Mood Indigo: Dosa, J Crew, and an 80s Flashback Photo

In the mid 1980s, when I worked for Sarah Clothes on a hiatus from university, one of my favourite items from that designer was an indigo, collarless shirt. Actually, I didn't like it when I bought it, because the indigo was a deep, midnight blue, and the shirt felt stiff.  But after months of wearing and washing, the shirt faded to a soft blue in both colour and feel. and I loved it. Eventually I wore the shirt to shreds, quite literally, and still miss its easy presence in my wardrobe.

When I saw this dress for Dosa's Spring/summer 2015 collection, I was immediately brought back to that glorious mood indigo. This dress has the simplest, most utilitarian lines, and I love it for that. I'd wear it with a patterned canvas sneaker (how I wish I had known about last spring's Liberty of London Strawberry Thief edition of Vans before they sold out in my size) and run all over town.

Perhaps indigo is the technique du saison, because J Crew is singing the blues as well, with its "faded adire" print. I like this one too, but balk at the obviously too-sheer sweater front.The beauty of indigo is that it shouldn't need a cami underneath; its glorious colors and patterns should speak for themselves.

And speaking for myself, tonight I opened my precious Crabtree and Evelyn wooden treasure chest (a display item I purchased in the 1980s and in which I store all my photos from that era) and found this mug shot of myself, taken old-school style--holding a camera backward and hoping for the best (but coming up with glare). But even with that glaring flaw, there's the indigo shirt, mid fade . . .

A Story in Selvedge and a Brown Paper Package Tied . . .

Between Christmas Day and New Year's Eve I went to the bookstore to replenish my magazine stock and was delighted to find the Nov/Dec Selvedge on the shelf, with my story on Dolce and Gabbana's Winter 2013/2014 collection inside.

My story explores how the designers incorporated religious iconography into their gorgeous collection, partly via the gold mosaic cathedral ceiling at Monreale, partly via colour and silhouette.

Wearing Vatican red

I was fortunate to interview two excellent sources: Alexander Pope from the most recent Project Runway (remember he was eliminated after making a dress with a cross on it?) and Professor Lynn S. Neal, who is currently writing about the relationship between fashion and religion.

A sneak peak; the story includes much more prose . . . and photos!

If enjoying the entirety of the magazine wasn't enough, I received a generous package today from the Selvedge team, wrapped up in brown paper and tied with tri-colour string. Here's what was inside:

Each piece was wrapped individually:

There was some Liberty of London fabric, which I plan to use as the binding of a new quilt:

A selection of ribbon, for making more ornaments (see previous post):

A beautiful hand-embroidered summer throw from Stitch by Stitch in redwork:

And two perfect bags.  The large Margo Selby is for cosmetics; the small wool Melin Tregwynt for change, or buttons, or charms, or simply for gazing upon.

Time for sleep, and gentle textile dreams.

Somewhere in Soho

Somewhere in Soho I was cold.  That's why my hair, which is a good foot longer than what you see here, is wrapped around my neck and tucked in my jacket as a makeshift scarf.

I was also feeling something cold-y or even phlu-y* taking me in its grip.  And that's why I don't remember the name of this pop-up shop or even the street it's on.  (It's perpendicular to Broome, parallel to Greene, closer to Houston; that much I do know).

But my foggy mindedness is trumped by that of the manager/owner who was happy to tell me the provenance of the ridiculously delightful feathered shrug stage right (or is it left? Delirious.).

This riot of orange feathers and fabric, he said, is a one-off made by a Project Runway contestant from Season 11.    As I just had an article printed in which I interviewed a PR designer from this season (will blog about that later), and as I have a faculty rock band perf to get ready for this spring, I thought that the shrug might be a serendipitous find.

But as it was rather snug, I passed. When I got home, I tried to find out more about the garment.  The manager had shown me a runway photo with "Merlin" printed beside the image, so I searched for Merlin, Season 11, Project Runway.  What I found was that Merlin was a contestant on Season 1 of The Fashion Show, hosted by Issac Mizrahi and Kelly Rowland, and aired on Bravo.  And it was not renewed after Season 2. 

I remembered how the manager told me not to listen to any of the guys working in the shop because they didn't know anything about fashion. Ummm . . .

So I immediately felt better about passing on the shrug, though I can't shrug off the miserable cold-y/phlu-y feelings just yet.


*I know it may be just a wee bit phantastic, but I do like to substitute a "ph" for an "f" wherever possible.  Maybe it's that Diana Vreeland documentary rubbing off on me, like her phormidable rouge.

Quilting by the Pool

Last night I completed a quilt top, and took a photo of it today, sunning itself by the pool. (My iPhone's smarts do not capture how vibrant the colours are; click on the image for a better idea.)

