /><br />
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<img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-naG9d6-il1M/Uv9uoZ6EKGI/AAAAAAAABcI/At2Ek6dNlbo/s400/antoinette+3.jpg" /><br />
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Mine has a shirtwaist style with hot-pink buttons. I felt the sleeves were frumpily long (I think of that boxy, above-the-elbow style as 'old lady sleeves') but I took the cuff up so they now look more like women's T-shirt sleeve length. Note that I am holding my Antoinette label open in the pic because it has been folded shut so crisply that I suspect the past owner of ironing it that way to prevent the shameful SIZE REVEAL.<br />
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<img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-EqZEIqV4jfc/Uv9bTb4HJNI/AAAAAAAABbU/WZzPmcFAfzY/s400/2014-02-15+22.17.08.jpg" /><br />
<br />
I asked <a href="http://www.circavintageclothing.com.au/" target="_blank">Nicole Jenkins</a> about these labels and she said: "Yes, the Antoinette is roughly a modern size 17: between a 16 and an 18 hence the "fractional" fitting. Re: the Hartnell, yes it looks like a mid '70s that has had its enormous collar remodelled, probably in the '80s, so it's likely that he was involved in the design but without the whopping collar its value has probably been diminished. Being polyester, all the rest that were made are probably still out there as they're indestructible."<br />
<br />
Even before I heard back from Nicole, my interest was piqued by the term 'fractional fitting'. I knew about <a href="http://footpathzeitgeist.blogspot.com.au/2013/07/expedition-to-savers.html" target="_blank">half-sizes</a> but I wondered what 'fractional' meant. It makes sense that it's the 'in-between' sizes. But most of the archival material I dug up on <a href="http://trove.nla.gov.au/" target="_blank">Trove</a> referred to 'fractional fittings' in the context of shoes, where you can still sometimes find in A, B, C widths (and so on).<br />
<br />
On 3 March 1953, the Brisbane <i>Courier-Mail</i> reported excitedly on the advent of fractional fittings: "Women may soon be able to order their clothes by number." The Adelaide <i>Advertiser</i> followed suit on 10 April: "For years the woman whose figure measurements do not conform to the stock sizes of ready-made garments has yearned for the fractional fittings which have long been available to American women."<br />
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In the '50s, Australian women's clothing sizes followed the British system of SSW (slim small woman), SW (small woman), W (woman), OS (outsize) and XOS or EOS (extra outsize). The <i>Advertiser</i> article explains that the new fractional system was set to offer four different fits for each of these sizes, and be sold exclusively through a different department store in each major city.<br />
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It's interesting that fractional fittings were hailed as a solution for a 'broken' system of clothing sizes. "At present there is often so much difference in frocks that two distinct sizes in various makes will often fit the one person," opined <i>Courier-Mail</i> writer 'Annette'. "For the 'non-stock,' hard-to-fit sizes, 'fractional' fittings will be the perfect solution."<br />
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In hindsight, the bunfight over sizing was just beginning. Australia's national sizing standard, AS1344-1997, was introduced in 1959. It was a cobbled-together affair, combining <a href="http://footpathzeitgeist.blogspot.com.au/2012/11/the-rad-ladies-of-berlei-part-2_28.html">Berlei’s data from 1927</a> with a United States government survey of 10,042 women across eight US states between 1939-40. <br />
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The US researchers, Ruth O’Brien and William C Shelton, had proposed a new sizing system featuring <i>nine</i> different potential height and body shape combinations for each numbered size. Nobody wanted to make sizing that fiddly – not the clothing industry, and certainly not the US government, which quietly shelved O’Brien and Shelton’s report.<br />
<br />
When the US finally introduced its national sizing standard in 1958, they just plugged O'Brien and Shelton's data into a bog-standard graded sizing system based on an hourglass figure. But it's interesting to see that some enterprising firms had picked up this idea to cater to a niche market that was underserved by standard sizes.<br />
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The Australian manufacturer mentioned in the articles was Millerson, a Sydney family business headed by Mrs Belle Miller. "[Introducing fractional fittings] had been my dream for many years," she told <i>The Advertiser</i> on 14 April 1953. "I tried over and over again to interest the buyers from our retail clients all over Australia. But they wouldn't have any of it. They argued, among other things, that it would involve holding tremendous stocks. And I couldn't persuade them otherwise.<br />
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"Eventually I decided to make a stand myself and do something about it. I was confident of success. I knew that at least 50 per cent of the women who wanted to buy ready-to-wear garments had figures that did not conform to the standard sizes, or had to submit to being labelled OS or XOS. No woman should be tagged outsize no matter what her measurements may be. She is not outsize anything. She is just a 'size.'"<br />
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Amen, Belle. However much as today's fashion media are still struggling to get their heads around 'plus-size', it seems the 1950s fashion press (including <i>Australian Women's Weekly</i>) couched Millersons (and fractional fittings more generally) as being for the older, stouter consumer, even though the department store ads argued that they could also be for taller, thinner, shorter, bustier women, and so on.<br />
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However I can't find any info on the Antoinette brand, nor on what became of Millerson.Melhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08987383983530564029noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10736511.post-91699960641988488862014-01-18T20:08:00.000+11:002014-01-18T20:08:16.911+11:00Why we're so grossed out by scungy old underpantsI have a whole section in <i>Out of Shape</i> about the history and pop culture of underwear – both men's and women's.<br />
<br />
<blockquote>
Aside from its practical comforts, underwear has a cultural purpose. It tames and transforms the unruly body into a socially cohesive <i>figure</i> – a body that’s appropriate to present to the world. Our culture has endowed physical heroism and worldly success with aesthetic qualities of smoothness and solidity. Think about the smooth, stylised shape of Oscar, the little gold man on the Academy Award statuette, or those gilded action figures that garnish school sports trophies. It’s no accident that superheroes wear ‘undies on the outside’, since we imagine these characters as beings whose enhanced bodies let them behave in the ordinary world with astounding, superhuman success.<br />
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Underwear aims to control and contain the naked human body so that it becomes inconspicuous and docile, and doesn’t call attention to itself through the textures of its hair and skin, its quiverings and bulgings as we breathe and move. All the different underwear silhouettes in different eras share the same invulnerable smoothness. In the right underwear, we can feel invincible – ready to take on the world.</blockquote>
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I did so much more research on underwear than appears in the book, and so <a href="http://junkee.com/why-are-we-so-grossed-out-by-scungy-old-underpants/25353" target="_blank">I wrote a feature</a> last year for <i>Junkee</i> about our squeamishness surrounding worn-out underpants. It's as much about the history of cleanliness and modesty as about the garments themselves.<br />
<br />
<blockquote>
Last weekend, I did a load of laundry that will keep me in underpants for about six weeks. As I was folding the clean undies to put away, I wondered — as I always do at this point in the laundry cycle — if I should throw some of them out.<br />
<br />
It is maybe a good idea to throw undies away when they have holes, crotch stains, transparent fabric, fabric gone shapeless and baggy, faded colours, whites gone grey or yellow, and elastic fraying, detaching or losing its elasticity. Some of these are practical concerns. Worn-out undies aren’t pleasant to wear — we’ve all known the bunchy discomfort as an old, saggy pair of underpants scrunches over the horizon of your butt-cheeks.<br />
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But mostly, old underpants gross us out for cultural reasons of hygiene or moral propriety. And that’s what I want to investigate.</blockquote>
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<a href="http://junkee.com/why-are-we-so-grossed-out-by-scungy-old-underpants/25353">Head to <i>Junkee</i> to read the rest.</a> Melhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08987383983530564029noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10736511.post-48891096959720652002013-11-05T19:36:00.001+11:002013-11-05T20:50:59.396+11:00Spring racing fashionToday is Melbourne Cup Day. Yesterday I did an interview about Cup Day, fashion, gender and consumerism with Lourdes García Larqué for <a href="http://www.3cr.org.au/" target="_blank">3CR Community Radio</a> – it was broadcast on today's Breakfast program (I'll post the link once I know what it is). Since then, I've been thinking some more about the issues we discussed.<br />
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I find it hard to get excited about spring racing fashion because I believe racing is a cruel pastime with troubling inbuilt class politics. For me it's like enjoying the Duchess of Cambridge's fashion choices when she represents a system of inherited privilege that locks up much of the UK's wealth in the hands of a family whose only purpose in life is political symbolism.<br />
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Marieke Hardy wrote an opinion piece for <i>The Drum</i> back in 2010 calling the Melbourne Cup <a href="http://www.abc.net.au/unleashed/40668.html" target="_blank">"a truly revolting spectacle"</a>. Hardy's anti-cruelty sentiments are laudable. There's really no excuse to celebrate the use of animals for entertainment and the <a href="http://www.smh.com.au/environment/animals/they-shoot-horses-dont-they-20130923-2u8nh.html" target="_blank">miserable treatment that goes with this</a>. I mean, <i>Black Beauty</i>, written to 'humanise' horses so readers could empathise with their lives as chattels, was first published <i>in 1877</i>.<br />
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But I was startled by – and uncomfortable with – Hardy's repeated, contemptuous references to racegoers' dress and behaviour. They dress "like a complete twat with scant regard to the weather forecast", with "streaky fake tan or idiotic, impractical headwear". And these "freezing cold idiot women toppling over in muddy, undignified heaps, the natty prats in matching comedy waistcoats blearily waving cans of Bundy about", will find themselves "eventually teetering home covered in a fine spray of puke and semen".<br />
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Wow. Apart from the language, we can tell this is about setting up boundaries between Us and Them because the magic word 'bogans' also comes out!<br />
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Hardy makes an unpleasant slippage here between class and cruelty, implying that finding racing cruel requires the same cultural capital as 'dressing well'. This seems odd considering that racing is 'the sport of kings' and is just as popular with toffs in the Birdcage, Members and corporate marquees as with the stumbling general-admission masses in their dishevelled apparel.<br />
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We go to the races seeking something glamorous, special, out of the ordinary… but too often, as Hardy ably sketches, we're instead put back in our class boxes and told we're dressing and behaving 'wrongly'. Tomorrow we'll see the traditional 'aftermath' photographs of people sprawled on the racecourse amid abandoned rubbish; of people throwing up; of women walking barefoot, having removed their high heels, and women huddled in their male companions' jackets, having not brought their own.<br />
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These are the shaming photos. Men's clothing is frowned upon as incompetently chosen: their suits, ties, shoes, hats and sunglasses are deemed 'loud', 'ill-fitting' and 'inappropriate'. Women are basically slut-shamed for dresses that are too short, too low-cut or that flip up in gusts of wind, and for dressing for vanity rather than practicality.<br />
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Janice Breen Burns, the former <i>Age</i> fashion editor, <a href="http://www.theage.com.au/news/entertainment/new-generation-off-and-racing/2006/09/07/1157222265344.html">warned in 2006</a> that racewear is very different to fashion: "It's not as sexy, for one thing. It's neater, more controlled. Things match, knees are covered. Cleavage is a no-no."<br />
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Even last year, she <a href="http://www.theage.com.au/lifestyle/fashion/fifty-frocking-years-20120907-25iwd.html#ixzz2jkoh2Phs">tutted retrospectively</a> about the dress of youthful racegoers: "poppets in string-strapped, knicker-flasher frocklets…had flooded out of the sparkly nightclubs and year-12 formals and on to trackside lawns." Still, JBB did concede that Fashions on the Field has since evolved.<br />
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In 2011 the <i>Sydney Morning Herald</i>'s Luke Malone described spring racing season as <a href="http://www.smh.com.au/lifestyle/fashion/fashions-on-the-field/racing-like-schoolies-for-grownups-20111031-1mrul.html#ixzz2jl5z6UVX">"Schoolies for grown-ups"</a>: "The end result of a day sipping sparkling wine and sinking beers in the often sweltering heat sees men walking around with their flies undone and women with high heels in hand as if it were 2am after a night out in Kings Cross."<br />
