J.B. Taylor

Desk(top) Set.

Hello, you! I'm sorry it's been a while, but hopefully you'll forgive me when I launch the website I've been developing for the past year (more to be revealed soon)! As a gift to you for my absence, and also in an attempt to organize my ODC-worthy desktop of infinite inspiration folders, I've decided to share/purge some recent visual finds. Enjoy!

Above: 19th century Northern School watercolor still life spotted in an auction catalog.

Jerry Hall backstage, shot by François Moyal , Paris, c.1970.

Celluloid cabana awning sunglasses by Schiaparelli, c.1957, evoking happy childhood memories of days spent by the pool at the kitschy glam Beverly Hills Hotel, and The Racquet Club in Palm Springs.

"Nautch Dancer" Illustration for Ladies Home Journal by Dan Sweeney, c.1920.

A Southwestern style dollhouse named "El Rancho Reno", built c.1935 by Thomnas Reno of Pittsburgh for his daughter, and restored in the 1970's.

Georgia O'Keeffe painting at Alfred Stieglitz's Summer home in Lake George, NY, c.1918

And for musical inspiration, I've been listening to the mixes on Magic Transistor, which functions like the vintage portable radio of your fantasies. It even simulates the knobs so you can flip stations. They play mellow mixes perfect for when you're working, all curated by various obsessive LP collectors. Today I've been swaying at my desk to John Cale, Hank Williams, Fela Kuti, Bo Diddley, The Cure, Ultravox, rare Bowie, The Supremes,  and on and on . . .

Thank you, Easter bunnies!

Love and organic Cadbury Creme Eggs (a girl can dream),

— J.B.T., Andy & Edie

And if not familiar with what this post title is in reference to . . . watch this unfortunate pop culture artifact.

Photo: Jean-Jacques Bugat, Rue Princesse, c.1966

Ballets Russes (2005)

I'm currently fighting the dreary Wintertime blues out here in our country cottage in NY—missing the California sunshine I grew-up with. So, in desperate need of colorful inspiration, I decided to re-visit the stunning documentary on the Ballets Russes (which you can view streaming here). On a grey and rainy day, like today, it's like a gold gilded treasure chest full of chromatic beauty, not only about dance, but all aspects of passion and creativity.

Above; Prima ballerina Mia Slavenska and a publicity photo of herself, taken in the 1930s. Below; two of Slavenska's characters, displaying her chamelion-like nature as a performer.

It's fabulous to see the original prima ballerinas still sassing it up, most of whom are dancing right on through their octo/nonagenarian years. How great they all look, and how vibrantly their spirits sparkle, is a testament to the grace and character one builds through a life of movement. Having taken years of ballet as a child (fueled by the movie Fame, and an early Chorus Line obsession), I sadly hung up my toe shoes in my late-teens, but watching this doc has reignited my love, and is responsible for my Ballet Beautiful membership. It's also dear to my heart, as it entertained me while recovering from a painful surgery years ago. While stuck in bed, I found it streaming on Netflix, and go absolutely lost in the Technicolor costumes (several designed by Matisse), mind-bogglingly innovative set design (mostly designed by Léon Bakst), and of course, the dancing, which is like watching the most heavenly dream.

Above; A stunning, surrealistic program for the Ballet Russe de Monte Carlo, c.1950s (possibly designed by Dali?). Below; two looks at the adorable Nathalie Krassovska.

The Ballets Russes has long been an inspiration to countless designers and artists throughout the years; designers and artists like Galliano, Anna Sui, and Sarah Sophie Flicker of The Citizens Band, have each taken cues from the deco folkloric styles of the costumes and sets. I'll soon post photos I took during a visit to the magical Dance Museet in Stockholm, where my heart pirouetted like crazy over several original 1920s Ballet Russe costumes.

Above; Salvador Dali's program for the Ballet Russe de Monte Carlo's production of Labyrinth, c.1940-41. Below; the company was home to some of the history's most celebrated dancers, including Nijinsky and Anna Pavlova, as pictured here.

If you'd like to dive deep into the story of the Ballets Russe, I recommend reading this wonderful book about the eccentric Russian impresario, Sergei Diaghilev, director and creator of this legendary company.

Thanks. Merci. Tak. Gracias. Danke. Grazie. Toda. Mahalo . . .

Giving thanks for everything and everybody in our lives today, along with sending strong vibes of abundance to those who are having troubled times. Hoping you have a wonderful, inspiring and warm dinner with family and friends tonight, and please be sure to comment about what you cooked! As for my man & I, we're doing something totally new this year . . . heading off on an orphan's Chinese-themed Thanksgiving date. Organic Peking turkey and sweet potato dumplings at Red Farm in the West Village!

