A little visual fondant fancy to take away the bad taste left by news of the tacky Ossie Clark label relaunch, here are some originals and proof that the magic will never be recreated (not least because Celia’s prints are contracted to Topshop these days). Save your hard earned money and buy an original, who knows which fabulous Sixties beauty might have once worn it?
I was a misunderstood teenager. When I was fourteen my long dark hair, pale skin and propensity to don long jingly jangly skirts, boots and big jumpers was perceived as gothic. I actually resented being called a Goth, I knew I was really a hippy. I’ve been through plenty of styles since then but it usually comes back to the same thing, no matter how much the likes of Sienna Miller may kill the look through over-exposure.
I still burn incense, I still have long wavy (normally fairly unstyled) hair and I still favour chiffons and appliques and beads…oh my. But now I’m a grown up (!) I prefer the luxurious look, I take inspiration from the designs of Thea Porter, Janice Wainwright (in the Poland Street era) and of course from Ossie Clark.
I have worn my flares with pride throughout this whole skinny jean phenomenon (although I’m not averse to them either, I only wear them Jo Grant style – tucked into my Seventies boots) and my burgundy velour Louis Caring frock coat with the too-short sleeves has suddenly started to garner compliments from strangers. Despite the fact I’ve been wearing it to death these past four years.
Flicking through my Vogues once more for inspiration, both for my listings, my personal style and in an attempt to update this blog more regularly, I was entranced by two fashion spreads in a July 1969 Vogue. The first I will post now, the second I will post tomorrow I hope (too much eye candy rots your teeth!).
Photographed in Wales by Norman Parkinson, clothes by Gina Fratini, Thea Porter and Susan Small (who’da thunk it??) in the most astonishing surroundings. This is luxe hippy at its finest, like a dressing up box of styles, fabrics and moods…..
I want to peep
Through the deep
Tangled wildwood
Counting sheep
til I sleep
Like a child would
With a great big valise full
Of books to read
where its peaceful
While I’m
Killing time
Being lazy
Well, truth be told Mr Berlin, I get lazy in autumn rather than summer. Don’t get me wrong, I long to go out and kick up some crispy fallen leaves with my newly-pulled-out-of-storage favourite patent knee highs and snuggled up in my cinnamon coloured chenille coat. Who doesn’t? But mmmm…….bed is a very inviting place in the Autumn. When the temperature is just the right side of downright nippy…..but you still let out a little moan and snuggle back under the duvet.
Suddenly autumn is the time you start looking at new cushions and bedspreads and get all excited about those delicious cinnamon, claret and chocolate shades. Actually…excuse me while I go stock up on all those delicious things. And while I’m at it, I may have to buy a whole load of cushions, fabric and set to work creating my own little Biba boudoir retreat.
Trouble is, we’ve lost the art of lounge. Back in the Seventies they catered brilliantly for this delicious indulgence. Like a nouveau Rococco period, where negligees and beautiful slippers were made just the right side of dressy so you never needed to emerge from that dreamy morning state….right through til your dinner party. Check out the Petticoat fashion spread I’ve scanned in, all about how to dress for lounging. Now that’s a clothing lifestyle I can really get on board with. And I’ve also included a picture of the untouchably awesome Kate Bush – just check out the colour of that divine original Thirties dress!
Laziness doesn’t necessarily mean slobbishness, so I say reclaim your weekend!!! Learn how to lounge!! Screw minimalism, create a luscious boudoir and lock the door on the world. You’ll need the clothes too, but really most vintage will do the trick for this. Put on that Ossie or Biba you’ve not had the guts to wear out yet. Same goes for the platforms, you’ve not had a chance to wear them outside yet so you can wear them in bed. Their time will come, but don’t keep them in a box until it does!!
Pour a glass of wine, break off a large piece of chocolate…..okay, maybe two large pieces…..oh what the hell, have the whole pack! And just indulge your senses……
In case you still need some clothes to lounge in, try these beauties…..
L-R: Cathy McGowan claret maxi dress, Biba red velveteen maxi dress, Zandra Rhodes print loungewear gown, Mr Freedom sateen maxi dress, Wallis moss crepe maxi skirt and coat set.
The lovely Cherie over at Shrimpton Couture is normally the first to post celeb vintage spots, and I have to admit I’m not normally one to be spotting them (unless they’re Ossies it would seem). So I was interested to see Rachel Weisz over at Gofugyourself, wearing a Celia print Ossie.