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Malone's article is interesting because, while it also presents racegoers as infantilised consumer dupes, Malone suggests a certain festive permissiveness. As his anonymous friend says: "A couple of years back at Melbourne Cup I saw a pair getting hot and heavy right by the track - complete with hands-under-clothes action. There were easily 30 people watching and laughing yet it didn't seem all that inappropriate at the time. Everyone is always in good spirits. You never normally see people get that drunk without a fistfight breaking out."<br />
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<img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-r_90JRadJ6I/UniZfI7CMXI/AAAAAAAABPQ/nywFB7zAdk0/s400/Screen+shot+2013-11-05+at+6.07.51+PM.png" /><br />
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These are the kinds of images that we often see at Melbourne Cup time; of all the days in Melbourne's spring racing carnival, it's the most <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Carnivalesque">carnivalesque</a>. Because the Cup is a public holiday and is said to belong to 'everyone' – it's "the race that stops a nation" – many people feel they can dress and behave in ways that ridicule and upend traditional hierarchies and morals… including those of gender and taste. You'll see people dressed in drag, as animals, in parodies of traditional racewear and in matching outfits.<br />
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I'd suggest that perhaps these marquee race meetings offer 'ordinary' people opportunities to be carnivalesque by temporarily dressing as our 'betters', borrowing the dress and habits of the 1%. It's not just about the clothes, but also about betting, eating fancy foods such as chicken sandwiches and smoked salmon, and drinking champagne.<br />
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There aren't many similar events like these, for which to plan and enjoy wearing elaborate clothes and to consume conspicuously – especially for people who've left university and its cycle of balls and 21sts. Even at weddings, people rarely wear hats any more, and the evangelical churches that are now popular with churchgoers (as 'traditional' churchgoing declines) encourage attendees to wear casual clothes rather than 'Sunday best'.<br />
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Looking through <i>The Age</i>'s <a href="http://www.theage.com.au/photogallery/national/melbourne-cup-2013-20131105-2wy3e.html" target="_blank">photo gallery</a> of today's event (photos by Eddie Jim, Justin McManus, Wayne Taylor and Angela Wylie), I was struck by the way that racewear has developed its own logics, separate from the dictates that made it so shocking in 1965 when <a href="http://www.dailytelegraph.com.au/sport/superracing/model-jean-shrimpton-recollects-the-stir-she-caused-on-victoria-derby-day-in-1965/story-fn4cyin0-1225792393451" target="_blank">Jean Shrimpton wore a short dress</a> with no hat, gloves or stockings.<br />
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<img src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-aTPUFwJ_rk4/UniRRsizBMI/AAAAAAAABOA/-s-mph9Dk0c/s400/age+melbcup+1.jpg" /><br />
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Look at this doll! Doesn't she look young and gorgeous? There's something festive and joyous about the bright colours chosen by some younger racegoers.<br />
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<img src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-g0cSxnkNN0o/UniSjyzGnjI/AAAAAAAABOQ/QDd0_IoX7Ic/s400/Screen+shot+2013-11-05+at+5.38.28+PM.png" /><br />
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This is Joanna Stanes on her way to the Cup. I like her bold lipstick compared to the subdued colours and textures of her hat. She looks both romantic and modern. I also like that she's wearing a hat rather than a fascinator.<br />
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<img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-RdLYzvKHr40/UniSNOBQwBI/AAAAAAAABOI/xxLGeiwm5Fo/s400/Screen+shot+2013-11-05+at+5.36.35+PM.png" /><br />
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This is a rather ladylike, vintage-inspired look (and a stunning photo by Justin McManus). The popularity of <i>Mad Men</i> and the general interest in mid-20th-century culture has driven a return to these styles. I've also noticed that brides in my social circle who favour a vintage aesthetic tend to prefer fascinator-style veils to traditional wedding veils.<br />
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The demureness and prescriptiveness of much midcentury fashion dovetails with our cultural associations of racewear with 'correctness' and 'classiness'. Usually I loathe the term 'classy' as one of those words that actually connotes its exact opposite, but here it's appropriate because people are often striving for a certain class fantasy of being wealthy and privileged.<br />
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<img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-D0AeY4QzRec/UniTGC4dvTI/AAAAAAAABOY/YEv5NC7DZtE/s400/Screen+shot+2013-11-05+at+5.40.58+PM.png" /><br />
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I also noticed several different strands of women's racewear emerging. You can see these two sartorial approaches here: an edgier style in terms of colour and silhouette, compared to the classic racewear on the right. We can't see their faces, but I assume the woman on the left to be younger than the woman on the right.<br />
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<img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-WjiXNNyEmWE/UniTeMTJmJI/AAAAAAAABOg/Ehyf6u0nGSY/s400/Screen+shot+2013-11-05+at+5.42.35+PM.png" /><br />
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I like that these two girls seem to be matching each other's outfits. Perhaps their hemlines are 'inappropriate' but they look so happy!<br />
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<img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-TK54Jh9qowg/UniT4b2fK5I/AAAAAAAABOo/3OIEONNi9Jw/s400/Screen+shot+2013-11-05+at+5.44.07+PM.png" /><br />
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Deborah and John Quinn demonstrate a fun way to dress up when you're older. Deborah is a <a href="http://www.qagoma.qld.gov.au/exhibitions/past/2010/hats_an_anthology_by_stephen_jones/talking_hats" target="_blank">well-known millinery collector</a>; she's in her element here. They have opted for traditional 'rules', but don't look fusty and conservative. I especially love the way that Deborah's sunglasses and gloves match John's buttonhole and waistcoat – which are the traditional yellow of Melbourne Cup Day.<br />
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<img src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-T4NNtpY8sxE/UniVezdz8UI/AAAAAAAABO4/C1Ul8_yzpIw/s400/Screen+shot+2013-11-05+at+5.51.01+PM.png" /><br />
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By contrast, these are quite old-fashioned racegoers; their outfits are quite fussy and froufrou. I love the centre lady's pillbox hat; I wonder if it's her own vintage '60s number.<br />
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<img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-aZFs3z6Ry38/UniUsroJsBI/AAAAAAAABOw/4doVGDHC8N4/s400/Screen+shot+2013-11-05+at+5.47.44+PM.png" /><br />
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This is a good example of what many younger racegoers now consider appropriate: they're wearing flowers in their hair rather than hats; their skirts are very short (what Janice Breen Burns would call a 'frocklet'); and the fabrics are quite slinky and diaphanous in a way we associate with cocktail wear rather than daywear.<br />
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<img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-fW6udo88Heg/UniWRegKcdI/AAAAAAAABPE/ZSLFctJKCYc/s400/Screen+shot+2013-11-05+at+5.54.14+PM.png" /><br />
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Like many celebrity racegoers and Fashions on the Field entrants who are professionally dressed by stylists, Lauren Phillips is wearing what we could call 'contemporary conservative': a sculptural but minimalist hat and a well-fitting, tailored dress that doesn't show too much skin.<br />
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Contemporary conservative (or 'contemporary corporate') is a style of racewear that doesn't really take risks: it's not exuberant like a lot of young people's racewear. You see it a lot in photos taken at the corporate marquees, and on models, invited guests and others who are at the races in a professional or promotional capacity.<br />
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Despite the boldness of its hats, it's not very whimsical or individual. When you see a number of different celebrities dressed this way, you notice the sameyness, even down to the position and angle of the hats.<br />
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<img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ZNGe0Vcb5nA/UnimMzNbI5I/AAAAAAAABPg/9KPf4zbsWeI/s400/melb+cup+2011.jpg" /><br />
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For instance, here are model Jennifer Hawkins, sass&bide designers Heidi Middleton and Sarah-Jane Clarke and football WAG Rebecca Judd at the Melbourne Cup in 2011.<br />
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<img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-fAoScncaLOg/Unin4KwmGsI/AAAAAAAABPs/b3hzdOTDS8s/s400/Myer-Oaks-Day+hawko+juddy.jpg" /><br />
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And here are Hawko and Juddy at last year's Oaks Day, flanking Kris Smith, who I believe is best known for having once dated Dannii Minogue.Melhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08987383983530564029noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10736511.post-75795534335022267652013-11-01T17:11:00.000+11:002013-11-01T17:11:05.973+11:00What's wrong with wearing dead people's clothes?Recently I was at Savers and bought a cardigan that had a name label in it. I Googled the name, and the lady whose cardie it was had died in August. This made me investigate the stigma of 'dead people' that still clings to second-hand clothing. I've written a little feature for <i>Junkee</i> about it:<br />
<blockquote>
November 1 is a day for commemorating the dead. Christians call it All Saints Day; in Mexico and Latin America, it’s Dia de los Muertos. It’s odd that, while we’re happy to watch scary movies, dress up as corpses and admire carnivalesque skeletons, we’re more squeamish about real-life dead people… and their clothes.<br />
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I’ve shopped at op-shops since my early teens, and people have often teased me that I was wearing ‘dead people’s clothes’. The second-hand clothing industry has only recently emerged as ‘vintage’ from unsavory associations with poverty, disease… and death.</blockquote>
Head to <i><a href="http://junkee.com/whats-wrong-with-wearing-dead-peoples-clothes/22722" target="_blank">Junkee</a></i> to read the rest.<br />
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But in the meantime, please enjoy my #cardieselfie. <br />
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<img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-MvE_uJlyfhY/UnNFSXQG2wI/AAAAAAAABNs/zRzW4Vd05Hk/s400/mel+cardigan+selfie.jpg" />Melhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08987383983530564029noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10736511.post-66773373200077555032013-10-11T23:48:00.001+11:002013-10-11T23:52:57.942+11:00Reliving my teenage yearsI've been wallowing in a sort of second adolescence lately. It's mainly been driven by the young adult films I've been watching and books I've been reading, which I've written about at <i><a href="http://junkee.com/how-to-enjoy-young-adult-movies-as-a-discerning-grown-up/19796" target="_blank">Junkee</a></i> and the <a href="http://wheelercentre.com/dailies/post/3eff1fc40d7f/" target="_blank">Wheeler Centre</a>. In my Wheeler Centre essay, I write:<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
Has my brain actually regressed to a high-school level? I don’t know what’s wrong with me; last week I was walking down the street and, in some kind of awful adolescent fugue, I found myself in <a href="http://dangerfield.com.au/" target="_blank">Dangerfield</a>. (As I write, I’m wearing a Dangerfield hoodie with little stars on it.) Much as Clary learns to see through supernatural glamours and understand the language of runes, the overwrought lyrics of ridiculous emo bands are beginning to make sense to me. Yesterday I had a house inspection and, as I showed off my freshly tidied bedroom, I felt like shouting at my real estate agent, ‘YOU’RE NOT MY REAL MUM!’</blockquote>
The really terrifying thing about stepping into Dangerfield was just how much of the merchandise resembled the stuff I used to buy at Dangerfield 20 years ago. The 1990s are well and truly back in fashion, a realisation that hits me afresh every time I see a young chick walking down the street in painfully high-waisted <a href="http://footpathzeitgeist.blogspot.com.au/2013/07/jeans-litmus-test-of-fit.html" target="_blank">jeans</a>.<br />
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In a way, this is a depressing turn of events, because it underlines that I am old and irrelevant; this is the first time my own personal past has been reinvented for a new generation. (The '80s didn't really count, because I was just a kid, whereas the '90s were when I first asserted my own taste and became interested in fashion.)<br />
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But I am oddly exhilarated as well, because the great thing about this is that I get to relive my salad days (usually a pathetic pursuit) while actually being fashionable. Of course, younger people probably look at me and still think I'm pathetic, but WHATEVER, I think I'm awesome.<br />
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As I write in <i>Out of Shape</i>:<br />
<blockquote>
I was heading to a 1990s-themed house party, dressed like one of MC Hammer’s backing dancers in bike shorts and a tank top under a brightly coloured floral chiffon shirt, with chunky gold jewellery and my actual 1995-vintage Doc Martens (they were my school shoes!). Writing this book must be emboldening me, because the last time I went out in public dressed like this, I was in Year 7 and hadn’t so much hit puberty as gently patted it a few times.</blockquote>
That party was in January this year, but I have actually got loads of wear from the chunky gold necklace I bought for my costume. And it wasn't vintage; it was new from el-cheapo costume jewellery chain <a href="http://www.lovisa.com.au/" target="_blank">Lovisa</a>, but I bought it thinking, "What would Salt 'N Pepa wear?"<br />