I'm also very thankful for all the devoted subscribers who've put up with my lack of posts this year. I've been building two separate companies, one of which is launching this holiday season (announcements soon!). There are dozens of posts I'm dying to share, and will asap, but in the meantime, if you'd like ot keep up with my up-to-the-min. shenanigans, be sure to follow me on Twitter or Instagram <3

5th Helena Drive.

Like many starry-eyed little girls growing up in Hollywood, my first love was Marilyn.

I'm sure it would be hard for any aesthetically-minded human not to be moved by her innocence, genius, and dreamy aura. I've read many books about her life, each portraying a different mythology . . . but the fact that many of us have our own interpretation of her story, is further testament to her eternally captivating power.

This year marked the 50th anniversary of her death, and though it's blue to think about all the movie magic she had yet to conjure for us, I celebrate her spirit often. She had a wonderfully inquisitive mind, and fabulous taste . . . especially in clothing (simple Pucci pieces for day, Ceil Chapman gowns for evening), books (her Joyce, Hemingway and Whitman-laden library would've impressed any literary snob), and decor (she began collecting antiques in the 1950s, when it was still considered a bohemian hobby).

Her final home on Earth was a little Spanish bungalow in Brentwood, which she was happily  decorating up until the night of her tragically un-intentional OD. She had just returned from a trip to Mexico, where she ordered pieces of custom furniture that would soon be delivered to her beloved abode. While I'm sure most fans would imagine her home to be adorned with crystal chandeliers, white fur cushions, and gold leafed walls, it may surprise some to see that her nest was casual, warm, and completely unpretentious. She was setting up a cozy home, filled with hand-crafted Mexican art, weavings, Navajo pottery, and souvenirs from her travels.

Many of her beloved Mexican pieces were auctioned off years ago by Julien's in Los Angeles, and I've always treasured their catalog from the sale. It says more about this complex woman than any billowing white dress ever will. 1926–1962.

Sending you love and light, MM, wherever you are!

Select photos from top: Marilyn & mandolin by Milton Greene, her sun hat, photo of her festive dining room by Gene Anthony, Polaroid of her modern woven chairs (photog. unknown), the Iron boot was a gift from Clark Gable to MM during the filming of The Misfits in 1961, her portable record player.

Insta-obsessed.

Wishing I could post more often, but my husband & I are currently forming a new company (exciting details to be announced soon), on top of tending to our burgeoning design studio, which is currently a wonderful madhouse due to this feature about our work on Garance Doré! We're burning our candles at both ends, bright, to say the least. 

But if you'd like to keep up with our shenanigans on a more timely basis, you can follow @JB_Taylor on Twitter, or @Mrs_JBT on Instagram, where I post quite often. Here are some of my favorite recent captures . . .

Above, from top: Hand carved wooden camp totem spotted Upstate, moi celebrating my new Karen Walker Summer sunnies, Hydrangeas in our garden (the deer ate them all that night!), rooftop in Brooklyn at sunset, Ali Baba the Pug's usual morning pose, stunning antique embroidered kimonos currently on display at the Putnam History Museum (Cold Spring, NY), channelling The Craft with my witch sister Aviva in our Hobbity garden, Garance Doré enjoying the gorgeously scented rosemary at Hudson Hil's, across the road from our house at Russell Wright's woodland home 'Manitoga' (which Garance lovingly featured on her site) Ali Baba in his basket with his beloved bagel toy, weepy garden blooms, catching fireflies in the yard.

Estelle Ellis.

After reading news of Estelle Ellis Rubinstein's death in WWD last week, I wanted to pay homage to this inspiring, enterprising woman. After working for Popular Science in the 1940s, she went on to publish Seventeen in 1944, which became my bible throughout the '80s (especially when they made Molly Ringwald a cover girl, in her straw cloche). Many of the issues I so treasured are kept in archival sleeves on my bookshelf, along with the fabulous '60s and '70s issues that provide me with endless inspiration. Under the astute eye of editor-in-chief Helen Valentine, the mag hired now-legendary graphic designers when they were just starting out . . . Andy Warhol, Milton Glaser, Seymour Chwast, Ben Shahn, and Sol LeWit are only a few of the artists that contributed type, layouts, and drawings to Seventeen during its golden era, making the early issues all the more collectible. Estelle also launched Charm magazine in the 1950s, which later became Glamour. Here are some of my favorite covers of the mags Estelle created . . .

Sandi Fellman.

When looking through a recent auction catalog of contemporary art, I fell head-over-heels with American photographer Sandi Fellman's 1990 Incantation series . . . each shot a still life-of-sorts, luxurious messes of pattern and textile, with a mysterious David Lynch-ian vibe. I'd love to live in the decadent mood they exude, and hope to have one adorning my wall someday soon. Here are the three I'm especially swooning over . . .

