Tuesday, December 31, 2019

Gin Mayo, Votes for Women, Orchard House, and Miss C's Favourite March

While I was recovering from knee surgery over the Christmas holidays, Mr. C took our three children to Chelsea Market, where he and I had spent a lovely après-Christmas afternoon last year.

They bought me some beautifully wrapped soaps as a gift, and the salesperson threw in the bag two tubes of the curious "Gin Mayo." No-one asked what it was. It looks like a tube of Krazy Glue, or some dangerously strong bonding agent. except for the charmingly alarming graphic. It reminds me of  Cindy Sherman photograph from her Heroines series.

But Gin Mayo is, apparently, exactly what it purports to be: mayonaise infused with gin. It's the brainchild of an Amsterdam-based seafood restaurant, Mossel & Gin.

I don't wish to puncture one of the tubes to taste the concoction inside, so I think I'll bring them to my office and pop them inside my "votes for women" replica teacup.

Coincidentally, I bought this tea cup at Orchard House, home of Louisa May Alcott, when I made a summer scholarly tour of Concord one summer.

That's the summer I suffered from heat exhaustion after having walked to Walden Pond (but allowed to wade in because of high bacteria that afternoon(!) and back to town, and then getting disoriented in Sleepy Hollow Cemetery the next morning trying to locate Authors Ridge.

Those distressing memories aside, I think the Gin Mayo will complement the Votes for Women tea cup, especially since blue and gold were the colours of suffrage in the United States.


P.S. Amy was always my favourite.

Wednesday, December 18, 2019

Tartan Dressing: The Duchess of Cambridge and Miss C

Is this beautiful tartan dress by Emilia Wickstead what the Duchess of Cambridge is wearing to the Queen's holiday luncheon?

I absolutely love it.

Truth be told, I am joining the duchess in wearing a long tartan gown today, only mine is a new floor-length forest, blue, and red flannel nightgown, purchased for my recovery from knee surgery (yesterday).

And my holiday luncheon today is a very welcome combination of the Great British Baking Show's holiday edition and a Goldendoodle curled up on his end of the sofa. Today is all about eye candy.


Monday, December 16, 2019

Psilly Me: Searching for a Demetrios Psillos Illustration

The pink and aqua colours in this Demetrios Psillos illustration are calling out to be put into a quilt.

Wait--what? I found the above smidge of a post in my draft queue, dated 2016. But I cannot determine which illustration I liked so much.

In fact, today, this plummy Martha Graham illustration by Psillos captures my eye, both for its colour and movement. (This is a "still" from "Lamentations.")

That's the last time I'll draft a post without securing an image.

Psilly me.

Replacing Beloved Clothes: J Crew, Max Mara--and Searching for Those from J Peterman That Got Away

When I find something I love to wear, I wear it again and again, to the point that it often wears out. That used to be the end of the story, but one benefit of the internet is that I can sometimes find that very item online, for sale, some 15–20 years later.

For instance, I bought a tweed overcoat from Max Mara shortly after having my second daughter, seventeen years ago. Last year I bound the wrist cuffs in Liberty of London because of fraying; I am about to do the same to a button hole. And I am awaiting for olive green velvet elbow patches to arrive.

On a whim, I took a quick look at some online resell sites and was surprised and delighted to find my very coat in great shape, my size, for a modest price, but already sold. Then I found it on another site in a smaller size and five times the price. But it gives me hope!

I also bought, a number of years ago, some J Crew boyfriend-style stripey cashmere sweaters, which I love beyond sweaterdom itself. And so I was thrilled to find several on the web--one of which I bought in a different colourway and others I'm keeping an eye on.

But there are also some original purchases that got away, and it may be those that I yearn for the most. I've written about this before, but J Peterman made what I remember being called a Gstaad jacket--asymmetrical zip, shearling collar, smart belt--and I cannot turn up an image of it.

I was luckier when I located the Beacon Hill, 1913, dress pictured at the top. I couldn't recall its name, but "Edith Wharton" was in the description. Even though I cannot find it for sale anywhere, I am temporarily satisfied to have the image.