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<img src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-F2pDCIL2Bwk/UlfpfTQga-I/AAAAAAAABME/TCi-esMWUo4/s400/salt+n+pepa.jpg" width="400" /><br />
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Look at their mask-like makeup! Actually, revisiting my clumsy teenage makeup techniques was one of the loveliest things about that costume party. I took so many selfies! Here's a glamorous one: #nofilter #justmybathroomlighting<br />
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-iBIygOrCDlM/UlfqxmaIhxI/AAAAAAAABMM/nzP_SXz7AXI/s1600/2013-01-25+21.47.14.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-iBIygOrCDlM/UlfqxmaIhxI/AAAAAAAABMM/nzP_SXz7AXI/s400/2013-01-25+21.47.14.jpg" /></a><br />
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And here I am with the use of the flash, looking much more like my dorky teenage self:<br />
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<img src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XpItIuNF8kQ/UlfsXx_23cI/AAAAAAAABMw/ecZW0pSFNBE/s400/2013-01-25+22.04.34.jpg" /><br />
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Now, technically I was aiming for an early '90s hip-hop look, but d'you know who I actually looked more like? Collette! The completely incompetent but touchingly enthusiastic Aussie dance-pop princess of 'Ring My Bell' and 'All I Wanna Do Is Dance' fame. <br />
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<img src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-WW6BXAY8t4Y/UlfsFfhTiLI/AAAAAAAABMg/UX0YNjJrlL8/s400/collette+raze+the+roof.jpg" /><br />
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The height of Collette's fame was the year I was in year 7, and I actually possessed a pair of shiny bike shorts in a terrifying neon pink that I actually used to wear out in public. I would also like to draw attention to Collette's shoes and socks versus mine:<br />
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<img src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-qSwF-eCoO8U/UlfsEu7OYtI/AAAAAAAABMY/ghZn5cgVV3k/s400/collette.jpg" /><br />
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<img src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YlPQQ9nr_PY/UlfsV_FDjNI/AAAAAAAABMo/S_PBCtS1-J8/s400/2013-01-25+21.59.47.jpg" /><br />
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You might be going, "Ho ho Mel, that was a costume party! You'd never wear that stuff on a normal day!" Well, my friend, you'd be wrong. Behold my outfit last Saturday:<br />
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<img src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-uNKTWCbi7ow/UlfuEDjOfjI/AAAAAAAABM8/IGJfMBDhJfo/s400/2013-10-05+12.29.57.jpg" /><br />
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I wish I could actually photograph my outfits normally rather than at these zany angles. But anyway. You can't see it in the photo, but I'm wearing a necklace of bright pink plastic beads, and my denim jacket is just peeping into frame. Both the beads and the jacket are from op-shops, but I got the stretch minidress and the leggings maybe two years ago from Cotton On.<br />
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I felt very cool in this outfit! About as cool as I would have felt wearing the same outfit in 1991. And when I went strutting down the street, I passed lots of much younger women who were wearing roughly similar outfits. I felt like saying to them, "This is <i>my</i> time, bitches! That's <i>my</i> adolescence you're wearing!"<br />
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As a postscript, recently I went away for the weekend with a group of friends and in the house where we were staying, we found a stack of old <i>Rolling Stone</i> and <i>Vanity Fair</i> magazines from the late '80s through to the late '90s. It was a lot of fun to read about some hot new bands from Seattle, and Brad Pitt's edgy new film <i>Fight Club</i>.<br />
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But one of the most eye-opening things was that I got my friend to read out the top 10 songs from an old magazine and <i>I had them all in my iTunes</i>. This isn't just because I've hung onto my old CDs (<i>100% Hits – Volume 2</i>; <i>Yo!…Let's Go!</i>; <i>Now Generation: The Best of the Indie Stuff</i>). I've also actively sought out songs that I remember from my days sitting beside the radio during the chart countdown and taping all the songs I liked.<br />
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Nostalgia is an ongoing project for me, but only now is my interest in the past overlapping with my own personal past.Melhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08987383983530564029noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10736511.post-88091560706790395012013-08-22T21:49:00.000+10:002013-08-22T23:48:32.257+10:00To the museum!I love museum shows of all sorts, but particularly those dedicated to fashion and clothing. A while ago the US-based Lizzie Bramlett, one of my favourite vintage bloggers, <a href="http://thevintagetraveler.wordpress.com/2013/06/24/new-feature-exhibition-calendar/">decided</a> to compile an <a href="http://thevintagetraveler.wordpress.com/exhibition-calendar/">exhibition calendar</a>.<br />
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Nicole Jenkins at <a href="http://circavintageclothing.com.au/">Circa Vintage</a> is very good at telling her readers about upcoming vintage-related events, but I had a quick look around online and couldn't find anywhere that listed all the exhibitions in one place. So I've created my own <a href="http://footpathzeitgeist.blogspot.com.au/p/museum-calendar.html" target="_blank">exhibition calendar</a> for Australia. I actually set this up a while ago but forgot to actually tell anyone I'd done it. Duhh…<br />
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You can find it in the top menu and I'll update it whenever I come across a new exhibition. The shows are arranged by state, and within that by closing date, so you don't miss something before it finishes. <br />
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You'll notice, first of all, that Victoria is over-represented. That's because I live in Melbourne and it's easier to keep tabs on events in my home city. But I'd like to remedy that, so if you live elsewhere in Australia and hear of any forthcoming fashion, costume or clothing-related exhibitions, please <a href="mailto:incrediblemelk@gmail.com">email me</a>.Melhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08987383983530564029noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10736511.post-30895176010196921172013-08-21T23:24:00.000+10:002013-08-21T23:25:53.509+10:00The futurist idiom in film costumeScreen costume is a pet topic of mine, as you may have gathered from my recent <a href="http://footpathzeitgeist.blogspot.com.au/2013/06/talkings-readings-signings.html">public talks</a>. We get so many of our ideas of masculinity and femininity, glamour and power, how clothes should and shouldn't fit, from the movies and from TV.<br />
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Partly we want to extend the pleasure we find onscreen, and our identification with characters, by emulating the looks of our favourite stories. But screen costumes also reflect their historical, political, social and technological contexts, and contain rich intertexts drawn from our understandings of fashion history.<br />
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Recently I saw the new Neill Blomkamp film <i>Elysium</i>, starring Matt Damon. I really enjoyed it at the time – the visuals are amazing – but on reflection its script was pretty thin and its themes very didactic. (It's a critique of inequitable wealth distribution, harsh immigration policies and the moribund US healthcare system.) One thing that troubled me immediately was this: <br />
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-D8XLc-SRNx0/UhS4nYBUfBI/AAAAAAAABLE/cA8-J8FCuRI/s1600/matt+damon+elysium.jpeg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-D8XLc-SRNx0/UhS4nYBUfBI/AAAAAAAABLE/cA8-J8FCuRI/s400/matt+damon+elysium.jpeg" /></a><br />
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Matt Damon lives in the year 2154. Why is he wearing a T-shirt and jeans (and sneakers, which you can't see in this still)? This made me think about how other films have represented 'the future'. I've written a feature for <i>Junkee</i> about it, showing how both classic and recent films use costume to convey their 'futuristicity', but as a taster, here are the strands of futurism I identify:<br />
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<b>Uniformed Futurism</b> – symbolising the wearer's allegiance to an organisation, uniforms can signify utopian collectivism and freedom from markers of inequality, or a totalitarian regime imposing its will on the public.<br />
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<b>Retro-Futurism</b> – Fashion is cyclical, not linear; retro-futurism draws on <a href="http://footpathzeitgeist.blogspot.com.au/2013/06/theorising-how-fashion-changes-over-time.html" target="_blank">fashion history</a> to put its social and political connotations in fresh contexts.<br />
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<b>Couture Futurism</b> – We often imagine the future will look strange to us; couture futurism suggests that extremely avant-garde fabrics, silhouettes and textures might one day come to seem ordinary.<br />
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<b>Organic Futurism</b> – These costumes use organic forms, colours and textures to distinguish humanity from technology. Organic futurism can also assign new technological purposes to natural forms and materials.<br />
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<b>Grunge Futurism</b> – The assertion of individual style in the absence of state or corporate authority. Putting personal twists on utilitarian clothes through punk-style bricolage, not just wearing a grubby T-shirt and jeans!<br />
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<a href="http://junkee.com/elysium-is-set-in-2154-so-why-is-matt-damon-wearing-a-t-shirt-and-jeans/17795">Read all about it here.</a>Melhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08987383983530564029noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10736511.post-84706723892408620392013-07-31T16:00:00.001+10:002013-07-31T17:35:35.170+10:00Sweater girlToday was the final straw! As I walked to a screening I could feel my underwire protruding from my bra and poking me in the armpit. So, after the film I went straight to Myer, where I first asked one of the floor staff to recommend me some bras, and then asked a bra fitter to finesse the sizing.<br />
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Unsurprisingly, given some of the stuff I've been reading online, the staffer recommended balconette-style bras. These have wide, shallow cups and straps that sit on the edge of the shoulders rather than closer to the neck. It means I can choose a cup size that ordinarily would be too large, but would get the extra room in the back.<br />
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The bras the staffer recommended fitted me perfectly in the cup, which surprised me because they were D-cups. I have worn a C-cup since my early twenties. However, they were still too tight and flesh-squishing in the back. I was considering wearing them with a bra strap extender, but the bra fitter pooh-poohed this idea.<br />
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She was a no-nonsense older lady who reminded me of Miss Blankenship, Bert Cooper's elderly secretary from <i>Mad Men</i> who was assigned to Don because he would never try to seduce her.<br />
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<object height="315" width="560"><param name="movie" value="//www.youtube.com/v/43vcOBfPzcU?hl=en_GB&version=3"></param>
<param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param>
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<embed src="//www.youtube.com/v/43vcOBfPzcU?hl=en_GB&version=3" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="560" height="315" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true"></embed></object><br />
<i>"It's a business of sadists and masochists, and you know which one you are."</i><br />
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This is the bra she recommended and that I have bought: Barely There by <a href="http://footpathzeitgeist.blogspot.com.au/2012/11/the-rad-ladies-of-berlei-part-1.html">Berlei</a>. This is their standard T-shirt bra.<br />
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<img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-MNnH2Gw3pQQ/UficZvl-mhI/AAAAAAAABKE/yFc8hxVHKGw/s400/berlei+barely+there.jpg" /><br />
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It's actually the same style as the bra I was wearing, but I had the older version with daggy wide 'comfort' straps.<br />
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<img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-IQ5O_G7XeP0/UficZfkbiYI/AAAAAAAABKA/MEkX1B7E6K4/s400/berlei+barely+there+old+straps.jpg" /><br />
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Berlei has listened to its customers, who want thin, modern straps that will look okay with singlets, or peeping out from a neckline.<br />
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When this style first came out, I recall trying it on and then doing <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zTv9AhCuSU4" target="_blank"><i>Austin Powers</i> fembot pewpewpew boob-thrusts</a> because the effect was so comically prosthetic. Back then, padded bras were for teenagers with no boobs. Moulded 'T-shirt bras' that provided a Barbie-smooth silhouette and camouflaged nipple show-through were a novel idea.<br />
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But of course, they are now the dominant bra construction, and it's difficult to find non-moulded bras. I came to really like the look of a T-shirt bra, and I bought several Berlei Barely Theres because I liked the cleavage they gave me.<br />
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Anyway, the floor staffer had given me an 18C and quite liked the look of it, but Miss Blankenship was dissatisfied and got me a 16DD. Yep. Not a D. A double-D. I thought there was no way I would fill out those cups, but I did.<br />