Above: Fellman's Incantation #'s 22, 11, and 6 (each taken in 1990).

Cake Walk.

On June 19th I turned the ripe ol' age of 37. Officially making this the first birthday that has totally freaked me out. I'm not sure why 36 didn't have me hiding under a blankie and pondering self-medication, but a few weeks ago, when I said my new age out loud, it just felt like a clerical error. How can I be this close to 4-0, especially if I still get carded at bars, and my soul sends signals that it's still nineteen. Yet I also know that if I continue to stress about the inevitable, I'll get wrinkles. So, I'm choosing to celebrate my years on Earth with a retrospective of something that makes me happy . . . cake! Here's a timeline of birthday sweets I've scarfed (though sadly no cakes were documented during my punk or goth years, as I was too busy dieting for my wedding to Nick Cave and fantasizing about impending doom to think about anything having to do with birth). My late-90s and most of the 2000s are also absent due to a tragic harddrive theft years ago (hypnotism may be the next thing I try to get over this). Thanks mom & Dad for always singing Happy Birthday to me, even as I rolled my teenage eyes.

Top and above: Stuffing my face at my 1st birthday party c.1976, Woodland Hills, CA (loving the round mauve sunnies and my mum's striped sailor tee). Below: My holy childhood trinity of Mickey, Snoopy, and Hollie Hobby (1977-1979).

Above: Party at McDonald's (which I had to cry and beg my mom to let me have, as she hated for us to eat fast food) c.1980. Below, Left: An ironically tacky pink cake held by high school friends Kelly & Jill, at a '70s themed birthday beer fest (thrown while my parents were out of town, and also in celebration of our friend Pat joining Nirvana), c.1992. Right: Celebrating and pouting through My 18th birthday, N. Hollywood, CA, 1993 (during a Jean Harlow obsessed period).

Above: With stylist Scott Free and designer Pegah Anvarian in my coconut bra and Betty Grable 'do during a luau themed pool party at Chez Brandt, c.1995 (I did feel a little pissed when Gwen Stefani copped this hair/make-up vibe later on). Note the giant glitter paintings of Dorothy's ruby slippers, Boy George, and a Big Top Pee Wee posters adorning the walls of my parent's kitchen.

Above, Left: Family party for my 19th, in our old Valley Village, CA dining room. I'm wearing a Cynthia Rowley denim halter dress, and cherry barrette adorning my Madonna "Rain" video/Edie Sedgwick inspired hair cut. Middle: Brief pink juicy sweatsuit phase after breaking-up with a longtime beau, and pretending all was normal. We went to Casa Vega in Studio City for the first of many birthday flans. Right: Another flan at El Compadre (followed by one of their epic flaming margaritas), Hollywood, c.1998?

Above, Left: Another party at my parents old house on Morrison St. in Valley Village, c.2005 (with what is still one of my favorite cakes . . . Raspberries & Creme from Urth Café). Right: With the lovely Christina Caruso at the legendary Elaine's in NYC (R.I.P.!), c.2010. Below, Left: Plastered on Nigori at a sushi joint in Westchester, c.2012. Below, Right: Blowing out the candle on my most favorite dessert of all time . . . the warm nutella, olive oil & sea salt pizza at Pulino's, NYC, c.2012.

And a hip-hip-hoorah too all my fellow Geminis! Most especially; Marilyn Monroe, Gena Rowlands, Cyndi Lauper, Walt Whitman, Laurie Anderson, Josephine Baker, Prince, Siouxsie Sioux, Irving Penn, Sandra Bernhard, Paul McCartney, Stevie Nicks, Jamie Oliver, M.K. & Ashley, Boy George, Isabella Rossellini, Michael Cera, Sun Ra, Jacques Cousteau, Gene Wilder, Johnny Depp, Nick Drake, Carey Mulligan, Queen Victoria, Modigliani, Rosalind Russell, Isadora Duncan, Harvey Milk, Ann Wilson of Heart, Brian Wilson, Michelle Pfeiffer, Bob Dylan, Peggy Lee, Roger Ebert, Brooke Shields, Judy Garland, Vincent Price, Dashiell Hammett, Levon Helm, Angelina Jolie, JFK, and Nicole Kidman.

Above: Another shot of the long dreamed about nutella pizza at Pulino's with fave ladies, Christina Caruso & Hayley Kaufman, c.2012.

The Best Coast.

As alerted to by Rose Apodaca . . . my ultra-chic friend and fellow Cali-style expert, THIS SUNDAY is the final day of the epic LACMA exhibit, California Design, 1930-1965: Living in a Modern Way. So if in L.A., and a lover of classic West Coast mid-century vibes, hustle down to Miracle Mile, or fear reading the exhibit book and weeping that you missed it in all its golden teak glory.

