This natty knitted two-piece by Plaza will set you back an uninflated £8.90 but teamed with the right accessories – beret, clutch bag, courts – looks like it could carry a £30+ tag. The fabric is a clingy wool jersey in shades of cranberry, black and grey. You’ll find the set at Che Guevara, Kensington High Street and all branches of Bobby Cousins.
If you know me, you know there’s little I love more than finding something I own in a magazine from the time. So when this copy of Cosmopolitan arrived today, I was delighted to spot this Antony Price for Plaza jersey top (albeit with a slightly different width of stripe). I was then, of course, miserable to note that it once had a matching skirt. Boo hoo. You can’t win ’em all…
Photographed by Tony Boase.
Scanned by Miss Peelpants from Cosmoplitan, November 1974
For some reason, I have shied away from posting about my collection much in recent years. I suppose it’s always been somewhat fluid; things come and go when times are hard or when something better comes along. But recently I acquired something which had always been a bit of a ‘holy grail’ for me, and it reminded me of exactly why I love fashion history, collecting and researching.
One of the most important books on my road to total geekery was Marnie Fogg’s Boutique: A ’60s Cultural Icon. Amazon kindly (and terrifyingly) informs me that I purchased it exactly ten years ago. Although clearly not comprehensive, something I am now realising is probably impossible, it was my main gateway into understanding the boutique phenomenon as a whole. I already knew many of the designers – and was delighted to see how much space was dedicated to John Bates – but several were new names to me. One of these was Georgina Linhart. Another graduate of St Martin’s College of Art and Design, Linhart set up her label in 1964 and, while she was frequently featured in the top magazines of the period, her business only ran for ten years. She later worked for Quorum, Jaeger, Wallis and Chelsea Girl. All four of which are favourite vintage labels chez Vintage-a-Peel.
Georgina Linhart, 1970
The more time went on, the more I realised how rare examples of her work must be these days. My eBay search was empty 99% of the time, and only occasionally turned up magazine features and a couple of jackets. The most distinctive dress pictured in Fogg’s Boutique book was ‘Glitterbug’ (see above). A sequined halterneck mini dress, gossamer light and substantial in its insubstantiality; so quintessentially of its time, the epitome of the permissive age.
So my heart was in my mouth when Glitterbug turned up on eBay a couple of months ago. It was slightly out of my price range at the time, and the recent events in my life had forced me to re-evaluate what was important (and worth getting into debt for). So I sat and watched it. Every day I would log into eBay, with one eye shut, and check if anyone had bought it. Every day it was still there, but my nerves were getting beyond frazzled. So the day I finally felt marginally less broke than normal, was the day I logged in and put in a cheeky best offer. I am impossibly grateful to the seller for accepting it and making my collector dreams come true. It has been a long time coming, and it has come a long way from the USA, but Glitterbug is finally in my collection. Plus, it fits me – which I’m pretty sure it wouldn’t have done ten years ago. What are the odds?
Sometimes life can be overwhelming. I have many lovely experiences to recount from the last few weeks, but putting finger to keyboard has not come very easily to me lately. So apologies for the lateness of this post.
Three weeks ago, I was very kindly invited to meet Barbara Hulanicki (designer, illustrator and general legendary goddess…) at Paper Dress Vintage in East London by the gorgeous Sophia of Black Spring Press who have just published Seamless From Biba. Shoreditch is not a natural habitat for Miss Peelpants, and I knew I was limited on time due to working that evening, but it was Barbara Hulanicki… how could I not?
As a ‘blogger’ event, I had assumed that there would be a veritable vintage scrum and scramble. I was pleasantly surprised to walk into a peaceful and beautifully appointed vintage shop, and see Margaret of Penny Dreadful Vintage, Liz of Advantage in Vintage and Lisa of Snoodlebug. Later I realised that Ana of Where The Roses Go was also in attendance, but sadly didn’t get a chance to talk to her (though I did admire her amazing hair from afar…). And that, was pretty much that. It was intimate, casual and so, SO much fun.
