…and the biggest boob of all. Sorry Mike Reid, RIP, I couldn’t resist. This photo entertains and entrances me on so many levels. I want to climb into it. (Is it wrong that I would totally run around wearing either of the strippers’ outfits?) It’s just brilliantly awful and awfully brilliant. I had to share. Perhaps I share too much?
During another stag do at the Kingfisher Club, Woodford, Reid waits in the dressing room with strip ‘artistes’ Tuesday and Stephanie.
Sunday Times Magazine, June 20th 1971
Please excuse me while I mop up a large pool of drool which has mysteriously appeared on my keyboard….
Geeky desire to maintain pristine sheet of stickers from 1966 Womans Own magazine versus geeky desire to use them all over my life….
I nearly always love these shoots from the Telegraph magazine; this is a particularly fabulous one inspired by the then-upcoming film of The Great Gatsby.
I adore Penelope Tree; her hair, make-up, style, the fact that she still looks amazing (without having had surgery…at least that’s what it looks like), the fact that she survived being with Bailey, the fact she doesn’t feel the need to whore herself around for fame and fortune…..
I particularly love this article from the June 14th 1969 issue of Petticoat magazine.
In New York Penelope Tree is a top fashion model. You can’t open American Vogue or Harpers without seeing her dripping furs, jewellery. In England she’s more well-known for being Bailey’s Bird. What sort of clothes does she wear to please herself?
I got off to a good start by losing my pencil, every time I delived in my bag to find it I got butted in the bottom by Smudge, Penelope’s enormous English sheep dog. “And he’s still only a puppy,” she said apologetically, whacking him. I gave up looking, and she handed me a pencil. We sat either end of a vast black leather Chesterfield, surrounded by ‘naive’ paintings, Mickey Mouse and stone sculptures of sorts.
“I go six months without ever buying clothes, because I hate it more than anything else. I think I’m going to get all paranoic in the shop, specially Department Stores, I think I’m going to throw-up or something. I’ve been buying clothes for myself since I was 12 years old and it still gets me. When I do see something I like, I usually buy a lot. This dress, I bought at Maryon about a year ago. I liked it so much I bought three.”
She was wearing a full-length, green cotton dress, sprigged with tiny daisies, topped with a short black velvet vest, “a bit from a Tuffin and Foale trouser suit, I think” and thick brown brogue boots.
Apart from looking very individual and super, she looked as if she’d just stepped out of a trail-blazing Western film. “I refuse to spend a lot of money on clothes, I’d rather spend it on paintings. I haven’t got much money; you know I don’t earn any money in this country at all, and anyway clothes aren’t made well enough. The most I’ve ever spent on one garment is an Ossie Clark Snakeskin coat.”
“To the ground?” I queried.
“Oh yes, short clothes look terrible now, one is always inhibited about the way one sits, walks and runs down the street. I like to forget about what I’m wearing, not worrying about – are my knickers showing. It’s all right if you don’t worry, but I’ve been conditioned to worry about it.”
I sat there worrying if my knickers were showing, and feeling very butch in my short skirt.
With that, David Bailey walked in, bumping into a bounding Smudge, who rushed over to give a friendly lick.
“Bailey do you know Suzie?” Penelope introduced us and we exchanged sickly smiles. I always feel about two year old, being called Suzie, and surnames only always have a ‘God’ like ring to them. Bailey put on a record and we all listened in silence to Brute Force and his four letter word song. “That’s why it can’t be released,” Bailey explained.
I broke the magic by asking Penelope if she liked French clothes. “I hate French clothes, I hate the principle of the couturier. I used to love Yves St. Laurent clothes, only he started giving out this black thing and being in mourning for Vietnam. I think it’s the most hypocritical thing I’ve ever heard of, he doesn’t do anything about Vietnam, but make money out of it. Black’s okay if you have a figure problem. English clothes were wonderful five years ago, now they’re terrible and very expensive. Ossie Clark is the only revolutionary now, he makes pretty clothes, only they’re not particularly well made.”
“Can I quote that?” I interjected.
“Oh yes, I’ve told him so. Marshall McLuham says: ‘Fashion is a product of mass media, presenting ourselves as a showcase’. I think clothes just need to be comfortable. My wardrobe’s full of bits and pieces, I hate to throw anything away, I always think they’ll go with something. I really only wear about five things.”
I’d read she wore masses of make-up, literally painting it on every morning, but she hardly had any on.
“Oh sometimes I wear gobbs and gobbs, it just depends how depressed I feel in the morning. I think Mary Quant is best, but really best of all is stolen make-up, not stolen really but borrowed. Somebody else’s is always better than yours.
“I’m always amazed that all the individual, successful people ‘do their own thing.'” Penelope even cuts her own hair…”unless someone offers to trim it while I’m modelling”. I asked her why she wasn’t modelling in this country and she mumbled something about the tax man and then said: “I’m giving it up, I don’t want to hang about and become a has been.” Then she added much to my surprise: “I’m not in great demand. I started to write a book, then realised in the middle I didn’t really know what I was talking about; it was on the subject of Hinduism. I might go into films.”
With that Mary Quant, Alexander Plunket-Green, Bailey and Smudge came in and it looked like my interview was ended. We wandered down to the basement and spent half an hour searching for a picture of her. “Bailey hardly ever photographs me unless it’s work!” Sue Steward
It’s all been a bit Thirties-glamour-heavy on the Vintage Inspiration front here lately, so I went roaming in my archives and decided that I needed to share these three images of Bebe Buell.
I love this hair and make-up at the moment, and it’s fairly achievable which is always good when you’re low on energy….
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!
(How do you all like my very grown-up argument? Well I don’t want to repeat myself too much, so you can read a previous blog what I wrote way back in 2006.)
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!
Fear not. Hell hasn’t frozen over just yet. I am referring to this one from back in the day. I don’t know how much it went for in the Kerry Taylor sale today, but my goodness!! Isn’t it fab? If they’re going to raid someone’s archives, why not start with their own; at least they own the copyright!
Liz Eggleston 