Clothes by Missoni. Butterflies and beads from The Purple Shop.
Ottavio and Rosita Missoni are to Italian knit as Gucci is to leather. Using inspiration from original an unexpected quarters – a piece of antique porcelain, a fragment of embroidery, a picture painted by someone they then employ in their factory and train to use their knitting machines – together they produce the most beautiful knits in ravishing colours, extraordinary patterns and perfect shapes.
Photographed by Barry Lategan.
Scanned by Miss Peelpants from Vogue, April 1971.
Clothes by Missoni. Pendant from The Purple Shop. Shoes from K Shoes.
Clothes by Missoni. Claret platforms by Charles Jourdan.
Clothes by Missoni. Feather choker from The Purple Shop. Suede sandals by Pedro Garcia for Russell & Bromley.
In the Baghdad Room of Topkapi, full of the ghosts of harem women, black and gold decorations to wear, baggy drawstring trousers, silks, velvets, netted and worked with gilded peacocks for a rich top with immense sleeves gathered in twice. By Bill Gibb for Baccarat. High lifted sandals at Thea Porter.
Photographed by Barry Lategan.
Scanned by Miss Peelpants from Vogue, November 1971
In the harem, green brocade with sleeves coming through and a pointed petal hem worn under Turkish evening blue – a coat the colour of the electric moment, panelled in scarlet and midnight and violet, flying pinked blue streamers. All to order at Thea Porter. Platform sandals by Andrea Pfister.
Printed silk chiffon looped into a skirt, gathered from a tiny blue satin bodice, with blue satin ribbon at hem. By Zandra Rhodes, £89, at Fortnum & Mason. Tiered metallic platform shoes, 9gns, at Rowley & Oram of Kensintyon Market. Beaded choker, by Bibette, from range at Thea Porter. Rings from Hope and Eleanor, Chelsea Antique Market.
Another early appearance from Terry de Havilland, whose shoes were sold out of Rowley & Oram in Kensington Market and often not credited. I would [possibly] kill for those shoes. And the dress isn’t half bad either…
Puff sleeve sweater from Harrods. Small turquoise Acrilan bib sweater at Stop the Shop. Both by John Craig. Khaki ribbed bermuda shorts by Donald Davies. Tapestry clog boots by Jan Jensen.
A perfect winter look.
Photographed by Elisabeth Novick. Scanned by Miss Peelpants from Vogue, February 1971.
Dusty pink puff sleeved sweater over a beige linen sweater. Both by Harold Ingram. Thick purple wool trousers at Biba. Striped socks, Ruskin at Kensington Market. Knit cap by Margaret Howell at The Sweet Shop. Rose in glass pin, Marie Middleton at Chelsea Antique Market. Jacquard sweater by Toto at branches of Crowthers. Mushroom beige sweater underneath by Harold Ingram. Royal blue cashmere shorts, McGregor of Dublin. Over the knee socks by Donald Davies.
Vest and pullover both by Alice Pollock at Quorum. Pink knitted shorts by Alistair Cowin at Grade One. All clogs from Mayfair Market. Puff sleeved sweater in stripes of tuqouoise, pink and navy, acrylic tibbed dark blue polo neck undeneath, dark blue knitted trousers rolled up. All by John Craig at Stop the Shop.
I’m often yapping on about the genius of James Wedge’s photography, but I have been meaning to share this very rare, very precious part of fashion history and of my personal collection for a while now. Wedge is one of those rare Renaissance-man types; successful in every new skill to which he turned his hand. He successfully ran his own boutiques (Countdown and Top Gear), forged a career in photography with no experience or working knowledge (trial and error often creates some of the best works of art) and, initially, he trained and worked as a milliner.
James Wedge hats in Vogue
His hats were regularly featured in Vogue in the early to mid Sixties, often teamed with outfits by his friends Marion Foale and Sally Tuffin, and are some of the most perfect examples of mod ‘op-art’ ever created. But they weren’t being produced for long, or in any great quantity, so they are now incredibly rare.
This hat splits me in half. I cannot wear fur. I just can’t. Not particularly morally, I eat meat and wear leather quite happily, but the feel on my skin is like nails down a blackboard. Consequently, a hat made from rabbit fur is a thing of beauty aesthetically but I wouldn’t wear it even if I could squish it over my big head. However, I can’t quite bring myself to sell it just yet. I mean… it’s James Wedge?!