I am interested in why people choose the clothes they do.
We all have to get dressed, so even those who profess no interest in clothing, fashion or style make decisions about their wardrobe.
I have long suspected that my penchant for early 1970s styles might be due to the influence of my eldest sister on my childhood.
Belinda is nine years older than me, and I have clear memories of many of her outfits from her late teenage years; the maxi dresses, floppy hats and chokers, the lurex and platform shoes, lace-up knee-high boots, cheesecloth wraparound maxis and floral print mini skirts, and an infamously pungent afghan coat.
She was very fashionable, she went up to London on the train to shop in Biba and Kensington market, and I longed to be old enough to do the same.
She was also quite bolshie and challenging, the rebel of the family, which gave her added cachet. (I think we were all a bit scared of her.)
Fur and lurex; I was too young for them in the early Seventies, but now I can wear what I like.
And forty years on, I like to wear this.
1970s Emreco lurex sweater, bangles, Pierre Cardin silk scarf and ankle boots - charity shopped
1970s Atlantic lurex maxi skirt - Ebay
Faux fur jacket - gift
I've been brewing a post about all this for a while, but a couple of things have shifted the subject to the front of my mind.
My darling friend Connie and I had an entertaining e-conversation about our early fashion influences (her babysitters, my sister).
And I found this 1970s gold lurex sweater in a charity shop last week...
on the same rail as this...
with a label which made me a little misty-eyed;
Lee Bender's designs for her Bus Stop label are much sought-after these days; the brand existed from 1969-79, and provided cheap fast fashion for trendy young women who didn't want to shop in the same stores as their mothers.
Fab Seventies knitwear.
Oddly enough, in a different charity shop but on the same day, I also found this;
so quintessentially early 70s, it hurts!
(It hurts even more that neither the Bus Stop skinny lurex cardigan nor the blouse fit me, but hopefully some slimline 1970s-loving chick will snap them up on Ebay.)
In the small country town where I was born and grew up, there were two shops selling clothes.
One was also a old-fashioned haberdashers, and sold clothing my mum would have worn, had she ever bought anything from a real shop and not from jumble sales. She had absolutely no interest in clothes, and was rather scathing about any woman done up like a fashion plate, believing that a concern for dressing well was a sign of being dim-witted and superficial.
The other shop was the wonderfully named Peekaboutique. It appeared to my 7 or 8 year old self, nose pressed longingly to the window, a treasure trove of everything I couldn't have (and my big sister could); velvet, chiffon, sparkle, fur, dramatic sleeves, flares, high heels, fabulous prints and rich colours.
Fashion. Cool.
Oh to be a Sarah Moon doe-eyed darling, all Deco-inspired chic and soft decadence.
Yeah, that never happened...
So when you see me wafting about in a 1970s maxi, sighing over a great print or squeaking at lurex...
or acquiring yet another faux fur...
just blame my childhood.
You can take the girl out of the Seventies, but...
I'm joining Patti's Visible Monday, fashionably late (rather like my style choices).
(PS. I'm far too idle to link to all the sources of the photos I've used, but I am indebted to Miss Peelpants' blog, a treasure trove of wonderful vintage photos and style.)
xxx
Belinda is nine years older than me, and I have clear memories of many of her outfits from her late teenage years; the maxi dresses, floppy hats and chokers, the lurex and platform shoes, lace-up knee-high boots, cheesecloth wraparound maxis and floral print mini skirts, and an infamously pungent afghan coat.
She was very fashionable, she went up to London on the train to shop in Biba and Kensington market, and I longed to be old enough to do the same.
She was also quite bolshie and challenging, the rebel of the family, which gave her added cachet. (I think we were all a bit scared of her.)
Fur and lurex; I was too young for them in the early Seventies, but now I can wear what I like.
And forty years on, I like to wear this.
1970s Emreco lurex sweater, bangles, Pierre Cardin silk scarf and ankle boots - charity shopped
1970s Atlantic lurex maxi skirt - Ebay
Faux fur jacket - gift
I've been brewing a post about all this for a while, but a couple of things have shifted the subject to the front of my mind.
My darling friend Connie and I had an entertaining e-conversation about our early fashion influences (her babysitters, my sister).
And I found this 1970s gold lurex sweater in a charity shop last week...
with a label which made me a little misty-eyed;
Lee Bender's designs for her Bus Stop label are much sought-after these days; the brand existed from 1969-79, and provided cheap fast fashion for trendy young women who didn't want to shop in the same stores as their mothers.
Fab Seventies knitwear.
Oddly enough, in a different charity shop but on the same day, I also found this;
so quintessentially early 70s, it hurts!
(It hurts even more that neither the Bus Stop skinny lurex cardigan nor the blouse fit me, but hopefully some slimline 1970s-loving chick will snap them up on Ebay.)
One was also a old-fashioned haberdashers, and sold clothing my mum would have worn, had she ever bought anything from a real shop and not from jumble sales. She had absolutely no interest in clothes, and was rather scathing about any woman done up like a fashion plate, believing that a concern for dressing well was a sign of being dim-witted and superficial.
The other shop was the wonderfully named Peekaboutique. It appeared to my 7 or 8 year old self, nose pressed longingly to the window, a treasure trove of everything I couldn't have (and my big sister could); velvet, chiffon, sparkle, fur, dramatic sleeves, flares, high heels, fabulous prints and rich colours.
Fashion. Cool.
Oh to be a Sarah Moon doe-eyed darling, all Deco-inspired chic and soft decadence.
Yeah, that never happened...
So when you see me wafting about in a 1970s maxi, sighing over a great print or squeaking at lurex...
or acquiring yet another faux fur...
just blame my childhood.
You can take the girl out of the Seventies, but...
I'm joining Patti's Visible Monday, fashionably late (rather like my style choices).
(PS. I'm far too idle to link to all the sources of the photos I've used, but I am indebted to Miss Peelpants' blog, a treasure trove of wonderful vintage photos and style.)
xxx
