Random Picture Spam: Eyeliner

amanda lear, eyeliner, Françoise Hardy, Make-up, marianne faithfull, maureen starkey, natalie wood, pamela des barres, peggy moffitt, penelope tree, sandie shaw, sixties

I’m far too tired, achy and discombobulated to post anything too long and rambly tonight, so here’s a random picture post so I can attempt to maintain my unusual prolificacy at the moment….

I wish it were profligacy though; I love how I have to really think about which word I want to use. Ah well, that will come soon enough when I’ve recovered from the multitude of stresses which are upon me at the moment. And when it does, I will be wearing lots of eyeliner and lashes and drinking a lot of brandy. So just you watch out!

Well there you go, I was a bit rambly. Ha!













Who’s Wearing What: Penelope Tree

british boutique movement, david bailey, Foale and Tuffin, mary quant, ossie clark, penelope tree, petticoat magazine, sixties

I adore Penelope Tree; her hair, make-up, style, the fact that she still looks amazing (without having had surgery…at least that’s what it looks like), the fact that she survived being with Bailey, the fact she doesn’t feel the need to whore herself around for fame and fortune…..

I particularly love this article from the June 14th 1969 issue of Petticoat magazine.

In New York Penelope Tree is a top fashion model. You can’t open American Vogue or Harpers without seeing her dripping furs, jewellery. In England she’s more well-known for being Bailey’s Bird. What sort of clothes does she wear to please herself?

I got off to a good start by losing my pencil, every time I delived in my bag to find it I got butted in the bottom by Smudge, Penelope’s enormous English sheep dog. “And he’s still only a puppy,” she said apologetically, whacking him. I gave up looking, and she handed me a pencil. We sat either end of a vast black leather Chesterfield, surrounded by ‘naive’ paintings, Mickey Mouse and stone sculptures of sorts.

“I go six months without ever buying clothes, because I hate it more than anything else. I think I’m going to get all paranoic in the shop, specially Department Stores, I think I’m going to throw-up or something. I’ve been buying clothes for myself since I was 12 years old and it still gets me. When I do see something I like, I usually buy a lot. This dress, I bought at Maryon about a year ago. I liked it so much I bought three.”

She was wearing a full-length, green cotton dress, sprigged with tiny daisies, topped with a short black velvet vest, “a bit from a Tuffin and Foale trouser suit, I think” and thick brown brogue boots.

Apart from looking very individual and super, she looked as if she’d just stepped out of a trail-blazing Western film. “I refuse to spend a lot of money on clothes, I’d rather spend it on paintings. I haven’t got much money; you know I don’t earn any money in this country at all, and anyway clothes aren’t made well enough. The most I’ve ever spent on one garment is an Ossie Clark Snakeskin coat.”

“To the ground?” I queried.

“Oh yes, short clothes look terrible now, one is always inhibited about the way one sits, walks and runs down the street. I like to forget about what I’m wearing, not worrying about – are my knickers showing. It’s all right if you don’t worry, but I’ve been conditioned to worry about it.”

I sat there worrying if my knickers were showing, and feeling very butch in my short skirt.

With that, David Bailey walked in, bumping into a bounding Smudge, who rushed over to give a friendly lick.

“Bailey do you know Suzie?” Penelope introduced us and we exchanged sickly smiles. I always feel about two year old, being called Suzie, and surnames only always have a ‘God’ like ring to them. Bailey put on a record and we all listened in silence to Brute Force and his four letter word song. “That’s why it can’t be released,” Bailey explained.

I broke the magic by asking Penelope if she liked French clothes. “I hate French clothes, I hate the principle of the couturier. I used to love Yves St. Laurent clothes, only he started giving out this black thing and being in mourning for Vietnam. I think it’s the most hypocritical thing I’ve ever heard of, he doesn’t do anything about Vietnam, but make money out of it. Black’s okay if you have a figure problem. English clothes were wonderful five years ago, now they’re terrible and very expensive. Ossie Clark is the only revolutionary now, he makes pretty clothes, only they’re not particularly well made.”