Above: Another reason to worship this exhibit . . . the rare chance to practically step inside Charles and Ray Eames' iconic living room, every piece of which has been meticulously moved from Case Study House #8, where the Eames' lived throughout their lives, starting in 1949. When touring the home's permanent location in Pacific Palisades, you may only peek through the windows, so this is a special close-up view of their tzotchkes, furnishings, and books (so many of which are the same we have on our shelves at home).

I'm so glad we took the time to experience it when last in L.A., as we exited the show bursting with creative inspiration. I'm filled with even more native Californian pride than before, and dreams of perfectly simple, handcrafted work, surf, sunshine and mod Hollywood poolside glam. Here are some shots we sneakily snapped while viewing the exhibit in March . . .

Above: Fab Paul Fusco photo, c.late-1940s, of Billy & Audrey Wilder hanging with Charles & Ray Eames in the "conversation room" of their Pacific Palisades home. Below: Art Deco Cal-Arts pamphlets.

Above: Claire Falkenstein's model for client Peggy Gugenheim's garden gates, c.1961 (they remain at Guggenheim's home in Venice, Italy). Incantation Textile by Alvin Lustig for Laverne Originals, c.1947. Below: Arches and Dome Renaissance Christmas gift boxes by Joe Hong for Joseph Magnin (San Francisco), c.1966. Kraft paper Doggie bag for Lawry's Foods, art directed by Saul Bass, illustrated by Art Goodman and Phyllis Tanner, c.1961.

Below: Mr. Taylor and my sister, Miss. Lizzie, taking in all the beauty, as well as a bitchin' 1961 Studebaker Avanti, designed by Raymond Loewy, along with three Pasadena Art Center students.

Sassooning, with tears in my eyes.

Devastated to hear about the passing of hairdressing legend, Vidal Sassoon. My husband & I have actually been trying to emulate his positive lifestyle after viewing the wonderful 2010 documentary, How One Man Changed the World With a Pair of Scissors. It took my breath away to watch footage of him doing yoga beautifully at age 81 . . . still full of creativity, ambition, and humour. He seemed to be nothing less than radiant, and his self-made success story should be an inspiration to any creative or inventive soul.

Above: Sassoon (middle) with his debonair London salon team, c.late-1960s. Below: Model Suzy Parker in Chanel, getting tousled gorgeously by Vidal, c.early-1960s.

After years of experimenting with old fashioned '50s bouffants in London, Sassoon took a trip to New York city, and after falling in awe with the varied architectural landscape, he had a revelation that hair needed to be modernized for the fast-paced lifestyles of stylish metropolitan young babes.

Above: Vidal's first salon in London, all chrome, smoky mirrors and velvety browns, c.late 1960s. Below, L: Vidal's UK staff on their first visit to NY, where they were received like rock stars. Below, R: Vidal and his Beverly Hills salon staff, c.early-1980s.

His first famous experiment was in 1965, when he snipped model Grace Coddington's crimson locks into the sculptural "Five Point" cut for a story in Vogue. After seeing the photo, all the long-locked dollybirds came running into his futuristic-Deco London salon for cropped new 'dos. Designer Many Quant took notice of Vidal's magic talents, and inspired by each other, they revolutionized the modern look in unison . . . Quant giving girls monochromatic mini skirts and pop art accessories, and Sassoon giving them the look of cool, plus freedom from hairspray and weekly salon visits.

Above: Many Quant in her Sassoon bob, c.mid-1960s. Below: Vidal and Grace Coddington in her "Five Point" cut, as shot by David Bailey (?)

Now because we all look good, you'll always look good, Vidal Sassoon.

Faithfully.

I remember once hearing a record shop owner being asked by a customer who Marianne Faithfull was. His reply was "just some Rolling Stones groupie", and I immediately wanted to punch him in the face. Never just Mick's muse (he chased her, btw), or a stunning '60s dollybird . . . she was, for a long time, the spirit of The Stones. If it weren't for her, they would never have worn brocade, bought castles to fill with Persian rugs, taken LSD, tried to emulate the god Pan, or read Bulgakov's The Master and Margarita . . . which inspired nearly all of Beggars Banquet. She was rock 'n roll's first decadent, bohemian royal queen. Not only that, but she continues to contribute her own wonderful art to the universe . . . wildly entertaining memoirs, acting roles, and deliciously relevant music (collaborating with the likes of Nick Cave, Damon Albarn and Jarvis Cocker, to name only a few).