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As I noted <a href="http://footpathzeitgeist.blogspot.com.au/2012/03/heartache-of-underwear-department.html" target="_blank">last year</a>, pop culture associates D-cups and DD-cups with massive, sexpot norgs. To cite just a few songs:<br />
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Kanye West: "Girls go wild and pull ya Ds out"<br />
Frank Ocean: "Double-D, big full breasts on my baby"<br />
A$ap Rocky: "Bad bitch, double-D, poppin' E"<br />
Ludacris: "Ludacris fill cups like double-Ds"<br />
3oh!3: "Tight jeans, double-Ds makin' me go (whistle)"<br />
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Today I happen to be wearing a tight cream angora sweater, and with my new DDs I feel like Jayne Mansfield or something.<br />
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<img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-T5C0thObCIo/UfidzkfCZrI/AAAAAAAABKU/Ag5NVE512tE/s400/Jayne+Mansfield+Dan+Dailey+The+Wayward+Bus+(1957).jpg" /><br />
<i>Jayne Mansfield with Dan Dailey in </i>The Wayward Bus<i> (1957).</i><br />
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But I'm still not sure I'm wearing the right size bra. The back is tighter than I'd prefer, although I know it's going to stretch with wear. More worryingly, it sits higher at the armpits than any bra I've previously worn. It's not digging in, exactly, but I'm more aware of it than I feel I should be.<br />
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Do you remember how it felt to first wear a bra when you never had before? You were constantly aware of this new, unfamiliar feeling. But gradually, you stopping 'noticing' your bra. It just felt like your clothes. I wonder if I will stop noticing the way this bra fits, or if it will continue to bother me, in which case I can conclude it 'doesn't fit'?<br />
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I feel particularly troubled that when I sit down at my desk, the fat pad on my torso bunches up and exerts upwards pressure on the underwire, whose outer edges them splay away from my body into the insides of my upper arms. That probably happened with my last bra too, but I can only feel it now because DD underwire is taller than C underwire.<br />
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And, more importantly, this is something a bra fitter would never pick up because women always try on bras while standing up. Like a drill sergeant, Miss Blankenship made me lift my arms above my head, and then bend at the waist, to see how the bra behaved with my movement, and she was satisfied with this one. But she never asked me to sit down.<br />
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I worry that I've wasted $54.95, which for me is a vast amount of money to spend on clothes. The rest of my entire outfit probably cost that much, including my shoes.Melhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08987383983530564029noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10736511.post-925414803708350672013-07-29T12:36:00.000+10:002013-07-29T13:44:08.013+10:00More heartache in the underwear department<img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-fzCqwryzfII/UfTbzg9T4BI/AAAAAAAABJw/z5CvJjusZQI/s400/2013-07-26+15.12.40.jpg"><br>
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I had some free time before my first MIFF film on Friday, so I went to Target where they are currently having an underwear sale. I urgently need to buy a plain, everyday pale-coloured bra – white, cream or pale pink – because mine are so old their elasticity is almost gone and they are that sad grey colour. I came away empty-handed, of course.<br>
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You can see from this instore display that Target is buying into that <a href="http://footpathzeitgeist.blogspot.com.au/2012/03/heartache-of-underwear-department.html" target="_blank">oft-cited statistic</a> about the percentage of women who wear ill-fitting bras. I tracked down the <a href="http://www.sciencedirect.com/science/article/pii/S1440244010000745" target="_blank">journal article</a> they cite; I can't read it without an institutional subscription (paywalled academic publishing is a <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/United_States_v._Aaron_Swartz" target="_blank">GODDAMNED RACKET</a>) but it charmingly says in the abstract: "women were found to have a poor ability to independently choose a well-fitted bra, which was not improved by trying on several bras or using bra-sizing measurements."<br>
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Women's ignorance is the key message conveyed by this "wrong bra size" statistic when it's cited in the popular media. We are portrayed as idiots who blithely squish or flop our boobs into ill-fitting bras, and who need the assistance of 'expert' bra fitters and extensive how-to literature.<br>
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Here is Target's 'checklist' for well-fitting bras:<br>
<blockquote>
1 The band sits horizontally around the body.<br>
2 The centre front panel sits flat against the chest.<br>
3 The cups are smooth and wrinkle-free.<br>
4 The breasts are fully contained within the cups – no bulging or spilling out of the top or sides.<br>
5 The underwires surround the breasts without digging into the breast.<br>
6 The straps are secure but not tight – the main support comes from the body of the bra, not the straps.</blockquote>
Women are not idiots. We <i>know</i> all this stuff. We know it because we are constantly reading a bazillion media articles telling us we're doing it wrong.<br>
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Here's an alternative view: what if women <i>just want to come home with a new bra</i>? Like other heartache-causing garments including swimsuits and <a href="http://footpathzeitgeist.blogspot.com.au/2013/07/jeans-litmus-test-of-fit.html" target="_blank">jeans</a>, bras are something women go on missions to buy, knowing it will be no fun but suffering through it because they need the garment and don't want to go home empty-handed.<br>
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What if women get so fed up with the poor selection available that they pick the best of a bad lot and learn to live with it?<br>
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I really want to hammer home that so many of the problems we face with clothing size and fit are retail issues. For instance, negative experiences with customer service (and my <a href="http://footpathzeitgeist.blogspot.com.au/2012/08/trying-on-clothes-in-shops.html" target="_blank">survey</a> unearthed some <i>heartbreaking</i> stories) deter us from seeking 'help with sizes', and poor stock replenishment means we can never access a complete size range in the one store.<br>
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So many times I'm forced to settle for a bra I don't really like because they don't have a suitable size in the one I do like. On Saturday I went to Big Dubs, where I tried on various styles of bra in four different sizes. The store didn't have my preferred size in any of the styles I liked, and none of the ugly bras I tried on fitted me either.<br>
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I turned myself over to the 'expert' advice in Target's 'bra book', and measured myself according to the instructions. The size chart tells me I should be wearing a size 22B. That is interesting, since Target does not make such a size and nor does anyone else. I am <a href="http://women.braqueen.com.au/target-bras/" target="_blank">not the only one</a> to call bullshit on Target's bra sizing.<br>
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Target recommends solving fit problems by trying larger or smaller cup or band sizes, or trying on a style of bra you wouldn't have picked yourself because it's frickin' ugly. For instance, if underwires are jabbing you, they recommend "a minimiser style as they are designed for a wider breast shape." Too bad if you don't have big boobs that you want to minimise, or if you like to wear low-cut tops.<br>
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Target also advocates 'swing sizes' – rather than a 12C, try a 14B or a 10D. Good luck trying to find those in the store in the style and colour you want. But swing sizing only works if you stay within the conventional 10A-16D. If a 16C doesn't fit, you can't try an 18B because there is no such size.<br>
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Indeed, it is very hard to find bras with small cup sizes in relation to the back size. I'd be interested to see the percentage of women who have this body shape because I imagine it's quite low – too low for brands to be bothered trying to market to it.<br>
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There is, however, a market for fashionable lingerie for small-bodied women who have comparatively large breasts for their size. Culture is beginning to normalise (rather than fetishise) this body shape, although <a href="http://www.washingtoncitypaper.com/blogs/sexist/2010/04/21/with-great-cleavage-comes-great-responsibility/" target="_blank">large-breasted women get slut-shamed</a> and female politicians including <a href="http://www.news.com.au/national-news/prime-minister-julia-gillard-accused-of-8216showing-cleavage8217-in-parliament/story-fncynjr2-1226664687491" target="_blank">Julia Gillard</a> and <a href="http://www.spiegel.de/international/germany/plunging-neckline-merkel-surprised-by-attention-to-low-cut-dress-a-547512.html" target="_blank">Angela Merkel</a> have been criticised for showing cleavage.<br>
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Yet there isn't a complementary bra market for large-bodied women who have comparatively small breasts for their size. They get the obesity stigma of plus-size, yet they lack the bountiful 'curves' that plus-size women often use to combat obesity stigma by associating themselves with retro-styled pinup glamour.<br>
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Judging from Target's plus-size range, fat chicks must clamour for either nanna-beige minimisers or 'sexy' bras in bold prints and bright colours, doused in cheap-looking machine lace. Target did not stock any plain, pale-coloured bras in sizes outside 10A-16D. They were black, red, purple and leopard-print vampish styles with lots of lace and satin.<br>
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My search for a plain, pale-coloured bra that doesn't make me look like a trussed ham continues.Melhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08987383983530564029noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10736511.post-79599563196042680792013-07-28T19:58:00.000+10:002013-07-29T01:49:41.109+10:00My week in clothesApart from the stupendous <a href="http://footpathzeitgeist.blogspot.com.au/2013/07/reunited-and-it-feels-so-good.html" target="_blank">reunion</a>, this past week I wanted to blog some tidbits that are perhaps not deserving of their own entire blog posts.<br />
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<img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-2xnzUV0UW4g/UfTbGxOIViI/AAAAAAAABJY/Ti0iFLu9jV0/s400/2013-07-23+23.37.08.jpg" /><br />
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On Tuesday night I went out for drinks with my colleagues at <a href="http://www.junkee.com/"><i>Junkee</i></a>, and the taxi I shared home dropped me outside the Salco Group on Elgin Street. I couldn't get over the <a href="http://footpathzeitgeist.blogspot.com.au/2013/07/british-country-winter.html">British Country</a>-ness of this window display.<br />
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I've always thought Salco was some random corporate and uniform manufacturer, but it has a long history in that spot on Elgin Street, Carlton – it's been there since 1922. In 1942 it seems to have landed a wartime military uniform manufacturing contract, because it was advertising for machinists.<br />
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It seems to specialise in menswear (especially shirting). It has its own men's shirt brand 'Abelard', and also has the Australian production and distribution rights to American brands including <a href="http://us.gant.com/" target="_blank">Gant</a>, <a href="http://geoffreybeene.com/" target="_blank">Geoffrey Beene</a> and <a href="http://www.tommybahama.com/" target="_blank">Tommy Bahama</a>, and UK brands <a href="http://www.thomaspink.com/" target="_blank">Thomas Pink</a> and <a href="http://www.jeffbanks.co.uk/" target="_blank">Jeff Banks</a>.<br />
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These are all quite preppy, traditional brands, so no wonder the window display looks like this. It's fascinating, though, to be reminded that brands trading on 'heritage' (for instance, citing London shirtmakers' district Jermyn Street, or ties to Ivy Style and WASPy resort wear, or Jeff Banks' Swinging London past and association with the Eurythmics) are not necessarily manufactured in 'authentic' ways.<br />
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Yet, ironically, Salco has its own kind of authenticity simply by operating for more than 90 years in the one location, even though it doesn't have any of the 'cultural' authenticity markers of the brands it manufactures.<br />
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<img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-43FgCVl1fwE/UfTbS2zdwoI/AAAAAAAABJg/Px93o33MGAk/s400/2013-07-26+12.10.41.jpg" /><br />
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Here I am on Friday in the Body Shop store in the Bourke Street Mall. I am wearing the other dress I bought from Hunter Gatherer in my <a href="http://footpathzeitgeist.blogspot.com.au/2013/07/reunited-and-it-feels-so-good.html" target="_blank">'two for $10'</a> bargain. It's not the greatest; the skirt is a bit frumpily long and the print is a very '80s paint-swish abstract, but I like the colours, plus it has POCKETS, which was really helpful when I was standing around instore and wanted access to my phone. (It was also great wearing a dress with pockets to the MIFF opening night; I didn't have to worry about carrying a bag around all night.)<br />
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I was there as part of an event to mark the brand's 30th anniversary in Australia and its store redesign. There was a deal whereby if you bought $40 worth of Body Shop products, you got a free copy of my book, which I could tell you about and sign for you.<br />
