Well it is for those of us who reside below the equator, and let me tell you something – there is no central heating down here! On particularly cold evenings we light the hobs and huddle round the oven.
A winter morning on the River Plate
I can see you’re all gobsmacked by the idea that it gets cold in mystical South America too. If it makes you feel better let’s pretend that I’m actually by the pool with a long island iced tea right now.
But back in reality (sigh), I’ve had to start eating porridge for breakfast again and you’ll have to give me a damn good reason to take off my Uruguayan sheepskin slippers. Just to make it a little bit harder to leave the house, I decided to make myself a fancy schmancy zebra fleece dressing gown.
Awesome slippers just out of shot
The concept behind this item, actually, is hideous. Fleece is my most abhorred fabric, coming from the odious world of sports casual, and zebra print fleece truly belongs nowhere but Hugh Hefner’s palace.
Doing a Myspace
I think it all came together rather snazzily though, wouldn’t you agree?
I made a hanging loop and eveything. Aren’t I profesh.
I’m not one of those fashion fans who can’t go to the corner shop without a full face of makeup, and I always have one special item of truly comfortable and gross clothing – the sartorial equivalent of instant noodles. So now you all know: next time you pop round I can make some ramen while wearing my zebra dressing gown. It’s a real relief to get it out into the open.
Greetings barometer readers! This week’s barometer is more of an ode, or the culmination of a lifelong obsession: the T-shirt.
The search for the perfect T-shirt has occupied me for many, many, many years, and I own more than I would care to admit to. The humble T-shirt began life as an undershirt, and gained popularity when adopted by the US Navy in the late 1800s: a white, crew-necked jersey fabric garment to be worn under your uniform. But in hot climates, the guys found themselves flinging off their heavy and sweaty uniforms and baring their T-shaped undershirts to the world. It soon became a staple for labourers, being lightweight and easy to clean.
Brand-WOAH
The epitome of American laid-back cool, the T-shirt’s celebrity wearers are innumerable, but probably the first was the sexily primal Marlon Brando in 1951’s A Streetcar Named Desire. Brando’s character in this film may be a total mental case, but the sight of his jersey-clad, oil-stained torso sent teenagers into a frenzy for this unassuming garment.
Hoodlu-mmmmmmmmmmm
Brando later donned another greasy T-shirt for his role as rebellious teen Johnny Strabler in the intensely lame 1953 movie The Wild One. Despite the ridiculous suggestive imagery (think beer bottles foaming over, trains going into tunnels etc), this film cemented Brando’s image as a mad, bad, and dangerous to know hottie.
Rad
The Seventies saw some iconic T-shirt-wearers in the form of punk and new wave bands – more specifically, Debbie Harry. A champion of the men’s tee looking amazing on a lady, Debs had it down in her ‘Andy Warhol’s Bad’ moment (which was actually, I think, in the early 80s). This was also when Bruce Springsteen‘s T-shirt habit got seriously out of control. I like to imagine that he has a walk-in wardrobe full of worn out white T-shirts, scuzzy jeans and bandanas. And wallpapered with the stars and stripes.
Showing a white tee who’s Boss
Let us not dwell on the horror that is the Eighties T-shirt (I can’t abide the swathe of tees with stupid slogans emblazoned across them that swamp the UK high street – and I hold Frankie Goes to Hollywood almost entirely responsible) and instead segue neatly into the delicious smorgasbord of jersey-flavoured goodness that is the Nineties. Grunge is an area in which the T-shirt thrived, and could indeed have been made for. The beauty of a perfectly worn-in tee combined with ill-fitting Levi’s and lank, greasy hair is a beauty to behold. I like to think that we women can achieve everything that men can, but looking good in a T-shirt is a rare talent usually reserved for the prepubescently skinny and flat-chested.
Winona Ryder in 1994′s ‘Reality Bites’ – with the insanely awesome Janeane Garofalo
Not so, says Winona! A woman who one could describe as stacked to the max perfected the art of the loose-fitting tee in Reality Bites, possible the best film of the Nineties, thus proving once and for all that with the right attitude, everyone can look good in this classic wardrobe staple.
T-shirt, Zara, £17.99. Whatever you do, don’t wear it with these hideous shorts.
Wifebeater, Zara, £19.99
Get the Reality Bites look with this duo of tops from Zara, artfully worn-in so that you don’t have to look like a prat in a crisp, shiny top for months and months before achieving the truly manky look that defines a good T-shirt.
