I write this with a heavy heart. My original post was going to be about what I wore to a wedding in Switzerland last weekend - not madly exciting but still - just a couple of outfits I had put together for a magical moment in the snow. I had intended to document what I wore but ended up having SO much fun (and a SO much Gluhwein) that this was the extent of the photographs:
Well done.
Well done.
Thanks to some thieving gypsies this post is now a lament for clothes I have loved and lost.
Due to baggage restrictions each item of clothing had been carefully thought through and considered. There was no space for anything I didn't like. I thought it was the perfect occasion to wear a few things that I don't often get the opportunity to. SO I took all my favourite clothes. Of course I did.
Unfortunately also due to baggage restrictions my clothes got a lift back to London in a car which was broken in to on Sunday evening and my bursting suit bag was swiped along with various things that hold huge sentimental value.
I felt a bit guilty for feeling so bereft about material goods, for as we all know there are much more important things in life, but it's strange how one has an emotional attachment to clothes. Certain pieces can trigger recollections and happy thoughts - I have a peach coloured tie dye dress (sounds monstrous!) which I wore nearly every day during the funnest summer of my life and I can't bring myself to wear it ever again because I don't want it to remind me of anything else. It's now scrunched up in the back of a drawer at my parents house making all the other clothes jealous.
I have a library of occasions and outfits in my mind and have always remembered life events by what I was wearing rather than what I was doing. There is a lovely book by Justine Picardie called 'My Mothers Wedding Dress: The Life and Afterlife of Clothes' which was one of the things that inspired me to start writing. A memoir in which she relays stories behind particular bits of clothing and how evocative they can be of a time, place or person. It is funny how something so seemingly trivial or ephemeral as clothes and fashion can mean so much and hold so many memories. Some of my most precious possessions are items of clothing or jewellery left to me. It's never the financial value but more the sentimental one.
Chinese Vintage Beaded Coat
This was my Mums vintage coat which would probably be the one thing I would rescue from my wardrobe in a fire. (It's probably now been burnt anyway sob sob.) It was exquisitely embroidered with scenes from a Chinese water garden with little bridges, dragons and men in hats. It weighed a ton and always reminded me of the photo of Diana Vreeland in her New York apartment - I used to wear it with heavy white bracelets as a homage to her. I miss it so!
Feather Cape(s) from Malene Birger
I remember seeing this Chanel dress in a magazine once upon a time, not so long ago and consequently ended up with a feather OBSESSION. My mother said it was a wonder there are any birds left in the sky. Very greedily I had not one but two feather capes. One was a gift and the other was a gift...to myself.
Cape #1 - My Birthday Suit
I had the best night EVER wearing this along with my Zimmerman Splatter dress (it's the design, not red wine)
Cape #2
This rather depressing photo below (the first practice shot on my iPad) is the only one I have of cape number 2 (which I also mentioned here). The blue dress underneath the feathers was a vintage pastel two-tone Jean Varon dress which was also nicked. A beauty. A very light silk with a thin veil of net petticoat and pistachio bodice with straps. I had visions of wearing it barefoot,running through a field, flowers in my hair tra la laaaaa. Now that's not going to happen.
The Dream Dress
A wonderful dress from a mysterious company called Rare Opulence. Trawling through the ground floor of some strange shop it appeared like a ruby in the rubble - complete genius...it was a copy of the Gucci Fall 2011 gown. The most magical thing to wear. It had a ruched top and lengths of silk chiffon with fluttery pink petal sleeve-lets. It had a very fun last hurrah at the wedding. So that's nice.
This is the last known photograph of me in it - teaching the younger generation how to use disposable cameras.
After lots of effing and blinding I called the council to see if anything had turned up and the computer-says-no-lady told me with (I detected a hint of glee in her voice) that the H&F rubbish isn't sifted through but instead piled onto BARGES, sent down the Thames and BURNT. Which is exactly what happened to my mothers cat when it was run over.
So on the off chance that you happen to come across any opportunist skanks dressed to the nines in feathers and fur or see something glittering in a flowerbed around Kempson Road in Fulham, please holla.
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