Do gentle readers yearn to replace a beloved but perhaps worn-out garment? Are there garments you wish you had bought and search for years later?

Thursday, December 12, 2019

Burberry "Bustier Boots" and Stella Jean

On rainy or snowy days, when I'm in a pair of good shoes and our poodledoodle* wants to go outside, I'll climb into a pair of Mr. C's footwear, good shoes and all, and clomp down the steps and around the corner to open the garden gate for monsieur.

It reminds me of my childhood, when galoshes were the rage. From kindergarten through at least Grade 2, maybe 3, I'd wear my "good" shoes inside a pair of overboots and go off to school, with heavy, cumbersome feet.

I was taken back to these moments when, perusing the Barneys sale yet again, I happened upon these Burberry boots that reinterpret the above scenarios for me: This time, a boot slips inside a shiny, patent mule.

To my eye, the result is a process: I go from being repulsed (ewww--mules) to being riveted and full of desire.

But why did I coin them "bustier boots" and not some homage to galoshes or husband-shoes? Because on the desirability side, they remind me of one of my favourite fashion looks: a strapless (bustier) dress over a blouse.

Stella Jean has pretty much patented this style, as seen in these images from different collections.





And if she's patented this style, I think that I really must get that patent mule–bustier boot style.















*He's 3/4 poodle and 1/4 golden retriever, so I've renamed him.


Monday, December 9, 2019

Thinking out Loud: Liberty Capel V, Liberty Quilting Cotton, or Kaffe Shot Cotton?

In case yardage of Capel V is truly unavailable, I need a plan B. Possibly Liberty floral quilting weight cotton, possibly a Kaffe shot cotton solid with Capel binding.


Saturday, December 7, 2019

Beautiful Winter Ballgowns by Moncler + Pierpaolo Picciolo and Liya Kebede

It's the time of year when certain young women and their families are thinking about debutante balls. These balls entered my consciousness via Whit Stillman's film Metropolitan, in 1990s, and later coverage of Le Bal in Paris.

Growning up on a tiny island in Canada, I couldn't have been further removed from the concept of debutante balls--we were too busy flinging snowballs.

But if I were to attend one, via the process of time travel, I think that these stunning ballgown puffers (a collaboration among Moncler, Pierpaolo Picciolo and Liya Kebede) would not only be appropriate for Canadian winters, but would also bring the requisite level of style.


Wednesday, December 4, 2019

Highs and Lows of Shoe Shopping at Barneys

It really has been a jolt to learn that Barneys is going out of business. I remember earlier instances of financial difficulty, but Barneys always pulled through. It's easy to romanticize and say that's because the store is an icon, but there are plenty of other examples of fallen (and missed) icons--Henri Bendel, Charivari, for instance.

I wanted both to honor Barneys and freshen up my shoe collection, so I went online mid November to see what the sale was like. As Sapna Maheshwari for the New York Times noted, "it's a very Barneys" kind of sale," with early savings of 5%.

That wasn't going to work out, so I returned on "Cyber Monday" (I really do dislike the normalization of this term) to see whether sales had deepened. Some had progressed to 15%, even 25%, and some truly luxurious brands stayed the same--no deal.

So then I decided I'd explore rather than shop, and filtered the shoes from lowest price to highest, to see what minimum I could spend, and then highest to lowest, to see what I'd like if the sky were the limit.

And not surprisingly, the low price coordinated with a low heel; the high with a relatively high heel.

The green Barneys label flat sandal (reduced to $146) would complement everything I wear in the summer; this green is actually my hot-weather go-to color.

The brown Givenchy (not on sale, s'il vous plait) would be smart with fall dresses or just on its own, over the fireplace, such is its sleek beauty.

And it's these colors above and left I'll keep in mind, rather than the sad reality touted by the red/yellow notification below.




Tuesday, December 3, 2019

Goddess a Go-Go: Miss C's "A-muse-ing" Selvedge Magazine Story on Goddess Gowns

I've just received PDFs for my latest story for London's lovely Selvedge Magazine. This one's on goddess gowns. Mr. C asked if I wrote the main headline; I did supply the "a-muse-ing designs" part; he knows me well.