Now, I will admit that it looks pretty hacked and the stunning Miss Weisz should NOT be wearing anything with a beige base to it (I speak from bitter experience here, and it looks like she has a similar skintone to mine…) – but I’m going to give her a break because she’s wearing an Ossie and she’s a pretty fabulous girl. Next time I’d suggest stronger colours and a longer length. What sayeth you all?
If you haven’t already seen the fabulous There’s a Girl in My Soup, please do so immediately! Quite apart from its general Swinging Sixties fabulousness (Goldie Hawn, Peter Sellers and a very groovy soundtrack), Ms. Hawn’s entire wardrobe was designed by Ossie Clark AND Alice Pollock. Quite how a poor American girl living in a basement with her sleazy boyfriend could afford Alice and Ossie to start with, I’ll never know – but I guess that’s why we watch films.
We first meet her in a very sassy little yellow ruffled crop top, navy blue calf-length crepe skirt and an astonishing blue and yellow high collared cloak.
On their jaunt to France, she gets sozzled in a see-through green chiffon mini dress with plunging ruffled neckline, buttoned back and matching green knickers (quite clearly visible even before she disgraces herself and gets carried around on his shoulder).
Next she dons a gorgeous cream chiffon blouse (the ruffles do the concealment work of a bra, apparently), flippy cream maxi skirt and a trailing chiffon trimmed straw hat.
We briefly see what looks like an incredible pink crepe maxi overdress and a floppy pink felt hat which is trimmed with a distinctive Celia print chiffon.
Then she happens to run across a Boutique in which she finds the most incredibly vibrant Celia-print halter neck maxi (if only t’were that easy these days) in which she dances the night away with a garland of flowers around her neck.
Finally, her new found confidence and savvy is reflected in a super sharp black skirt suit with a cream silk sharp collared blouse (and some serious hair!).
I queued patiently to buy some of the Celia magic, I tried to zone out the people standing around muttering “No idea who this woman is, but I know this stuff will sell on ebay”, I narrowly avoided being ripped to shreds as the rails were pushed out and all hell broke loose. I bought the pieces which had some manufacturing integrity (did anyone actually ever wear that botticelli print silk monstrosity?? so badly made I wanted to weep….) and put my years of hardened vintage shopping to good use as I walked around clutching the dress everyone was wetting themselves over and ignoring the black market-level dirty looks and whispers of ‘are you buying that?’
It was fun as a one-off. Something to tell the grandkids about, since I don’t have a Biba experience like that to share.
I didn’t bother second time around, the second collection was a poor relation and I don’t need the hassle. I’d rather spend my time and money getting an original.But at least she designed the prints and had some claim to the copied shapes of Ossie’s. The woman has talent.
Kate Moss in the original (left) and the Topshop copy (right)
Kate Moss at Topshop is a travesty. Normally such a non-event would barely register in the world of Ms. Peelpants. I couldn’t care less about Madonna at H&M, Lily Allen at New Look or even some of the least talented designers in the world getting deals with the same shops (naming no names, but I’ve heard some very interesting first-hand things about one of them lately and am suitably smug that I guessed they had no talent years ago). But Kate Moss at Topshop has affected me on a very personal level, and opened eyes to the true extent of the shallow money-grabbing at the heart of the fashion world these days.
I remember noting with amusement that Kate Moss had a vintage Bus Stop dress I also have. Much like the Ossie jacket she once wore, it’s always a nice little nod to the vintage community that vintage is still cool and it can do wonders for the image of what are, to most people’s minds, just someone’s old cast-offs. We know they’re not, but sometimes the challenge is to change other people’s perceptions. Kate Moss did the vintage community a lot of good in the past, but now she’s cheated on us.
For she has now ‘allowed’ (inverted commas to note that it is not her place to allow such a thing) Topshop to copy the aforementioned dress for her ‘collection’. A travesty so awful, on so many levels it’s taken me about a week to calm down enough to write this. They’ve copied the dress exactly, even down to getting the print copied and the detailing around the neck and on the sleeves. To add insult to injury, the dress in her closet had been hacked with what looks like nail scissors and is now a bum-skimming mini dress. I don’t know whether to laugh or cry when I see how badly out of proportion even the remake is. They’ve remade a ruined dress.