Men’s T-shirt, H&M, £7.99
Alternatively, opt for a man’s T-shirt in a larger size; a good way to adapt this style to the female figure would be to stretch the neck making it lower cut. I like to hook the neck on a door handle and then pull on it, hard.
And finally, the king of T-shirts (although I hate to endorse it), American Apparel. Luckily for those of us who think spunking 30 quid on a T-shirt is sheer insanity, most high street stores now carry rip-offs of their most classic models. Hurrah!
Recent events back in blighty (especially this and this) have left me pondering the myth of the glorious empire on which the sun never sets, searching to pinpoint a moment when Britain really was great and not just a barely-united landmass with short man syndrome.
Alas, all I could come up with – the only untarnished tale of greatness in our chequered past – has to be the story of Torvill and Dean, who gave up their day jobs as a clerk and a policeman to carry us all to figure skating glory in the 1984 Olympics.
However, Torvill and Dean actually have nothing to do with this week’s Fashion Barometer, because believe it or not, they are the only figure skaters in the history of the UNIVERSE to apparently have never worn illusion netting – unless they were just really, really good at illusion netting too. So good it’s invisible to the human eye.
Well, we all know what the real empire on which the sun never sets is these days, and that is home to figure skater and BIG illusion netting fan Johnny Weir.
Johnny putting illusion fabric to its legitimate use
The recent rise of illusion netting in non-skating-related clothing is a funny thing: when badly done it can smack of bridal wear or have something of the cheap and nasty New Look circa 1994 about it.
Jason Wu for Target
The simple tank design as in this Jason Wu for Target dress seems to be the most popular modern version of the illusion neckline, and a style I’m not overly keen on. I want my illusion netting to work a bit harder, not just sit there like a lazy lump of chopped-about stocking.
Another facet to the illusion debate is the sleek, lunch in the Hamptons look, as worn with what I remember to be alarming frequency on amazing/terrible TV show Revenge.
Emily Thorne with an illusion neckline adding to her illusory life
Now you’ll have to watch it all and bow to the power of Emily Thorne! It’s SATC with less wit and more violence, and based on The Count of Monte Cristo! What more could you ask? If you’re asking for “tight clothes” right now, you’ve got that too. They wear cocktail dresses so tight it’s a wonder they can get enough air down for the hissing of threats.
Kate gets hitched
The style has taken its place next to the indefatigable strapless bodice in the ranks of common wedding dresses, for which I am sure Kate Middleton is to blame. Her dress had something of the illusion neckline about it.
Peggy Hunt illusion neckline
Vintage versions of the style, as highlighted by Gertie’sarticles on the subject, frequently feature beading or other embellishments.
Both Gertie’s blog and Colette Patterns have mentioned designer Peggy Hunt’s amazing work with illusion necklines. This Flickr photo set of her designs, put together by her granddaughter, is a fantastic place to see the couture possibilities of the illusion neckline.
Illusion necklines
A selection of illusions, modern and vintage, for sources see Polyvore
My jury’s still out on the illusion neckline. I like the kind which uses the netting to create a feature with the addition of beading or appliqué, or uses a heavier fabric – even lace, like Kate. Whatever your stance on the matter, the illusion neckline seems to have got a toehold in the fashion ladder once again, enough so that making jokes about figure skating seem a trifle immature. Sorry. Toehold? Triple toe loop? I’M SO SORRY. CAN’T… STOP.
Colette Patterns' Macaron
Colette’s Macaron would be a good jumping-off point into the world of illusion, though any blouse or dress pattern can be hacked to add a sheer section. American Apparel (this is not a moral endorsement) has some very tight illusion-neckline dresses on their website, and also some surprisingly medium-sized models. Did I blink and miss something?
Some like it HOT
The mother of all illusion necklines has to be Marilyn’s in Some Like it Hot. She wears two similar dresses in the film, one pale and one black. In the pale one you actually can’t even tell whether she’s wearing a dress or just some glitter on her nips. That’s one hell of an illusion. If only Britain had given the world Monroe’s sparkly nips, I would have a substantial reason to be proud of my homeland.
Oh, my faithful friends – I’ve been fickle. Not to fashion, but to Fashion Barometer Friday. Now the course has started in earnest, I’ve been spending all of my Wednesday evenings doing my homework, which invariably involves drawing anatomically-unlikely croquis, and Thursday evenings at my design class.
See, I warned you. Skinny thighs and all.