My research for this piece took me to Chicago, where I saw a Madeline Vionnet at the Chicago History Museum (along with gowns by Schiaparelli, Chanel, among other others).

This issue will come out mid December, for the Jan/Feb months.





Monday, December 2, 2019

Barneys Rubble


It's not what you think! This is actually an affectionate pun referencing Barney Rubble, and a beautiful bootie by Alaïa that a cave dweller could have worn, were they not always barefoot.

It wouldn't be the first time that Barneys was associated with cartoons. In 2012(!) Mr C and I dropped by during Christmas and Barneys was in the middle of a massive "electric holiday" collaboration with Disney.

(The collaboration was quite unsuccessful, too, as there was an outcry over giving Minnie Mouse and Daisy Duck, not to mention Pluto, long, lean fashion-illustration physiques. The related merchandise was unbearably tacky as well.)

But I digress. One touch that DID catch my eye was the tissue paper: it was covered in coloring-book style Disney-esque images of fashion people--Carine Roitfeld, Naomi Campbell, Alber Elbaz, Franca Sozzani, and Pat McGrath, to name a few. I bought something and asked for extra, uncrushed tissue paper. During the rest of the holiday, I colored in the figures and fixed the completed length of tissue paper to my office window, where it still functions as a valence, faded though sections may be.



There was a short cartoon made too, and I share some stills from it here. Imagine these characters outlined in thick black ink, on a white background, just perfect for a set of markers and a few spare hours.






Sunday, December 1, 2019

Justine Tabak Takes Miss C Back to Memories of Laura Ashley, c. 1983-84

When I went to Justine Tabak's site to see how she featured the delightful sweaters from yesterday's post, I was taken aback by the image that greeted me. The model in a red dress with gentle leg o' mutton sleeves and slight empire waist could have been, to my eye, a Laura Ashley advert from the 1980s.

I'd heard about Laura Ashley, growing up on Prince Edward Island, but didn't experience her clothes until I'd reached university in Ottawa, and discovered her store on Bank Street. I was immediately obsessed with the romantic vibe of her dresses, which were either made for wafting around a moor or for having a nautical adventure (many of her designs were sailor inspired).

That first year of university, when I should have been studying, I bought clothes. From Laura Ashley I bought a light-blue sailor dress with a drop waist, a knife-pleat skirt in white cotton canvas to complement a white double-breasted boxy sailor jacket with navy trim, and a soft dusky blue corduroy dress with the signature square neck and puff sleeves, with subtly colored pinstripes.

I don't believe I wore any of these to class, but I certainly wore them somewhere.

I got on the catalogue mailing list, and the following summer I memorized the 1984 catalogue. I knew every drape, tuck, and pleat within that catalogue. I even brought it to the salon and had my hair cut and permed(!) to match the cover model.

But then I grew out of those styles (emotionally, that is) and sold them at a consignment shop a few years later.

Justine Tabak's dresses take me back to that happy place, and I wonder whether it's time to update my once-loved 1980s look.

I'd wear these dresses (below) with my chunky platform Chelsea boots (instead of my 1983 Granny boots). I'd have tousled hair or a messy topknot, and dark nail polish (remember Chanel's Vamp?).

In fact, I'm quite taken Tabak.




Friday, November 29, 2019

Miss Cavendish's Gift Guide 2019

Kidding! I am not a gift-guide person.

In fact I like gifts to be unguided, expecially by culturally expected days like birthdays, weddings, or Christmas.

So the fair isle sweaters I show here are purely because I have been enjoying this apres-Thanksgiving leisurely day and am feeling glow-y inside.

They are made by British designers Wallace and Sewell in collaboration with Justine Tabak and I hope they delight gentle readers' eyes.

To my own eye, they evoke spun candlelight (the tangerine) and illuminated verdigris (the mint). I would like to wear them in a log cabin while I read or quilt.


