Kathleen and Kenneth Tynan live in Kensington with their children, Roxana, 5, and Matthew, 2, when they’re not abroad: they’re often either just off or just back – now it’s just back from four weeks in a cottage in Wales. Kathleen Tynan is an excellent journalist, specialising in arts features and interviews, and is working on her first book.
Photographed by Norman Parkinson.
Scanned from Beauty in Vogue, 1973.
Originally published in Vogue, 1973.
Photographed by Norman Parkinson.
Scanned from Lingerie in Vogue, 1981.
Dress by Jean Muir.
Photographed in Tobago by Norman Parkinson.
Scanned from Vogue, September 1970.
Would you dare to wear it? The body suit is what top designers have dreamed up for dancing this summer – to be worn with the barest excuse of a skirt, or a floating piece of chiffon. Norman Parkinson photographed some of the most exciting ideas in the modernised Paris Metro.
I would never have thought of sweltering on the Paris Metro as some kind of ‘normal’ experience I would aspire to, but here we are.
Shoes from Charles Jourdan and Walkers.
Fashion Editor Penny Knowles.
Photographed by Norman Parkinson.
Scanned from The Telegraph Magazine, Number 125 (February) 1979.
Following Gaudi’s thought “to be original, return to the origin”, following it down to Lacock Abbey in Wiltshire where William Fox Talbot invented the camera, Norman Parkinson photographed eight dresses conjured from pure air and gauze.
This is like an album where every song is a certified banger. From the model, to the frocks, to the photographer, to the photographer he’s referencing, everything is flawless. Except that I don’t own all these dresses.
Photographed by Norman Parkinson.
Modelled by Ingrid Boulting.
Photographed at Lacock Abbey.
Scanned from Vogue, July 1970.
Tessa Kennedy lives down amongst trees and flowers on the Bayswater edge of Hyde Park; on a broiling blue July day it seemed more like the South of France with mimosa yellow awnings over the windows, white iron table and chairs set up on the terrace. On the corner of a great white classical block of houses, it’s a garden flat — no agent’s euphemism — knocked together from two; in the centre are a pair of tiny courtyards Tessa is changing into conservatories so that flowers can flower all year round: her sons can also wheel their bicycles straight out of doors to play. They are Cassian, Damian and Cary Elwes., 11, 10 and 7, and there’s Dylan, the baby, 7 months old.
Inside, a dramatic maze of rooms opens off the central chocolate-varnished corridor; everywhere carpets, tapestries, tartan and Indian silks make endless patterns. The old wine cellars have turned into great scarlet felt lined storage cupboards like the ones she designed for the Donald Davies shop, no dust can creep in. The drawing-room converts to a cinema built when Stanley Donen lived there; Tessa has hardly changed this at all. The projection room has mighty machines like the Marble Arch Odeon, she has registered herself as Kennedy Previews and has a projectionist hired full time—to show films to friends after dinner once or twice a week, or a couple of James Bond epics for the boys: “They love it of course and get absolutely boss-eyed.” Her fascination with gadgetry extends to video tapes, high-powered headphones for the stereo, intercom and a splendid American push-button dial telephone you can ring in on but not out. With the push-button stuff are clumps of fresh flowers, dog roses, daisies, piles of cushions in antique fabrics or in the flame stitch tapestry she sews on plane journeys, her collection of walnut shell sewing boxes, photograph, paintings—including a quartet of Louis XIV’s wife and mistresses—and carpet in a different colour but the same pattern as the one she designed for Burke’s restaurant. Burke’s is one of her decorating jobs she likes the best—along with Sir George and Lady Weidenfeld’s house and the flat she made for John Barry in an office block overlooking the Thames: “We installed such powerful sound that it moves right across the river and people coming out of the Tate look quite dazed.” Now she is working on a couple of country houses, one is for John Aspinall, and offices for Polydor records, and several new ideas, like a sauna in a storage cupboard, to build into this family and garden flat.
Yes, that’s little Cary Elwes at the tender age of seven. And of course it goes without saying that I would kill for those Theas…
Photographed by Norman Parkinson.
Scanned from Vogue, September 1970.
Fire red paisley for a Celtic summer: The haunted house at Parc, near Afon Crosesor, where ghostly things happen all the time. Wild red flickering skirt, paisley and red gold organdie blouse with gold Turkish bodice. Skirt, blouse and top to order from Thea Porter. Fire red boots by Elliott. Sash pin from Ken Lane. Amber beads ,wrist scarf and long red scarf by Ascher.
Photographed by Norman Parkinson.
Scanned by Miss Peelpants from Vogue, July 1969.
Coat by Stephen Marks
Berets by Kangol. Boots from Chelsea Cobbler. Scarves and mufflers from S. Fisher. Skirts and shirts from Sun and Sand.
Photographed by Norman Parkinson.
Scanned by Miss Peelpants from Vogue, October 1974
Both by Margit Brandt at Harrods
Swagger jacket from Bus Stop
Both coats by Wallis
Ungaro in his workshop. Maria Kimberley wears his dress, “un peu cinema, a little exciting, very glamorous”, wth diamante flower faces.
“My clothes make my statement… that a woman is to be treated with care…”.
Photographed by Norman Parkinson.
Scanned by Miss Peelpants from Vogue, September 1974
Place: Jane’s Harbour, at the house of Mr and Mrs R. Miles Warner. Dress: Fuschia chiffon over skirt, with leaf and flower liana. About £120. Pink net flower hat. Instant nymph. Pablo & Delia, both to order at Browns. Sandals by Saint Laurent Rive Gauche.
Photographed by Norman Parkinson. Scanned by Miss Peelpants from Vogue, July 1973