Sadly I didn’t have any of my more – ahem – flamboyant Biba pieces to hand, as I was staying with my mum in London, but I was able to wear my most favourite and wearable piece of Biba. A thick cotton fitted jacket with the most extraordinary floral print, which I knew I had to possess the moment I first saw it in the V&A Cutting Edge book. Possibly the second most exciting moment of the evening was when we were introduced to Barbara and she spotted my jacket, did a double take and pointed at me with an exclamation of ‘I recognise that!!’. She was able to confirm that it was indeed, as I had heard rumoured, a Sanderson upholstery fabric. She went on to say that they produced it in four colourways, and reminisced about taking four models to Italy – all wearing the same suit in a different colourway. ‘The Italians thought we were mad!‘.
What followed was more like, as Barbara said, a tea party. We all sat in a small circle, on squishy sofas and this all rendered it rather hard for me to take many photos or make many notes. It really felt like she was in conversation with all of us, and as I was directly opposite I just wanted to enjoy having a natter with one of my all-time inspirational people. So I made some sketchy notes afterwards and make no claims to precise quotations, just details.
I took the chance to ask if it was true that she used ‘vintage’ fabrics from the Thirties and Forties, and she confirmed that they did indeed. Kensington High Street was home to three department stores, Barkers and Derry & Toms being the most well-known but Pontings (further down from Derry & Toms, to the left as you emerge from High Street Kensington station) was famous for its haberdashery department. So in the early Seventies, when Pontings was on its uppers, Barbara was able to purchase rolls of unused fabric from thirty/forty years earlier. She admitted that they often had to cut around faded panels and other flaws from storage and age.
During a discussion about how films had inspired her designs from a very young age, and then the fact that Biba clothes were often used in films of the time (I’ll Never Forget What’s’isname was cited as an example, and roundly dismissed as being terrible. Something with which I greatly disagree but wasn’t about to get started on…), Barbara admitted that many things were filmed in Big Biba (including the Suzi Quatro video for Devil Gate Drive) without her knowledge. She laughed as she remembered driving past the building late one night and seeing lights on; something was being filmed and she had no idea!
I couldn’t resist the urge to share my “discovery” of the sequence from Side by Side (not the greatest film in the world but it has value and merit as ‘of its kind’, if you get my drift…) which was filmed in the rooftop restaurant. And, sure enough, she had never even heard of the film. Which is probably understandable, but it is getting a proper release this year so you can all make up your own minds…
I was keen to ask her about whether or not she had experienced much sexism, or whether Fitz had largely protected her from the worst of it. ‘Ohhh yes‘, she exclaimed, and said that, in the early days of Biba, nobody had taken her seriously and the suppliers she was dealing with would often leer at her ‘girls’ in their mini skirts and were dubious as to whether they should even be dealing with her. Of course, later on, when they saw how successful Biba was and were trying desperately to sell her things, she took her revenge. Explaining that they had a meeting room with a very, very low and large table, she laughed as she remembered that they were expected to sit on cushions on the floor. ‘And of course they’d all come straight from boozy lunches and when they sat down, their stomachs were hanging out over their trousers. And then we’d send the girls in, and they didn’t know what to do‘. Psychological warfare on lecherous pigs? Barbara is definitely my kind of lady!
When asked about the make-up colours, including green and blue lipsticks and blushers, Barbara confirmed that they all sold well and that there was always a veritable scrum surrounding new colours appearing in store. She remembered another occasion in Italy, as their make-up was being sold through Fiorucci there, where they had models each made-up with a single colour scheme. So one had blue eyeshadow, mascara, cheeks and lips, another green, and so on, and they all piled into the back of a taxi afterwards. Of course the taxi driver was too stunned at what he saw in his mirror to drive off, those mad English!
The majority of Biba models were taken from the shop floor, including Madeline Smith, except for a few notable exceptions such as Stephanie Farrow and Ingrid Boulting. The latter of whom Barbara admitted was her favourite model. She remembered an occasion where Boulting had been hired for a make-up shoot, and then said – on the day – that she couldn’t wear mascara. ‘But we’re paying you to wear the mascara‘ – she exclaimed in mock frustration at the memory. She also remembered a photoshoot where Sarah Moon had burned every single negative except for one. ‘This is the only one which came out’ claimed Moon, Barbara laughed as she said ‘She meant that was the only one she was happy with and had burnt the rest!‘. Fitz refused to let her use the solitary negative, ‘as it had cost us £1000!‘ and put it in the safe. (It was, apparently, used at a later date when the shock had worn off…).