Quilty Pleasures: Looking for Liberty London Capel V

I have a quilt top tucked away in my armoire, waiting for me to locate some Liberty London tana lawn in Capel V so I can complete it.

I had actually finished the quilt top with a different fabric, but couldn't go any further, as I knew it was not the right one.

But Capel V has eluded me (it's retired and I missed the opportunity to purchase some [overpriced] yardage from Etsy earlier in the year.)

So I though I'd reach out to gentle readers: I'm looking for 1-2 meters/yards, in case anyone has a stash--or a lead.

Many thanks in advance!

Wednesday, November 27, 2019

Miss Cavendish's Occasionally Annual Thanksgiving Post on Hats


American Thanksgiving is a time for thanks and hats. Just go to your local elementary school this week and there’ll be children decked out in Pilgrim hats and bonnets, playing with their fellow Native Americans in homemade headdresses. 

I’ve always been a hat girl, growing up on Prince Edward Island, Canada, where the ocean breeze kept a chill in the air. There, my Scottish grandmother would bundle me in coarse tam o’shanters, made from scratchy undyed wool. During my university years in bilingual Ottawa, I graduated to French berets in jet noir; loden festooned with a raccoon’s tail (what was I thinking?); creamy cupcake pink. 

On bitter days, and there were many, I’d pull the beret over my brow, slap on a pair of ear muffs, and ice-skate down the Rideau Canal toward my campus. I’d share the ice with various Members of Parliament (Parliament Hill was just beyond the university), their long winterized trench coats parachuting around them, their briefcases somehow not throwing them off balance. During her lunch break one senior MP would don a racing suit and make slow, steady strokes up and down the canal, stopping later at the stands selling deep-fried beaver tails, a Canadian winter delicacy.

I wore berets throughout my undergraduate and graduate education, from Ottawa to the United States. They were functional, fit my generous head, and, I liked to think, marked me as “other” in my new home: a beret was a subtle symbol of Canadian pride.

But this steady relationship was rattled when I went to New York City to visit my husband’s family one Christmas. After viewing the requisite art galleries, I ducked into my favorite store, Bergdorf Goodman, to check out some living art—the impeccably dressed patrons who glided through the corridors—and, of course, the fantastic displays of merchandise. Getting somewhat lost among the mirrored walls on the accessories level, I took a turn and found myself gazing at a hat: a Philip Treacy design. To be exact, an asymmetrical trilby, with navy cotton exterior, pewter satin lining, silver unicorn logo on the brand, provenance England. I was smitten. 

For a Philip Treacy hat n’est pas un chapeau. Rather, it is an idea. Picture Treacy’s former muse (and sadly, departed) Isabella Blow wearing a large orange acrylic disk that overwhelms her face, a slender wedge of pie extracted for her mouth and nose, or a model wearing a sculpture—a representation of a gently askew top hat spelling out h-a-t in lissome, sky-scraping letters. But this Irish-born, London-bred milliner known as the mad Hatter for his confections also makes wearable fantasies; hence the—no, my—asymmetrical trilby. 

Reader, I bought it. What else could I do? And I carried it down Fifth Avenue in its glistening silvery BG hatbox, feeling, perhaps for the first time, like a lady rather than the feminist scholar that I am. I, who critique Sister Carrie’s seduction by the snug little jackets in a Chicago department store, fell prey to the same siren song. And like Hortense, in another Dreiser novel, I wanted the hat so badly that my lack of cash didn’t stop me; whereas Hortense lures her boyfriend into purchasing her a coat with vague promises of affection, I used my BG charge card, with half-hearted assurances to myself that I’d pay if off in no time.

Geography, though, was the wild card I hadn’t counted on. Although my eccentric new navy asymmetrical trilby didn’t stand out on the fashionable streets of New York, it practically screamed “Outsider” when I returned to the Midwest farmland where I then lived and taught college. In the Midwest, where people pride themselves on four-post homes, three square meals a day, and unwavering moral values, asymmetry isn’t exactly a virtue. Rather, it makes people suspicious of you. 