It's a log cabin variation, with two traditional cabins (in untraditional colours) in two corners and kind of a bento box, or maybe a loft log cabin elsewhere (all that space reminds me of a loft).

I made my quilt top mostly from my scrap bag--there's fabric from Amish country; lots from my beloved Liberty of London; some from 7th Avenue's Fashion District, circa 1997, when I wanted to start a neckwear line; and one piece from a generous student.

To continue my "lofty" thoughts, I'll get a proper backing fabric from Purl Soho (whose neighbors include lofts aplenty) and then quilt.

Or I may simply tie knots in the colourful fabric with embroidery floss (burying the ends, bien sur)and may embroider/quilt something on the linen-y sections.

Or who knows? I know better than to plan ahead when making something; I prefer to let the piece unfold as it likes.

Blank(et) Check

Anyone who's seen my Twitter feed knows that we were without heat today.  We didn't notice immediately, because our house was built in 1874 and has original glass windows, which means that our house can get chilly in winter.  And the weather has been exceptionally cold for the last few days, considering we were running in shorts(!) lasr weekend.

While we were waiting for a technician to help us out, we made good use of the quilts I've made, as well as my favourite blanket--a checked wool beauty from Norway's Oleana:

I adore Oleana blankets, which are sumptuously thick, soft, and gorgeously designed. They reverse to a slightly different colourway and set my senses a tizzy when I am wrapped up in one. 

But they are rather cher (hence my post title), so I have thought that it might be great fun to make a quilt in an Oleana blanket style. 

I'd probably choose a check, in a blue, to complement my red check blanket.  The border could be appliqued, even in felt, for the tricky curves and curlicues. This may be my next project, since my hands are working again with (and are grateful for) the heat.

More Quilty Pleasures

This fabric will be winging its way to me shortly and I am ready to burst with anticipation.  It's a cotton, linen-y-feel Japanese print and I love the muted purples and greens.

I'll be pairing it with some unmatched strips of floral Liberty of London from the same color family to make another whole-cloth quilt.  There days I've been finding fabric that I cannot bear to cut, so whole-cloth quilting has been a revelation.

 

Is there anything better than planning and then making something? I think it's bliss . . .

Family Jules?

This "Jules" dress by J Crew looks so cheerful and smart, but I am wary of its waist-less-ness. 

Dear J Crew,

Sheath dresses are not as attractive as you think, on *any* figure.  Please bring a hint of shape.

Sincerely,

 Miss C

A Ruff Spell (Ruffian Toile)

It's a bit of  a rough spell when you go back to school before your children do.  I return tomorrow; my three are able to hang out at home till Tuesday. 

I have a gazillion things to do today in preparation for my class, but also want to make sure that my three are gainfully occupied--practicing instruments, completing homework, playing in the snow, letting their minds wander to where their fancy takes them.

My own mind has been wandering over to the Ruffian toile collection, which features images from Brooklyn's Williamsburg. 

There are gorgeous clothes, more suited for spring than this weather, but still--

And there are square silk scarves, in blue, pink, and yellow. Details from the toile below; colors seem to appear considerably deeper than they are in photos:

Every time we go to New York, we say we'll make it over the bridge, but the farthest we've got is Orchard Street (with the bridge clearly in sight/walking distance).  (Mr. C of course has been to Brooklyn; he studied at Pratt in his [relative] youth.) I'm pretty sure that I'm the hesitant one; I'd prefer someone who knows the area well to guide me rather than explore on my own.

If any gentle readers live in/near/have been to Williamsburg, please tell me why I should go and what I should see/eat/do there.  I'll be back in the summer! 

Styling a Pero Scarf

I received the loveliest package in the mail on Friday from the wonderful editors at Selvedge, for whom I occasionally write articles.

It contained a scarf from Pero, which has been an object of my obsession for a couple of years now.  Pero is an Indian label that makes the largest, gossamer-thin scarves that are edged with tiny delights: little pearl buttons, cunning tassels, elegant designs woven into the fabric.

My scarf, pictured here and above, is easily large enough to cover a twin bed, but thin enough to wrap beautifully.

Howevs, excited as I was to wear the scarf, I felt that either a change in state or style was necessary.  To me, my beautiful Pero scarf calls out to be worn in California, among stylish LA gals, like Melissa, client and friend of Nathan of Bravo's Million-Dollar Decorators.  She's feeling a little beleagured here, as her patio floor is in shambles, so let's give her some space.

Gentle readers might also take a look through this book:

It details the casual bohemian LA cool that I associate with my Pero.  I find myself looking for thin cotton snock tops with embroidered hems (the embroidered hem is very important).

Maybe one from Odd Molly?

No embroidered hems, but my own needle could take a turn here.

