All shoes by Yves Saint Laurent
Skyscraper heels announce a new, more refined shape for shoes in 1974. All the leading shoe designers endorse this feeling, though the heel heights vary. Yves Saint Laurent, that king of trendsetters, picks these – the highest. Thick platforms, the only real fashion story of the 70s so far, are out.
By Caroline Baker. Photographed by Harri Peccinotti.
Scanned by Miss Peelpants from Nova, January 1974.
Place: Jane’s Harbour, at the house of Mr and Mrs R. Miles Warner. Dress: Fuschia chiffon over skirt, with leaf and flower liana. About £120. Pink net flower hat. Instant nymph. Pablo & Delia, both to order at Browns. Sandals by Saint Laurent Rive Gauche.
Photographed by Norman Parkinson. Scanned by Miss Peelpants from Vogue, July 1973
Pyjama suit by Sujon.
Photographed in Brazil with Yardley, whose Yardley McLaren team took part in the 2nd Grand Prix, 1973
Photographed by Harry Peccinotti. Styled by Caroline Baker.
Scanned by Miss Peelpants from Nova, May 1973
Drawstring neck top (part of a flared Pajama suit) by Ossie Clark for Radley. Compact mirror from Biba.
Crêpe de chine printed coat and plain crêpe bags from Electric Fittings. Rib sun top by John Craig. Pique sun hat by Edward Mann. Espadrilles at Ronald Keith.
Dressing gown from Austin Reed. Silk blouse and baggy pants by Katharine Hamnett for Tuttabankem. Cobweb shoes at Chelsea Cobbler.
Crêpe de chine pyjama suit by Susie Craker. Panama at Paul Craig.
Sun top sweater by Virginia. Cotton baggy pants by Universal Witness. Hat by Herbert Johnson. Shoes by Yves Saint Laurent.
Crêpe and satin jacket top by Marie France for Quorum. Flared crêpe trousers by Alice Pollock for Quorum.
Anna Karenina dress in white alpaca by Bellville Sassoon.
Cherry Twiss delivers another brilliant shoot for the Telegraph Magazine, 17th December 1971.
Photographed by Peter Knapp. Scanned by Miss Peelpants.
Combinations in bright ginger wool, and ginger fox bolero designed by Yves Saint Laurent.
Femme fatale suit in embroidered black crepe – clinging skirt, waistcoat and jacket worn with bright yellow silk shirt by Ossie Clark
Red fake fur jacket by Annacat
Highwaymancloak from Marrian-McDonnell worn over knitted jodhpur suit
Borg fur kimono-cut jacket and ankle length trousers by Foale and Tuffin
Fake fur jerkin by Jap, worn with combinations by Yves Saint Laurent and Peruvian socks from Inca
Red velvet smock by Jap and socks, helmet, armbands, bag and scarf from Inca
Photographed by Barry Lategan
“It all begins and ends with the girl. There’s no such thing as a ‘sexy’ dress – it’s just so much fabric until it’s on the body. The look depends so much on the wearer. You have to keep in mind that some stage in the day it’s all got to come off. You see, I’m a realist.”
Oh yes! It’s another wonderful installment of ‘The Opinionated Mr Bates’* – see also here and here
“There’s a lot of rubbish talked about women dressing to please themselves or to impress other women. Women dress to please men. It’s for men that they keep themselves in shape, try out new make-up, change their hair. But it’s a very sad thing when a woman is frightened to move from what she knows her man likes. You can see it so clearly with wives and husbands; she suddenly ‘freezes’. Clever women know that by always looking the same you gradually make yourself invisible. That’s why I like to dress actresses – they’re not afraid to change and make men look at them with pleasure all over again. So each time I design a collection I make it new, concentrate on a different zone of the body… this time it’s the shoulders and arms, a way of cutting and gathering the sleeves.
“I think London women look better than anyone in the world. I admire the way Americans care, but it shows a little, and it shouldn’t. They’re best when they’re wearing the least make-up, and their hair shines like they invented shampoo, but come the witching hour of four o’clock… they’re hilarious. The French have a great way with shirts and sweaters and skirts, but we’ve been admiring that for thirty years. They’re inhibited- they won’t try something new. The English can be quite mad one day and very chic the next, and do it without any visible effort. Since the ‘sixties we’ve been enjoying fashion in a way that’s unique.
“I never want to hear the word ‘layers’ again. Let’s see the shape, let’s see it moving. I’m not talking about teenagers. I saw a woman who must have been 80 in one of my dresses at a party recently and the dress had a low neck. That could be a recipe for disaster, but it wasn’t. She looked great because she was thin and cheerful, she stood well, she’d looked after herself.”
Scanned by Miss Peelpants from Vogue, February 1976. Photographed by Barry Lategan. All clothes by John Bates.
*I say this with tongue firmly in cheek, of course. I worship the man…
Photographed by Barry Lategan
Jacket by Mr Freedom. Jeans by Male for The Pant House. Shoes at St Laurent, Rive Gauche.