Usually I tend to court my outside status. I quite like to be contrary, and have ever since I was a teenager, when, yearning for the black velvet pants and pastel pink satin blouse that all my friends had, my chic grandmother returned from Montreal with forest green velvet trousers and a burgundy satin shirt. I wasn’t immediately sure about this combination, but quickly saw how one could work within a fashion concept while executing your own take on it. Couldn’t my asymmetrical trilby coexist with the John Deere farming caps and the German Baptist bonnets? After all, I’d worn a beret for many a year and the Midwest wasn’t exactly a bastion of French style.

But whereas my beret was looked on with grudging acceptance, my trilby was more a source of humor. No-one actually said anything directly, but locals would talk to my hat instead of my face; colleagues would be overly smiley when I’d stalk around campus. I felt self-conscious and soon found myself wearing my trilby only at home, happy to catch surprise glimpses of my reflection in the windows as I’d go about my evening. And eventually I put it away, nestled inside its hatbox, which sat at the bottom of my armoire, as I gradually forgot about it.

Until, that is, last November, when, in a burst of enthusiasm for cleaning out my closets via eBay, I rediscovered the box and its contents. I listed the hat on eBay, enjoyed a mild bidding war, and prepared to ship the trilby and box to its new owner, known to me only by her excellent feedback rating. But when I received the eBay-generated message containing the winner’s email and home address, a different kind of feedback quickly flashed in my mind. For the new owner of my Philip Treacy trilby was a Famous New York Personality of TV and Movies, she of the high cheekbones, sassy persona, and megawatt smile. 

A celebrity bought my London-via-Bergdorf’s hat. A beautiful, edgy New York celebrity. We must be soul sisters! We could bond over our love of Philip Treacy hats! She would totally “get” me; we could chat over email like fashion insiders; we could meet, even, when I returned to New York on my twice-yearly pilgrimages! We’d go hat shopping together and she could show me how she sports my—our—no, her hat in the city and makes it her own. 

Or I could mail her the hat with a note saying that I hope she wears it in the best of health. Which I did.

Like Chaucer sending his “littel book” out into the world, I sent my hat back to New York, where it is meant to be, with its citified asymmetrical attitude. Perhaps it will go dancing, to a movie premiere, to a little bistro. Perhaps one night it will even get tipsy (umm—symmetrical). And I am thankful that it is with its rightful owner, someone who can take the hat out of her closet, who can enjoy it out in public. And I can enjoy it too, from the distance of my imagination.

It’s not chilly enough here yet for my beret. But it will be soon.



All images from Philip Treacy.  Hope all readers celebrating Thanksgiving this week have a lovely day!

Sunday, July 14, 2019

Strawberry Picking with Susannah Hunter

I have wanted a Susannah Hunter leather appliqué bag for some time. (Actually, back in the day I did buy a black overnight bag appliquéd with lilies from Saks, but returned it).

A happy convergence of events led me to one in June: My birthday (and the possibility of a gift from my family), my remembered fondness for picking strawberries every June in Prince Edward Island with my grandmother to make jam, and Susannah's summer sale.

Et voilà my new strawberry bag. It makes me berry, berry happy.

Tennis Dresses Wimbledon Women's and Men's Final 2019: Frills, Flounces, and Heritage Lace


It's not easy to wear frills, flounces, and heritage-y lace channels. One runs the risk of either dressing too "little girl" or "grandma." I am an absolute proponent of wearing what one wants; it just needs to suit the wearer (and if they love it, grand!).

That said, I thought that Pippa Middleton and Mirka Federer made some statement-y choices for the women's and men's Wimbledon finals, respectively.




Pippa wore an Anna Mason London dress, customized in Liberty blue. It has fluttery sleeves and flouncy tiers. At first glance I thought Pippa had ordered a mini version, which I would not have liked, but the longer versions balances the sleeves, I think.



Today Mirka is in a very pale floral Zimmermann dress, which has the potentially Grandma lace channels, and fluttery sleeves a well. But I think she's channeling more vintage eccentric, which works on this hot summer day. It was shown with tennis shoes, above. I wonder if that's why she selected it . . .