Spectacular is certainly how I would describe this triumvirate of iconic models: Gala Mitchell, Kari-Ann Muller and Amanda Lear.
Scanned from Vogue, December 1968.
For some years now the London fashion designers have had the edge on their Paris rivals for ideas and innovations. Tomorrow evening a film on this subject will be shown on BBC1. Today we photograph the key London designers with their favourite clothes. What do they think of the London fashion scene? Where do we go from here?
Photographed by Terence Donovan. Fashion by Cherry Twiss.
Scanned from The Telegraph Magazine, May 25th 1973.
Probably the greatest paint advert of all time, featuring model and singer Amanda Lear wearing clothes by Kansai Yamamoto from Boston-151. Shoes are by Zapata (aka Manolo Blahnik).
Scanned from Honey, November 1971
Miss Amanda Lear on the cover of a seriously swinging LP from 1968, found in Cullompton, Devon of all places. For so many reasons, I could not resist buying it… Not least that the Batman-style ‘SOCK’ is actually attached to her boxing glove and not superimposed on the photograph.
Yes, it’s that time of year again. St BryanGod Day. Never heard of it? Pah.
I’ll take a Dorabelle T in Campari please!
I blogged about this advert ages ago, because she’s wearing a Jean Varon dress in the final picture. But at that point I didn’t recognise the model! How remiss of me. Scanned from Nova, November 1970, but I’m pretty sure it was an older advert than that.
Although you’ll all have long since forgotten that I promised to review the fantastic Duffy book (published by ACC. RRP £45 but currently £31.98 on Amazon.co.uk), I certainly haven’t and it’s been rather weighing on my mind. In fact, I’m troubled by the fact that I rarely seem to have the energy to type long, rambling blog posts at all these days.
So, as I often do, I will largely leave the photographs to do the communicating. Which is rather the point of the book itself. It is not a weighty tome about the life of the man, rather it is a weighty tome about the talent of the man. The talent which made him world-famous, but eventually left him feeling so trapped he had to [pretty much literally] destroy it in order to escape it. Page after page of gorgeous women, swinging dudes of the highest and lowest order and generally Interesting People. But it also covers the later period, the advertising and the selling-out, or ‘prostitution’ as he honestly described it.
I have to admit, I’m always on the look out for new Duffy shoots in my magazines because I’m almost rather bored of seeing the same ones shown again and again. And to be fair, of course, in Duffy’s case there is the genuine problem with the complete lack of original source material. His son Chris has spent years reassembling the archive, and I have to respect the labour of love that this project has become. Thankfully, the book is more varied than the exhibition I attended earlier this year would lead you to believe. I have scanned a few of my personal favourites, which I hope will communicate the beauty of his work.
A pet hate must be noted at this point, which is that these books rarely identify the designer of the clothes worn in the pictures. I know it doesn’t seem like much to a non-clothes obsessive, but I want to know if that dress really was by so-and-so and I find it infuriating for such information to be left out when surely it must be known?
Obviously, luxuriously printed and sized books such as this require the highest calibre of image quality for reproduction purposes, but it would be nice, in a few years time, to see a book which features more obscurities, more magazine tear-sheets and clippings; covering the lesser-known styles and techniques he used. For there are many. I mean, David Bailey has had enough books about him to last a lifetime; Brian Duffy certainly deserves another one.
Definitely one for the Christmas list. And watch out, because I’m going to be reviewing more books to put on your Christmas list over the next few weeks. Yes indeed.
I’m finally off for a few days to spend my second Christmas and only New Year with someone special, so I won’t be around to blog. Thank you all so much for your comments over the past few days, and indeed the past year. I’ve been doing silly hours at work for a few weeks now, so I haven’t had time to comment as much as I would like on all of your blogs, so it means a lot to me.
Enjoy your New Year celebrations, as small or as huge as they may be. I suspect mine will involve a lot of champagne coupe action, so I’ll raise a glass to all my dear readers and fellow bloggers and say…
Dear Mr Ferry,
There seems to be some sort of immense cock-up, re. your new album. Those wags at the record company appear to have placed something called ‘Kate Moss’ on the front cover. How strange! How careless! Perhaps they need a little reminder of what a Roxy cover girl should really be like.
How kind of you to take the blame for them, by saying it was all your own idea. You’re such a gentleman. Although a little foolish, for who could believe that the BryanGod would ever deem Kate Moss to be a suitable Roxy girl?
You see, the big problem is that I wish to purchase your [surely] superb new piece of work, but I have an allergic reaction to Moss and cannot, therefore, get within a mile of it without breaking out in a rash. What a dilemma! What a pickle!
I look forward to purchasing from you again in the future, when sanity has been restored.
Yours faithfully,
Miss Peelpants