Of course, I could write Fashion Barometer Friday earlier in the week. Inspiration from the barometer is not confined to the second half of the week. But I don’t, and it doesn’t happen. Maybe I could start Fashion Barometer Sundays? Apart from the obvious lack of alliteration, what do you think about that? Though Sundays are so dirge I wonder if I’d be able to get my barometer sails up.
Like secondary school, I now spend all of my evenings colouring in and watching The X-Files
While I’m here moaning about my hectic schedule, you might as well see some more of the fruits of my labour. My teacher described me with a Spanish word that apparently means “the person that annoys everyone else by being better (at drawing) than them”. Don’t remember the word. There’s another thing to feel naughty about, my lack of Spanish studying. So I can ask my housemates to buy me some more cheese, so what more do I need to know? As the family saying goes “Don’t pander to the buggers”. In truth, I have a multilingual family. Multilingual and sarcastic.
I'm a cheater
PS I did tell her that I’d traced this. She soon lost her awe in my ability.
Rosario's delightful beach. A cloud of mosquitos descends after sunset, run!
“No days off” refers to the fact that I went away for Easter weekend to the beautiful city of Rosario and spent most of it, when not sitting on the beach, staring in through fabric shop windows. The Argentineans have a keen sewing culture, with even small(er) towns like Rosario full of fabric shops.
Me, menacing an Eiffel employee
So of course I bought some fabric, from Eiffel. Here I am with one of the Eiffel employees, being charming (him not me). I bought a lovely black corduroy to make a pencil skirt, as I make far too many silly patterned garments.
Back in the halcyon days of my youth, back when knees were bendy and responsibility a distant cloud on the glorious horizon, I wanted to be a fashion designer. A really famous one, with an entourage and a line in Selfridges and a complicated hairdo. For lucky 15-year-old me, that ambition translated to two weeks’ work experience in Annabelinda boutique in Oxford.
Waterhouse's Lady of Shalott certainly shopped at Annabelinda
Annabelinda was infamously set up with the backing of former drug smuggler Howard Marks, who used the Gloucester Green shop as a front for his rather less salubrious business. By the time I came along, Mr Nice was long gone but the shop was still popular in its own right.
Annabelinda suit
This is my mum’s beautiful (and tiny!) blue velvet and floral cotton suit that she had made at Annabelinda in 1972/73. I hope that one day this suit will end up in the V&A museum’s clothing collection – none of us can fit into the darn thing, so it might as well go to a good home. If only my mum’s Biba clothes from the 60s would resurface we could start our own collection… how I envy her fashion youth.
Close up of quilted velvet detail and self-covered buttons
Annabelinda’s garments emphasise bohemian prints and flowing shapes, embellished with their signature piping which has had such an influence on my self-designed clothes. If it can be bound or piped, I’m all over it.
*Thanks mum for taking time off your gruelling gardening schedule to take these photos!
Me, a long time ago. Photo by Jessica Lux
Bought by my grandmother in the 70s from either Annabelina or local dressmaker Japlene, this Liberty print dress with contrast binding is typical of Annabelinda designs.
I was on the phone to my mum the other day and she told me the sad news that Annabelinda is shutting its doors this May, after 40 years in business. An article from local paper the Oxford Mail says that customers are desperate to get in last-minute orders, and it’s obvious why. During my time as work experience girl, I got to see some of the hard work and skill that goes into turning incredible high-quality fabrics into their ethereal garments.
Classic Annabelinda dress
Although Annabelinda designs have a timeless fairytale quality, with a strong sense of place that makes each piece seem perfect for an afternoon lazing in a punt sipping a glass of Pimm’s, they also capture the Fashion Barometer’s current leaning towards the 70s silhouette – particularly in their use of bishop sleeves.
One day I'll work out how to get my feet in shot...
Autumn has arrived in Buenos Aires, and it’s cooled down enough to wear a kaftan that I made without Annabelinda’s clothes in mind, but which shows just how much of an impression that two-week stint made on the formation of my style character: bishop sleeves, prints and binding galore.
Annabelinda, I salute you, and I’ve no doubt that my designs will continue to pay homage long after the shop doors shut for the last time and all the buttons I counted for the annual stocktake go to button heaven.
Annabelinda, in their own words:
For formal receptions into Royal Societies; for clandestine meetings in unmentionable places; for gala performances at the opera (and at later hours elsewhere); for the nuptials of Princesses of the Blood Royal; for the greater pleasure of discerning voyeurs; for ducal invitations to state ballrooms and to discreet hunting lodges lost in ancestral forests, order your carriage to number six, Gloucester Street, Oxford.