She also said, with great sadness, that Helmut Newton was one of her favourite photographers to have worked with, but that she was too nervous to ask him again. Then, years later, his widow told her that he had loved doing the Biba catalogue and was hoping to be asked again. Which I’m pretty sure is an important lesson in ‘it never hurts to ask’ that we could all do with heeding.
One of the first questions I asked, but which feels more appropriate to mention here last, was for her opinion on having been so widely criticized at the time, in quality terms, and yet now so widely collected and sought after by serious collectors and museums. She smiled and said ‘Oh it’s wonderful. I only wish that Fitz had been alive to see it!‘.
I get the feeling that he always knew, because he always had faith in her and in Biba. It’s a testament to the both of them that it is still so coveted to this day, and retains a mystique despite all the copies and relaunches.
There were many other questions, answers and anecdotes, too many of which I have probably forgotten:
She recalled how the attempt to sell Biba in American stores was a bit of a disaster because they were a completely different shape to the British girls. Too muscular in the arms and legs for tiny Biba sleeves and skinny suede boots.
I asked about the ‘Lolita’ label and whether they had any criticism at the time. She said no, but that she realised they could never get away with it nowadays. ‘We just didn’t think about [the connotations] at the time. Our shop girls were so young, some were 15, so it was just a natural thing for us to do.”
I also asked her if she thought that the Biba concept (i.e the complete lifestyle from one shop, with one strong identity) could ever work again. ‘Oh yes, definitely, but the price points would have to be much higher‘.
They did use all the products themselves, including the baked beans and dog food. ‘The baked beans were actually Heinz beans but in Biba packaging… We used to get people complaining about the fact they were 3p more expensive than Heinz!‘.
We moved to pick up our books and have them signed, and she very kindly took our business cards. As I handed mine over, I had a momentary panic – my logo girl illustration is the image on the front of my business card! I’m basically handing over my puny illustration to Barbara Hulanicki, a woman whose illustration-style I worship (while trying desperately hard NOT to copy…). The panic dissipated as she asked if the illustration was mine, and then said something very complimentary. I’m not going to try and quote her, as I wouldn’t want to put the wrong words in her mouth, but needless to say – if Barbara Hulanicki compliments you on your illustration, your life is pretty bloody amazing at that precise moment.
As we talked about living in Brighton, and the recent exhibition, I remembered how upset I was to miss the opening event there due to a pesky toe-breakage. I think it’s safe to say that the karmic universe delivered me a more than sufficient replacement. It was an hour of pure joy, which I will always treasure. Thank you to everyone who made it possible, and mainly to Barbara herself for being so engaging and friendly.
I showed off my beloved Fulham Road Clothes Shop trousers, by Sylvia Ayton and Zandra Rhodes,the other day. But I’ve been waiting to show you the original photograph I have from a copy of 19 Magazine, July 1969.
One of my treasured pieces of fashion ‘ephemera’ is a flimsy paper catalogue for Cathy McGowan’s boutique range of clothes, which launched in 1965. I was pleased for it to be used in Richard Lester’s new book Boutique London: A History: King’s Road to Carnaby Street but, since only the front page was scanned and featured, I thought I ought to scan and share the rest of it!
Cathy ended up getting married in an amazing Celia-print Ossie Clark dress, but at this point she was alternating between Foale and Tuffin and Biba for presenting Ready Steady Go!. You can see a definite Foale and Tuffin influence in these clothes, I think, and I have often wondered how ‘proper’ designers at the time felt about these strange new celebrity “boutiques”.
I’m usually all about the Stevie Nicks. I have a fabulous skirt (in severe danger of falling apart at the seams, quite literally) which is identical to one she had. As identical as a patchwork skirt can be. And it’s safe to say, she is one of my biggest style icons. And I was going to do a post about her today. And then I spotted these two photos in the folder and remembered I had spotted that Christine McVie is wearing a gypsy Thea Porter dress, but didn’t blog about it at the time (for some weird reason).
