The lives of our clothes - past, present and future

A Russell Flint*

I could not speak for amazement at your beauty

As you came, down the Garrick stair,

Grey-green eyes like the turbulent Atlantic

And floppy schoolgirl hair.

I could see you in a Sussex teashop,

Dressed in green peasant weave and brogues,

Turning over, as firelight shone on brassware,

Last year's tea-stained Vogues.

- Sir John Betjeman

PAST

As an overly romantic teenager for whom adulthood could not come quick enough, somewhere between my Bloomsbury Group obsession and Mitford sister stage, I found time for a bit of a crush on John Betjeman (who was no watercolour but a superb wordsmith) and in particular, I fixated on his poem A Russell Flint. She was my heroine, this girl with the grey-green eyes and the schoolgirl hair. I imagined that one day, if I could get my hands on my great grandmothers sea-green woven tweed coat (and the charm bracelet and the ball gowns) , I too could sit in a teashop, being a bright young thing, flicking through tea-stained Vogue magazines and my life would be complete. I willed myself to grow up quickly alongside making complicated plans to run away from home - with the coat. At the age of 13 - I was the exact opposite of A Russell Flint muse.

You see, to me, the green coat was a very great thing.

The sea-green tweed coat which was made for my great grandmother,
then passed to my grandmother, my mother
and now me!

My great grandfather returned badly injured from the war to find that his mother had died, the family home had gone. The only person he knew was his mothers tailor. So under his tutorship, he learnt to make clothes, acquired a tweed mill or two and a wool factory in Edinburgh called Munrospun and proceed to design couture under his label called Country Life. There was a coat not dissimilar to this one which was kept in his office in his factory to remind himself to maintain the same standard of quality in every single garment which left the building.

The old Munrospun Factory in Edinburgh

PRESENT

During my recent house move I was forced to choose what I kept for my day to day living and what would be boxed up and put into storage. I brutally disposed of a lot of tat, most of my clothes came with me and ones which I wouldn't immediately wear were sent on a little holiday up the motorway.  I waved TTFN to a van of nearly all my worldly possessions which were then chauffeured up the A40 by two nice Polish gentlemen and deposited into a teeny tiny cupboard.

I thought everything was tucked up safe as mouses, but then I received a RODENT ALERT email so had to go and check for signs of life. Now I don't really mind the mice nibbling on my sofa or my caffetiere but I really do mind them tucking into my great grandmothers beautiful green coat and the ball gowns she bequeathed me! 

Off I went to rescue them! Stuck in traffic on my return journey with my precious cargo I felt terrible that I had ever considered it acceptable to put the green coat and gowns away. They had always been used to a much more glamorous life - hanging in lovely wardrobes around the world in a golden age when everything was...better? But as we know, the past is a foreign country and they do things differently there, however it is our responsibility to look after the items passed down through the generations and take them into modern times rather than (and more prevalently) keep churning out sweatshop tat and creating landfill. I have realised that beautifully made, quality clothes will always be in vogue and, if looked after properly, will never go out of fashion - they have a place in the modern wardrobe. As long as we win the war on moths! But what also appeals strongly to my (often crippling) sense of nostalgia is that these items are our heritage and always tell a story - the places, the parties, the people. When I wear the sea-green coat I know I am the fourth generation of my family to do so and I love that. We always say what if the walls could talk, but what if the clothes could?

The coat. 

Granny's first ball gown in silk Chrysanthemum Liberty print.
As a child I used to think it was horrid because it wasn't pink.
I love it now.

Once consigned to our childhood dressing up box. Now in my dressing up box.

FUTURE

On the way to a wedding at the end of last year, on route to my car I took a wrong turn and accidentally found myself in Portobello market! I felt a cosmic pull towards a green tartan tasselled coat and was delighted to find that it was made from an old Munrospun blanket - a genius way of up-cycling I thought! The ultimate in sustainable fashion! I wondered where it had been all this time and what journey it had taken in the time between. From leaving the factory in Edinburgh in the middle of the last century under the watchful eye of my grandfather and then finding it's way back to me. I feel so happy that I am able to look after it for the next bit.

The Munrospun label with the Lion Rampant of the Scottish Royal Standard.

Me, sadly not on the Garrick stair but actually in the ladies at the Savile Club in my Munrospun tartan blanket coat.

...and so to tie up this musing...

The said wedding I went to was in Sussex! The day afterwards, I found myself in a teashop, wearing my green Munrospun blanket coat and reading the Sunday papers (still definitely not looking like a Russell Flint muse, due to the excesses of the night before) but I thought to myself.......finally..........in a round about way........all these years later.....mission accomplished. 

*It gets even better at the end - I always strive to be as calm as a rock pool - not always succeeding. You can actually hear John Betjeman reading it in full to rather rousing music here. Swoon. 

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