During a shamanistic convergence in my early-20s (aka; a really crappy time), I spotted a copy of Faithfull's autobiography at a used bookstore in Hollywood, and once I began reading about her glamourous, tripped-out and troubled journey, my soul applauded. I'd encountered a kindred vagabond spirit, and she's been a major source of inspiration ever since. It's also my belief that you haven't truly lived until you've seen her preform The Ballad of Lucy Jordan live. Next time she's in town, make it a life priority.

In a lovely tribute to her highness of cool, the Tate Liverpool has given Faithfull access to their collection, and she, along with gallerist John Dunbar (her first husband, also known as the man who introduced John to Yoko), have curated an autobiographical show featuring pieces she feels represent seminal periods in her colorful life thus far. The show, entitled Innocence and Experience, includes pieces by: Richard Hamilton, Nan Goldin, Man Ray, Lucian Freud, Francis Bacon (a close friend of Faithfull's), Robert Mapplethorpe, Pauline Boty, Rene Magritte and Sir Peter Blake, among others. I'm hoping to catch the show before it closes on September 2nd.

More about Marianne:

– She has the distinction of being the first person to say the word Fu*k in a motion picture (1967's I'll Never Forget What's'isname)

– Jimi Hendrix's The Wind Cries Mary is about her.

– She divides her time between an apartment in Paris, and an Irish castle with a ballroom made entirely of seashells.

– She co-penned the lyrics to Sister Morphine, and Jagger wrote Wild Horses about her . . . probably his most beautiful love song, ever.

– She recorded reggae with Sly & Robbie and Serge Gainsbourg.

– Marianne's great-great uncle was Leopold von Sacher-Masoch, author of the fetishtic book, Venus in Furs (1869). The concept of "Masochism" was later named after him.

– Her best friend is Anita Pallenberg.

– She basically invented hardcore gangster rap.

– She turned down Bob Dylan.

*Faithfull collage by me, J.B.T. Please do not reproduce without permission. Merci.

Desk Set.

Never one to pass up a good double-dare, I'm acting on a challenge posted here by Cat Party editrix, Chelsea Fairless, where she asked fellow bloggers to fearlessly post a screenshot of your insane desktops. So here for your viewing curiosity, is a peek into my digital brain . . .

I'm hereby passing this dare along, so don't break the chain, s'il vous plaît. If I can admit that I'm pre-planning a trip to the Trader Joe's in Danbury, you can too! C'mon and feel the liberation of sharing your deepest, darkest, nerdiest folder titles with the universe ; )

(Flower) Pot Head

A few weeks ago I wrote about a lost 1968 Shirley MacLaine film I've fallen in deep crush with called, The Bliss of Mrs. Blossom (currently streaming on Netflix), which features fantastical, psychedelic dream costuming designed by Jocelyn Rickards, who was also responsible for Jane Birkin's kimono and butterfly tights in Wonderwall.

While getting inspired by photos of the recent Spring 2012 Couture shows, I spied a chapeau by Alexis Mabille that instantly made me think of something Mrs. Blossom had rocked decades before, and was curiously similar. Also during my vintage research/procrastination session, I spotted a 1970s look by Claude Montana for Lanvin that too reminded me of said floppy floral topper . . .

Mabille Photo: Allessandro Viero

Fathomers Unite.

I'm thrilled to be a new contributor to the world's most bitchin' travel site, FathomAway.com. My first two pieces are now live . . . one on the whimsical Parisian tzotchke boutique, Au Petit Bonheur La Chance, as well as a questionnaire with some of my favorite travel memories and rituals.

More Fathom musings to be posted in the near future, and for a ramblin' soul whose Filson duffel never seems to make it back into the closet, this feel like a marriage made in vagabond heaven. So jazzed!

Enjoy the tips and tales, and happy trails to you!

La Motocyclette.

My rebel heart be still! Willow's Fall 2012 collection featured one dress in particular that is causing the juvenile delinquent in me to swoon . . . a sinister chic black motorcycle dress, with leather sleeves and detailing. It was immediately added to my birthday list, and reminds me of a modern take on the poured-on leather suits Marianne Faithfull wore in the 1968 film The Girl on a Motorcycle, which if you haven't yet seen . . . hop to it!

And regarding the above image on the left . . . have you ever seen a cooler getup in your entire life? Leave it to la Faithfull to pair a leather jumpsuit, with a fox chubby, tights and ballet slippers, resulting in the universes hottest ensemb'. Vroom, vroom!

Avedon and did.

Was just re-visiting Richard Avedon's stunning 1978 monograph, Photographs 1947-1977, published by the Metropolitan Museum to coincide with his first major exhibition, and all the images felt so totally au courant, that I wanted to share the inspiration. Photographs was edited with guidance from his friend and editor extraordinaire, Diana Vreeland, and was designed by Alexey Brodovich, who had been the art director at Harper's Bazaar during many of Avedon's most iconic shoots. In honor of fashion week (I mean, fashion month), feast your peepers on these rarely seen shots from this very special tome . . .

