The intricacies of the make-up details and advice don’t particularly interest me in this article, but the photographs are simply incredible. Apologies for the creasing, sometimes things (and people) get a little crumpled over the years.
Honey, December 1972. Photos by Alain Vivier
Just an Old-Fashioned Girl
Pretty Little Thing
The Lady is a Vamp
Little Girl Lost
I would kill for those heels in the above photo. Both photos are by John Thornton and scanned from Masterpieces of Erotic Photography. I seem to spend a lot of time on my tip-toes, either forced on me by high-heels or just naturally. People think it’s funny, cute or weird, depending on who they are…
|Sundress by Universal Witness. Shoes by Sacha. Bag by Miss Mouse.|
I basically want to look like the girl on the left, but I’m dubious about my ability to ‘pull off’ the whole over-knee striped socks and hotpant ensemble. Might just stick with the make-up and hair…
Left: Alexander Newman, Right: Electric Fittings
February is roughly the time I feel like I can step out of my boots and into some nice shoes again. Not least because my favourite boots are completely falling to bits right now. *whimper*. I also enjoy taking to the lighter-weight coats and jackets. Spring can’t come quickly enough for me right now…
This advert from 1974 just makes me want the stripy boots, never mind painting my boots just one bright colour. It also always makes me think of the delicious Doug Reynholm’s homemade suit in the last episode of The IT Crowd; a very fine way to occupy the days before a trial.
Oh dearest readers. I have been laid up in agony for most of the weekend courtesy of a pulled/trapped something-or-other in my shoulder/arm. It’s been a bit hellish at times, two nights in a row I was only able to get four hours sleep and I’m still waking up every two or so hours in almost unbearable pain. Hot water bottles and codeine are my friends right now.
It started out so beautifully though. For M’s birthday, we went to a beautiful hotel in the Sussex countryside. In fact, the same location as last year. I’m hoping it will become an annual tradition because the hotel, grounds and restaurant are completely and utterly divine. Even *I* managed breakfast on both days. And I never do breakfast in hotels.
M is now in possession of a menswear Biba nightshirt/kaftan (I keep saying it makes him look very John Paul Getty. I wish I looked like Talitha.) and a draught-excluder, made by mine own fair hands, *proud of self*, amongst other things. We celebrated by doing quite a lot of walking in the crisp, misty February air, drinking some champagne and, later, a scrum-diddly-umptious beanfeast. With no beans involved. And with a Michelin star.
My hair wasn’t really behaving, as per, and I’m in a bit of a shy mood photographically right now. But here are my YSL shoes (having long-overdue outing), seamed stockings and the hem of my Bus Stop dress.
And here is a [deliberately] blurry photo of the top of the dress. It’s black satin, ridiculously puffed sleeves and an integral choker, which is perfect for a jewellery dunce like me. I always forget to either bring anything or to put it on before leaving, so I’m rather fond of things which prevent me from even needing it.
On the way back, we found a splendiferously old-school charity shop where I picked up some decorated coupes for myself (£1 each). It’s rare enough to find coupes which aren’t Babycham-branded, but decorated non-Babycham coupes have got to be worth picking up!
It has caused me to ponder if judging a book by its cover is really such a bad thing? After all, the point of a cover is to give an impression of the insides, otherwise it’s not doing its job, surely? Musings about appearance and clothes ensue, and I find myself going round in circles. Far more interesting, for me, than London Fashion Week anyway…
…but I don’t think I actually want any answers. I find it a bit thrilling, if I’m honest.
After my Hollywood Clothes Shop post the other day, what should I find in a January 1971 (I am a geek on so many different levels…) copy of 19 Magazine but this amazing Forties-styled shoot. I actually aspire to this entire look so badly I want to cry just looking at it.
The amazing snakeskin and suede shoes throughout the shoot are credited to ‘Rowley and Oram’ (which, itself, is quite odd since I assumed that ‘label’ became defunct when Hollywood Clothes Shop opened…), which we can now all assume means that these shoes are by the amazing Mr Terry De Havilland. I’m not sure at what point his name became much coveted, but it’s interesting that he should be so badly uncredited here.
I wanted these Chelsea Cobbler boots to fit me so badly. But my spindly calves put paid to that desire, so they’ve just gone up on the website. Then, flicking through a 1970 copy of Nova (as you do), I spy them on the rarely-spotted designer Georgina Linhart. Geek heaven + spindly calves = Geek Hell. Or something…..sigh. Please will somebody very lovely buy them from me?