Governess chic and Huishan Zhang

Whenever I browse through a magazine, a dark dress with a white collar with or without a bow is sure to catch my attention.

In some places I've called it "governess chic"; maybe it's also schoolgirl chic (think of la petite Madeline).

Whatever its name, I love the clean lines, the aura of uniform. (Maybe it's a nod to my own boarding school dress?)

Paging through British Vogue last night at my bookstore, I paused upon and pondered this photo.

It's kind of Hitchcock heroine and completely captivating.  No white collar, but no matter.  The bow more than makes up for it.

The dress is by Chinese designer Huishan Zhang (more about him here).

Tellingly, perhaps, the dress was not shown on the runway with the bow:

It also looks more fitted in the photo.  The magic of a Vogue stylist? She's a quick study.

Strapless with Shirt: Does the Look Hold Up?

I've been obsessing for the past few days about strapless dresses worn over shirts, especially since I misplaced the magazine where I recently saw an image that inspired me. (It was buried under a pile of novels. Imagine.)

While I was searching for the magazine, I tried out a couple of looks to see if I could extend the life of my strapless dresses into the fall and into the classroom.

One combination was a crisp blue gingham shirt with a cream dress heavily embroidered with blue filigree. I felt like I should be holding some chilled mugs of St. Pauli Girl.  So no it was to Oktoberfest.

Another combination was a bright watercolour-y floral silk dress over a Liberty of London pink rosebud-print shirt.  It was bold and wild, but not in a gorgeous Issie/Daphne manner.

But the above look (east corner) seems "just right" to me.  Lovely menswear checks with a feminine silhouette.  Would gentle readers give this--or somesuch version--a try on?

Manolo, Madewell, and the Day's Eye

En route to Matilda The Musical, my daughter and I stopped in to visit the Manolo Blahnik boutique opposite MOMA's Rain Room. (The lines!)

There were no lines for Manolo's shop, though, which is a long, slender space, much like the feet he fits in his gorgeously detailed, but frustratingly narrow designs. As I looked at each desirable shoe, I felt it was made for a flower fairy, with feet like a dainty willow leaf, not a Canadian maple.

And there was much "alas-ing" and wringing of hands, because the daisy boots above would have looked smashing with my yellow eyelet Madewell shift. 

"Daisy" derives from "the day's eye," or the sun, and my Madewell is the sunniest of colors, but with a welcome hint of acid to make it less sweet. 

It is not, however, Styledwell in this stock photo, as is an ongoing problem with this brand. I don't add a belt to my dress, which gives a cleaner line (it has a defined waist), and wouldn't select this rugged leather if accessorizing.

It also struck me chez Manolo that many of his shoes seemed to have a le cirque theme--scallops, vibrant color combinations--that were perfect for a Matilda attendee, with its acrobat and escapologist characters.

While it might take some acrobatics to fit comfortably into a Manolo shoe, I can still enjoy them from the orchestra level.

The Plaiddums Family at the Met Ball

 It wasn't Wednesday, so Christina Ricci ditched her goth-girl black for some glorious plaid (Vivienne Westwood tartan) at the Costume Institute ball last night.







And Sarah Jessica Parker revealed her Louis Vuitton tartan boots that complement her lacy knickers and outrageously embellished Philip Treacy mohawk.

These were two of my favourite looks that incorporated not only the spirit, but the fabrics of punk.

Never Mind the Bollocks; Here's the Met Ball!

So the Sex Pistols used a comma instead of a semi colon there; permit me a bit of prim with my punk.

I am getting ready to watch the arrivals to the Met Ball (or the Costume Institute ball) on MetMedia here. And one eye is on my 7-year-old son, who needs this computer to finish a PowerPoint on Narwal whales for tomorrow.  Oh dear.  At least they have a spiky horn, which makes them the original punk whales.

A little research turned up the above photo from the Met exhibit, which, everyone will know, features the safety-pin that a youthfully ripe Elizabeth Hurley made famous.  But is it punk?  I'm not sure that a safety pin (or a dozen) immediately marks a garment as such. 

Ahh; I hear the crowd and hosts Hilary Rhoda and Billy Norwich; do excuse me while I'm off to the Ball.

God Save the Preen: Dressing for the Met Ball

I've been reading with bemusement about frustrated fashionable ladies (along with a fashion writer or two) who cannot fathom how to dress for tomorrow's Costume Institute Ball at the Met: Punk: Chaos to Couture.

In a NYT article linked above, Cameron Silver, owner of the LA-based vintage shop Decades, said: “Not that many women want to look like Nancy Spungen.”

For the record, Nancy Spungen had her sartorial limits too.  In a scene from the film Sid and Nancy, she shoves on Sid's mother's clothes and storms out of the house after a violent confrontation.  When she sees her image reflected in a window, she gazes upon herself in horror and shrieks, "AGGHH!!  Siiid!  I look like F*$#^@% Stevie Nicks in hippie clothes!"

But back to the Met.  If I were going, I'd wear the Alexander McQueen confection above.  I'd ask Philip Treacy to make me a headpiece, perhaps something resembling a crown fashioned from wire and royal blue silk, which I'd wear atop my bird's-nest-inspired topknot. Easy peasy, right?

And just a note about the title of this post: probably all my gentle readers know that it refers to the 1977 song "God Save the Queen," screeched by the Sex Pistols during the year of Queen Elizabeth's silver jubilee.

Maybe my title's a tad irreverent, but someone's gotta celebrate the "pun" in "punk."

See you after the ball.