Above, R: Dovima and Betsy Pickering in gowns by Lanvin-Castillo, Paris, 1958 Below: Dovima in a wrap by Brooke Cadwallader, in front of the Great Pyramids of Giza, Egypt 1951

Below: Lisa and Alfred Leslie, with Liza wearing a suit by Zelinka-Matlick, New York, 1960.

But of Kors.

As he's never been one of my faves in the past (though I have always adored his bitchy comments on Project Runway), I was pleasantly surprised to find myself drooling over Michael Kors' Fall collection, which to me, felt like a ritzy mix of Icelandic ski bunny–meets–Diane Keaton, with a tiny dollop of bohemian Anita Pallenberg on top. I'm also dying over the '70s glam-meets-'40s pin-up doll metallic platform sandals, and I envision wearing them with a vintage satin bias-cut nightie gown . . .

Above (R): Anita Pallenberg in her sheepskin chubby. Below (scattered throughout): Diane Keaton was obviously a muse for the collection . . . he even did her signature leather cinch belt.

My only gripe is the excessive use of real fur, being that (get ready . . . I'm pulling over my soapbox) I'm vehemently against animal cruelty. And though I do own a few mink pieces, they're all vintage (circa 1940s), so the only person being supported therein, is my grandmother, who needed the room in her storage closet. So looking at this collection is quite confusing for me . . . it's cold here in NY, so while the Sheepskin cocoons look gorgeously cozy, I'm contemplating the modern fashion/animal lover's conundrum . . . should thou covet the clothes, or douse them with paint? Either way, it was an inspiringly stylish presentation.

Runway photos: Yannis Vlamos for Style.com

Nymphs Only.

In my first post of favorite frocks hailing from Fall 2012 NY Fashion Week, I bow to a particular otherworldly Marchesa gown that looks to be made of poured gold. Chapman and Craig's exquisite collection was inspired by the angelic works of French painter William-Adolphe Bouguereau, and each hand-made couture quality piece was worthy of a Venus' birth.

Above: Jourdan Dunn in the beyond glam Marchesa gown, and The Youth of Bacchus (1884) by William-Adolphe Bouguereau.

Photo: Filippo Fior for Style.com

The Bliss of Mrs. Blossom (1968)

While sequestered in bed for a week with the flu, I had a chance to catch up on rarities saved in my "Instant Queue", and took a chance on the rarely seen '60s romp, The Bliss of Mrs. Blossom, starring Shirley MacLaine, James Booth, and Lord Richard Attenborough. I'd wrongly assumed I'd seen every likeable swingin' '60s flick in exisitance, so this was a total psychedelic surprise! It is an adorable love story, with loads of mod eye candy and a groovy soundtrack by The Spectrum and The New Vaudeville Band.

It's the story of Mrs. Blossom . . . a wealthy and dutiful housewife/painter of psychedelic artwork, who is quite lonely due to having a husband that is obsessed with building his company, Blossom Brassieres. When Mrs. Blossom's antique sewing machine breaks, her husband sends one of his factory workers, the ever-eccentric Ambrose Tuttle, to repair it, and the two begin an adorable affair, culminating in Mr. Tuttle secretly moving into the attic so they can hang out while her hubby is at work.

While it's a wacky premise, it's not merely a story about adultery. . . it has more heart than that, and is beautifully sweet, with a surprisingly un-formulaic ending. Not to mention the inspiring LSD-meets-Art Nouveau set design by Assheton Gorton, and wickedly wonderful costumes by Jocelyn Rickards, both of whom were also responsible for the look of iconic films such as; Blow-Up, Wonderwall, and The Knack . . . and How to Get It. See it, live it, love it!

Lady Madonna, Jr.

In honor of Madonna's Goth/Viking Super Bowl spectacle, I've decided to share a priceless childhood document from 1984 . . . the first draft of a fan letter, written to my then #3 idol, Ms. Ciccone. While the letter mentions that Marilyn was my other "idol", I left out the fact that my #1 favorite was Cyndi Lauper . . . a fact I intentionally omitted as not to cause Madge any jealousy.

It should be noted that the "bleach" I refer to, was actually me squeezing lemons on my hair while sitting in the backyard after school. And while I prayed for the sun to turn my locks platinum with dark roots, I sat on our swing-set listening to Like a Virgin on my Sony Sports Walkman.

Above: My Walkman of choice, c.1984 . . . the very Memphis-inspired Sony Sports, and me (age 10) in full Madonna-wannabe mode . . . white lace, rubber bracelets and Ray-Ban Wayfarers.