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I'm coming to realise that I've written the sort of book that's hard to categorise – just look at all the various bookshop sections I saw it shelved during <a href="http://footpathzeitgeist.blogspot.com.au/2013/07/home-city-book-tour.html" target="_blank">Home City Book Tour</a>. But once I could tell people about it in person, they seemed quite interested and animated about the issues at stake. I gave away about 25 books, which hopefully went to people who mightn't otherwise have discovered my work.Melhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08987383983530564029noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10736511.post-59476778953319891432013-07-25T17:07:00.001+10:002013-07-25T17:13:25.266+10:00Reunited, and it feels so goodLast year I bought a fancy scarf for $1 from the <a href="http://www.bsl.org.au/CommunityStores" target="_blank">Brotherhood of St Laurence</a> op-shop in the Royal Arcade. It was from a basket of scarves out the front of the shop, and I was drawn to the bright red, pink and violet colours.<br />
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It is a very long strip: long enough to loop loosely around my neck and still have enough length left for a decent pussy-bow. I remember wearing it to the Emerging Writers' Festival program launch in early May last year, double-looped and pinned to the inside of a plunging black dress, like an underlying blouse, and someone complimented me on it.<br />
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Here I am wearing it last September to meet my friend Tash's new baby Max (I have flipped the pussy-bow over my shoulder so I do not suffocate a small baby with it):<br />
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<img border="0" height="400" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-e4IFQHBSveE/UfDI__eo2_I/AAAAAAAABI0/TXveiSA8j_I/s400/Mel+with+Max.jpg" width="400" /><br />
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Anyway, I was planning to wear it to tonight's MIFF opening gala as a contrasting sash for my electric blue dress. But then I was walking down Brunswick Street yesterday and on a "two for $10" sale rack outside <a href="http://www.bsl.org.au/hunter-gatherer.aspx" target="_blank">Hunter Gatherer</a>, which is the Brotherhood's pricier, more upmarket 'vintage' brand, I saw… <b>THE DRESS MY SCARF WAS THE SASH FOR!!!</b><br />
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<img border="0" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-aCEuhHiC2MM/Ue_l1LyNj6I/AAAAAAAABIc/-UL77oXgH7M/s640/blogger-image--1478257017.jpg" /><br />
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<img border="0" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-vBA6ymjYLio/UfDIvn17nvI/AAAAAAAABIs/NytRCoZQE60/s640/blogger-image-1327968576.jpg" /><br />
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I actually squawked aloud, "Omigod, omigod, omigod…" like a parody of a retail-obsessed airhead. I tried it on and thanks be to elastic waists: it fits me and looks good!<br />
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It's a '70s Ossie Clark-esque design that's actually perfectly in sync with the opening night film, Pedro Almodóvar's '70s sex comedy throwback <i>I'm So Excited</i>. The skirt is full and swishy, and has groovy thigh-high side slits (why!?). It also has POCKETS!<br />
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The bodice is daringly low-cut: I could wear it braless with double-sided tape, but since MIFF is technically a 'work' event for me, it's probably more dignified to wear a slip or camisole underneath.<br />
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-3lq5gHc8Gws/UfDP4HIv5QI/AAAAAAAABJI/V9FSVwc5HPE/s1600/CateOssie.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-3lq5gHc8Gws/UfDP4HIv5QI/AAAAAAAABJI/V9FSVwc5HPE/s400/CateOssie.jpg" /></a><br />
<i>Left: Cate Blanchett wears Ossie Clark to </i>Vogue Australia<i>'s 50th anniversary event; right: Emma Watson wears Ossie Clark to the London premiere of </i>Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince.<br />
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You have to understand how uncanny this is. This dress has no label and is probably handmade. Clearly it was donated, with its matching scarf, to the Brotherhood, but they got separated. The dress was deemed 'vintage' enough for Hunter Gatherer while the scarf was siphoned off to the regular Brotherhood stores, and both items clearly hung around long enough to be reduced to bargain-bin status. And I was lucky enough to stumble across both of them, more than a year apart.<br />
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How serendipitous op-shopping can be! To fill up my 'two for $10' bargain I also bought another printed, elastic-waisted dress. It's okay – nothing special. Well, not nearly as special as this happy reunion…Melhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08987383983530564029noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10736511.post-73388309276744735862013-07-24T17:34:00.002+10:002013-07-24T17:34:49.892+10:00Jeans: the litmus test of fitLast Sunday was quite nippy, so I wanted to wear my Christmas jumper. Underneath the jumper I wore a navy and white striped T-shirt. First I tried teaming this with a royal blue miniskirt with red tartan leggings, but it looked too busy and choppy. So I tried it with my black cigarette-leg pants. It looked good, but it bothered me that the top was navy while the pants were black. Then I remembered… my jeans.<br />
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Now, I hadn't worn these jeans since the ill-fated Collingwood Skipping Club performance at the State of Design festival opening in 2011. They were part of that night's story of crushing humiliation, and I balled them up in a drawer and forgot about them.<br />
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But I put them on today, and I was shocked by how ill-fitting they were. I don't think my body has changed too much since 2011, so did I actually wear these terrible, baggy jeans on a regular basis? Prepare yourself for some ugly photos…<br />
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<img border="0" height="400" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Eyl3RHl_pDA/UetLbffUzWI/AAAAAAAABG8/kQMQP1bKWt8/s400/2013-07-21+11.45.12.jpg" width="300" /><br />
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This is the best photo. They don't look too bad here. But you can already glimpse…<br />
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<img border="0" height="400" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-68bGqDJgdWA/UetLdUkEpUI/AAAAAAAABHE/p0gECoCCd0A/s400/2013-07-21+11.44.09.jpg" width="300" /><br />
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…that phenomenon colloquially dubbed <a href="http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=ghost%20penis">'ghost penis'</a> or <a href="http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=polterwang" target="_blank">'polterwang'</a>. Also known as a <a href="http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=pants%20tent">pants tent</a>, this is that bunchy, saggy thing that loose pants do in the crotch. It's particularly unfortunate on women.<br />
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<img border="0" height="400" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-lfR1GhGWNmU/UetLezUmfrI/AAAAAAAABHU/KAMMdB-Rpqs/s400/2013-07-21+11.46.35.jpg" width="300" /><br />
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It was difficult to photograph these jeans well enough to properly convey the horror. In this pic you can see the elephantine bagginess through the thighs and knees. But gentlemen, grasp your manhoods, for here comes the money shot!<br />
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<img border="0" height="400" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-XWEWUFhHraY/UetLdyuxAwI/AAAAAAAABHM/OPR-MEGFDpU/s400/2013-07-21+11.45.40.jpg" width="300" /><br />
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Dear god! These are the worst-fitting pants ever! To me they are an excellent illustration of why I never wear jeans.<br />
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But a better explanation for why I never wear jeans is that jeans are one of the most difficult garments to fit properly. Unless they're deliberately baggy, they have to fit snugly yet comfortably in the torso, buttocks, crotch, thighs <i>and</i> calves, which is a lot to ask of a mass-manufactured garment when there is such a vast amount of variation in the human body.<br />
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This is why jeans companies have partnered with 3D body scanning technologies. Jeans labels and retailers are the most prominent of the participating brands with <a href="http://www.me-ality.com/brands" target="_blank">Me-Ality</a>, the 'virtual fitting room' startup that has kiosks in North American shopping centres.<br />
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The idea is that you have yourself scanned using the same Alvanon scanning booths that <a href="http://footpathzeitgeist.blogspot.com.au/2012/06/what-dress-size-am-i.html" target="_blank">I experienced</a> as part of Target's sizing survey, and then the software actually directs you to the shops in the same mall that stock your 'best-fitting' garments. Target, too, made it all about jeans; I was offered a time-limited discount off Target jeans for having participated in the scanning survey.<br />
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<a href="http://www.forbes.com/sites/jenniferhicks/2011/10/24/bodymetrics-creates-3d-body-scanner-for-new-look/" target="_blank">Bodymetrics</a> is a scanning startup that uses the same white light technique as the XBox Kinect. Here, the TechCrunch team road-test the technology in Bloomingdale's:<br />
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It's fascinating, though, how coy they are about the process. White light scanners require you to strip down to your undies in the booth, but TechCrunch gracefully evades actually showing the scanner in action.<br />
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Based on the scan data, Bodymetrics then assigns you to one of three orthovestic 'body shapes' and recommends the corresponding jeans, which it euphemistically names Emerald (a straight figure), Sapphire (an hourglass figure) and Ruby (a pear-shaped figure).<br />
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Marks and Spencer's <a href="http://www.marksandspencer.com/Jeans-Find-Your-Perfect-Fit-Womens/b/2050884031?extid=ms_social_BodyShapeDenim_310812" target="_blank">Body Shape Denim</a> range also sorts you into three orthovestic categories, named after Hollywood stars and dictated by waist-hip ratio. 'Lana' is designed "for a fuller waist and a slim hip"; 'Marilyn' is designed "to follow the contours of an hourglass figure with well-defined waist and shapely legs"; 'Eva' is "for a small waist and curvy hips".<br />
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A red flag comes up about how shitty jeans will always look on me when the 'Lana' style is recommended for those with a waist-hip differential of 22cm or under, and my waist-hip differential is 9cm. According to M&S's size chart, my waist measurement dictates I choose jeans <i>four sizes larger</i> than the size recommended by my hip measurement. Which size should I choose, even in this supposedly shape-conscious jeans style?<br />
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No wonder my jeans, which I painstakingly tried on in a shop and bought primarily because they did not create a 'muffin top' at the waist, fit me so badly.<br />
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As I gesture to <a href="http://footpathzeitgeist.blogspot.com.au/2013/06/theorising-how-fashion-changes-over-time.html" target="_blank">here</a>, jeans have become an omnipresent casual uniform – so much so that they're often regarded as 'essential' and 'classic', and culture tells me again and again that I should go to as much effort as possible to find a pair that fits me. I suppose if I cared enough I could get some jeans custom-made, but honestly there are so many other nice things to wear, why would I bother trying to squeeze my body into this particular genre of garment?<br />
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This is a prime reason why we should let our own tastes guide our dressing, not external notions of what we 'should' wear. In the end, I put my black pants back on and wore those, even though navy and black don't go especially well together.Melhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08987383983530564029noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10736511.post-27343498837141499722013-07-12T12:30:00.000+10:002013-07-12T12:30:00.990+10:00British Country WinterI have become obsessed lately with a kind of midcentury British winter country look: chunky jumpers; kilts; boots; brogues; scarves. If my last sartorial theme was <a href="http://footpathzeitgeist.blogspot.com.au/2012/12/seven-sisters-summer.html">Seven Sisters Summer</a>, this season I am all British Country Winter. Here is the, ahem, monarch of that style:<br />
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<img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-hGA_uHwy55o/Udo1boG2SHI/AAAAAAAABEQ/lzsvXZ1MURA/s400/queen+balmoral+corgi.jpg" /><br />
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<img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-fu-RWKxyymc/Udo1btFaF1I/AAAAAAAABEM/NHxeTxfrjgs/s400/queen+balmoral+headscarf.jpg" /><br />
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<img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-DIgsOY-xaVA/Udo1bcr4ZFI/AAAAAAAABEE/5HHwVGlT_hU/s400/queen+balmoral+purple.jpg" /><br />
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<img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/--TJIPPZ7Ycw/Udo1f3jzVNI/AAAAAAAABEc/Kvk6CHLgk00/s400/the+queen+balmoral.jpg" /><br />
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I am not into wearing headscarves like that; however I love those giant silk scarves themselves, and own quite a few in that style. It's so hard to wear them without looking dowdy, though – but that is the challenge of British Country Winter.<br />
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<img border="0" height="400" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-CPLx_C8Q8dE/Ud7NtwrLguI/AAAAAAAABGY/qB3UgPt_-rs/s400/2013-07-05+15.46.17.jpg" width="300" /><br />
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Last Friday I teamed my argyle knee socks with my dad's Balenciaga wingtips, which I am ashamed to say have scuffed toes because of my bad habit of resting the toes of my shoes on the floor when I sit at my desk. As a fun aside, the argyle pattern is said to be derived from the Clan Campbell tartan, whose lands are in Argyll.<br />
