Before you know it, it's a habit

On week nights I like to read my serious books at my desk. I sit sideways, feet up, furrowed brow at at a biography or weeping openly at Seamus Heaney.  On Sundays I read the weekend papers at the kitchen counter, often in between toast and sorting the washing, sometimes as a combination of all three. Sometimes at night I read novels in bed until my shoulders feel like lead and I can't keep my eyes open. 

On Friday night I like to sit on the couch in my pyjamas (read: a scrappy nightie), glug water from a bottle and re-read favourite fashion books while we watch re-runs of Law and Order. ("Objection!" "Over ruled!" is one of my favourite exclamations.) 

If you too would like to adopt some aspects of my sloth, here is the first installment of a collection my favourite fashion books. 

I'll address each tome in no particular order. 

I Love Your Style (Amanda Brooks, Harper Collins 2009) is the most recent. The book is divided into ten themes (Vintage, Classic, Eclectic and so forth) which are split into three more sections (definable style, indefinable style and shopping.) It's logical but not necessary - the text and illustrations are so absorbing you'll soon be interpreting the material at your own pace and noting it against your own style. The author opens with an detailed chapter on her style and continues this personal approach to all her varied topics and explanations.  Ms Brooks relies heavily on the personal style of a muesli of women, some expected, others overlooked for decades: Marlene Dietrich, Kate Moss, Margherita Missoni, TV presenters, rock stars. It's warm, accessible and the illustrations are inspiring. It's a good book for those of us (probably most of us) who have a wardrobe full of interesting things and would like some stimulus to set us re-styling and reinventing.  

Surprises: There are lots, not least the three shots of a teenage Jodie Foster circa late 1970s looking very preppy chic. 

Pleasures: You'll frequently find the same woman under different headings, proving it's not so much what you wear as the way that you wear it. 

Verdict: If you only buy one fashion book in your lifetime ... 

The Parisian Woman's Guide to Style (Virginie and Veronique Morana, Universe 1999). Disclaimer: I love France. Each time I visit I am more besotted with every baguette crumb, every awning, every rose at every florist, every little well groomed dog that struts by me on a leash, every French person and every perfectly curled vowel of the beautiful language. And yes, I love their style and I love their clothes.  This book is not a manual as much as an explanation - how one suit can last a lifetime, how you can wear one colour head to toe and look phenomenal, how to acquire the few basics that French women rely on season to season. It's written, styled and modelled  by a mother and daughter team who sell their jewellery in one of the posh parts of Paris; their advice and insights are friendly and provide a good understanding how Parisian women manage to look great all the time. Personally I think you have to be French and live in France in order to have their advice work for you one hundred per cent, but you'll still pick up some interesting pointers with this book. 

Surprises: that Virginie and Veronique look like sisters. 

Pleasures: The feminine, refined chapter on underwear (sorry, lingerie!) 

Verdict: Twelve years old but hardly dated (except for the chisel toe shoes). A lovely read, beautifully illustrated. 

Vogue Modern Styling - How to Achieve It (Charlotte Du Cann, Guild Publishing, 1988). I found this Vogue franchise publication in an op shop for two dollars. The illustrations are great and (with a couple of Gecko exceptions) very applicable today. Lots of shoulder pads to be sure, and lots of long limbed models, but the styling is great and the photos are lovely. You're probably not going to learn huge amounts from the text ("The Little Black Dress is the epitome of Gamine chic") but you will start thinking of how you might use a tuxedo jacket or re-think your application of floral skirts. The illustrations I've used here are from a series  of colour plates in the centre of the book - most of the photos are in black and white but still very inspiring.

Surprises: The celebration of English eccentric dressing. 

Verdict: A nice picture book to enjoy with crumpets and checked jarmies. 

So that's three - tomorrow night I'll conclude with three more and possibly a big finale for my all-time favourite. Meanwhile, checkout the English rose on the right - I've never wanted to thread my hair with bracken so badly as when I gaze at that picture. 

Little by little, glance by glance

It's not been my favorite day. Yesterday I wore high heels for the first time this year and today the muscles in my legs feel like they have been crocheted from barbed wire.  This evening my head remembered the whole migraine thing (Oh! That's right! We do this five time a month!) so I have another one. This rendered the gym impossible. 


