Saturday, February 6, 2016

Miss Cavendish Meets Ace & Jig for Selvedge Magazine

It was so much fun to meet and chat via email with Jenna and Cary of Ace & Jig for my latest story in Selvedge Magazine.

These Brooklyn-based designers are smart, warm, and wonderfully obsessed with textiles--both researching them and creating their own woven fabrics.

In January they mounted a larger-than-life installation of their weaving at Liberty of London, where the looms and woven cloth functioned as "walls" for their boutique. In this article they talk about their design heritage, and remember their grandmothers' influence fondly.

My story is in the March/April millinery issue, and to mark the occasion, the contributors' page features authors in their hats. I'm at the bottom, in my favourite Eric Javits brim.

Thursday, December 10, 2015

Couture Crochet in Selvedge Magazine

 I'm delighted to share my forthcoming story for Selvedge Magazine on the couture crochet of designers Katie Jones (London) and Helen Rödel (Brazil). 

It will appear in the Jan/Feb issue, with a "carnival" theme. (I love the cover.)

Wednesday, October 21, 2015

Everything's Coming Up (Simone) Rocha

My story on Irish designer Simone Rocha has just been published in the "migrations" issue of London's lovely Selvedge Magazine.

Coincidentally, Rocha is one of the first wave of designers that Nordstrom creative director Olivia Kim selected to be part of her "Space" project, a small in-store shop that showcases up-and-coming designers as well as those not currently represented by Nordstrom.

See here if interested in browsing "Space" online for a closer look at some of Rocha's designs (NB: I am not in any way affiilated with the shop).

Monday, October 12, 2015

On Susannah Hunter, Stella McCartney, and Irises (Apfel and Flowers)

Last night I watched Iris, the documentary about Iris Apfel, who not only has an extraordinary collection of clothing and jewelry, but an extensive background in designing and manufacturing textiles. She specialized in seventeenth-century reproductions (swoon!).

This now 93-year old "geriatric ingenue," as she calls herself, has a line of accessories with HSN, based on her own vintage pieces. A couple of years ago Iris (unwittingly, I believe) made a bejeweled toucan brooch based on one she'd purchased at a flea market without realizing that its creator was Hanna Bernhard, a contemporary jewelry designer living in Paris. Iris promptly withdrew the toucan from her HSN collection.

But the Apfel doesn't fall far from the tree.

If the tree is used to make the glossy pages of Vogue, that it.

The night that I watched Iris, I paged through the new Vogue (USA) magazine, the one with lovely Lupita Nyong'o on the cover. In the back Index section (always a favourite for its collages), I saw a black bag with appliqued poppies on it. "Oh, good," I thought--"Susannah Hunter's made it into American Vogue."

Susannah Hunter, as gentle readers probably know, makes bags that are embellished with leather appliqued flowers. I bought one, many years back, when Saks sold them. (I actually returned it, because the leather on that model, anyway, was the crackly kind, and not to my taste.) Here are some of her poppy bags:

But when I looked at the Index credits, I saw that the bag was not by Susannah Hunter but by Stella McCartney for her pre-Spring/Summer 2016 collection. Here it is in context:

Is Stella's an homage? Does Susannah have TM rights for being the only designer to applique poppies and other flowers on leather bags? I don't know. 

But I do have a suggestion to round out Iris Apfel's bag collection:

By Susannah Hunter, of course.

Thursday, July 9, 2015

Moving Up with the Middletons: It's Pippa, the Pearly Queen

In this week's episode of Moving Up with the Middletons, Pippa, the comely auntie, earns a title.

She's neither a duchess like her sister, nor a princess like her niece, but her dress at Charlotte's christening confirms that Pippa Middleton is the new Pearly Queen.

But wait! Don't pearly queens and kings dress in black that's been embellished from head to hem with hundreds, sometimes thousands, of pearl shell buttons?

Of course, but if we look at Pippa's beautifully elegant and flattering Emilia Wickfield cream dress, we can see that its texture resembles (from my vantage point, anyway) strings of pearls.

And if we recall the bridesmaid's dress that Pippa wore to her sister's wedding, its only embellishment was a crisp row of covered buttons down the back, that looked, from a distance, like pearls.

So if that isn't enough to crown Pippa as the Pearly Queen, I don't know what is.

In other Moving Up with the Middleton news, brother James runs a thriving socks business--no; wait--he makes marshmallows--it's another brother who designs the socks. And in this lovely Mario Testino family photo, James just might be the only adult not sharing a full-on toothy smile because he's sneaking one of his own Boomfs.

Saturday, June 27, 2015

Separated at Birth? Canada's Soccer Coach and the Sartorialist

Did anyone else notice how much John Herdman, Canada's (British) soccer coach, resembles Scott Schuman, the Sartorialist?

Before the game (Canada vs. England), my middle daughter attempted to make bread pudding for the first time. It's a favourite on the Canadian side of our family, and reminds me of my Scottish roots. The pudding succeeded beautifully, even though we didn't have any whisky to add to the sauce.

Our team, alas, didn't succeed in making it through to the next round. I don't have any consolation whisky for them, either, but if I did, it would be Glenfiddich, neat, another Scottish delicacy.

Tuesday, May 19, 2015

Mad Men: Don's "The Real Thing"

I haven't watched the men and women of Mad Ave. for a couple of seasons, but I did want to find out how the series would end, so I read stories with spoilers. This post will contain spoilers too, if there's anything else to give away.

The stories I've read have focused on the tension between fiction and reality: how bold and clever and somewhat disconcerting it is to credit a fictional character for creating Coke's iconic slogan.

But I think that Don Draper is actually the perfect person to coin the phrase "It's the Real Thing."

This fall, you see, I taught a class on literary hoaxes, where we analyzed how Jimmy Gatz uses clothing to fabricate his new identity, Jay Gatsby; how "Clark Rockefeller," a character in Walter Kirn's literary non-fiction adopted an air of privilege to scam the author; how, in a Neil LaBute play, an art project is disguised as a mutual love affair.

Don Draper would have fit right in with these characters, he who stole another man's identity, who pretended (well, sort of) to be a faithful husband, who went through some motions of being an engaged father, though his mind was elsewhere.

As an ad man, Don lives in a world of creating and selling desire and fantasy. "It's the real thing" is a particular advertising triumph because it alludes to certainties without ever pinning them down. What is "it"? What is the "thing"? We don't know, but the language seems to reassure us that we do.

The slogan reminds me of Don, who has lived a false life since he was in the war; he is not the "real thing" but a poseur; an identity thief.  And, isn't that the purpose of advertising--to convince an audience, a client that some-thing is the "real thing" so that they crave it?

For Don Draper, the individual and the advertising man, then, the "real thing" is the fictional thing--the thing that will make our lives better if only can attain or achieve or know it.

So I read Don's spiritual awakening at a meditation retreat on California not as a personal breakthrough, but a professional one.  Like Edith Wharton's wonderfully conniving heroine Undine Spragg, who ends her novel with all cogs in her mind turning at full tilt, Don has brilliantly co-opted his "genuine" spiritual epiphany into businessspeak.

And, because that choice of adopting advertising language over sincere conversations is indicative of Don throughout the series, the show ends perfectly, with Draper mining his life for a pitch. The real thing--Draper's happy ending--is just another ad.