Captain (Crochet) Hook

I just came across this crocheted square on Pinterest and was bedazzled by the pure simple genius and impact of the design:


Okay it's not vintage, but crochet being one of the flagship uniforms of hippiedom I'm sure vintage lovers can relate. I'm so overwhelmed by the juxtaposition of the ultimate homely, comforting craft with the stark intimidation of the Skull & Crossbones design that I hardly know what to think, except that there's no more avoiding it - I'm going to have to learn to crochet.

(You can find more designs in a similar theme over at Repeat Crafter Me, the blog of the creative soul responsible for this brilliant little pirate yarn.)

Lobster dressing, ma'am?

"Lobster" - such a pleasingly absurd word, it's worthy of Rowan Atkinson. At various times throughout the 20th Century the lobster motif has waved its printed claws in boutique windows from main street to salon - its dual evocations of the ocean (as native habitat) and luxury (ending its life as fine cuisine) appealing both to the consumer's inner child clamouring for a trip to the seaside, and her adult princess's innate sense of entitlement to privilege.

On the street today you'll see lobster prints surfacing again. The lobster is a graphically munificent creature - generally rendered in head-turning bright orange or red, it lends itself to being represented either straight or gracefully curved, beautiful in intricate detail but immediately recognisable even at its most stylized. ModCloth offers this nice contemporary example:


As a vintage Lobster maven, finding vast oceans to trawl, you may wish to cast your own nets. Or you may prefer to employ the help of a stylist who appears naturally equipped to share your vision:


But don't send all your friends to the same guy. How embarrassing to find, when you head out feeling entirely unique to meet up with the girls at the pier, that everyone else has been given the same style advice. Plus your Dad insists on coming along as chaperon.


When it comes to vintage Lobster dressing, my considered advice is to take it slowly, ease into it. Accessories are a painless place to start - how about beginning with a wonderful Art Deco Lucite lobster brooch or Bakelite belt buckle?


Alternate these for a week or two - grow comfortable in Lobster. You'll soon be ready to introduce the initial area of textile . . . perhaps an apron?


Following this, the real fun begins. By now your friends, family and co-workers should have run out of breathtakingly witty crustacean allusions, leaving you free to burst forth in dazzling Lobster glory. Take it to the pool party and keep your eyes open . . . if you see a cutie whose Catalina trunks match your 1940s Sweethearts in Swimsuits 2-piece, he might be "the one"!


Don't forget to take a nifty little appliqued cover-up to pop on after your swim . . .


. . . or a plain blouse with this wonderful 1940s Horrockses skirt would work just as well.


Now you're ready to conquer the world in head-to-toe arthropod style! Whether your preference be for a single, striking lobster as on this mid-century sun dress by Ann Jeffres of Miami Beach (love love love the colourful ribbons forming both decoration and single shoulder strap) . . .


. . . or a repeating pattern which may have the odd picnicker mistaking you for a tablecloth . . .



. . . you honestly can't go wrong. Lobster dresses are fabulous. They are of royal lineage. Below is the proto-lobster-dress . . . a 1937 collaboration between the visionary couturier Elsa Schiaparelli and surrealist superman Salvador Dali.


Interestingly, this original fashion plate sketch envisaged more of a sun dress, ideal for sauntering romantically along the tide line and stepping daintily on octopi.


A scenario which appealed to Wallis Simpson, pictured wearing the dress in this Cecil Beaton photograph, waiting patiently by a clump of seaweed for the tide to come back in as she rather fancies some braised octopus.


This post is respectfully dedicated to the beloved littlebig sister of Archimedes, celebrated and occasionally misunderstood down the ages for her proclamation "give me a piece of string long enough and a sausage around which to tie it, and I will move the yabbies* of the world".

*it's a little Australian freshwater lobstery creature :)

Madame Weigel Presents

It's the first evening of the school holidays, with frogs singing from shadowy places in the waterlogged garden. My small industrious daughters have both chosen to start writing (Miss 6 - a story and Miss 7 - a book) so I shall write a little too.


Ephemera, of course, endears itself simply by the courage of its continued existence - but how seldom do we see a pattern company as a major sponsor of an important theatrical production?