And I don't like today's clothes. They seemed fine when I left the house but by mid-morning I felt squat and misshapen: 

It's the shirt, I think. It's a little too stiff and to date is not acting a like a white shirt should.  When I was getting ready for work  I was hellbent on a plain, unobtrusive outfit and wavered between a number of blouses. I should have gone with first choice, a diaphanous grey silk thing with splats of weeny flowers. 


My learned friend took the photo in the one section of my office that is not festooned with newspapers and files. The trousers and the shirt are from Jigsaw and the jacket is Veronica Maine, working overtime in this warm Summer week. The shoes are obscured and that's probably for the best - they are not yet dead but certainly coughing blood and won't be around much longer. They are, however, sublimely comfortable for someone whose legs are filled with barbed wire. 


It wasn't all bad though - there were good bits today as well. A writer friend took me to lunch and regaled me with wonderful stories. I ticked a large number of tedious tasks off my to-do list. The sun was shining, everyone outside seemed to be in the best of moods. 


And when I sat down to blog, dinner was prepared and presented with grace and humility. 

Brown rice and vegetables with a keyboard garnish. Bliss. 

I thought they were gone forever

Most people would agree that fashion is a cycle. There is no need to be outraged or nervous that jumpsuits or long skirts have reared their hipster heads recently  - all styles and shapes have been in our wardrobe before and will no doubt come back again in our lifetimes, just like a Saturn return which I believe occurs about every thirty years. 


What we should be really happy about is that fabrics are now soft and wearable. 


On Monday I travelled to a rural city and stumbled across an amazing vintage and collectibles store. I was hurrying to my first meeting but spied a rack of clothes up the back. It took me a few seconds to check it out and while I was appreciative, there was nothing there for me. 


As I was leaving the nice man at the counter said, "There's more clothes upstairs!" Be still my thumping heart. 


Three meetings and one business lunch later, but with a good sixty minutes before my train was due, I rushed upstairs. There were certainly more clothes. 

Seven full racks, to be precise. Now the harsh Australian sun has cast a very bright glow on all my pictures, but I'm pretty certain you will still be able to feel the crackle of polyester and acrylic as you peruse these highlights. 

It was an amazing collection of clothes and all very reasonably priced. I was surprised how many were made in Australia. I'd forgotten that we'd once had a thriving textile and clothing industry. Who amongst the Skippies remembers Exacto tshirts? They'd been erased from my memory, replaced by schedules, Petit Bateau and to-do lists, yet I found one here on rack number three. The other pleasing observation was how many, like the startling gunmetal lame number above, were homemade.  Before Net-a-porter and eBay, home made dresses and hand embroidery were staples in the well-dressed country girl's wardrobe. 

I bought some silk scarves ...

...and a wonderful denim trapeze dress with gingham trim, straight out of 1976 and still singing Maxine Nightingale songs.  She (the dress) is having a bath as we speak but I hope you can meet her soon. 

My own choice of clothes was decidedly less obvious and largely cotton, a blessing considering the heat and that I had to sit on a train for a total of seven hours.  

The silk top and cotton jacket are both Veronica Maine while the jeans are very sedate meeting-appropriate J Brand. The long journey allowed me to read all three papers and spy a lot of local birds. Mountain lowries and black cockatoos are glorious but my favourite bird was on the red acrylic skirt that you can see in full in the above photo. Here's a detailed shot for any lurking ornithologists.  

 Chain stitch! I haven't seen that for...well, since the seventies. 

Greetings from Planet Bork

The good news is I got some great scarves yesterday while on a business trip. The bad news is I get migraines and I have one tonight.  Please forgive me the lateness of my post and forgive me again if the blog becomes unintelligible. 


The migraine is unexpected. I used to get several a month but lately it appeared my body forget this because I haven't been afflicted since November.  No reason, though, for you not to see my latest photos. My rather splendid spouse offered to take the Saturday shots; I agreed on the condition he make me look like Charlotte Rampling circa 1982. "But you already do," he said without cracking a smile. 

 Simple Saturday clothes: Levis 504s - pennies on eBay, cotton crochet tunic - on the $29 dollars rack at Sportsgirl, Jacquetta bag by Mulberry and purchased in London, 2007, Birkenstocks via eBay. 





