Goddess Dressing

When I moved to the States in 1990, Mr. C (who was then just Mr.) told me about the J Crew catalogue, which was a hit with his New York-y set on the east coast. I remember being quite underwhelmed by the presentation of the catalogue, which didn't feature photos of models in clothing, just rather uninspired pictures of individual garments.

Nevertheless, I bought three items: a flax linen pencil skirt (with a curious elastic waist?  Hello 1990.); a matching tailored blazer; and a flax linen goddess dress--an almost-floor length sleeveless wrap dress with a deep V and looong ties that could wrap forever for a Greek goddess effect.

I wore the dress a couple of times and then tucked it away for, oh 21 years.

This morning I was rummaging around in my closet and found it (along with the dress I wore on my first date with Mr.[not-yet-C]) and felt it might be perfect for this humid day.  So goddess dress it is. And very sparkly flat sandals.  And hair up. Am focusing on floating too (I know not how a goddess goes.).

Other favourite goddess dresses are anything from the early collections of Romeo Gigli, whose clothes are featured throughout this post.

That Magical Red Dress

The "Stop Staring!" red dress by Billion Dollar Baby continues its TV dominance as Voice contestant Sasha Allen wows the crowd with her singing AND her chic.

That sounded very press-release-y, which this post is not, but something about That Red Dress makes people gush with excitement.

We first saw it when Nigella wore it in promos for her new cooking competition (looking unsettling like Liz Hurley in this magazine shot):

And more like herself here:

The dress fits women with curves, which is why I'd say it failed when New Girl Zooey Deschanel wore it:

It comes in other colors, like pink and elegant navy, but red is the showstopper:

S'trooth, Chartreuse

Well, yes I am copyediting a Shakespeare play, as if the antiquated term in the post title didn't give it away already.

But more than a means of showing off, it captures my current feelings for the colour chartreuse.  The other day I was browsing through the massive book The Editor's Eye and found a black-and-white photo of a voluminous dress (from the back) that I loved because of how the photo highlighted the drape of the fabric.

One of my long-term goals is to make dresses--not to wear, but to hang on my walls--and the dress in this photo would be a good candidate.  It reminded me of a dress from a Vogue magazine published in what I believe to be the early 90s--the photo was an intense close-up of some beautifully draped chartreuse fabric that was, if I recall, a Grecian-inspired dress.  As I didn't keep a clippings folder back in the day, the photo remains in my memory, and I mean to locate it, with a good long library visit one week.

Chartreuse is one of those colours that's difficult to wear: the shade has to be Just Right for one's skin else we look frightfully sallow.  But when it's on, it's on.  This dress by John Galliano worn by Nicole Kidman is not my favourite, but it's received lots of critical acclaim.

However, this dress by Jason Wu, worn with these ultra violet shoes, is my cup of tea.  And the dress in the 1961 Bert Stern photo, far above, just calls out for a cocktail.  A martini, perhaps?  S'trooth, not shaken?

Reeling from the Oscars

Yes, the Oscars had me reeling last night. 

Not because of the host's sexist production number--that inspired a different reaction--but because of Halle Berry's beautiful dress that, to me, recalled sparkly strips of film from a reel.

Clever without being self-conscious or perhaps even intentional, the Versace dress nonetheless paid homage to film-making.

Don't Call Me Alaia

Well, actually I'd be delighted if Mr. Alaia did make me a piece.  His clothes can do no wrong, in my view. They are clean, graceful, elegant, edgy, and show off a woman's shape like nothing else can.

So please, Mr. A., don't make me Alaia by changing your strategy.  (Yes, there's a pun in there, just use your Noo Yawk accent to find it.) 

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

Wedding Jackets

Twenty-one years ago this evening I married Mr. C. 

It was the simplest of weddings at the stone chapel of the university where we were both working on our PhDs--no flowers, no attendants, no guest list--just as I wanted.

And definitely no proper wedding dress.  That just isn't me (I didn't even look for a bridal shop), though I did want a new dress. 

The one I loved, which was also the only one I liked, was a navy Chanel dress with a fitted bodice, Norma Kamali-style retro-wide straps via Paris chic, double-breasted gold CC buttons and a short pouf skirt.

It was not unlike the dress on the left (weeps):

It was bloody awesome, but as I had neither plastic nor parents, nor any possibility of raising the funds as a graduate student away from her home country, the dress remained on the rail.  And I redirected my shopping focus into my closet.

For my wedding I wore a black fitted chauffeur's jacket by WilliWear, designed by Willi Smith, black stockings, and black heels.  I must have bought it, in Canada, during Fall 1986. 

This is Willi:

Here's an excerpt from a review of that collection in the Pittsburgh Press, by Mariann Caprino.

It was called Totally Serious, and I must have been too, twenty-one years ago, with a healthy dose of humour on the side, because here we are.  And the jacket is still in my closet too.

Carven a Turkey

Monday is Canadian Thanksgiving, and as I am living in the United States, I won't be celebrating till November (though I do plan to wear my red jeans to class).

Still, I couldn't help but indulge in a little holiday wordplay when I saw this beautiful dress by Carven in the New York Times.

See the basting on that bird?

I absolutely adore watching a dress, a headpiece, a pair of shoes take shape, from sketch to finished version.  Sometimes the moments just before the piece is complete can be scary and details to be added can be seemingly random (see Marc Jacobs and Louis Vuitton, the film), but the process, even when ostensibly fly-by-night, is fascinating.

These photos illustrate the Carven dress, with what I'm calling its Voysey-esque cut-out on the bodice, as it takes form.

It begins in light muslin, then moves to a darker tulle.

And in the spirit of Carven up a Thanksgiving turkey, I can only ask, regarding the dress:

Would you like white or dark?

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.