And on bottom?  Absolutely NO skinny jeans; I'm feeling a gentle boyfriend fit here a la this pair from Madewell:

But although these jeans may be Madewell, they are not Styledwell. I am over heels (especially pumps) with jeans, so I'll complete the look with my trusty Acne sandals.

While I'm daydreaming, let me pose a question:  What's better than one beautiful scarf from Pero?

A Pero scarves, natch!   (Oh, groan!)  But I'm not that greedy.

Office Decor: Paper Dolls

Part of the fun of having a new office is decorating it. 

This space of mine has books of course--four ceiling-to-floor stuffed cases, to be exact--but it is also characterized by textiles.  I have my Amish-via-New York quilt that I made (classic Amish diamond pattern using fabric I bought in the City); my William Morris-esque wallpapered pole, my Chanel-inspired paper flowers headpiece, Liberty fabric stretched over a good number of wooden embroidery hoops cascading down one wall, and now my Anna Sui paper dolls climbing the wall alongside my door. 

I'm teaching a fashion theory class this year and am delighted to let my office reflect my love of fabric and line.

Now to make something for my window.

Boden, Charleston, Barbara Brown, and My Left Arm

There's been a dearth of blogging over here, while my left arm takes a time-out. 

There had been a good deal of keyboarding and quilting going on this summer, and I think that my arm, shoulder, and neck demanded a vacation. 

But food for thought while my arm chills out: does not this fall dress from Boden remind you of the Barbara Brown prints I posted a while back . . .

as well as have Charleston undertones?

If only the style didn't remind me of Coronation Street, circa 1975, watched faithfully by my grandmother (and ignored by me as I thought of circus-colored awning stripes). 

More to come on that, as I have recently bought an outrageously striped pair of vintage Miu Miu shoes. They're visiting the cobbler, getting a couple of upgrades that will ready them to challenge Usain Bolt in the 100-metre dash.

Feeling Blue and White: Delft Dressing

Do you ever follow a colour pattern that you don't recognize till a few days later?

During my "call of the mall" expedition with my daughters, I ducked in to J Crew to take advantage of their educators; discount (hurrah!) and was immediately drawn to the fitted jacket to the right. 

Its blue and white filagree pattern reminds me of china that I love:

Delft, which uses the beautiful, inky blue:

or the lighter Burleighware:

or the stunning work of ceramicist Maria Kristofferson:

I'll feel like a real dish when I wear this jacket.

Then, yesterday, when I went to Purl Soho, in search of fabric for a particular project, I ended up changing routes entirely when I saw this new Nani Iro double gauze cotton in blue and white:

To the left, to the left . . .

I plan to make a quilt, bordered in a Liberty blue/white/lavender swirl and bound by a Kaffe Fassett shot dry-mauve. Perhaps a simple muslin for the back, or one of Liberty's new quilting weight fabrics that will be introduced next week.

The Liberty Print That Got Away

I rarely purchase anything on impulse, which is often very wise but sometimes leaves me with regrets. 

Last summer, for instance, when I was on a fellowship in New Haven, I was cooling my academic jets by wandering around the shops and found a small cosmetics bag in Jack Wills, made from a pretty Liberty print.

"Oh, I'll get it later, if I still want it," I said to myself, but left without, having indulged in French linens and a London clutch elsewhere that day.

Later that summer, I looked for the bag online and in the Nantucket Jack Wills, but it was sold out. Small sigh, but I'll survive.

When I discovered that Sailor Rose makes tunics and dresses from that (and other!) Liberty print(s), my pulse temporarily increased.  The tunic is lovely on the model above, but its combination of a button-up back and waistlessness brings my heart rate back down.

Still, I can gaze upon this photo and luxuriate in the fabric through the filter of the computer screen.  And maybe I should just get some of the tana lawn cotton and fashion it myself.  We'll see.

Tiers of Joy

I've been spending a good deal of time with my bookcases today, reorganizing and restocking them. 

That activity reminded me of a favourite photo from a past T magazine: it's the decorating issue that features the Chicago home of Jean and Steven Goldberg.

My favourite room, perhaps not surprisingly, is the library.  The bookcase is magnificient enough, with its carefully bowed shelves (done for effect, not naturally from years of heavy reading), but I couldn't stop looking at the fantastic curtains, designed by Ms. Goldberg. 

With their tied tiers, creating a drapey-pouf effect, these curtains wouldn't be out of place walking the steps of the Met at its annual ball.

They reminded me of some of Charles James's designs, such as these:

And a post-postmodern version might be the inimitable Lady Gaga, who wore this tri-tier gown at the Brit Awards, back in 2010:

Then there are those upstart garments, as worn by Anne Hathaway:

Florence Welch:

and Daphne Guinness: