The Swelle Life

The Modern 'Proper' Lady

In my previous post I asked 'Why not dress up every day', lamenting the lack of ladylike hats and smart coats and brilliant colour in daily life. Thankfully there's one woman who would look more out of place in jeans and a T-shirt than David Schwimmer on the cover of People's Sexiest Man Alive, and that person is the fabulous throwback beauty Dita Von Teese. Although her taste in men is questionable (referring to the one who so missed his ex's look that he's morphed her fetal replacement into a 'Mini Teese' - uch, gross), her anachronous personal style is like a breath of fresh air amongst the trends and celeb stylists' assembly-line approach to dressing Hollywood's Page Six youth.

Indeed, Dita is the new face of 'proper' dressing. And so we are eternally indebted to her for replacing the moth-eaten elders of the British royal family. She happens to take her clothes off for a living as a burlesque performer. Which makes her not a smidgen Nancy Reagan-esque.

The thing that makes me 'ooh and ah' about Ms. von Teese is that she lives the look, she's genuine. Yes, it's a carefully cultivated image, but it's her nonetheless. Her appearance is a representation of ideals and values that she holds as an individual. She wears ladylike 1940s era dresses and suits with heels to run errands but never looks silly (unlike a certain orange-skinned 'Pob'-sporting WAG), and she claims to wear the same while cooking dinner in her home kitchen. And you know what? I totally and completely believe her. For that, she is one of my fashion idols. I bet she has the swellest collection of half aprons on the planet.

UPDATE: It just came to my attention that in the past she participated in some very naughty videos. As Dita von Teese, not Heather Sweet (her real name). I'm pretty grossed out. I guess it wasn't such a stretch considering her choice of occupation. How do I look at her now, is her wardrobe enough to forgive and forget? And I called her a 'proper lady', partially in jest, but still! What would Holly Golightly say?!

 

Photo credit: Peter Morris

An Ideal World

Every so often I'm treated to a glimpse into a world that makes me daydream so intensely that I almost forget where I am (until I'm shaken by 'I pooped, Mummy!'). After I air out the room I settle back into the fantasyland of that impossibly dreamy style from another time: the ruffles, cloverleaf collars, 3/4 sleeves, beautifully detailed buttons and the blues, pinks, lilacs and yellows, both pale and bright.

Aaaahhhh.....where was I? Right. One of those worlds is Breakfast at Tiffany's - how amazing is Holly Golightly as she's lying distraught on her bed after sending the cat flying onto the dresser? After the shock of seeing that for the first time, you still can't help but focus completely on her mouthwateringly adorable pink party dress, you just want to eat it up! And that's why I love that movie so much, it's all about the fashion. We all know how fabulous Audrey Hepburn is in her famous LBD, pearls and tiara, but what about the scene where Holly and Paul are behaving mischievously in the novelty shop? What does she wear for such an outing? A marvellous red boucle coat and enormous red felt hat...that's the way it should be, if I had my way. Why not dress up for just for the sake of it?

The video above is another tasty view into a world where style dominates the narrative. Again, try to pay attention to the words...you can't! The outfits are too fabulous!! Claire from Enchant and Doom is the brilliant stylist who put the look together for this Roisin Murphy video (thanks to Susie Bubble for bringing it to our attention). The overall concept is dark and moody whereas I like bright and blissful, but it works so well. I wish I could walk outside and see all the lovely ladies dressed like this, or as Miss Golightly. I do wonder...if I were around in the 50s and 60s, would I have appreciated the style, or is the appeal not just about the aesthetic but for a time that seemed so much simpler and grand?

Spring-Fresh Vintage

The idea of searching for vintage fashion doesn't typically rouse notions of clean, bright, and easy. Sometimes only the die-hard devotee can stomach the olfactory nightmare that can be vintage shops (do the salespeople actually get used to the smell of musty polyester and mothballs?). By the time you've rummaged through enough dim and dusty racks to discover that ever-elusive designer dress (the one you convinced yourself existed in the first place), you're well overdue for some fresh air and a thorough handwashing.

Luckily, the vintage shopping experience is improving in great strides, and The Cat's Meow in Toronto is one of the best. The Avenue Road boutique features an impressive selection of vintage couture and designer wear, as well as fine costume jewelry and accessories. I finally had the opportunity to pop in to the shop last Christmas after repeatedly gushing over the loveliest, most feminine dresses showing in the window, and I was quite surprised to find it was a vintage shop. White and airy and impeccibly merchandised, this was different from any other second-hand shop I had seen (or smelled). Racks of beautifully detailed designer dresses, well cared-for in protective coverings, and a solid collection of hats, shoes, bags and jewelry can take you back 80 years or just 30.

