Pink and wild coat is hooded and all set to trap the unwary male. Borg coat by Henry Lehr, £17.50, trousers by Sujon, £9.50. His coat by C & A in suedette, £13.95. Hat by Locke, £5.25.
. . . or how to wear furs this winter without hurting your pet’s feelings.
There is nothing, absolute nothing quite like wrapping yourself in fur. As a sensuous experience, it is in the same class as a new love, old champagne or fresh truffles. But even the most hedonistic of women are relieved that the threatened species are no longer imported. Snow leopards, tigers and other cats can go their own way and sensibly sybaritic female will look for furs that are farmed, such as fox and mink. This winter, too, the fakes are so wayout and wildly coloured that only a girl without a heart could resist their charms, albeit synthetic. Perhaps that’s why the fur trade have taken the hint and dipped their favourite fox pelts in the dye pot, Furrier Maxwell Croft offers his explanation of the female urge to wear and the male urge to bestow furs: “For many men it is a primitive desire to see his woman in furs.”. Very nice,too.
Plenty to scoff at the end of the copy there, but oh goodness the clothes – the clothes! And the glorious photography of Alice Springs, whose work doesn’t turn up nearly enough for my liking.
Fashion by Deirdre McSharry.
Photographed by Alice Springs.
Scanned from Cosmopolitan, November 1972.
Kissin’ cousin to a polar bear, but lots slimmer, is this smashing white shaggy coat. Wear it with white flannel bags, an angora sweater and an even shaggier hat. Well-cut coat in Borg with stitched suede edges. By Marie France for Quorum, £36, Ossie Clark trousers £14, sweater £4. Hat by Diane Logan, £5, shoes from Sacha £7.99. Beads by Butler and Wilson. Mike’s coat from Just Men, £70. Trousers from Aquascutum, £14.50.
The shaggiest coat story of the season-outrageous powder pink number, worn over pink striped sweater and pleated skirt. The dog is also fake, Chi Chi’s own and christened Fifi by Mike. Borg coat by Biba, £15, sweater by Reldan £3.33, skirt by Crowthers £5.75. Beads by Loewe.
Chi Chi turns her back on the world in scooped dress by John Bates for Jean Varon, £22. White shaggy jacket in Lister’s synthetic, £13.75 by Weathergay. Photographed at Julie’s Restaurant, 135 Portland Rd, London W11 (01-22) 8331).
How to have that movie-star feeling. If you want the big star treatment – breakfast at Tiffany’s, diamonds as big as the Ritz – dress like a star in electric blue fox. Dress by Elle, £15. Fox coat by Dinni for Femina Furs, £295. Moonstone necklace at Butler and Wilson. His outfit by Aquascutum. Velvet jacket £38.50, shirt £10.50, cuff links from £3 50, trousers £12.50
Tea for two. Mike makes up to Chi Chi (that’s the model girl, not the coat) in her shaggy yellow number, worn with shiny striped shirt and mustard bags. Borg coat by Marie France for Quorum £23.50, shirt by Medusa £5.50, trousers by Sujon £9.50. Beads by Butler and Wilson. Photographed at The Royal Garden Hotel, London.
Enough to drive a man wild-a nutty fake fur, above right, with Fifties shoulders and swing back. Wear it nicely over mustard crêpe de chine shirt and peg-top trousers. Both by Sujon, shirt £13, trousers £9.50. Borg coat by Biba £25, beret, Diane Logan, £4.50, shoes, Sacha, £7.99. His coat, Aquascutum, £70, trousers C & A £3 95.
Enough to make Morgan the gorilla, jealous. (Remember A Suitable Case For Treatment?) Emerald green gorilla jacket in real-life Borg by Weathergay, £9.50 (right). Worn over slinky knit sweater and skirt from Ritva, £27 for the outfit. Blue shaggy beret by Diane Logan, £4.50. Mike’s sweater in blue and silver by Ritva, £18.50. Trousers from C & A £5.50.
Jealous cats show their ruffled furs. Chi Chi and Belinda act out the classic movie-star confrontation in their sequins and furs, Chi Chi in pleated taffeta with sequin bodice by Anne Tyrell for John Marks, £23.95; her boa is silver fox, ranch bred, price £70. Belinda’s fox is red, also from the ranch, price £45, both by Barbara Warner for Fab Furs. Strapless top and trousers by Miss Mouse, £20. Beads by Loewe.
Tissavel-lined Galaxy coat by Beged’Or approx. £50; cotton blouse by Mexicana, £13; fur fabric jeans by Newmans, 12 gns; hairy slipper boots at Russell & Bromley, £6 19s; velour hat by Bermona, £3 11s; hatband made from an Estonian tie at the Russian Shop, 7s 6d; fur bag at The Souk, £3 5s; wool gloves at Dickins & Jones, 10s:
Leather and fur get more expensive every year. It’s not only the taxes and rising costs of production. It’s just that there aren’t enough good animal skins for leather around to meet the consumer demand. Furs are there in quantity for the fabulously rich. Luckily a good substitute has been found – the nylon-spun, man-made sort. Some, especially in the leather field, are so like the real thing the only way you can tell the difference is by the smell. Take the white coat on pages 46 and 47. It’s fake and costs about £50. It has a double in real fur and leather for £270. Made by the same people who have duplicated most of their collection this way and it takes an eagle eye and nose to tell the difference. Others are just furry, woolly fabrics, obviously not imitating some four-legged friend, which is one of the nicest things about them. This fur fabric is now getting the treatment it deserves. Nairn Williamson (more famous for their Vinyl floor and wall coverings) were the first to see its potential and got six designers to use their Velmar fur fabric in their winter collections. Jane Whiteside for Stirling Cooper (new label getting famous fast for their beautiful jersey co-ordinates) was the cleverest of them all. She used the best sludgy colours, mixed it with needlecord to make a group of jackets and coats to go with trousers, skirts and blouses. Borg (American originated and the pioneers in England of this deep pile fabric) has been around for a long time, mostly on the inside of duffle and raincoats but it’s on the outside as a normal fabric that it looks its best. Next winter there will be a lot more of it around, now that designers are getting less snobby about plastics. Not only is it as warm as fur, it is, of course, much cheaper and you don’t smell like a wet dog when you come in from the rain, either. So you can wear it herding sheep on lost weekends, or in town queuing for the cinema without any guilt feelings about ruining your assets.
