Helen Mirren in Vogue, 1976

1970s, helen mirren, snowdon, Vogue

Helen Mirren has been playing since October in Lindsay Anderson’s repertory experiment at the Lyric, as Nina in The Seagull, and as”a foolish girl out for a fast buck” in the highly successful Ben Travers’ farce, The Bed Before Yesterday. It is a hard life, and she doesn’t seem to weaken. With the adrenalin shots of at least one performance a day, she goes on to eat, to drink and to dance the night away; only retiring early when there is a good late-night movie on television. She did think a new regime was needed: “I’m about to go out and buy a book on yoga”. Now she might do ten minutes of the Canadian PTX exercises, and eat a lot or nothing at all. Her clothes are pretty, secondhand market pieces mixed with things from shops like Che Guevara. She uses Tarn Hows Otto scent which she buys by mail order from the Lake District. What she really enjoys is make-up.

“I wear masses during the day but tend to take it off for the stage, it can look overdone so easily. I mix my own foundation because no one product is perfect, and they do seem to vanish into my skin. One is the right colour, one the right consistency, and I go on mixing them with my lovely Borghese powder till it works. Make-up can be daunting, all the big names, so I buy most in Boots, use kohl and a particular Mary Quant violet eye tint.”

She is hardly a new name; twelve years ago as a schoolgirl she received dazzling notices in the National Youth Theatre. Born in London, 28 years ago, “the fastest birth on record at Queen Charlotte’s”, she grew up in Leigh-on-Sea. Her family, she says, could not be described as theatrical-“though my Auntie Olga was a showgirl, briefly, and my father is a musician; he used to play the viola but couldn’t raise a family on that.”

Films have been The Age of Consent, Savage Messiah, Oh! Lucky Man, and she has appeared as Miss Julie and in A Midsummer Night’s Dream on television. She would like to do more filming—if she can escape the stage—but if she belts out her Teeth ‘n’ Smiles’ role with as much bottle as she did at the Royal Court, the show could run well past October. “I’ve never stayed in one place for a whole season, but I suppose it will be good for the garden.” The garden grows behind the green and yellow painted house she shares with a friend in Fulham. Inside are signs of builders just passed through, paisley and faded Japanese silk cushions, busy lizzies, a Christmas present piano and Rosie, her black and white rabbit, who joins her here to be photographed by Lord Snowdon.

Helen making up at her dressing table wearing her own silk kimono and made-up wearing Krizia’s flowered pink crepe de chine. Helen and bicycle outside her Fulham house, left, wearing Krizia’s flowered pink silk crepe de chine pyjama suit, £219, at Buffy, Conduit St. With Rosie, the rabbit, right, among the cushions of her living-room sofa, wearing Albini’s smoked stained- glass print crepe de chine pantaloon suit with camisole top and buttoned ankles, £80.90; matching sandals. All by Albini for Trell, at Elle Italian Shops. Jewellery by Adrien Mann. Her hair by Leslie at Smile.

Photographs by Snowdon. Vogue, March 1976.

Inspirational Images: Barbara Mott, 1968

1960s, barbara mott, Inspirational Images, michael mott, paraphernalia, radical rags

In the late ’60s, the rock hall replaced the discotheque as as the prime area for innovative fashion display. “In fashion terms a Fillmore East opening night deserves as much coverage as the Philharmonic Galanosed Galas,” claimed the Village Voice shortly after the rock auditorium opened in March 1968. “It’s a scene-making pageant whether they’re seeing Lenny at Lincoln Center or Jimi at the Fillmore.” In 1968, Bill Graham…tied together the pageantry in the audience with the fireworks on stage when he organized a mini fashion happening during an interval in the evening’s mixed bill. Unheralded, Barbara Mott, wife of designer Michael Mott, zoomed up the center aisle of the rock palace on an enormous Harley Davidson. Dressed in Mott’s black leather bra top and miniskirt pegged with hobnail studs, she tore up a ramp to the stage and parked her vehicle to the accompaniment of a cannonade of cheers from the Fillmore’s audience.

Image and text from Radical Rags by Joel Lobenthal

Make-up Inspirations, 1967

1960s, eyeliner, Make-up, Vintage Adverts
I simply do not have enough eyes; I want to try all of these at once!
Yardley advertisement, 1967.

Inspirational Images: Mild Sauce

1970s, boots, Inspirational Images, jilly johnson, mild sauce

Jilly Johnson photographed by John Kelly.