A few particularly outstanding gems include a turn-of-the century French enameled powder case (in excellent condition for its age), complete with original makeup and handmade puffs, and a 1930s beaded couture gown that would put most modern-day replicas to shame with its delicate handwork and prototypical styling. For you label-lovers, here are some spectacular dresses available in shop or online now - (l-r) Oleg Cassini (Jacki O's designer), Pucci and Teal Traina:

What I love most about The Cat's Meow is its ability to transports us back to a time we think of as black and white, in its true, vibrant technicolour. Ahhhhhh.........

One for Every Day of the Week, Please

Seriously, I so love this ensemble by Milly. Maybe it's the 1960s French girl living inside me (the one that makes me eat soft cheeses every day) but I see it and I think "If I had this outfit my life would be set." Frivolous, yes, but powerful, non?

Isn't that what keeps us looking and buying, looking and buying, day after day? Endless searching for that coat/dress/bag that embodies the feeling of 'I have arrived'? Funny, I recall having achieved this a few times over the years, yet now I couldn't tell you what did it for me. I guess as we grow and change so does our perception of success and therefore the wardrobe that epitomizes it.

Do you have a look that you love that much? Please share. But if it involves the once-again-revived harem pants, I have some stern advice for you: remember what happened to MC Hammer!!

Gucci World's Most Wanted

Gucci has been declared yet again the world's most coveted luxury brand, according to Neilson Group's online poll of 48 countries. Chanel and Calvin Klein tied for second with Louis Vuitton, Giorgio Armani, Christian Dior and Versace rounding out the top six.

So, for those of us who weren't one of the 25,000 who voted, how do we weigh in? If you could, who would it be? Or if you do, who's the star in your wardrobe?

My luxury fave (if I could!) - would be Chanel, for the Spring 2008 RTW collection. I'm not loving Karl Lagerfeld's vision as a whole with the denim and stars and stripes, but there are several pieces that would send me to heaven if they were hanging in my closet, and the main collection takes things in a modern-edgy (albeit mostly monochrome) direction (well, it is KL) that is ultra desirable and would well complement the sickly-sweet yet elegant dress options (which I absolutely adore). Here's a few of the latter:                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                        

Personal Style Conundrum - Boots with Dresses?

I bought this impossibly cute dress (left) at BCBG Max Azria when home in Toronto a few months ago, it's from their Autumn 2007 Runway collection. I mortified the non-fashion-obsessed friend who was unlucky enough to be shopping with me (supposedly for Christmas presents) by buying such a frivolous thing. But it fit. And it was on sale. End of debate.

I've just brought it out of the closet and am mulling over styling options so I can actually wear it out. I was happy to find this runway photo from New York fashion week - I had been thinking of putting it with dark tights and there it was. I'm not sure about the low-heeled oxfords though. I just don't see me doing it. And I don't have shoes like that. Next.

What about boots? With a dress, it's risky territory. Unless you are going line dancing (do they still do that?). Every so often some poor red carpet starlet takes a beautiful dress and tries to make it 'funky' or 'fierce' by nixing the thousands of fab shoe options in favour of boots. Sometimes it works but more often than not, it looks assy.

Part of the fun of putting together an outfit is trying on almost everything within the realm of possibility, so I gave my knee-high dark grey high-heeled boots a go. With taupey-brown tights. Not perfect but good enough to get a sense. What say you:

Yes, I know, the heel on the boot is the worst. I tried on another pair at the same time that had a wicked Prada-esque heel but they just didn't fit right. So I chose these for their slightly distressed, very versatile (for me) shade of dark grey and the super cool wide buckled panel around the top that makes up for a heel that might appeal to a leprechaun. 

This dress looks so prim and proper from the front but the back and sides are throwing a wild party (ha, the 'mullet' of dresses). There's so much happening with corsetry, ribbon straps and buckles, and multiple textures that you really want the dress to shine. I threw a turquoise and green silk and mesh scarf around my neck for some colour. It's one of those things where you have to check it again the next day and see if you still like how it looks.

So, with nude make-up and no fuss, loose hair, do the boots rock or walk? 

A Shoe Boot I Can Love

The shoe boot, or the 'shoot' as Marc Jacobs likes to call it is the current hot style of footwear and it doesn't seem to be trotting off anywhere soon. I haven't exactly been excited by this hybrid, it just wasn't screaming 'wear me!!'...until I saw this ruffled version from Bruno Frisoni, previewed at Paris Fashion Week for Autumn/08.