It's was also a testament to how much I loved the Material One, that I used a sheet of my sacred new wave brushstroke paper, as I was a hoarder of everything made by Paper Moon, my stationery obsession at the time (along with Lisa Frank).

P.S. I never received a fan club acceptance or a picture, but all is forgiven.

Pop Rocks.

Above: Brooke Shields with heart by Haring, as photographed by Avedon.

Though I was only a kid at the time, I've always felt lucky that I got to observe a tiny part of the '80s NY art scene. My sister, Lizzie and I were raised in L.A., but my parents were in the fashion 'biz, so they spent much of the year in Manhattan, toting us along wherever they went. It's also hard not to be grateful for the Reaganomics that enabled us to live temporarily like Dudley Moore in Arthur, with a private chauffeur, who drove us to experimental off-Broadway musicals, cocktail parties in lucite-adorned apartments, and to Bloomies for black patent mary-janes, so we could look fancy for linguine and clams at Il Mulino. 

Our memories of those days are so idyllic, I sometimes wonder if they were created in a cyber dream-chamber, a-la Vanilla Sky. Before the big recession in 1990, which hit the garment business pretty hard, Dad bought us five foot tall stuffed teddy bears and hot fudge sundaes at Rumplemeyer's, and Dom DeLuise sprinkled us with pastel confetti at the Macy's Thanksgiving Parade, where we got to touch Garfield, as his giant balloon body floated up to hover above 34th St.. We didn't yet know of AIDS, or losing friends to heroin, and we didn't have to live solely on popcorn and Twizzlers, like Madonna, when she first arrived in Times Square. It was awesome to be a precocious kid bopping around the glitzy Apple.

Above: Madonna at the Party of Life, c.1984, in a suit painted by Haring.

My most treasured Manhattan memories, are when we headed Downtown to the Soho art galleries. It was Slaves of New York come to life, everything covered in polka-dotted crinoline, neon tubing, silver steel, fake fur, and florescent graffiti. But our minds were the most blown by Keith Haring's Pop Shop, which to two mini-Valley girls, was the Toys-R-Us of cool. Our parents were awesome enough to gift us each with a Haring tee, pin, and an inflatable "crawling baby" pillow. Sadly, all was lost in a house fire, though I did manage to rescue one of the pins.

So, when recently viewing the 2008 documentary, The Universe of Keith Haring (currently streaming on Netflix), I was thrilled to know the story of this hugely influential young artist's life. He left small town Pennsylvania to study at The School of Visual Arts in NYC, and in the process became obsessed with street art, mixing the bright, naive whimsicality of Nikki de Saint Phalle (his fave painter), with the rebel spirit of tagging he spotted on the trains and streets. Through his influences, he developed a commercially groundbreaking animated style that probably inspires more young artists today than any other contemporary artist, aside from Warhol.

Along with branding himself and opening the Pop Shop, he art directed major advertisements, designed album covers, styled musicians like Grace Jones (above) and Madonna, eventually becoming a social activist, throwing fundraisers for AIDS research, as well as creating memorable "Crack is Whack" and anti-Apartheid campaigns.

In December, we viewed the Warhol Headlines exhibit at D.C.'s National Gallery, and in the tabloid inspired installation were several fun Haring/Warhol pieces . . . gummy bear-colored silkscreens created by the artists as wedding gifts for Madonna and Sean. They were, of course, my favorite items in the show. Bringing back nostalgic feelings for a time and place that will forever live on, covered in day-glo rubber triangle jewelry, in my Stephen Sprouse spray-painted heart.

Darling (1965)

I just had a blast re-visiting John Schlesinger's cinematic classic, Darling . . . the 1965 film that launched Julie Christie into Swinging '60s super-stardom, granting her an Academy Award for Best Actress along the way.

It's jazzy and slick, with pitch perfect early-mod style, my favorite example of which occurs in a scene where Christie strips down at a Parisian-Beatnik party, and after many cocktails, winds-up in only a polka-dot hair bow, white Courrèges booties, and a gentleman's shirt & tie. There's also a moment where she's undressing to be with her lover, and as she removes the prim white button-down shirt she's tucked into her pleated plaid wool skirt, she reveals a wild leopard negligee. Now a legendary fashion moment for me.

The soap-opera-esque drama tells the tale of a social-climbing tart, who slides through life on her charm and gorgeous looks, wreaking havoc on the men who attempt to love her. And though she eventually gains all the fame and fortune she could ever dream of, she ends up a prisoner of her own chronic dissatisfaction, leading to a shallow life, lived as an ungrounded bird locked in a gilded cage.