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<img border="0" height="400" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-HVQ-YSNzfuA/UdkYzMCFLPI/AAAAAAAABDM/Rb6EAnr3nCU/s400/2013-07-07+16.16.35.jpg" width="300" /><br />
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This is a beautifully made navy and jade wool kilt by <b>Fletcher Jones</b> that I bought on my <a href="http://footpathzeitgeist.blogspot.com.au/2013/07/expedition-to-savers.html" target="_blank">recent Savers trip</a>. Intriguingly, it's size 17 – a size I have never seen before.<br />
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I probably bought it because just recently I was discussing Fletcher Jones kilts with my aunt. I was under the impression that the brand was still in business but she said it wasn't. This is correct; it went into administration in 2011 and all the stores closed that year. Just goes to show how off my radar the brand is.<br />
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<img src="http://images.theage.com.au/2013/06/18/4500068/FLETCHER_JONES1-620x349.jpg" width="500" /><br />
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Fletcher Jones is a very traditional brand specialising in well-made, well-fitting investment suiting for a mainly older clientele. I would never have shopped there. The above image depicts its Chadstone Shopping Centre store during the 1960s. It has recently <a href="http://www.smartcompany.com.au/retail/056102-fletcher-jones-closes-doors-but-opens-ecommerce-store.html" target="_blank">reinvented itself</a> as an <a href="http://www.fletcherjones.com.au/" target="_blank">online store</a> selling a limited range of basics. (The womenswear range is only pants and jeans.)<br />
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I think some loyal Fletcher Jones customer (or her relatives) must have donated her collection of kilts to Savers, because there was also a cream-coloured one and a russety-brown one. But the navy and jade was the most to my taste. My mother will probably laugh at me when she sees me wearing it, because it looks more than a little like my high-school winter uniform skirt.<br />
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<img border="0" height="400" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-KlHaXtjyjcA/UdkY4H8r01I/AAAAAAAABDU/WWn_zYRLlNg/s400/2013-07-07+16.21.52.jpg" width="300" /><br />
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I bought this jumper above as it combines traditional cable-knit, polo-neck styling with the bright colours I love. I think colour is a good way to wear conservatively styled clothes without looking too dowdy. Plus, it's super cheerful in winter.<br />
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<img src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xYOie6V0X_U/UdkY7zBGicI/AAAAAAAABDc/X1IHbqSGNB8/s400/2013-07-07+16.22.51.jpg" width="300" /><br />
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I also had my eye out for a Fair Isle jumper. Ever since I got my <a href="http://footpathzeitgeist.blogspot.com.au/2013/05/im-sick-of-all-these-layers.html" target="_blank">Christmas jumper</a> I've been a little obsessed with them. Like argyle (which is still associated with golf), Fair Isle knits were popularised in the 1920s by the Prince of Wales, later to become Edward VIII and then the Duke of Windsor.<br />
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By all accounts he was a prize dickhead: a permanent adolescent whose own dad said, "After I am dead, the boy will ruin himself in 12 months." However, in terms of his influence on menswear, he is up there with <a href="http://footpathzeitgeist.blogspot.com.au/2012/12/beau-brummell-lord-of-pants.html" target="_blank">Beau Brummell</a>. Other fashion trends <a href="http://42ndblackwatch1881.wordpress.com/2009/02/08/the-duke-of-windsors-sartorial-style/" target="_blank">sparked</a> <a href="http://42ndblackwatch1881.wordpress.com/2009/02/08/the-duke-of-windsors-sartorial-style-formalwear/" target="_blank">by</a> <a href="http://42ndblackwatch1881.wordpress.com/2009/02/08/the-duke-of-windsors-sartorial-style-suitings/" target="_blank">him</a> include the glen plaid (better known now as the Prince of Wales check), the tartan suit, and the midnight blue evening suit. His personal tea blend – Twinings Prince of Wales – is one of my favourites. I refer to making a cup of it as "cracking a Prinny."<br />
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<img src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-t8Pv6Fpx35k/UdkY-K8chpI/AAAAAAAABDk/VCh2vMiI7RM/s400/2013-07-07+16.23.02.jpg" width="300" /><br />
<i>Vintage Target! </i><br />
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My new Fair Isle jumper isn't as colourful as I would've liked, but I like the snowflake motif and the grey and gold colours. I happen to own a stretch pencil skirt in the same gold, so on Monday I paired it with the jumper (with a black T-shirt underneath), plus herringbone textured tights and my new black patent mary-janes.<br />
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<img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-o_QTVn3dCkY/UdrloQ4xdpI/AAAAAAAABFc/SZ5u8rxMyo4/s400/2013-07-08+14.22.01.jpg" /><br />
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To jazz it up a little, I wore my silver pendant, which I got from the Rose St Artists Market. It's made from an old piece of silver-plated cutlery.<br />
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<img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-RhBSJTVMU2U/UdrliP9cJoI/AAAAAAAABFU/nyyozq8MAWI/s400/2013-07-08+14.23.55.jpg" /><br />
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There's a certain nostalgia – a class nostalgia – about British country style in a similar way there is to Ivy style. The clothes originated as practical garb for country sports such as riding, shooting, golf and fishing, but have now themselves become emblematic of a certain posh, landed country lifestyle.<br />
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I'm reading a fascinating book at the moment called <i><a href="http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/15923407-gentry" target="_blank">Gentry</a></i> by historian Adam Nicolson, which tells the story of this uniquely British upper middle class through the archived diaries, papers and correspondence of particular families. They built and consolidated their social power through property, strategic marriage, political alliances and colonial trade.<br />
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But land – the saleable commodities it could nurture, and the rents it could generate – was the heart of the gentry, which is why they're so often called the <i>landed</i> gentry. Country dress has changed very little over the last 50 years – check out <a href="http://www.luxuryandstyle.co.uk/the-english-country-ladys-wardrobe/" target="_blank">this insane online guide</a>, which unironically uses the word 'jolly'.<br />
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What if 'classic' styles are classic not because (as we are often told) they 'never go out of style', but rather because this very sartorial petrification communicates wealth?<br />
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<img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-jIcLDcWTnWc/Ud7I-XQZUTI/AAAAAAAABGE/-KxMygKlWTE/s400/cabaret+1930s+knitwear.jpg" /><br />
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This hasn't escaped class fantasist Ralph Lauren: here's his Fall/Winter 2012 collection:<br />
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<img src="http://www.gentlemansgazette.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/11/Country-Style-with-shoulders-slimmer-than-in-the-20s-with-Thom-Browne-length.jpg" width="500"/><br />
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But British country style overlaps with what we could think of as 'academic' or 'intellectual' style. Here I'm not speaking of bohemian or creative style, but the 'tweediness' we associate with Oxbridge in the first half of the 20th century, or with stereotypical lady librarians, or perhaps with Bletchley Park staffers during WWII.<br />
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Last week I gave a talk on the costumes from the film <i>Cabaret</i>, and was intrigued by Brian Roberts' (Michael York) dress. Brian, you'll recall, is a PhD student living in Germany in 1931. His friend Sally Bowles is a bohemian, but Brian is more straitlaced.<br />
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<img border="0" height="300" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-0_xio-OyDr4/Ud7JBk2zX-I/AAAAAAAABGI/RaqhVopXPbk/s400/cabaret+knitwear.jpg" width="400" /><br />
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That's actually quite close to how real 1930s clothes look. I found some pics of period knitwear. Note how short the jumpers and vests are, because of the high-waisted, baggy, pleated pants.<br />
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<img border="0" height="400" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-h5-5qOsEQ-U/Ud7I9yvPE0I/AAAAAAAABF0/e_BHrolvzUk/s400/cabaret+1930s+knitwear+1.jpg" width="251" /><br />
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<img border="0" height="400" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-TroR3GPl8W8/Ud7I9pJGYMI/AAAAAAAABF4/THr_RJLHv3g/s400/cabaret+1930s+knitwear+2.jpg" width="301" /><br />
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This old-fashioned Oxbridge nerdiness is, perhaps, what the <i>Doctor Who</i> costume designers had in mind for Matt Smith, although the shortness of his pants gives them a punk edge, and the tightness is fashionable right now.<br />
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<img src="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/en/8/8a/Eleventhdoctornew.jpg" /><br />
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His new outfit, with the waistcoat and frock coat, is much more reminiscent of teddy-boy styling:<br />
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<img height="600" src="http://www.kasterborous.com/wordpress/wp-content/uploads/2010/4007637-low-doctor-who-series-7b.jpg" /><br />
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But I do love the wingtip boots! Mixing browns, blacks, greys and navies is a key aspect of British country style. However, if you go too far in one direction you get steampunk; too far in the other direction, you get <i>Frankie</i>. It's going to take me a while to nail this style.Melhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08987383983530564029noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10736511.post-51278272056546816442013-07-09T01:53:00.001+10:002013-07-09T01:53:21.562+10:00Expedition to SaversIn <i>Out of Shape</i> I write about an expedition I made last year to Savers. It actually turned out to be a good-value expedition because I bought a bright yellow self-stripe skirt that I've worn a lot in both winter and summer, and some jewellery I've likewise got lots of wear from.<br />
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<img src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-rmG_Anuhkwo/UdkVXOyyRMI/AAAAAAAABCE/r3UEup-tJCQ/s400/2012-05-19+20.06.33.jpg" width="300" /><br />
<i>Two pairs of earrings and a brooch</i><br />
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<img src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-NX-NOa6x0v0/UdkVgaCDnBI/AAAAAAAABCM/gjhL5UgB9yI/s400/2012-05-20+17.05.40.jpg" width="400" /><br />
<i>The skirt is a much more lurid acid-yellow than it appears here. I photographed the waistband because I was so proud of altering it from a dropped waist to a high waist.</i><br />
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-0nF4Oyz8res/UdrNhdeRd-I/AAAAAAAABEs/Lht3u7iIIKw/s1600/2013-07-03+12.18.55.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-0nF4Oyz8res/UdrNhdeRd-I/AAAAAAAABEs/Lht3u7iIIKw/s400/2013-07-03+12.18.55.jpg" /></a><br />
<i>Me modelling the skirt (weirdly tucked up at one side; I dunno why) and my book outside Luna Park last week, during <a href="http://footpathzeitgeist.blogspot.com.au/2013/07/home-city-book-tour.html">Home City Book Tour</a>.</i><br />
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But on the day I was really annoyed because I wanted to emerge with a 'haul', yet none of my pet items were there. The items above were literally all I bought.<br />
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Well, my imminent appearance on the <i>Today</i> show (Tomorrow! 8:20am! Channel 9!) gave me the excuse I needed to make another pilgrimage to Savers. I was really annoyed at myself because I started out too late, meaning I had less than an hour in the store before it closed, and I didn't give myself enough time to go through all the departments properly.<br />
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However! Savers Mill Park had some GREAT stuff this time around! I was super excited to see this Diane Freis dress (as collected by <a href="http://footpathzeitgeist.blogspot.com.au/2013/03/interview-kate-millett-of-bombshell.html" target="_blank">Kate Millett of Bombshell Vintage</a>), but disappointed that it was too small in the bust and kind of squished my boobs flat.<br />
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<img src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-s6GQP4b-g5g/UdkXA4RUb4I/AAAAAAAABCc/Bc5QjeZzRCo/s400/2013-07-06+17.38.48.jpg" width="300" /><br />
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Sorry about my bad, blurry photography. I have terribly shaky hands. The sleeves were very full and blousy, and the skirt lovely and wafty, and it had a contrasting band of fabric defining the waist. It might still be there!<br />
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<img border="0" height="400" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-6wTuzk59iY8/UdkYdWZJIyI/AAAAAAAABCs/Y7v5d6TDCZ4/s400/2013-07-06+17.27.17.jpg" width="300" /><br />
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<img border="0" height="400" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ChCsQSMEZJs/UdkYiIb-r5I/AAAAAAAABC0/FSSCiNgVNZg/s400/2013-07-06+17.28.04.jpg" width="300" /><br />
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I was also taken with this muumuu, an authentic made-in-Hawaii souvenir. However, as I detail in the book, muumuus have acquired cultural connotations of slovenliness and decrepitude, and I just couldn't bring myself to try it on. I already fret that my <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8DtbPOXFk00" target="_blank">fingers are too fat</a> to use the phone.<br />
