Vanda, My Dahlink

Ah, Vanda.  How I love you.  Actually, that's V and A.  As in Victoria and Albert.  Not the monarchs.  The museum. 

Saying that, I have never actually been to London (unless you count a truly soul-destroying layover I had at Heathrow once) so I haven't been in the museum in person.  But I know that it is heaven on earth.

The Victoria and Albert Museum has an online image library and then they also have an online print shop, where you can order prints.  This source has some really nice images.  The online library does too, but it's a bit more of a slog to find something.  Sort of just depends on if you’re cruisn' for eye-candy or looking for something more in-depth.

And not only do they provide this embarrassment of riches, they also participate in DailyLit.com by providing the lovely "Shoes, Bags and Tiaras" for free.  Awesomeness.

Speaking of which, some random samplings:

silk  shoes, 18th C.

 Mary Quant boots, 1967miniature with dress-up overlay

 Liberty Dress, c. 1930

 Liberty dress, c. 1885

 silk dress, c.1870

And last but not least, something I actually personally owned (until my miserable children caused my feet to swell like sponges at the beach):

Docs, 1982

And from the fabulous Print Shop:

 Barbier illustration

 

Bernier illustration

Heideloff and Ackermann illustration

 

And that’s just from the fashion illustration section. 

Vanda.  You hav to luv it, dahlink.

In Which A Crabby Old Man Is Lucky

Lucky I don’t beat him to a pulp, that is. 

So.  In writing earlier this week about my grandmother, I was reminded of a photo of her that used to exist.  Note the use of italics.  Because, Gentle Readers, I have come to the sneaking suspicion that my miserable wretch of a grandfather has either lost or destroyed it.  Explaining why he might have done such a thing is too long and horrible a story to relate to such delicate ears as you Gentle Readers possess.  Let’s just agree that such a thing could and in all likelihood did occur.  Which explains why my rotten grandfather is lucky (yes, lucky!) he’s a feeble old man and even I am unlikely to pound on such a person.  Maybe.  He’s lucky my grandmother isn’t around to hear of it, because I’m pretty sure she wouldn’t have such scruples.

I bring this all up because I’d had the fleeting thought of sharing said photo with you.  It was truly fabulous.  I mentioned before that my grandmother was stylish.  She sure was.  The missing photo was taken sometime during the war.  It defies description, but those interested in vintage fashion would have loved it because it resembled nothing so much as a fashion plate.  Alas, that wretched excuse for a person called “Grandpa” has made the point moot.

All I have is this photocopied (photocopied) picture that was taken around the same time.  The image is so degraded that I can’t even tell for sure what type of material that hat is made out of.  Velvet and lambswool?  Fur?  The mind boggles.  I think that dress is a wool jersey.  Hard to know for sure and of course I never thought to ask when she was around to tell me.  I have no doubt that she would have remembered, in great detail.

My recollection is that this was taken in 1939, which if true would  make my grandmother 16 years old and it’s roughly a year after the invasion of Austria.  If this is more recent then it’s from during the war or maybe even slightly after.   If I knew more about hats, I might be able to date the image better.  Either way, I find the fact that so many women managed to maintain their sense of style during a period of such intense uncertainty pretty mind-blowing.  Although if you knew my grandmother, it wouldn’t surprise you to hear that she managed to find a fur hat in the middle of an epic war.  Nor that she would insist on wearing it with such aplomb.  That is how she rolled.

In Which I Can’t Think Of A Title

A certain selfish person recently inspired me to go through my back issues of BWOF.  Every month when my new issue arrives, I immediately photocopy the line drawing insert and file it in my Pattern Binder.  After I've perused the actual magazines, they dutifully go into the magazine file and I hardly ever look at them again. 

I do frequently peruse my pattern binder.  As you all know, what you see in the line drawings of BWOF look like a whole 'nuther animal in the photo shoots.  Whole 'nuther.  So I thought to myself, "Self, you might should take a 'nuther little look-see at those photo shoots."   Apparently my self is now from the hills of Kentucky.  Anyhoo, a little look-see I have taken.  And can I just say: WTF?

People wonder why patterns don't fit them?  I give you exhibit A.

E927 fall/winter - 406 Top

What is up with that girl's sleeve?  I mean, we're just going to completely ignore the whole "this is a plus-sized model who has arms like twigs" thing.  But look at that armscye!  Yikes.  Who would that fit?  Even my really truly plus-sized sausage arms wouldn't make that sucker work.

And no, I'm not trying to single-handedly destroy Burda Fashion or anything (despite evidence to the contrary).  This is hardly a phenomenon unique to them.  It's just that they had the misfortune, or rather lack of insight, to shoot this particular transparent top in such a way as to be completely unable to hide the flaw.  That's their mistake, no doubt about it, but every other pattern company I've ever dealt with (with the exception of one, who seems to consistently have the opposite problem) has this type of armscye issue somewhere along the line.   Which does somewhat beg the question of how mere mortal home sewseamstressers are supposed to cope.

You know what would be cool?  Spray-on clothes.  You know, like in the movie "Cloudy With A Chance Of Meatballs" (which I have seen waaaay too many times).  Spray on shoes?  Like that.  Spray-on clothes.  Then we could all just walk around in big blobby coatings of rubber.  Like pod people.  Ooooooo.  Pod people.