Jeans, reclaimed from the bobby-soxer era, are back. True-blue jeans, given the Fifties treatment, rolled up to mid calf, revealing thick white socks and canvas sneakers, or totteringi high heels, clamped to the ankle with straps. It’s back to popcorn-and-ponytails, with angora sweater and beads or floppy blouses with belts, and shirts knotted self-consciously under Marilyn Monroe bosoms. It’s all fizz and fun and bubble-gum, just like High School kids used to be before politics and pollution, wars and recessions, drugs and permissiveness overwhelmed them.
Photographed by David Montgomery at Battersea Fun Fair and inside Mr Freedom.
Scanned by Miss Peelpants from Vanity Fair, July 1971
Photographed by the jukebox at Mr Freedom. Jacket by Kansai Yamamoto for Boston-151. Denim jeans from Countdown. Green and pink leather shoes by Yamamoto for Boston-151. Badges from Mr Freedom
Jacket by Henry Lehr at Miss Selfridge. Canvas boots at The Westerner. Denim jeans at The Westerner. Handkerchief at Herbert Johnson.
Blouse from Boston-151. Belt from St Laurent. Denim jeans by Wild Mustang Co. White leather shoes by Charles Jourdan.
Never again will I take movement for granted. About ten days ago, while I was running around preparing to meet up with the gorgeous Laurakitty and then doll myself up for the preview of the new Biba exhibition at Brighton Museum, I managed to ram my foot into my ever-present suitcase. Hard. So hard, in fact, that my pinky toe on my left foot was newly positioned at a right angle.
Of course I could have concocted a taller, more glamorous story about how I had tripped over the hem of my Ossie Clark dress (you know I run around in them all day, right?) or had tumbled from the stratospheric heights of my Terry de Havilland shoes (same as the Ossies, always in them…always…). Sadly, I was barefoot and the reality was painful and distinctly unglamorous. I managed to reset it myself (not quite sure how, I just moved it, not painful until the shock wore off…) and have been flat-bound and hobbling like a hobbly thing ever since. I have been told four to six weeks recovery time, in which I am unable to wear any of my nice shoes and have to keep pinky strapped up to its neighbour. There ensued much swearing and sulking when I realised that Biba (and, a few days later, the Festival of Vintage in Epsom) was definitely out of the question.
Unlike Tara, I have not been fighting thugs and solving crimes from the sofa. But I have been posed rather like this most of the time…
Sympathy (and tea and biscuits) are always welcome, but I mainly wanted to explain my slight absence from the blogging thing. I have been going stir crazy with boredom, but blogging seemed to be the last thing on my mind. Hard to get too excited about frocks and other fripperies when you are banished to the land of trainers and a very strange new walking style.
I am now just about able to get up the stairs to the studio, so slowness in frock dispatchery should be reduced. And there are some fine, fine things to be seen. New listings include Biba jackets, John Bates dresses and Yves Saint Laurent shoes, amongst many other things.
Illustrated by Michael Farrell. Click to enlarge.
Oh I do love a good map. Especially a fantastically illustrated map of all my favourite shops in London in 1971. It is the nearest I will ever come to being able to walk around them. Sadness ensues…
Scanned from Vanity Fair, July 1971.
I think it is safe to say that I love old clothes. I dream them, I live in them and I covet the ones I don’t have. But I am under no illusion that there is anything inherently unique or radical about this. The uniqueness comes from the impression of your personality in whatever you choose to wear. The fabrics, the colours, the shapes, these are the expression of my inner self in one, superficially superficial, way.
It is important to remember this: each generation thinks it invented sex, and I fear the same goes for ‘vintage’ clothing. This article makes for fascinatingly familiar reading. Commercialisation is the death knell each time, but in turn becomes the coveted piece of history for the next generation of disillusioned people (see the mention of Catherine Buckley’s old jacquard fabrics in the text of the article. My Buckley skirt is one of these pieces). The irony does not escape me; I wear clothes by Ossie Clark, Biba, Bus Stop… all of who were creating clothes heavily inspired by their own childhoods.
Just wanting a period look is not the important part, anyone can buy a reproduction and plenty of people will, the expression comes from the colours, fabrics, shapes and accoutrements you pick. There is absolutely nothing wrong with new clothing taking influence from old, although my thoughts on direct duplication are well known, but why would you limit yourself to the prints they have chosen this season? There are limitless possibilities when you look around you and take inspiration from a variety of sources other than from conventional fashion magazines or ‘how to’ guides.
That is partly the aim of this blog, and I hope to continue in such a vein for a long time yet…
The Cosmo Girl’s Guide to the Cast-Offs Cult… Cosmopolitan, August 1974.
Knockout, bareback dresses, draped and slung.
Above, dress by Yuki. Below, dress by Benny Ong.
Photos by Francois Lamy. Harpers and Queen, May 1976.
Body-hugging dresses on tiny straps.
Above, dress by Gianni Versace for Genny. Below, dress by Yves Saint Laurent.
Liz Eggleston 