Madame Weigel's was Australia's foremost producer of paper patterns. I love this poster especially because the first dress I ever attempted to make was from a vintage-even-then Madame Weigel's pattern from the early 1950s. I was about seventeen, with two years proud ownership of a Vactric sewing machine under my belt. I still have (and use) that machine - it is slightly older than I am and only performs one stitch now, a trusted friend which I wouldn't exchange for anything. I also still have that first dressmaking project, patiently waiting for a zipper to be sewn in at the side. There's no point in rushing these things.

The poster I believe dates to the summer pantomime season of 1913/14. The J C Williamson company would open an extravaganza in Melbourne for the Christmas holidays, and bring it up to Sydney for Easter, also undertaking extensive tours of New Zealand.

My parents owned an antique shop when I was young - not one of today's sterile shrines to French polish, but a beloved old building which they transformed from the original lending library/head shop they took over to a fossicker's paradise brimming with unbelievable treasures. When the J C Williamson company finally reached the end of its run in 1976, my parents arrived home from auction one evening bearing cartons spilling over with opulent costumes (thus assuring my primary school of years of extravagantly outfitted school plays).

So I love this poster for several reasons. The past is an enchanted land.

A Couple of Kinks in 60's Fashion

For weeks now I've been searching for just the right words to accompany the dreamy improbability of these mid-60s images. But I think after all they can do most of the talking for themselves.

The Kinks' drummer Mick Avory, endearingly wooden and the most ham-handed of dandies, models for Carnaby Street's John Stephen:





(Seen here with singer Kiki Dee.)


And teenage lead guitarist Dave Davies, adapting to the singular lack of props with leonine grace, notches up this Terylene campaign on his tally of adventures - sartorial and otherwise - in Swinging London. You could just tell that Dave would spend the remainder of the sixties not chatting up dollybirds, but assessing their outfits for Terylene content (doesn't it make you want to rush out and buy something in Terylene?)




Notice the intriguing ghostliness of his face in the middle image. I'm sad that the last picture had been cropped of text, and have also seen an ad from this series featuring a member of The Hollies. (Do you know of others? I'd adore to see them!)

Make It Sew

I stumbled upon this unquestionably wonderful piece of embroidery recently - it was captioned, quite rightly, "Set Phasers on Stunning" - and fell to romanticising about people clever enough, and passionate enough, to pay homage to Star Trek in textile form. I didn't go down the "why Carmen Miranda headdresses" path though, for who am I to question art?

Okay so in villa Silver Visions, Thursday nights are inviolate bastions of Next Generation viewing. If one of us has to be out that night, they expect a scene-by-scene recount the next morning. We'll fondly discuss plot points over the intervening week, but it kind of stops there. I've never considered undertaking a Star Trek craft project, and I think I can say that my true love hasn't either (though maybe he could write a song about them). But I'm so glad that there are people out there who felt compelled to share the joy, and picked up a needle - be it sewing, tapestry or knitting....

A pair of spocks!

Phaser embroidery (love the sound effect)

I admit that the quilts scare me a little, mostly because of the hours/days/weeks/months of work which must go into them (which is why all quilts intimidate me) - also because I don't think I'd necessarily sleep that well beneath any Enterprise personnel. But I do love this threadwork giving the effect of transporter beams....


And so, on to the Next Generation:

cross-stitch

charming simplicity - brilliant colour choice

And my personal favourite....

Perfect!

Bad hair day in Ponyville

I'm sure it's occurred to many of you that manufacturing toys with long, flowing hair which looks magnificent in retail packaging, but approaches haystack status after a few days of enthusiastic play, is kind neither to young children nor their families ("Mummy, her hair looks yucky, please fix it").  And it's not a simple matter of brushing.  Toys with long hair require particular and focused attention . . . which isn't as bad as it sounds. I found that after you set up and get into the groove of detangling, it's quite therapeutic.

Gather together a ruffianly assortment of ponies.  I did my daughters' three worst contenders the other day, which is what inspired me to share this - I only wish I'd photographed those three before I started, because they looked SO much worse than the ones next in line for treatment.  But these will give you some idea.  Matted and rough, with hair going in every direction except straight down.  Well loved.  But looking as if they've stumbled out of a nightclub at dawn.

