There is a licence to touch all the clothes on these pages. There is not a single trad, scratchy, thornproof tweed among any of the frankly tactile silks, angoras and flannels of autumn. Jerseys and pearls and sensible shoes were once the uniform of the WI. Now, (well) kept ladies whose fingers smell of “Cabochard” rather than cabbage, are pressing their flannel bags, having their pearls restrung and are wearing them with shirts so unbuttoned they could catch pneumonia – and heels high enough to rise above the muddiest farmyard. They are taking to pleated kilts, and cashmere sweaters so tight they’d enliven the dullest game of backgammon. Dinner dresses are back in style, and I do mean back down as far as you can go. Properly and provocatively dressed, a weekend in the country might be more fun than you think.
Hair arranged for all pictures by Carl of Molton Brown.
The gist of this editorial seems to be that only the tinest breasted ladies can wear the Ossies, but I have to respectfully and fundamentally disagree. The Ossie tunic on the cover was, along with some matching trousers, later chosen as The Fashion Museum‘s Dress of the Year 1969.
Blonde model photographed by Mike Berkofsky.
Brunette model photographed by Steve Hiett.
Scanned by Miss Peelpants from Honey Magazine, November 1968.
Fluffy frilly blouse by Quorum.
Tunic by Ossie Clark.
Red chiffon blouse by John Craig.
Ruffled black dress by Francis Ford.
Low, plungey-neck dress in red satin by James Moncur.