You Zetter, You Zetter, You Zet . . .

So that I can properly source the vintage textiles that continue to catch my eye and imagination, I am taking a virtual trip to London, where I shall be ensconced at the Zetter Townhouse.



I shall, through the power of my imagination, climb these stairs that remind me of a Kaffe Fassett crazy log cabin square:

My room will be this one, draped in Union Jacks, all the better (the Zetter!) to immerse myself in Anglomania:

I shall take a daily pint on one of these banquettes:

and I shall spread out my fabrics in the library,

perhaps enticing fellow textilophiles who pass through the lobby:

Although my mind will say "Do not Disturb," my door knob might just say this:

And how does that song go, again?  "When I say 'I love you,' you say, 'You better . . .'"

But more importantly: Who's coming with??!!

Vintage Needlework

Wisdom has it that one pieces together quilt tops during the summer (quilt tops are cool) and quilts all winter (quilts are hot).

My schedule doesn't permit that, so I've been quilting up a summer storm over the past week, using embroidery floss instead of quilting thread, allowing my normally tiny stitches to stretch and be seen.
  

It's a Chaucerian virtue of necessity (time! eyesight!), but also rather pretty, I hope.

Speaking of time, let's travel back to the British arts and crafts movement for these snippets of glorious needlework from Meg Andrews' collection.

A Slice of Orange

During athletic matches, players snack on slices of citrus at halftime to recover their energy.

And visually, too, citrus can be an excellent palate cleanser, an amuse bouche for those of us who have overindulged in other colors.

To the right,  a slice of Roberto Cavalli,

Below, a slice of a corset by Rosamosario.

And if you are feeling very athletic today, why not take more than just a slice?  Enjoy the whole fruit!

Barbara Brown's Blue Panel

Feel like I am tumbling, very contentedly, head over heels down Alice's rabbit hole, into a deep, lush world of textiles.

My Alice isn't wearing her traditional blue and white, though; she's dressed in this gorgeous vintage cloth designed by Barbara Brown in 1955 for the London company Heal's, which has been operating since 1810(!)

Although my Alice's fabric was designed a few decades later, it would fit into the Charleston/Bloomsbury vibe of the early 1900s seamlessly:

 "Paint me," this fabric says.  And Vanessa Bell would, I'll bet.

Here's the fabric in another colorway.  Both are available through Esther Fitzgerald Rare Textiles, which I discovered, to my delight, this rainy evening.

A Second Cup of Cappuccino, with the Duchess

Readers may remember my post on the semantics of ordering more than one cappuccino in a cafe.

Here's an instance, though, where one cap would be just perfect.

I've been storing a mental image of the Duchess of Cambridge wearing this hat at Epsom, and return to it time and again because it is such a compact, cunning shape, and has a terrific color.  It's called cappuccino, but also reminds me of a delicious cookie dunked in said cap.

The hat is made by the stately house of Whiteley and, for those of us who love to look at winter plums, here's a smart version for the colder weather.

Would you eat this plum if it were in the icebox? (Poetry alert!  Name that poet!!)

Coach-ing Techniques for Reed Krakoff

Remember that New Yorker article on Reed Krakoff not too long ago?  The one in which his mother and wife kept correcting him?

The article was about how Krakoff had developed his own line of clothes and bags (see photo, right) as well as his Coach line. 

At one point he said something like this (and I paraphrase from memory): he designs his Coach bags for a specific
customer, not one whose aesthetic he shares, but stated that his Reed Krakoff line is more a reflection of his own taste.

And the article does note what good taste Mr. Krakoff has. (Take a second look at the photo, now above.)

Certainly, designers design with a client in mind, but it is my (naive?) wish that they would design aspirational goods--not super-expensive pieces, but elegant, beautiful pieces that would respect and perhaps enhance the consumer's own taste.

For in the past decades, Coach has moved from a rather charmingly stodgy line of thick, train-case, horsy leathers to become the blinged-out love child of Juicy Couture and Roberto Cavalli. 

Did Mr. Krakoff seem a tad embarassed of the recent bags he's designed?  Perhaps not, as they have made money for the company, but perhaps he should, as they have made money for the company. 

He clearly has the aesthetic vision to create something lovely, as a counterpart to gaudy; why not do so for his Coach customer?

In related Coach news, five classic bags have just been reissued.  Available through Net-a Porter, as well as Coach, they are the grand dames, the foundations of the Coach legacy.  I will be interested to see how they are received.

Will women buy these:

or these?:

Bound to Liberty of London Binding

I enjoy making my own half-inch binding for my quilts, but if I didn't, I'd be singing the praises of thie beautiful Liberty of London bias binding. 

It would be glorious to dress up the edge of a white or even a patterned pillowcase (particularly a patterned pillowcase?).

A tablecloth or a pair of curtains would instantly become cheerier as well with a floral edge. (Floral edge?  Isn't that an oxymoron?  Not with Liberty, I say.)

Because the binding comes on its own wooden dobby, I could also collect the lot and simply display them--on my spice rack, for instance, or in my china cupboard, so that my pulse would quicken while my eyes stopped to linger.

These dobbies loaded with Liberty binding are available through Selvedge magazine's dry goods link.

And although I've written for Selvedge a few times, I'm not reflecting a bias, only presenting some beautiful bias binding.