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<img src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-e0WL86rRLWM/UdkYpwPPC5I/AAAAAAAABC8/-7NNquSS8Gk/s400/2013-07-06+17.12.16.jpg" width="300" /><br />
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Now this is fascinating. I've read about half-sizes but I've never actually seen one before. Basically, these were like a mixture of petites and plus-sizes: they assumed a shorter height, lower bust and curvier figure. If a half-size is 20 or above, it's probably a plus-size; otherwise it might just be for a shorter person.<br />
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<a href="http://sammydvintage.com/vintage-style/vintage-clothing-label-tags/#half" target="_blank">Apparently</a>, half-sizes date a garment to between the 1940s and the 1970s. This was a very '70s-looking party frock with long sheer chiffon sleeves, a full accordion-pleated chiffon skirt and an elastic waist. I wish I could find out more about the Janelle label; it's not listed at the <a href="http://vintagefashionguild.org/label-resource-a-z/" target="_blank">Vintage Fashion Guild</a> and in my searching I can only find 'Janelle' used as a name.<br />
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There were heaps of other great dresses on the rack, in the bright block jewel colours I like. But they were either too tight, or too drapey in a way that would have people solicitously offering me their seat on public transport, if you know what I am saying. There was one violet dress (I am really into violet-purple at the moment) that nipped me in Hendricksically at the waist, but I know from <a href="http://footpathzeitgeist.blogspot.com.au/2012/03/take-it-easy.html" target="_blank">bitter experience</a> that it would get unwearably uncomfortable after about half an hour.<br />
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-6fmJLyPqlww/UdkYvkW1VTI/AAAAAAAABDE/u4INxtpf5PI/s1600/2013-07-07+16.14.13.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-6fmJLyPqlww/UdkYvkW1VTI/AAAAAAAABDE/u4INxtpf5PI/s400/2013-07-07+16.14.13.jpg" width="300" /></a><br />
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Before I knew it, the store was closing and I still had a few dresses I had yet to try on. So I recklessly bought them anyway. The above purple print button-through frock is one of them. Because it has a sash tie at the back, I thought I'd be able to cinch it in if it was too big. But when I tried it on at home, I realised it's clearly made for someone bigger than me. The sleeves are too baggy for my arms, and my boobs don't fill out the bust.<br />
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I figured I'd resell the purple dress, since plus-size vintage is so hard to come by. It has no labels and I think it might be home-made, although the neckline is interfaced and the seams are overlocked. It's a light, silky fabric that feels like rayon or viscose. Flat measurements: waist 61cm; bust 64cm (from armpit to armpit); centre back length 102cm; sleeve length 26.5cm (from shoulder seam).<br />
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The bodice is in three panels, gathered slightly at the waist so there's room in the bust, and the sleeves are slightly gathered at the shoulder. There are small shoulder pads to create a structured 1940s look. The skirt is perhaps a half-circle shape in seven panels and has two pintucks: one on each side of the front.<br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-_sqh6cDFgCU/UdrUxq0_KNI/AAAAAAAABFE/YIqdCrTiFmo/s1600/2013-07-07+16.15.06.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-_sqh6cDFgCU/UdrUxq0_KNI/AAAAAAAABFE/YIqdCrTiFmo/s400/2013-07-07+16.15.06.jpg" /></a><br />
<i>The back of the dress, showing the sash which can be used to tighten the fit.</i><br />
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/--76KphwbU3o/UdrUU3xrJuI/AAAAAAAABE8/klJoDCGlO5s/s1600/2013-07-07+16.14.39.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/--76KphwbU3o/UdrUU3xrJuI/AAAAAAAABE8/klJoDCGlO5s/s400/2013-07-07+16.14.39.jpg" /></a><br />
<i>Detail of the fabric and the buttons. You can also see the waist seam just below the third button.</i><br />
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If you're interested in buying it or know someone who might be, please leave me a comment or send me an email.<br />
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<img border="0" height="400" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-S9MZXBv7nL4/UdkZBySzzbI/AAAAAAAABDs/KuHBEFYHJeo/s400/2013-07-07+16.23.49.jpg" width="300" /><br />
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I also bought these shoes. I have discarded my previous philosophy of <a href="http://footpathzeitgeist.blogspot.com.au/2011/01/fewer-and-better-shoes.html">fewer and better shoes</a> because honestly, I wear through them all just the same. Either I grind down the inner sole from inside or I grind down the outer sole until it cracks or splits. I try to prolong them using insoles, but I grind those down too.<br />
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Black mary-jane flats are one of my <a href="http://footpathzeitgeist.blogspot.com.au/2012/09/on-abundance.html">'collecting focuses'</a>. I always look for them in op-shops when my last pair is nearly gone. They always look slightly different – the toe squarer or rounder, the upper more ornate, the heel moulded in slightly different ways. These patent ones replace a pair with flowers stitched to them (which I am wearing in the Luna Park pic above), which replaced a pair with decorative cutouts and contrast stitching, which in turn replaced my Grosby leather ballet flats that split in the sole.<br />
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And peeping into the frame you can see the other dress I bought without trying it on, which I'm actually pretty chuffed with. In daylight it looks chocolate brown but I think it was originally black but has faded with age. It's '70s does '40s, with a wrap top, long sleeves puffed at the shoulder with little shoulder pads, and an accordion-pleated skirt from an elastic waist.<br />
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<img border="0" height="400" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-tPo1meyFbKk/UdkZNjMi8LI/AAAAAAAABD0/H5l8eolnqw4/s400/2013-07-07+16.27.21.jpg" width="300" /><br />
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This is how I styled it on Sunday. I was trying to look <a href="http://footpathzeitgeist.blogspot.com.au/2012/05/high-retro-anxiety.html" target="_blank">a bit retro</a> because I was talking about the <i>Wizard of Oz</i> costumes at ACMI. I assure you my victory rolls looked better IRL than they do in this pic.Melhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08987383983530564029noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10736511.post-28400685254454408092013-07-05T15:50:00.000+10:002013-07-05T15:50:00.329+10:00Napoleon's hand-in-waistcoat pose<img src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YruwVos_2_8/Uc8Sh7y-01I/AAAAAAAABBU/PMlAUSw8NC4/s320/napoleon+waistcoat+pose.jpg" width="320" /><br />
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I bet you have wondered why Napoleon Bonaparte is so often depicted with his hand stuck in his waistcoat. Again, we must return to the shit-scared aristocracy after the French Revolution. This was a time when it was <a href="http://footpathzeitgeist.blogspot.com.au/2012/12/beau-brummell-lord-of-pants.html" target="_blank">very bad taste</a> to dress in a foppish way.<br />
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In England, the aristocracy sought to redefine itself as strong and patriotic – "don't guillotine me, bro!" – through associating itself with such social institutions as the public school, arts patronage, organised fox-hunting and the reform of the armed forces. Each of these developed their own specific costumes.<br />
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<a href="http://footpathzeitgeist.blogspot.com.au/2012/12/beau-brummell-lord-of-pants.html" target="_blank">Beau Brummell</a>'s rise began as an Eton schoolboy; his first sartorial innovation was, apparently, to add a gold buckle to the traditional Eton white cravat. He then took his style to Oxford, and finally became an officer in the Prince Regent's own regiment, the Tenth Royal Hussars.<br />
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We should perhaps not judge <i>Pride and Prejudice</i>'s silly Kitty and Lydia Bennet too harshly for lusting after soldiers, because the Napoleonic-era military were the rock stars of the day, and their uniform was an exercise in what today we might call 'swag'. Beautifully tailored, brightly coloured and decorated with sashes, gold buttons, and ornate piping, fringing and braid, it was designed to look dashing and impressive, no matter how inadequate the body of the wearer.<br />
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An 1830 English instructional pamphlet offers specific ways in which military uniforms could camouflage an unimpressive physique: "an insignificant head" hidden under a helmet; a coat "padded well in every direction"; and the sheathing of "bandy legs, or knock knees" in stiff, thigh-high leather boots with two-inch heels!<br />
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Perhaps the transformation wrought by this finery is partly responsible for that genre of heroic military portraits depicting soldiers with their hands tucked in their waistcoats. They look almost vulnerable, as if wanting to reassure themselves their bodies are still there!<br />
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The 'hand-in-waistcoat' pose is most associated with Napoleon, but by his ascendance it was already an English portraiture cliché – one artist was accused of using it to hide his inability to paint hands! The gesture of touching the body through a suit is associated with "manly boldness tempered with modesty", as François Nivelon puts it in his 1738 etiquette guide, <i>A Book Of Genteel Behaviour</i>.<br />
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It appears so often that <a href="http://gnosticwarrior.com/pope-bergoglios-hidden-hand.html" target="_blank">this loopy conspiracy-theory website</a> (and other similar sites) identifies it as a secret Freemason signal: the "sign of the Master of the Second Veil". Apparently, Napoleon helped revive the Knights Templar, and there are pictures of other known Freemasons posing like this, clearly signifying their membership to anyone in the know!<br />
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I am going to be generous and allow that this coded meaning could be legit. After all, Exodus 4:6 describes God instructing Moses to stick his hand "into thy bosom" (in other translations, into his robe or his cloak), bringing it out all white and leprous, then sticking it back in again and retrieving it whole and unharmed. It's a miraculous sign for Moses to wow the Israelites with in case they are skeptical that he is truly God's chief dude. So the pose could signify faith in God's power.<br />
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This is like something from <i><a href="http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/53326.The_Sign_and_the_Seal" target="_blank">The Sign and the Seal</a></i>, the ridiculous conspiracy-theory book I have been struggling through. I was hoping it would be a ripping Indiana Jones-style yarn, but I kind of gave up halfway when the author mentioned Atlantis.<br />
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I think it's more convincing to trace the pose, as Arline Miller <a href="http://www.napoleon-series.org/faq/c_hand.html" target="_blank">has done</a>, to the spirit of classicism that prevailed in 18th- and early 19th-century Europe. The pose is about re-infusing the male body with classicist dignity and honesty after an era of baroque dissipation.<br />
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Many Georgian and Regency artists copied the pose from ancient Greek and Roman statues; the 4th century BC actor and orator Aeschines of Macedon had argued it was ill-mannered to speak with one's arm outside the toga.<br />
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<img src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-7f4hKlvDzoA/Uc8XrUkfPfI/AAAAAAAABBk/5FRhnWNkdpI/s640/aeschines.JPG" width="400" /><br />
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Basically, Aeschines' beef was that most politicians of his generation didn't behave with dignity: as Paul Zanker writes in <i><a href="http://publishing.cdlib.org/ucpressebooks/view?docId=ft3f59n8b0;brand=eschol" target="_blank">The Mask of Socrates</a></i>, "they no longer observed the traditional rules of conduct but gesticulated wildly for dramatic effect, just as the demagogue Kleon had been accused of doing in the late fifth century."<br />
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For those not down with ancient Athenian political personalities, Kleon was the hawkish politician who vigorously prosecuted the Peloponnesian War after the death of the cultured, cautious Pericles. Kleon was anti-intellectual, anti-elitist, and boy did he hate the Spartans. He had a forceful, hectoring oratorial style; both the dramatist Aristophanes and the historian Thucydides wrote unflatteringly about him. Clearly Kleon was still disliked a century later, if Aeschines still used him as an example of how not to speak.<br />
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Here's a Roman copy of a Greek statue of dramatist Sophocles, c330BC. It's strikingly similar to the statue of Aeschines:<br />
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<img src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-gRIiDgd1thc/Uc8Yf_sbPlI/AAAAAAAABBs/6tVaZrXdN18/s640/sophocles.jpg" width="385" /><br />
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Do NOT be telling me that these guys were Freemasons. (Maybe Freemasonry originated in Atlantis, LOL.) Doesn't it make more sense to imagine that later statesmen adopted the pose to lend them classical gravitas?Melhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08987383983530564029noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10736511.post-60835281664851613352013-07-04T23:54:00.000+10:002013-07-05T00:20:11.631+10:00Home City Book TourAs <a href="http://footpathzeitgeist.blogspot.com.au/2013/06/talkings-readings-signings.html" target="_blank">advertised</a>, a few days ago I went on a book tour without leaving my home city. I was chauffeured by Affirm Press's sales and marketing manager Keiran Rogers in the company Prius (Affirm Press is a socially and environmentally responsible publisher, so that's how they roll).<br />