Scanned from How To Photograph Women (1984)

Psychedelic Advertising

1960s, 1970s, Illustrations, Make-up, psychedelia, Vintage Adverts

Dubonnet 1968

More discoveries on my seemingly endless travels through old magazines… The fact that nobody bothers to create such works of art as these [for the mere purpose of advertising] anymore is everything that is wrong with the modern world. In my opinion. The Woolworths Babydoll make-up advert is a DOUBLE page spread. It’s so exciting to see and, if I could, I would most certainly go and buy up armfuls of it right now. And surely that’s the point of advertising?

Woolworths Babydoll make-up 1967

Wrangler 1970

Inspirational Images: Lace and curls

1970s, Inspirational Images, lace, robert farber

By Robert Farber

Date, model and original publication unknown. Scanned from How To Photograph Women (1984)

Mensday: Dudes (various)

1960s, 1970s, Mensday, menswear, Vintage Adverts

1970

It’s Mensday. And Mensday means dudes. If you have a dude, keep a very tight hold of him. They’re very hard to come by…

1970

1970

1969

1972

Watching Out

alun hughes, diana rigg, emma peel, john steed, old england, patrick macnee, sixties, the avengers, twiggy

I was aghast to read recently that Old England was being ‘relaunched’ as a brand. This isn’t entirely surprising, given my usual reaction to such endeavours, but I was particularly cheesed off because I was still awaiting my very own original Old England timepiece. Ever since I knew about their collaboration with The Avengers, in the Alun Hughes-era rather than John Bates, I have been wanting one of my very own. I have extremely skinny wrists, and I either need something very delicate and barely there or I need some ridiculously big statement. Old England watches are perfect for the latter…

Diana Rigg in an Avengerswear mac by Dannimac, hat by Edward Mann and watch by Old England.

Patrick Macnee and Twiggy. Twiggy is wearing an Avengerswear Old England watch


Now it’s around her ankle!

Miniature versions in 1968


So imagine my delight when I peered into a cabinet in a delightfully ramshackle antiques shop in Bexhill and spied this acid green confection. A wind and a few gentle shakes by the shop owner got it started after goodness knows how many years in the cabinet. It’s missing one of the strap bars across the back, but for £10 how could I say no?


Lingerie to Linger In (or, Poor Peregrine)

Fashion magazine, sixties, underwear

Peregrine, my love, you make me feel quite naked when you look at me like that. I know my all in one is only a wisp of see-through Lycra, but a girl must have protection from such ardour. Now et out of the bath quickly: my husband may return any minute now.

Sometimes I just can’t help chuckling at the copy in vintage magazines. It’s also a helpful reminder that meaningless guff is not confined to the modern fashion press, but is a speciality of the genre. Although I don’t think most modern fashion writers would write such creative twaddle as this, which I think is another very disappointing aspect of modern life.

Aside from that, I love these photos. I want the flat, I want the lifestyle, I want the half-naked gentleman named Peregrine hanging around…

Photos by Lee Kraft. Fashion, August 1969.

Peregrine my darling, you’ve made wet footprints all over the Aubusson. Just because you find me irresistible in my virgin-white control garment is no reason to abandon all self-control and respect for the decencies of civilised life. And besides, Edward’s Rolls will draw up before the front door at any second.

Peregrine, my angel, thank you for mopping up the bathwater, but a face towel just isn’t enough to confront the world in. I sppose I do look rather distracting in my near-transparent nude-look body-stocking, but then you, my lamb, are very distractable.

Peregrine, my precious, one kiss and then farewell; if we don’t get dressed soon, I shall be late for the Embassy reception and you will miss your bus. I know how you feel, but you must keep your hands away from my lace-trimmed pantie-girdle, however delectable it looks.

Peregrine, my treasure, you look divine with the light behind you in that ravishing Art Deco shirt, but I don’t think you are being quite serious enough about getting dressed. You are absolutely right of course; I look a work of art in my sexy satin undies, but I don’t plan to get hung by Edward just yet.

Peregrine, my beloved, all is over between us. Do up your shirt and depart. I hear the purr of my husband’s Rolls, and I must grab my mink and fly. Take a tender last look at my lissom loveliness clad in nothing but my slinky satin slip, and pop round and paint my portrait again next week.

Poor Peregrine!

Sensory Overload

1970s, antony price, biba, bus stop, chelsea cobbler, Foale and Tuffin, Harri Peccinotti, Inspirational Images, kurt geiger, let it rock, mary quant, nova magazine, stirling cooper

From Nova, February 1972. Photograph by Harri Peccinotti

If this were my spring capsule wardrobe, I’d be one very contented lady…