“Can I quote that?” I interjected.

“Oh yes, I’ve told him so. Marshall McLuham says: ‘Fashion is a product of mass media, presenting ourselves as a showcase’. I think clothes just need to be comfortable. My wardrobe’s full of bits and pieces, I hate to throw anything away, I always think they’ll go with something. I really only wear about five things.”

I’d read she wore masses of make-up, literally painting it on every morning, but she hardly had any on.

“Oh sometimes I wear gobbs and gobbs, it just depends how depressed I feel in the morning. I think Mary Quant is best, but really best of all is stolen make-up, not stolen really but borrowed. Somebody else’s is always better than yours.

“I’m always amazed that all the individual, successful people ‘do their own thing.'” Penelope even cuts her own hair…”unless someone offers to trim it while I’m modelling”. I asked her why she wasn’t modelling in this country and she mumbled something about the tax man and then said: “I’m giving it up, I don’t want to hang about and become a has been.” Then she added much to my surprise: “I’m not in great demand. I started to write a book, then realised in the middle I didn’t really know what I was talking about; it was on the subject of Hinduism. I might go into films.”

With that Mary Quant, Alexander Plunket-Green, Bailey and Smudge came in and it looked like my interview was ended. We wandered down to the basement and spent half an hour searching for a picture of her. “Bailey hardly ever photographs me unless it’s work!” Sue Steward


Back! And front, and side. Fabulous from all angles

bus stop, cathy mcgowan, clobber, dove clothing company, jean varon, jeff banks, john bates, lee bender, seventies fashion, sixties, website listings

For various tedious reasons, I’ve been a bit quiet on the old website listing front in the past month. But I’m feeling much perkier now, more inspired and oh boy have I got a lot of goodies (just listed, and in the works…). Watch out world!

Right now I’ve just listed an incredible John Bates for Jean Varon dress (1973, just check out the original advert from Vogue), a chocolate brown rayon crepe Lee Bender for Bus Stop beauty, a Dove Clothing Company deep cobalt blue cord maxi dress (perfect for walking through wintry landscapes), a super romantic cream damask Clobber (a.k.a Jeff Banks) dress with flutter sleeves and trailing ribbons….and finally, a slinky blue Cathy McGowan dress with the most gorgeous sleeves and pleated front detail. Yeah, Cathy McGowan….that’s pretty darned rare!




Seeking Inspiration: Circular Circulation

Inspirational Images, petticoat magazine, sixties

Always, always seeking inspiration. Particularly right now while I sit here, staring at listings I need to be doing but failing to have the energy to write my usual [lovingly] flowery descriptions. I want to do these amazing pieces justice.

I also have strong urges to be creating my own….things. Which also requires inspiration. Time and energy are sadly lacking right now; I seek rejuvenation and inspiration. Does anyone have a bottle of pure energy to hand?

So once more, I delve into my magazine pile and fall in love with colour, texture, atmosphere and silhouettes. I particularly love this circus-themed fashion story from Petticoat Magazine, December 1968.

I, for one, would definitely run away to the circus right now…




Vintage Inspiration: Sylvie Vartan; hat-wearer extraordinaire….

hats, sixties, sylvie vartan

One of these days I’m going to go and do a millinery course, just so that I can stop moaning about my beeg heed and live the life I want to live: running around in all manner of gorgeous hats rather than the measly handful I have now. I want a teeny tiny Vartan head. And all her hats. She really did rather rock the hat-thing back in the day….









Swinging Sixties: Happy Birthday Twiggy!

seventies fashion, sixties, twiggy

Cue lots of people moaning about how this makes them ‘feel old’. Our very own Twiggy is 60 today, and definitely still looks fabulous. And I’ll forgive her for nearly having my eye out with her elbow last year. Good excuse for a Twigster picture spam, non? Crazy crimpy-haired Twigs is my favourite era, so I might try to do that look today in her honour.
