It can’t have been fun being photographed next to Stevie most of the time, so it’s nice to see a rare moment where she outshines her.
I have one Thea Porter gypsy dress which, despite never having found occasion to wear, I cannot bring myself to sell (the skirt is very sheer and, clearly, I will never find a suitably hemmed petticoat to go underneath….). I rather like the fact that mine is a monochrome (aside from the gold silk waist panel), but it doesn’t stop me slightly lusting after the coloured ones as well.
You may (or may not…where have you been hiding??) know of my love for the work of John Bates. He’s a pretty important designer to me, and [via The Avengers and subsequent research] is a big part of why I have gone down this career path. I’ve met him twice and he has also, more recently, completely unwittingly and indirectly changed another part of my life. For which I’m very grateful, and which he will have no idea about.
Senti will be witness to the fact that I nearly fainted when I read what he had written in my copy of Richard Lester’s book about him. I had been wearing an early red chiffon Varon to the launch, and he wrote ‘Love the red chiffon and it fits perfectly!’. Perhaps that wouldn’t affect other, normal, people in the same way. But it was like a slice of heaven for me.
Lousy photo of a great dress.
Anyhoo. I don’t post a lot about my personal collection these days. To be honest with you, I’ve let go of a few things here and there. Other things need re-photographing. And several are still sitting in a no man’s land of ‘maybe I ought to sell this, really’. Hence I removed those sections from the website before I relaunched and haven’t reinstated them yet.
I am still trying to thin down the Bates collection. Which is hard. You can’t even imagine how much so. It’s easier to sell an Ossie, frankly, because I know I can get a fair market value for it. But Bates is still very ‘all over the place’ and I don’t want to gamble with such gorgeous frocks.
My plan is to have a comprehensive mid-Sixties array of his work. The varied, inspirational designs of his early years. Plus a decent selection of everything from then on, but minimalised greatly from what it has been. If I was having any doubts about this idea, they were swiftly removed by my most recent acquisition.
The really good, really early and representative Bateses don’t turn up very often. And you often forget that, for example, you’ve personally never seen an example of his panelled crepe work turn up. Or a dress with laced panels (which I also acquired last year, and need to photograph, sorry!). I’m very lucky to own a PVC example, and a dress with foil trim – those are pretty scarce as well. I love this dress. Passionately. I can’t find a direct photographed example, but it’s got to be from the same year as the Twiggy and Grace Coddington photos (below and at the top of the post).
I was delighted to be at the opening of the Foale and Tuffin: Made in England exhibition at the Fashion and Textile Museum last Thursday night. F&T at the F&T, why have they not made more of this? Am I strange to find it quite cute? Perhaps…
Anyway, I sincerely hope that this exhibition (alongside the new book) will redress some of the scandalously unbalanced and limited modern views on Sixties British fashion. Foale and Tuffin completely rule over Mary Quant, no question. So there. Ner!
I was there in a few capacities, as it turned out, since a last minute dash (a week beforehand) ensured that a couple of my frocks ended up in the exhibition. Which is rather wonderful and I’m really rather stupidly proud. Sniff.
Firstly Natasha, which is a red plush skirt suit from the early Sixties with faux Astrakhan collar and hem. You can juuuuuuust see it in the teeny tiny photo above.
Secondly, and you’re likely to miss it because I think the gals aren’t all that fond of their work for Paraphernalia, the infamous Chrysler dress which was worn in plenty of publicity shots and footage by the magnificent Jenny ‘Juniper’ Boyd. Who was also in attendance, much to Miss Senti’s delight, looking utterly fabulous. In fact, I think she looks even more fabulous now than Pattie does. Controversial? I don’t care…
I had already met Marion and Sally a few years back (at a study day at the V&A; all the fashion students in their knock-off Topshop Bibas went swarming up to Barbara Hulanicki and Mary Quant and probably didn’t have a clue who F&T were), and then again when I rushed Natasha and Chrysler to the museum the week before, so I didn’t do my usual gibbering fangirl act that particular night. Which felt rather nice and meant I had a more relaxing evening than usual. They have been very sweet to me when I’ve met them, and seemed to like my sartorial choices, so I’m a very satisfied bunny indeed.