It's got everything - the peep-toe platform, stiletto heel, deep midnight blue shade and the wonderfully girlie ruffle-trimmed ribbon that envelops almost the entire upper, finished in a bow-tie. Love that all-out use of the ribbon where 'cute detail' transforms into a super-sexy force-to-be-reckoned-with show piece. More, please!!

Michael Kors is Addicted to Tabloids

Hard to believe but American fashion designer and Project Runway judge Michael Kors eagerly anticipates Wednesday mornings so he can get his fill of the latest gossip. More incredible is that he reads the rags for the fashion (Life & Style and In Touch 'great for fashion'?!). Whenever I'm in Canada for a visit I pick up In Touch or Us and I always feel so dirty, praying no one is around to see me buying the overpriced glossies of sin. Is Mr. Kors helping to legitmize our nasty habit?

Find Me the Remote

Okay, admittedly I do watch BBC Three's 'Find Me the Face' every Tuesday but there are definitely some cringe-worthy moments. The show is described as a documentary although I would say it's a straight-out reality show without any scripted crap. I guess a 'real' reality show is an oxymoron these days so fine, it's a documentary but don't let Michael Moore hear that.

Now, about the cringe. The camera follows Becky Southwick and Jodie Furlong, two model scouts competing to find 'the face' in the streets of England. Each episode features a new agency with a unique brief to fulfill. Becky is the whinging sourpuss who got sacked in the MTV show The Agency and I guess that's how she ended up here (after some anger management classes it would appear). I haven't seen Jodie before and he seems like a good enough guy  (nevermind the clear goggle glasses he always wears that make him look as if he's on his way to play squash). However, if he came at me with his usual opening line I wouldn't be within earshot to hear the end of it. "Excuse me, I'm wondering if you can help me', or 'Oh hi, he he, this is embarrassing. I'm looking for models." It's the 'can you help me' that would have me tearing down the road, that's usually not a sign of good things to come. I'd be expecting his next line to be 'I seem to have something caught in my zipper.'

The other thing that makes me uncomforable is scouting in general, or 'street casting' as is the hip term these days. It would surely make your day to have someone legit approach you and declare you an exceptional specimen, meet your family and tell you about the loads of money you can make modelling. I wonder how long it takes these hopefuls to fall asleep that night. This is all designed to get the girl or guy to show up on the casting day for photos so the scouts have a bigger pool to choose from to take through for the agency's appraisal and increase their chances of winning.

So don't be too hasty quitting your day job. Things fall flat pretty quickly when they find you take a crappy picture thanks to your lip doing an involuntary snarly-thing when you're trying to look all 'modelly'. And they'll point that out on national TV. So not only are your dreams stomped to bits, the ones that didn't even exist before you were ambushed outside Waterstone's with gushing and compliments, but now you can't stop thinking about your hideously disfigured mouth and all the other yucky things about you.

A friend of mine had modelled and was wanting to get back into it so he went to a well known agency in Toronto and was told 'we already have one of you'. Sounds like a dream, doesn't it?

Photo from Sam Wollaston, The Guardian

Love for Viv

Last night I watched Project Catwalk, Britain's version of Project Runway, as I do every Wednesday. It was the episode before the final three are chosen to show at London Fashion Week and some of the designers really put the 'Catty' in Catwalk. Fellow Canadian expat Chelsey (in the back) and self professed 'straight lad' Ross (demonstrating his straightness by seemingly attempting to board a passenger into Pam An's fuselage) were confronted by mentor Ben de Lisi about their feeling that Viv Whelan (far left), a 42 year-old self-taught mum of three is 'just a dress-maker' who 'doesn't deserve to be here'. They got a thorough reaming by a vexed Ben who did it in front of the remaining group which included an unwitting and therefore somewhat humiliated Viv. Afterward, Ross seemed to have smoothed things over with Viv who handled it gracefully but I'm sure the whole thing stuck in her craw. I don't know what a craw is but if she has one there was probably something in it.

The cliquiness of the non-Vivs made me think about how formal education in the creative arts can cultivate rigidity in its students. This certainly wouldn't apply to everyone, I'm speaking in general terms; that when approaching art academically, in an institutional setting with professors and lecturers and reading lists and scheduled times to 'create ' in a predetermined location of predetermined wall colour and decor, there's an unconscious conditioning that results in the defining of the chosen discipline in absolute terms, and any deviation is seen as ungifted-ness and unworthiness and grounds for peer disqualification from following in said discipline. That was a long sentence.