And here’s a little something to remind you to have a celebratory brandy, Moonie would have wanted it that way…

The Icing on the Cake (or, The Bow on the Butt)

butt bows, mary quant, mod, sixties, website listings

Ahhhhh….you have to love a butt bow. I was rather surprised to see a butt bow on a Sixties Mary Quant mini dress, but surprised in a good ‘oooh, the girl done good’ kinda way. It’s an adorable dress anyway (and perfect attire for a mod french maid) but that’s just the icing on the cake; the bow on the butt. Anyway, it’s a new listing over at Vintage-a-Peel – please do check it out!

Holiday? Perhaps…. & The Marit Allen Sale

fulham road clothes shop, john bates, marit allen, sixties, zandra rhodes

I have just been musing over on Twitter (yes, I succumbed…) about how, in this job, one never really feels able to have a proper break. Even when torn from the bosom of the broadband connection and thrown into the beautiful countryside, there’s always that niggling niggle at the back of your head. Have five people bought the same thing? Does someone (heaven forbid!) not like their frock? Will everyone forget about me in the space of a week?

I’ve been quiet the last week or so, but not because I’ve been on holiday. No, I’ve been doing costume work interspersed with my usual vintage-ing. So no blogging, alas. It’s the first thing to suffer, but I promise you not for much longer.

I am, however, on holiday as of this evening. Nothing particularly exotic, unless the Norfolk Broads are considered exotic by anyone (I can’t imagine it, somehow), but a break nonetheless.

So I’ve tried to tie up all loose ends before leaving, but I thought I ought to come here and apologise in advance about any unanswered emails….and obviously I will be unable to perform post office duties until Monday the 14th. Coincidentally, this is the day before the Marit Allen collection is sold by Kerry Taylor in London.

I had the pleasure of meeting Marit once, and I do find it a shame that her incredible collection is being split up. However, it’s also an amazing opportunity for people to acquire some pretty damn incredible examples of John Bates’s work from the mid-Sixties.

And on top of that, there’s a Teddy Bear print Zandra/Sylvia blouse. Rare as you could hope for. Go, buy!!

Only in Chelsea, in the Sixties…

1960s, Illustrations, king's road, sixties, Vintage Adverts

…could you have had a job agency who will find a job appropriate to your star sign. I wondered if it was a joke. Perhaps it was? I like to think I’d fit seamlessly into society if I ever fell through a wormhole in time and found myself in 1969, so I almost get annoyed with myself for finding such things so very amusing and bizarre. Perhaps I would have found them entertaining back then? I hope so…like the idea of sanitary towels aiding my search for a millionaire husband*?

*I was once accused of being a ‘gold digger’ by a former aquaintance of mine. It still perplexes me to this day. She can’t have been basing it on reality, if she’d ever met any of my boyfriends she’d know that. Perhaps she saw a packet of Dr Whites in my handbag?

Pussy Galore

1960s, british boutique movement, carnaby street, petticoat magazine, pussy galore, sixties, The art of labels

Well I never. All these years I’ve been moaning that I knew so very little about the Pussy Galore boutique, aside from the brief paragraph the V&A managed to unearth when they displayed my frock. Yet right under my nose, in a clearly somewhat under read copy of Petticoat magazine, was this little gem. Well, now I know why they didn’t last very long. I’m not sure I’d want to buy frocks from a girl in her underwear. I don’t care what they may say about rocketing lingerie sales, pah!

Pussy Galore was opened by Carnaby Street entrepreneur Henry Moss in 1969, when this clipping dates from.

I realise this may not be terribly exciting for anyone else, but at least if I blog about it I’m unlikely to forget I have it. Which is something I often manage to do.

My solitary[ish] Pussy Galore piece is the tablecloth mini, but I also have a pair of purple suede hotpants (Made, apparently, for someone with a child-size bottom. Size 38 my….errr….arse!) which had this hang tag on them. I’m sure they must be Pussy Galore, but there isn’t a fabulous huge satin label inside. Just the hang tag. Dyed by the purple suede over the years. Isn’t it groovy?