Insert obligatory ‘I don’t agree with the thrust of the argument for fake furs as just a financial consideration here’ caveat from me, your content provider. Don’t shout at me, basically. But it’s an interesting insight into the mindset of 1970, and the proliferation of fake furs and skins at that time. It’s also a breathtakingly styled and photographed work of art from Caroline Baker and Jonvelle.
Fashion by Caroline Baker.
Photographed by Jonvelle.
Scanned from Nova, January 1970.
Mediaeval velvet applique dress by Laura Jamieson at The Sweetshop, 20 gns; Tissavel and Galaxy waistcoat by Beged’Or, £22.
Velmar jacket and needlecord trousers by Stirling Cooper, £8 10s., £5 1Gs; leggings by Chelsea Cobbler, to order, 10 gns; cotton shirt from selection at Dada, Kensington Antique Market from 2 gns.
Acrilan jacket by Lizzie Carr approx. 24 gns; suede trousers by Morel, 17 gns, tied with leather strips from John Lewis Haberdashery Dept, 1s 10d per yard; wellingtons at Russell and Bromley, £3 19s; woven sash wrapped around neck at Herbert Johnson, 25s; velour hat by Bermona, £3 11s; wool gloves at Selfridges, &s 11d
Velmar and Courtelle trousers by Martha Hill, approx. 8 gns; poncho at Peter Robinson, £7; wool shirt by Stirling Cooper, £4 5s; studded wristlet by Knees at Kensington Antique Market, 1 gn; suede moccasin boots by Anello & Davide, £8 15s; velour hat by Bermona, £3 11s; sheepskin rug from The Souk from £3 19s 6d to £6; flask from Kensington Antique Market.
Velmar fur fabric floor length coat trimmed with canvas by Mog, £20, over long cotton nightgown by Laura Ashley, £5; knitted wool socks at Feathers, £1 1s 6d
Velmar coat with needlecord and zipper trims (top left) by Stirling Cooper, 18 gns; pale suede and leather lace-up boots by Kurt Geiger, 35 gns; wool gloves at Selfridges, 8s 11d; leather belt by The Wild Mustang Manufacturing Co., approx. £3 12s 6d; fur shepherdess hat, bag and drinking flask from a selection at Kensington Antique Market
Velmar jacket and needlecord trousers (top right) by Stirling Cooper, £12 19s 6d, £5 10s; big polo-neck ribbed Shetland wool sweater at Aquascutum, £6 15s; corrugated leather lace-up boots at Russell and Bromley, £29 19s; knitted Aran mitts at Selfridges, 16s 11d; velour hat by Bermona, £3 11s, furry bag from a selection at Kensington Antique Market.
No excuse for looking a wash-out with these rainy-day separates. Showerproof three-quarter length Dannimac cotton jacket. Black Simon Massey shirt. Keep-the-worst-off cotton hat by Malyard. Bouncy beads by Adrien Mann. Bumper sunglasses by Oliver Goldsmith.
Photographed by Willie Christie.
Scanned by Miss Peelpants from Over 21, September 1972
Fabulous shaggy acrylic jacket by Weathergay – believe it or not it’s showerproof. With a pure silk crepe de chine Sujon shirt. Cream wool trousers by Mary Quant. Splash-happy PVC hat from Herbert Johnson. Wet=grass green leather clutch bag by Mulberry Company.
Casual-as-they-come trench coat in cotton and polyester from Aquascutum. Lined wool bags by Sujon from Just Looking. Silk shirt from Aquascutum again. Bringing-back-the-sun clutch bag by Mulberry Company. Shoes from Russell and Bromley. Antelope felt hat from Herbert Johnson.
Looking at life through rose-tinted glasses: Mary Quant sees spring in a haze of rose pink, here in Liberty print, straight out of a vicarage garden. It couldn’t be more English. Dress, shoes and tights all by Mary Quant. His shirt by Aquascutum. Bangle from City Lights Studio.
Photographed by Norman Eales. Scanned by Miss Peelpants from Cosmopolitan, March 1973.
In my teenage years, I developed a bit of a weird thing for cricketers. It was much ridiculed by my peers, but there was just something about the smart trousers, jumpers and lazy, peculiarly English feel of a cricket match which was like some kind of catnip to me.
It has lessened dramatically over the years, but I definitely think it was some kind of reaction to how horridly many men dressed in the town where I grew up. As I met more well-dressed men, I realised I was simply craving smartness, an effort, something ‘different’. So I’m very taken with the snazzy Seventies take on the look in the Aquascutum advert above. The beautiful illustration doesn’t hurt either…
Scanned from the Sunday Telegraph Magazine, May 1977.
Liz Eggleston 