I especially love the bag. It is quite the warhorse and has many scars but it has maintained its marvelous milky-plum colour. 


You may also notice I'm wearing some jewellery, or in fact guessed that I'm wearing jewellery because I always do. 


I'm rather devoted to dress clips and have been known to clip them to any garment. I also set old clip-on earrings to work in the same way. 


The pendant is rather special too - a whole chain of little silver roses from the early twentieth century and a very clever silversmith: 

And here's a scoop - I've found where the 1970s went and will present proof tomorrow. Hint: they're pretty close to here: 

I'll show you the scarves too. 

The girl from the butcher shop is here to see you

The morning light in my house is soft and doesn't lend itself to good pictures. 


The Summer light outside is bright and sharp though, so I wondered how I might go photographing today's very laid back, casual Friday-it's still Summer-I've got no meetings outfit. 

Well, not bad. Except it is my reflection in a shop front window and the muted tones fail to give you the true spirit of the Seed dress I am wearing. And you'd never guess that the leggings are made from bamboo from this shot. 


So I kept walking, and saw a woman in a Seed dress and bamboo leggings walking towards me. 

It's a mirror fitting in a butcher's shop that recently closed down. But no one will know it's a butcher's shop, I reasoned, it'll just look like a shot on the main street, albeit taken by a person who neglected to lift her gaze away from the viewfinder. 

And then I saw the word bacon reversed just above my head and laughed. No matter - you get a better idea of the leggings here. And I can even take close up of the bag and sh - 

Oh - my walking-to-the-bus stop shoes. Not my adorable plain black flats I bought in Paris. But the leggings! They're bamboo! And the bag! My new one that carries my laptop and breakfast! 

And the brooch, 800 silver that I bought from one of the sourest men in Sydney at the Bondi markets. and my silver floral pendant from Etsy that I rarely take off. And the fabric of the dress, a linen cotton bend that is comfortable and doesn't end up looking like a discarded lunch wrapper after a few minutes. It's all visible, in the stark light of day. 

Including the tiles, which are similar in colour to the dress I wore yesterday. I wondered who chose them - the butcher? It crossed my mind to sneak down late at night with a bucket of hot water and mop for future photographs. Or perhaps try the backyard tomorrow morning. 

It's tantamount to assault

Okay, so I've managed to climb the awkward barbed fence of posting pictures of myself here; the next hurdle is to find a good time and location to actually take the photos. The absence of a style photo here is evidence that I haven't found that perfect time and place yet. The bedroom where I dress is too bright, the dining room has no point high enough for a camera on the self timer .... anyway, while a solution is underway,  I can tell you that I wore a plain oat-coloured shift today with a shot of green: 

The bangles are glass for Pete's sake. I was attracted to them in an op shop for their weight and pleasant clinking, but a suggestion that they might break on my wrist and cause all kinds of bloody damage made me reticent to wear them. I'm happy to report they've not wounded me yet and are the prettiest colour when they catch the light. The silk scarf came in the same haul and spent most of it's time on this syrupy, humid day tied around the handle of my bag. 


I also tried to wear a lipstick Nat brought back for me from her recent trip but I just can't bring myself to smear it on. 

 It's from Paul and Joe. It is a perfect pink-brown shade - I just wish it wasn't looking at me with such trust.

It's there in black and white

 All the lady blogs are currently celebrating the bloggingsphere's love of coloured clothes. The best I can celebrate at the moment is  that I'm awake, able to answer simple questions and managing to feed myself at regular intervals. Coloured clothes are, as yet, still outside my skill set: this week I've worn a plain black dress every day. Today, muggy and blurred by clouds, was no exception.

That's a Veronika Maine dress from the sales two years ago. The brooches are both flea market finds ...

..the shoes are Ferragamos I snaffled for an excellent price on eBay...

..and the cuff is Louis Vuitton. It was a gift when the Vuitton store opened in Sydney a decade ago. It serves as a reminder that I once worked in television and used to get invited to some interesting gigs with nice freebies. 

 

Tomorrow - possibly black dress number four. I haven't quite got to the planning-twelve-hours-ahead stage yet.