There's a powerful sense of entitlement that can come with formal training. You've become one of the Chosen, selected for admission to a competitive program and identified in a certain way for the duration of the two or three or four years it took to get the paper that tells the world that you officially know your shit. Viv is an outsider and doesn't have the docs that say she can play with the big kids. And yet somehow she won a challenge (for streetwear at that) and received high praise for her Mac dress; if she were younger and they didn't know her background or had only seen her completed work, would the others have figured out she was 'different'? I doubt it.

These students are heavily reliant on validation. Their hearts and souls are continually handed over to be judged as they anticipate the verdict on whether they're 'good', not just as artists but as individuals, it's who they are after all. It can be very threatening and destablizing to have someone who followed their own, less or differently structured path, compete with you on equal ground. How do you justify the time and effort you've spent, and more significantly, what is the value of the positive appraisals given to you by 'those who know' if anyone from the street can stroll in and show you up? What are you then?

This is in no way a suggestion that formal training is a bad thing. I have a Bachelor of Arts degree in visual arts and did two years of advertising creative in college. And for gawd's sake I'm married to a professor. My view is really a composite of my experience at university as a painter, essentially, and my journey (geez I really hate that word but I can't think of a better one at this ungodly time of night) into self-directed learning in my new chosen field (that I discovered outside of school). I can appreciate both sides.

In time, when dear Chelsey and Ross are established and successful, I'll wager a pint they'll feel silly about having made such a fuss over Viv. Or they'll blame it on creative editing.

Felting over a Felted Form

I've been working on a custom bag that took me out of my comfort zone and it was a great learning experience. I had originally planned to felt a bag to fit into a clutch frame but I wasn't happy with the result, there was something that just wasn't right and I can't go on unless I feel it is. It was a thick and sturdy piece of felt, though, and I hate to waste time, effort and wool so I kept it around until I figured out what to do with it. I rediscovered some super soft and gauzy merino pre-felt in a dark amethyst colour I had sitting in one of my many bins. I cut it into strips and wrapped it around the felted form, I've always loved that look and plan soon to do many more bags this way using the some fabulous fabrics in fresh spring colours that I've been collecting.

I had originally done a mock up of this bag for my website as a look for a made-to-order clutch option. In this version I used a Swarovski crystal square ring for detail, it acted like a buckle that I looped a length of felt around on either side.

A friend was interested in having the bag made for her but with a chain strap added and sans the ring. That probably worked out best due to the heavy weight of it. But there was a challenge staring me in the face - how do I keep the nice gauziness of the felt while making it durable enough to stand up to use? It looked so lovely as it was but I kept envisioning my friend's keys or belt loop getting caught on the delicate felt and ripping a gaping hole (nightmare).

So I ventured to try something after thinking about it for a few days. I find sometimes it's best not to rush if it I have the luxury to let it sit at the back of my brain (thanks, Liza!), something always makes its way to the front and spills out. I rewrapped the form with the gauze and felted it further, meaning I wet it down, soaped it up and rubbed it with my hands for a bit. Since it was already half felted and I wanted to keep it looking somewhat gauzy, I didn't rub it for too long and I didn't roll it even though it was stretching from being wet. I was experimenting but I went with my gut, no rolling (it thickens felt and I didn't want to overdo it). I crossed my fingers and rinsed it with hot water to get out the soap and create shrinkage, hoping it would all hold together. It did. A solid outer bag was created, and the layers remained nicely overlapped to maintain the effect but it was bigger than the form underneath, it didn't fit. I put it in the dryer for a few minutes to shrink it, knowing I might be sacrificing the lovely soft texture (handfelted wool can get nubby when quickly heat dried). It was still damp but survived quite well, yet still too big.  Luckily my flu came back so I left it for a few more days and to my delight I found that it had shrunk just enough to fit the form like a glove! I tried it on a whim and was so happy I did.

Next, the detail. I cut a wide length of the pre-felt gauze, dampened it and ironed it (to tighten/shrink the fibres ever so slightly). I doubled it and began my favourite part, playing around to get the look that would make the bag. Sometimes it happens right away and sometimes it takes many tries, this time was the latter. You just know when it's right, so if it's not I keep trying and eventually it falls into place. I sewed it in place in place and am awaiting the okay to put in the lining. Here's how it will look with the chain which can be removed so you have the clutch option:

                                                                        

Paris Calling

I've just returned from my first trip to Paris and although it was brief (four days with one spent sick and one travelling to the airport) I fell in love. For anyone who's been and felt the same, the city tends to follow you home a little, non? The fabulous ones always do. Maybe it was that Fashion Week was happening while I was there and upon returning I've been exposed to all the buzz on the net and TV which keeps the excitement for Paris fashion going. Whatever it is, I'm hooked. It was all I wanted it to be. I ate crepes every day, saw people eating huge baguettes on the street and many men were sporting black berets. The Eiffel Tower was huge and far more impressive than I'd imagined (I'm terrified of heights so I didn't go up but the pavement was lovely), The Seine sparkled in the moonlight and Mademoiselle Lisa was charming and looking good for her age. So the childhood notions garnered from movies and books of what Paris is about held true, to my delight. My photos turned out well and I don't even understand my camera so that just goes to show the city is a spectacular model, naturallement.