 You don't need much to fix them up though - 

• just some water

• and a nice soft towel
• a bowl or dish 
• a spoon
• a measuring cup (I used a 1/2 cup measure, which is good for quite a few ponies - a tablespoon would do if you only have one or two to treat)
• a comb - preferably a nylon comb with slightly flexible teeth, rather than a harsh rigid plastic one
• fabric conditioner/softener

Years ago I used to buy a Green Apple fragranced version which blissed me out every time I inhaled.  I can't get that where I live now, so a generic lavender scented version sufficed quite pleasantly.  Why fabric conditioner and not hair conditioner?  Well, hair conditioner is formulated to suit organic human hair, but most toys have synthetic hair strands, to which fabric conditioner is better suited. 

 

• oh, and fingers.  Patient fingers.

Things you may possibly need at the end of the process:

• a kettle or electric jug

 

• a reasonable amount of spatial awareness

Okay, now to get started!

Measure equal amounts of water (plain tap water is fine) and fabric conditioner.  Pour each into a bowl or small dish.  Stir for a few moments to blend.

Now take your first candidate.  Examine the pony's hair and remove any plaits, elastic bands, sticks, burrs . . . whatever you might find in there.  Decide whether you prefer to begin at the mane or the tail, and immerse that part gently in your conditioner mixture.  Be careful not to dunk the whole head (or rump) - it's best not to give liquid a chance to enter the body of the toy.  You can use your fingers to work the conditioner up to the roots of the hair.  Hold the pony over the bowl and squeeze the hair gently to remove excess.

Now take the comb and settle in to a comfortable seat, with the towel folded in your lap.  You can lay the pony on the towel or hold it above it in case of drips - either way, your clothes/furnishings are protected.

If the hair is only a little scruffy, you may be able to work the comb through it.  Begin at the ends, very gently.  If you hit a snag, stop.  Don't try to pull the comb through - you could end up removing an entire plug of hair or at least a strand or two.  Your children will notice.  Trust me on this.

If the hair is actually in a revolting clump though (like Glitter Glide's was), the only method to use is to separate the hair a few strands at a time, by hand.  Start as close to the source of an edge strand as your fingers can go, and gently work the strand free from the mass.  Although this sounds tedious it's actually pretty satisfying, and not too time-consuming - the worst mane took me only ten minutes to detangle using this technique. 

 After this the hair will look untangled, but still kind of wild.

And what a pleasure it is to gently comb it smooth.  Again, be sure not to tug.  If you've missed a little knot, work it out with your fingers and then run the comb through again.

Now repeat the process for the tail.

The hair is now ready to be rinsed under running water.  Take the towel with you and leave it near the tap, you can gently wrap the mane and tail in a layer of towel and squeeze out excess water, then dry any water on the body of the pony.  I find it best not to rinse the conditioner mix out too thoroughly - a little residue helps to keep some weight and smoothness.  Don't rub the hair dry, unless you're motivated by a burning desire to untangle it again any time soon.

 Rinse the comb as well to remove conditioner, then comb through the mane and tail so that they flow in the direction you want.  I combed the ends up around one finger, to add a little curl.  You could set them on a curler if you want a ringlet effect.  Now the pony can be set aside to dry - it won't take too long - and you can start on the next one.

Brush or comb the hair out when dry - or give your child that satisfying job - not since Marcia Brady took poor awkward Molly under her wing has a makeover been greeted with greater acclaim in our house!

Regarding the kettle - this is for hair which needs that touch of extra help.  Even after conditioning, detangling and rinsing, little Rainbow Dash here still looked slightly untidy.  I'd read that plastic hair can be tamed with boiling water, and decided to risk putting it to the test.  You'll only need a very small amount of water, and the aforementioned spatial awareness.  Seriously, you don't want to lose concentration here - one hand is going to be close to boiling water.  Lay the pony in your kitchen sink - heatproof, moisture proof - and carefully trickle water from the kettle over her hair for a few seconds.  If you're holding on to the toy, be careful to keep your hands above the area where the water is aimed.  Blot again, comb again - you should find the hair a little more malleable now, while it's still hot.  I was able to make her mane curl up around my finger so she looked "finished".  (And of course please make sure that no child comes near the boiling kettle or heated water.)  

Also, Thistle Whistle's tail had been braided for some months and held the kinks even after conditioning and combing.  The boiling water treatment relaxed the fibres - I repeated it several times for her, combing the tail straight each time, and eventually barely a ripple remained. Looking good, ponies.