One of the most miserable things about reading a magazine from 1971 is seeing such an inviting advert as this, and knowing full well you will never be able to visit. Kensington Market = dreamland for Sixties and Seventies fiends…
Scanned by Miss Peelpants from Petticoat, December 1971
A while ago, I posted a remarkable advert for a shop called ‘Midnight Blue’. Scanned from a copy of Ritz, I had never heard of Midnight Blue before or since. Like many posts, it passed into the archives without much fuss. Until I received a comment the other day from the man behind the shop; Peter Burden. Rather than letting the information disappear (with the original post) into the mists of blog history, I thought I should repost the image with the comment from Peter.
Dear Miss Peelpants,
Great to see this shot aired. Coco Fennell, designer daughter of Theo (with whom I used to throw buns around Meridiana (resto designed by Enzo Appicella) in the early 70s) spotted this and sent it to my daughter Alice, because she thought it might be something to do with me. I’m the geezer in the white leather spider jacket at a shoot we did in 1977 somewhere near Oxford. I started Midnight Blue – jeans for trendy toffs – in 1975. We were open until midnight, and our own brand jeans (mostly Fiorucci rip-offs) had a good following for a while. This ad in RITZ magazine was cropped from a landscape poster. David Litchfield who ran RITZ had a room in our building in the Fulham Road. My own fashion instincts were not especially strong, but I tried to find interesting off-centre designers. All the clothes in this shot (by John Cowan) were by a lovely eccentric woman called Carol Lee who lived in Lincolnshire. I don’t know what’s happened to her and I don’t have a stitch of her stuff left. Of interest in the shot, sitting on my left is 17 year-old Kelly Lebrock, just before Leonard remodelled her hair into a kind of gamine, and Clive Arrowsmith shot her for the front of Vogue (or was it Harpers?) She went to Hollywood and starred in Gene Wilder’s Woman in Red. In the poster but out of this shot is Pandora Stevens (d. of Jocelyn) now Delevigne, mother of Poppy and Cara. (I could email a copy of the poster if you like.)
(One of our first posters was by Bob Carlos-Clarke – his first commercial job I believe – using a technique he’d learned from James Wedge. It’s in one of his early books.)
I moved on from the rag trade, and became a writer. My first novel, RAGS, published by Weidenfeld in 1987, was based on my fashion experiences in the 60s/70s, focussing on a fictional BIBA store. The back cover shot in the Roof Garden was by Jill Kennington, one of the models in Antonioni’s BLOW -UP, which was shot in John Cowan’s studio in Pottery Lane, and which starred David Hemmings, whose autobiography I wrote (2004). My tenuous links with fashion are maintained through my lover – soon to be wife – Nina Hely-Hutchinson, a very knowledgeable and instinctive vintage fashionista. She has a place in Ludlow called 55 Mill Street (qv facebook)
Best Regards,
Peter Burden
Charlotte Rampling, who has made the headlines by living with two men and “loving them equally” – Randall Lawrence here is one – has recently married the other, Brian Southcombe. But there’s no breakup in what she calls “her family”. Here Charlotte cuddles up to her Best Man, a champagne girl in a pop outfit. Pepsi top and trousers by Harriet.
Some stunning photos of the divine Charlotte Rampling, wearing some incredible clothes, scanned from [a slightly crinkly copy of] Cosmopolitan, April 1972. Shame the copy is so utterly, horridly anti-feminist. What gives, Deirdre McSharry? This is Cosmo, after all…
Scanned by Miss Peelpants from Cosmopolitan, April 1972. Photographed by Barry McKinley.
Even the most liberated, jeans-uniformed, free-thinking women will be melting at the seams this summer. She’ll be babying herself in cheesecloth, swathing her shoulders in chiffons, oozing into tight, bright “message” clothes and generally dressing up as if she hadn’t got the vote. If your mind is ticking over OK, what’s the matter with appearing as “woman-as-a-sex-object”? A little female fragility never hurt a good fight yet … If you dress in a fragile manner you’ll be handled with care.
