This photoshoot, featuring the brilliantly named Celestia Sporborg, is another one of my all-time favourites, and one I have put off scanning for a long while because Vanity Fair is actually a rather painful magazine to scan. The gummed spine, with age, does not enjoy being flattened so it requires extra effort to maintain some kind of structural integrity. I couldn’t NOT scan though. I love these images. I love the blurriness, her natural facial expressions, the very domestic backdrop and, of course, the completely mind-blowingly fabulous clothes. I don’t know where to start. That Stirling Cooper above is just so modern. And the Radley playsuit, so very Glam. And the Ossie… Plus Alice Pollock, Foale and Tuffin and a Ritva sweater I sold on Vintage-a-Peel a few years back…
It also identifies the shots from Vanity Fair’s Guide to Modern Etiquette, ‘Nice Girls Do’, which I posted about before. To contextualise this shoot, the entire June issue is dedicated to feminism and liberation. Certainly one of the main reasons I love Vanity Fair almost above all other magazines of the period is the fact that they would theme all the contents of an issue, including the fashion spreads.
Celestia Sporborg is now a casting director herself, with over a hundred film credits on IMDB. She married theatre and film producer Robert Fox (brother of James and Edward) in 1975 and they had three children together.
Photographed by Frank Horvat.
Scanned by Miss Peelpants from Vanity Fair, June 1971
“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
How is your exit line? Backs – bare ones – are the centre of attention. The fashion scene for winter is a sea of halter tops, strapless slinks, little nothing numbers held up by narrow straps and open-work low cut dresses that plunge down to there… or beyond. Accept that an unusual expanse of you is going to be ruthlessly exposed this winter – especialy at party time. Your back used to be your own private business, but now it’s going public. Each shoulder blade, jutting vertibra and pad of fat will be the object of scrutiny. You could be an ostrich – I can’t see it so it isn’t there – but it might be wiser to flaunt the sexiest, smoothest, most senusous and sinuous back around.
Photographed by John Vidal.
Scanned by Miss Peelpants from Cosmopolitan, October 1973
You might not have heard of Alistair Cowin before. Like many other superbly talented designers in the 1960s and 1970s, he has rather fallen off the radar in recent years. But all it takes is a little article from a contemporary magazine, and an original garment, and I’m hooked. I’ve just listed this dress over on Vintage-a-Peel, and it’s a beauty. A vision in white chiffon, and very reminiscent of designs by his contemporaries John Bates and Gerald McCann. I only have one other piece by Cowin so far, so I think it’s safe to say his work doesn’t show up very often. And how often does a wearable collectable piece, in a non-teeny tiny size ever pop up?
Available now over at Vintage-a-Peel.co.uk
For a long time I firmly believed that we all wanted to become a nation of mass-produced Twiggies and Shrimptons. Hankering after the security of knowing there isn’t anybody with a nicer figure/face/hair, we all jump on the trendy bandwagon, and do whatever is expected of us in the cause of fashion. And where fashion is concerned, it seems we are all prepared to do anything…
Dreary copy, I won’t bore you with any more, but a gorgeous illustration of Twiggy and Shrimpton-types by Barbara Hanrahan.
Scanned by Miss Peelpants from Honey, September 1967
Photographed by Peter Knapp.
Scanned by Miss Peelpants from Vogue, June 1972
Photographed by Willie Christie.
Scanned by Miss Peelpants from Over 21, September 1972