Lee Bender should sue Topshop. Her work has been copied stitch for stitch. It’s one thing to be inspired, Bender herself would have to admit that the dress was heavily inspired by dresses of the Forties, but there’s no room for the word inspiration here. This is duplication and it’s disgusting.
On a more personal level, one of my absolute favourite dresses has been ruined for me. This year everyone will think I’m wearing bleeding Kate Moss at Topshop. Next year, everyone will think I’m wearing two seasons old bleeding Kate Moss at Topshop. Two years time, perhaps the fashion world with its attention span of a gnat might have forgotten all about Kate Moss at Topshop (or perhaps Kate Moss herself, we can but hope).But my dress will still be tainted by the association and I resent the fact that I will always have to think carefully about whether to wear it or not. To sell it now would be to cash in. To sell next year, well no one will want the same problems I would have. But really, I don’t want to sell it. I bought it for me, and it fits me like it was stitched to my body.
Yours truly in the original dress
Françoise Hardy – Lank Haired Goddess
‘Another pouting French goddess??’, I hear you cry? Françoise Hardy is a cut above your average though. An extraordinarily talented singer and songwriter, Françoise charmed audiences throughout Europe in the Sixties. With her long, heavily fringed brown hair and youthful ‘ye ye’ music style, she was quite a radical figure on the French music scene along with Serge Gainsbourgh and her future husband, Jacques Dutronc.
Her style developed from slightly mousey, minimalist Parisian girl to a proper Swinging Sixties Chick who wore clothes by the likes of Foale and Tuffin and Paco Rabanne. She’s also managed to grow old gracefully, and remains a stunningly beautiful, elegant woman. Françoise Hardy, we salute you!
Certainly a worthy recipient of the name Lamborghini, just look at the sleek lines and general aesthetically pleasing-ness of it all. Ossie was one of the main proponents of the trouser suit, and this swiftly became one of his most iconic pieces once Twiggy wore the ‘couture’ original. It was also produced for Radley in the first year of their collaboration with Ossie and Alice Pollock, successfully showing that their designs could easily be manufactured more affordably.
It’s a real stunner. From the classic Ossie suit tailoring (often overlooked in favour of the dresses) in champagne satin, to Celia Birtwell’s chinoiserie print trousers. I must confess that the chinoiserie is one of my favourites, it just works so well on satin! Although obviously Ossies are born to be worn, this beauty is certainly a collector’s dream and a rare museum quality piece by one of the most revered designers this country has ever had. Wearable art.
…and Gina Fratini has a dress to match. So says the London Fashion Guide of 1975. I can’t help but agree with them. Fratini is a criminally underrated designer. She has her fans, me being one of them, but rather like John Bates has been overlooked in favour of the real exhibitionists of the era.
‘As a child I dressed everything from dolls and Teddy to my dog. I never though about a career – I just did it.’ The words float over a studio that looks like a rainy-day dress-up box, full of Victorian dolls, whimsical plants and miles of lace laid out like a daisy chain.
‘When I design a dress it gets half made, then I add a bit here and there. When I’m working on a dress I’ll rummage and play with the lace all day, and suddenly I can feel it coming together.’
She salvaged a basement full of antique lace from shops which were closing 
down in the Sixties, and used this and predominantly natural fabrics in her work. Fratini was never about practicality or minimalism, she was truly a girl’s girl. Her motto is as apt for today as it was back then;
‘One works all day, and afterward there should be a time to really take off. That’s why I love doi
ng these fantasy dresses. You’ve got to dream – these days more than ever.’
With thanks to Senti for that title! I honestly had no idea that these photos existed, but I found them yesterday and they’ve swiftly become my favourites. Diana, of course, is a huge inspiration to me – not only as Emma Peel but that does have a lot to do with it. I always loved how natural she seemed, and of course the effortless cool. As Emma, that was helped considerably by Bates’ influence as designer. She wore his designs to perfection, and continued to wear Jean Varon garments into the Seventies. Through this, I ‘discovered’ Bates and simply fell in love with his extraordinary designs. Having now met him, I’m even more in awe than ever before – especially after he gave me a nugget of advice on how to wear his frocks. The man is a legend.
I’ve never heard her speak of him, and only contemporary comments from him about the design process. I suppose these things rarely seem so iconic and special at the time, when deadlines are tight and it’s just another job. But you can just see magic being created in these photos.
Liz Eggleston 