Stirling Cooper blazer and trousers. Wavy Navy shirt by Browns.
How to be tattooed while staying a lady. Charlotte has the art in this cheesecloth t-shirt and leather trousers. Tattoos turn a lot of men on – but if not you can just slip this lot off. By Henry Miura.
Cream flannel trousers with straps by Ossie Clark
Blouse printed by Celia Birtwell and designed by Ossie Clark
… until I discovered Smirnoff
Everyone was drunk on the job in the Seventies…
Scanned by Miss Peelpants from Cosmopolitan, November 1975
Illustration by the wonderful Kasia Charko, who was an important part of the Biba experience when they moved to the Derry & Toms building – helping to create the distinctive imagery and style – and who now has her own blog. Please let me know if any of you decide to cook either of these feasts, even if (shock! horror!) it’s only for yourself…
Scanned by Miss Peelpants from Petticoat, 25th December 1971.
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 Duffy
I am now the proud owner of ‘Chastity in Focus’, which was a book produced in 1980 by the Janet Reger underwear company to celebrate the photography of its catalogues. Janet Reger underwear was truly revolutionary at the time, mixing practicality and comfort (the bras are often non-wired and non-padded) with sensual silks and delicious, edible colours. No scratchy red and black nylon lace, no boring white cotton.
Many of the images are by Bob Carlos Clarke, who photographed the catalogue I already own, but I was blown away by some of the Duffy pictures. More to come soon. In the meantime, here’s the book’s dedication:
This book is dedicated to all those who worship the female form in all its gracefulness, who indulge in the joys of its inner sanctum and who are forever drawn by its promise of sensual ecstasy.
I also have some Janet Reger pieces for sale over at Vintage-a-Peel in my ‘loungerie’ section
Dress by Janice Wainwright at Simon Massey
Scanned by Miss Peelpants from Honey, December 1970
It’s not an original pun, but Central Bazaar by Stephen Dwoskin is really, truly bizarre. We watched it in two parts about a month ago, and even after much discussion and thinking on it, I am still unsure as to quite what I think of it. Many of the online reviews likened it to a Seventies version of Big Brother, where a group of people – locked in the director’s house – are filmed over the course of a couple of weeks. But that is to do it an injustice, and suggests that it may be some kind of cultural snapshot of the period. These people are a disconcerting mix, chosen without a structure in mind (there are no ‘types’ that I can clearly identify) and appear to spend most of the time in a druggy haze, having been instructed to act out private fantasies with their fellow housemates.
The actual soundtrack to the action is stripped away and replaced with a discordant, electronic hum. Which is both uncomfortable and completely soporific (hence the need to watch in two parts, we both drifted off to sleep about halfway through). The shots are lingering, wobbling, moving in and out of focus rather than fast-paced editing.
It really has rather more in common with an improvisation, the performers daubing themselves with make-up and pulling on random garments from [what I assume was] a provided dressing-up box, before enacting ‘scenes’ – usually sexual and psychological. There are threads of potential stories, punctuated with a few moments of relief from the electronic hum where people sing songs or read stories, but since there is no speech and no context, it is difficult to follow. But in itself, this is fascinating. It means the film is as good as your imagination and patience.
In many ways, it is a perfect example of style over substance. It looks incredible. Or at least, it looks incredible if grubby Seventies sex, interiors and dressing-up are your kind of thing. These characters all look the part of interesting, sensual, bohemian people. But whether or not they actually are is completely obscured by the techniques of the director. If you have a yen for something truly unique, but which many have deemed “unwatchable” (a word which usually makes me prick up my ears and click the ‘rent’ button on Lovefilm) then it is certainly worth a watch. Otherwise, these screengrabs capture what is best about the film – the visuals.
Photographed by David Bailey. Scanned by Miss Peelpants from Vogue, March 1972
Liz Eggleston 