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It was a wonderful winter's day to be out and about – crisp and sunny. At first I was embarrassed to admit to being the author of my book ("Uh, do you have <i>Out of Shape</i> by Mel Campbell?") but Keiran was very matter-of-fact about it, and the booksellers totally knew the drill.</div>
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They were a great bunch of people: friendly, knowledgeable, and genuinely passionate about reading and writing. I really encourage you to buy books in bricks-and-mortar stores if you can. The ones I visited were all lovely places: airy and well laid out.</div>
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I tweeted our progress around town, photographing my book in various shops, and I've made the tour into an interactive map, so you can follow where we went. Just click on the placemarks to see the photos and text, and if you find the pop-up boxes extend off the map, click and drag anywhere on the map to reposition it and pull the info into view.</div>
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<iframe frameborder="0" height="400" marginheight="0" marginwidth="0" scrolling="no" src="https://maps.google.com.au/maps/ms?msa=0&msid=207674740434805550435.0004e0af6cd40e488f263&ie=UTF8&t=m&ll=-37.842326,144.996185&spn=0.108449,0.145912&z=12&output=embed" width="425"></iframe><br />
<small>View <a href="https://maps.google.com.au/maps/ms?msa=0&msid=207674740434805550435.0004e0af6cd40e488f263&ie=UTF8&t=m&ll=-37.842326,144.996185&spn=0.108449,0.145912&z=12&source=embed" style="color: blue; text-align: left;">Home City Book Tour</a> in a larger map</small><br />
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In other news, I wrote an op-ed about <i>Cosmopolitan</i> magazine's recent, ridiculous "Size Hero" body image campaign for <a href="http://junkee.com/cosmopolitan-magazines-size-hero-campaign-makes-zero-sense/13678"><i>Junkee</i></a>, which was syndicated to <a href="http://www.guardian.co.uk/commentisfree/2013/jul/02/cosmo-size-hero-zero-campaign"><i>The Guardian</i></a>. Here's a taste; click through to read the rest.<br />
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It is comically naive to think we can counteract a lifetime’s worth of immersive, pervasive cultural messages about body size and shape just by bunging a few scantily clad celebs and plus-size models in magazines. But weird magical thinking aside, we should reject all these campaigns for the same reason: they teach us that our bodies are other people’s property, to be gazed at and judged. You shouldn’t need <i>Cosmo</i>’s permission — or anyone else’s — to feel good about yourself.</blockquote>
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And, excitingly, I've been invited onto Channel Nine's breakfast TV show, <i>Today</i>, this coming Wednesday (10 July). I'll be on air at 8:20am, talking about 'change room anxiety' and other issues. So I'll be making a flying visit to Sydney next week and hopefully will be able to pop into some bookstores there to chat to booksellers and sign copies of the book.Melhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08987383983530564029noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10736511.post-8032880168993575472013-06-30T10:14:00.000+10:002013-06-30T10:14:00.731+10:00Theorising how fashion changes over timeWhen I was writing the book, I did a lot of scholarly research about theories of fashion. Pretty much all that remains of that in the finished volume is my experience of sitting in the Baillieu Library at the University of Melbourne. I did some intensive study there at the start of last year, taking notes from academic books.<br />
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I love the Baillieu. Working in there is like stepping back into the <i>Mad Men</i> Time.<br />
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<img src="http://cms.unimelb.edu.au/__data/assets/image/0006/170970/baillieu250_across.jpg" /><br />
<i>A librarian checks books in the newly opened Baillieu Library, 1959.</i><br />
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<img src="http://baillieu50.unimelb.edu.au/__data/assets/image/0015/131019/baillieustudentreadingroom1959.jpg" width="400" /><br />
<i>Students in the second floor study area, 1959. Check the Mitzi chairs.</i><br />
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<img src="http://www.library.unimelb.edu.au/__data/assets/image/0020/480035/hm2.gif" width="400" /><br />
<i>The Baillieu Library today. Mitzi chairs!</i><br />
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<img src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ITlq40IPYk8/TtMaBPbLthI/AAAAAAAABSM/kCzm882XDrU/s1600/grant_featherston_mitzi_chair.jpg" width="400" /><br />
<i><a href="http://www.powerhousemuseum.com/collection/database/?irn=126175" target="_blank">MITZI CHAIRS</a>, Y'ALL!</i><br />
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The reason I was researching theories of fashion history was that I wanted to explain the mechanisms that drive our ideas of fit. We have a certain understanding – either intuitive, or explained to us by the fashion media – of how tightly or loosely our clothing should fit, and in which places on the body, in order for us to feel the most attractive and morally appropriate in our clothes. Those ideas change over time, and when we look at them in hindsight they become the 'fashion' of certain historical periods.<br />
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<img src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-svSFqh5v_gI/Uc6v_gGT3lI/AAAAAAAABA4/lc5RQ4jw8LY/s1600/90210+jeans.jpg" /><br />
<i>The cast of </i>Beverly Hills, 90210<i> model early 1990s-style jeans.</i><br />
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Fashionable jeans during the 1980s were commonly high-waisted, tight across the torso and narrow at the ankle. They became baggier in the 1990s, and by the early 2000s they were flared at the ankle and very low-slung on the hips. Even though not everyone dressed like this, the fashion was widespread enough, and expressed often enough in pop culture, that we can guess when a photo was taken by the style of someone's jeans.<br />
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<img src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-JNWXvG-hbjI/Uc6xFhduQTI/AAAAAAAABBE/txcm-UsOMB4/s640/britney-spears-jeans.jpg" width="400" /><br />
<i>Britney Spears models early 2000s-style jeans. Tag dag!</i><br />
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When a style of jeans isn't currently in fashion, we call it 'frumpy', 'trashy' or 'dorky' because it becomes negatively associated with nerds who don't care what's cool, or older people clinging pathetically to the looks of their salad days. And once fashion has moved on even further, certain fits acquire a retro cachet. Tight, high-waisted jeans are cool again now – and hip twentysomethings even celebrate baggy, high-waisted, '90s-style jeans ironically, as 'mom jeans'. <br />
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Of course, not everyone wears jeans. They've also meant different things at different times to different people: utilitarian workwear; bohemian rebellion; a youthful uniform; a sexual invitation; even a litmus test of weight gained or lost.<br />
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We might grasp this multiplicity of meaning intuitively because jeans are familiar to us… but the further back we travel in time, and the more unfamiliar clothes become, the easier it is to lose sight of the ways in which fit is culturally influenced, and the more tempting it is to make broad generalisations about how and why it changes.<br />
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'Costume history', as an academic discipline, arose from art history and shares its analytic techniques. Fashion reference books in this old-school genre promise a broad survey of aesthetic change over time, explaining which sartorial motifs appeared when, and how they were devised, combined and repeated. In seeking to make the past concrete, these books can seem oddly fixed and timeless themselves. For instance, François Boucher's epic <i>20,000 Years of Fashion</i> was first published in 1966, while Ruth Turner Wilcox's <i>The Mode In Costume</i> dates from 1942. Both have been consulted by generations of students, designers and aficionados.<br />
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But like fashion itself, this aesthetic approach to fashion history can very quickly seem dated. In my own collection is a 1974 reference book for children, <i>Clothes in History</i> by Angela Schofield, which I bought in a sale at my local library. In a piece of retrospective comedy, it begins with an illustration of cavemen and ends with a photograph of a bearded 1970s hippie in a shaggy shearling coat who looks, to my eyes, hilariously similar to the cavemen. <br />
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Thinking of clothes chronologically does help reconcile fashion's emphasis on the 'now' with its constant citation of past styles – but we rarely stop to ponder how weird and arbitrary it is to link fashions either with broad eras or specific decades. For instance, why do we speak so sweepingly of 'the Victorian era' when it lasted from 1837 to 1901, during which time a vast variety of distinctive clothing styles came in and out of fashion? Why must the 'Edwardian era' or 'Belle Époque' make way for the 'Twenties' through to the 'Nineties'?<br />
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In today's atomised understanding of fashion motifs, 'military' and 'nautical' conquer 'tribal' and 'boho'. It seems that the more recent the clothes, the less hindsight we have on them in order to slot them into neat epochal categories. But in any case, understanding how styles evolve over time doesn't tell us what it meant to live through history, striving to be fashionable.<br />
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Another thing I noticed during my research is the application of sociological theories to fashion changes. I'd argue that these ideas have acquired their current authority through sheer force of repetition. They're another way that we try to master the past by overlaying a grand narrative on it – this time of class, rather than of aesthetics.<br />
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For instance, it seems persuasive that rich people might wear fancy, restrictive clothes to advertise their independence from manual labour – but that's because American economist Thorstein Veblen's theory of 'conspicuous consumption' and 'conspicuous leisure' has been parroted since 1899, snowballing in plausibility as generations of fashion historians and journalists based their work on it.<br />
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The idea that rich, powerful people innovate fashions for the plebs seems so natural now that in the 2006 movie <i>The Devil Wears Prada</i>, superbitch fashion editor Miranda Priestly (Meryl Streep) sounds unassailably authoritative as she acidly schools her new assistant Andy (Anne Hathaway) in the market diffusion of the colour cerulean:<br />
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This 'trickle down' theory has been around since 1904, when German sociologist Georg Simmel argued that once a style becomes accessible to the lower classes, the elites abandon it and create a new fashion to distinguish themselves further. And the idea that fashion industry gatekeepers – designers and magazine editors – are now the elites dates from 1969, when Herbert Blumer wrote that someone's ability to interpret the zeitgeist – the 'spirit of the times' – and sense where modernity was heading elevated that person to elite status. <br />
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Of course, some trends are spearheaded by non-elites: marginalised ethnic, working-class and youth cultures influencing the sartorial sensibilities of dominant, bourgeois white culture. Back in 1970 marketing academic George A Field theorised this phenomenon as 'status float'. And by the time anthropologist Ted Polhemus dubbed it the 'bubble up' (as opposed to 'trickle down') effect in 1994, subcultural style had become so entrenched on couture runways that it had already been the subject of a retrospective at London's Victoria and Albert Museum!<br />
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Whether it trickles down or bubbles up, if we attribute every change in fashion to an ineffable zeitgeist it becomes, in the words of fashion historian Joanne Entwistle, "almost a supernatural hypothesis". We forget that people's clothing choices aren't shaped monolithically by social structures, but by their subjective experiences of history, society and industry.<br />
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For instance, World War I may have broadly provoked the radical changes in women's fashion between the 1910s and the 1920s, but the war didn't directly make hemlines rise, nor inspire bobbed haircuts. There was no mass consensus among newly emancipated women to "throw away their corsets", as we're so often told.<br />
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Those fashions developed gradually, chaotically, from myriad changes that spread through different aspects of Western cultural life, like the intersecting ripples from several stones thrown into a pond at once. They only seem sudden and decisive from our vantage point, a century on.<br />
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Culture, much more than aesthetics or socioeconomics, captures ephemeral social attitudes and contextualises the past, like a lens focusing our appreciation. Just as I came to appreciate the Mitzi chair after <i>Mad Men </i>turned me on to midcentury modern design, our associations of historical dress with artworks, novels, movies, songs and more shape our understanding of the past.<br />
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That's why my analysis of fashion history in the book is largely refracted through culture: because our subjective, emotional consumption of these texts re-injects historical clothes with the subjective agency and affect that aesthetic and sociological theories strip away.Melhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08987383983530564029noreply@blogger.com1