You can feel fashion in the air in Paris. This is the city that nurtured Coco Chanel (and a long list of other fashion visionaries) so it makes sense (nevermind that their first lady is Carla Bruni!). It's in the Parisians' blood so they're just not 'try hard', you know? I should probably hold my thoughts until I see more of the city and its people. But my observations were that Parisians do the trends (or create them?) but are doing it in their own way, without looking like they bought the mannequin from head to toe with all the accessories. I noticed quite a few seemingly stylish women wearing above the knee tights (think top down so if you envision bike shorts you wouldn't be wrong) teamed with knee high boots. And when I say 'women' I don't mean 17 year old girls who typically can get away with the unimaginable, these ladies would have at least a few jars of creams promising to reduce lines sitting on their vanities. Bike shorts and tall boots is not a look I'd really go for but it worked for them and I'd say that indicates innate style - it didn't look ridiculous because of how they wore it - with a smile and their heads held up high. Magnifique!

They do love their high boots and skinny jeans for trekking around town and so I tried not to let it bother me too much that I was wearing my old red Donald J. Pliner wedge loafers with the scuffed toes for long adventures around the city (for comfort, because of a knee problem and the fact that I'm not a masochist). People were kind, no one looked down at them in disgust. Maybe my pale pink felt cloche was a good distraction, keeps the eyes looking upward, my saviour.

I also noticed the streets are a sea of black - black coats, black pants, black boots. Of course it was February so I'm curious to see if the streets are more vibrant come spring. It's the same everywhere as far as I can tell, am I alone in wanting to see a rainbow of shades all year long?

Okay, uh, you are probably wondering right now what the heck I'm talking about if you have looked left. As I went to post the photo of me with my daughter under the Eiffel Tower I was humbly reminded that I was wearing a black coat (too bad it didn't show the scuffed red loafers for further humiliation). LET ME EXPLAIN. I didn't own anything black, not a coat, pants, top, belt, shoes or even socks, for several years. I was into colour to such an extreme (don't think I went out of the house in clothes resembling clown costumes or anything!) and thought I looked dead in black so it was banned from my wardrobe. No LBD even, more like LPDs (meaning pink, not purple). I've added a bit in the past few months mainly because you tend to get a bit bored of what you're doing after some time and need to mix things up. One of these purchases was a wide high-belted Milly coat with black and gold buttons (as seen in photo). It has a cute A-line shape and is textured with a criss-cross thread pattern. It was half-price and I felt good in it so it was a done deal despite me already having a full wardrobe of coats. This includes a recent 50s vintage buy that I can't bear to wear (bought online). It's not just the fur collar that makes me feel guilty, the real crime here is that an innocent, unsuspecting, ugly moss green sofa was sacrified to make this coat.

I DIGRESS! So, after my complaint about the 'sea of black' in the streets all over the world it happens that I am swimming right in line with the rest of them. I guess due to years of colourful choices I still don't identify with the blackened woollen masses. On colder days I go for my cheery pale yellow Mackage coat with their signature leather trim that I am wearing for a fourth winter. I just had to add a few darts to the back vent because I noticed it was cut too high and was showing my butt when I walked. I don't know if it's done that since I bought it but how embarrassing! How could those walking behind me not look at my butt trying to bust through? Ugh.

FINALLY, I had to check out Rue Montaigne, a designer wonderland of the most fabulous boutiques where I cannot even afford to window shop. I was worried the gentleman greeters looming at the door were going to ask to see a recent bank statement. But I managed to get some pics of a stunning Valentino couture gown. The entire top was made of a seed bead design on mesh finished with an elaborate corded swirl pattern. This was repeated at the bottom of the skirt (see the detail) but I was so focused on the beadwork I forgot to take a picture of the entire dress! I found it to be especially inspiring and wished I could make a bag right then and there.

And one last note: I almost can't bear to mention that I didn't have time to visit Colette (I know, I could die of shame), but it's #1 on the list next time! What a wicked website, you must take a look.