(Especially when I nabbed some of the chocolate ‘F’ shaped cake from Marion herself at the party, which was very, very yummy. The ‘T’ was lemon drizzle, which isn’t so much to my taste but I try not to play favourites with fashion double acts and their initial-shaped cakes…)
I should add that Miss Senti is the most extraordinarily fabulous spokesmodel a vintage dealer could ever hope for. She worked the room beautifully in a sequined top and trouser ensemble she bought from me ages ago (before we had even met in the flesh!) and generally out-sparkled everyone. We were scuppered photographically (me because my handbag was too small for my camera, and Senti by her batteries) so we didn’t get any shots of us that night. If any surface, I will be sure to post them.
There were also a few exceedingly well dressed men in the room; one in particular who managed to pick the night after I’d posted this blog to wear stripes in my presence. Wibble. But, again, I was photographically challenged and they’d have had major champagne-blur if I’d managed to take any…
Anyway, the exhibition is brilliant and, as per usual, I need to go back and have a non-champagne-addled look around. I particularly adore the way they’ve set up the ’boutique’ downstairs, but kept having to restrain myself from grabbing some frocks off the rails and running into the changing room. Yes, there’s an actual changing room. That’s just asking for trouble where I’m concerned.
Upstairs there are rails and rails of patterns, hanging behind loads of those divine Liberty print dresses they did so well in the Seventies. In fact, my only complaint would be that there were none of the notorious clown frill pieces which are absolutely by far and away my favourite F&T designs. One day I will own one, and I will wear it everywhere just to freak people out!
Stay tuned to the blog, for soon I will be reviewing the incredible new Foale and Tuffin book by Iain R. Webb and I’ve also got an incredible F&T dress coming up for sale. Oh yes!
There are occasional moments in my life when I realise just how much of a geek I really am. Last week, at the opening of the Undercover underwear exhibition at the FTM (go see it if you’re in London), that came in the moment when I asked the lovely Immodesty Blaize if the dress she was wearing was a Sarah Whitworth. She pulled the back a bit and let me have a look at the label. Which I probably didn’t even need to see, I just needed to confirm my geeky curiousity. In case she ever searches herself online, the design is called ‘Bitch’ – which I totally forgot to tell her! I guess that would have been even geekier, non?
I still can’t find a picture to show you [where did all the official shots go???] but it was very similar to my purple one [except I don’t think her frock had the ruching down the front] in a gorgeous emerald green. I will update with a photo if I can ever find one.
Another memorable uber-geek moment was when Miss Senti asked Pattie Boyd who made her divine floaty green dress which had been pinned up on the wall at her book signing. I was determined to bite my tongue until I realised that Pattie was never going to remember the designer’s name and eventually blurted out ‘It looks like a Thea Porter’. “Aha, yes, that’s the one“. I don’t think she judged me, neither did Senti, in fact both seemed pleased to know for sure, but I probably judged myself very heavily for being so flipping geeky.
Well…..it’s not MY fault these designers are so damn idiosyncratic. I wouldn’t zoom across a room to ask someone if they were wearing a Mary Quant, a Caroline Charles or an Annacat (all fab but, unless it was a design I’d already seen, all too vague).
It’s reminded me that I need to do a blog about Sarah Whitworth at some point. Now Pam Hogg has irritated the hell out of me with the whole Susie Bubble blog photo debacle, Sarah can stand alone as my absolute favourite 80s/90s Hyper Hyper-era designer. She’s far more wearable and sexy anyway. Symphony of Shadows comes in a close second these days, and they also deserve a blog all their own very soon. My ‘to do’ list gets ever longer.
I’m also very glad that I chose NOT to wear a Whitworth corset dress to the Underwear opening, else that might have been an awkward matchy-matchy moment with the woman opening the thing. Eek. No, true to [strange] form I decided to go against the Underwear theme and wear an atypical late Sixties Janice Wainwright. No pictures, sadly. I find it very difficult to fall in line with a theme at normal-formal events, is that weird? I’m not even sure how conscious/subconscious it is.
Check out the the amazing ‘Buffle’….
Edited to add the footage of the opening, where you can see the green dress – finally!