Laurence Harvey plays one of Christie's paramours with sinister aplomb, making me feel a bit melty in a scene where he dances up to Christie in a nightclub, with a devilish smirk and naughty glimmer in his dark eyes. His character's bachelor penthouse is accessorized with Fornasetti, he wears Saville Row like a dream, and I'm considering placing a glossy 8x10 of him on my wall. Christie's other co-star, Dirk Bogarde, ain't so shabby either.

I'm rating this film: 4 Mary Quant lipsticks.

Cecil Takes Manhattan.

Cecil Beaton arrived to NYC in 1928 with a sketchbook under his arm, a camera in his bag, and a mission to woo Manhattan's upper crust in the same whimsical fashion that he dazzled his native England's ritziest regals.

I've been in love with Beaton's eclectic body of work ever since first viewing his glittering portraits of socialite Paula Gellibrand (Aka; Marquesa de Casa Maury) as a teen. His work felt so modern to me, that I wouldn't have been surprised if you told me he invented Glam Rock. The theatricality and decadence of his creative vision will inspire bright young things for ages to come.

Above: The photo that started my fascination . . . Paula Gellibrand as photographed by Beaton in 1928. Below: Yours truly in front of the whimsically hand-painted entrance mural.

During his years hotel-hopping in Manhattan (from the 1920s through the '60s), he created visual poems for Vreeland at Vogue, wardrobed the Metropolitan Opera, designed book jackets to swoon over, styled Broadway musicals, befriended Warhol, champagned with Monroe, and romanced Garbo. He became creative director of the social-set . . . slaying the city's elite with his lyrical watercolors and sumptuous photography. Beaton was a Renaissance soul of the highest order, deeply inspired by the city's metropolitan razzle-dazzle.

Now through Feb. 20th at the Museum of the City of New York, there is a wonderful collection of Cecil's New York oeuvre on display. Beautifully curated by Donald Albrecht (an acquaintance, as he is a board member of Manitoga, which is across the road from our studio, and a place dear to our hearts), the exhibit is a visual love-letter to Beaton, told through rare photographs, 1st edition books, set design and wardrobe sketches, watercolors, magazine layouts and original costumes. It is an absolute feast for the peepers.

Above: Beaton's colorful apartment in the storied Plaza Hotel, c.1946 (as captured by Dmitri Kessel). Below: My favorite piece in the exhibit . . . Broadway phenomenon, Tallulah Bankhead in watercolor and pencil, c.1932. Beaton later designed her costumes for a production of Antony and Cleopatra in 1937.

Farewell, Mon Ami.

I'm very blue, to bid adieu, to my friend, the revolutionary costume designer, Theadora Van Runkle. She has been an inspiring force to lovers of vintage design for decades, whether they know it or not. With her film debut, Bonnie and Clyde (1967), she single-handedly brought a level of cool to films that hadn't been seen before, and lived her life with a glittering élan.

Above: Portrait outtake from my book, Vintage LA, as photographed by Jeaneen Lund.

Theadora started her career as a young advertising illustrator for May Co., and went on to become one of Hollywood's most talented costumers, garnering three Oscar noms (Bonnie and Clyde, The Godfather Part II, Peggy Sue Got Married), as well as being awarded with an Emmy, and a Costume Designers Guild Lifetime Achievement Award.

I first met Theadora in 2003, at a screening of I Love you Alice B. Toklas (a film she lovingly costumed) at the American Cinematheque in Hollywood, and after much gushing about Leigh Taylor-Young’s lace mini-dresses in the film, we bonded over a mutual adoration for embroidered piano shawls, and my deep love for her was born. Five years later, I spent the day sipping tea in her dreamy, ivy-covered Laurel Canyon cottage, as I interviewed her for my book Vintage LA (HarperCollins). After our chat-sesh, we had several long talks, where she told me delicious stories about Hollywood’s golden era . . . about her regular Friday night movie parties with Edith Head in the ‘60s, Cary Grant’s secret love affairs (I’m sworn to secrecy), and tips on how to be irresistible to men (most of which are too risque to publish!).

She was magical, talented, ever-inspired, and positively glowing from within. With her platinum bob, smiling red lips, and dramatic flirtatiousness, she still attracted sexy young suitors. One beau of which (a producer in his 20s) was so obsessed after cocktails with Thea, he sent her a strand of pearls.

Observing Theadora’s beautiful daily routine: watching the way she adjusted the antique textiles strewn about her boudoir, obsessing over finding the perfect vintage brooch to wear on her velvet kimono, and delicately painting portraits of her beloved cat, Hazel, showed me that you can live a creatively free and decadently bohemian life, even in your eighth decade. I'd been telling my husband about her for years, and dreamt of having them meet next time we were in L.A., so he could experience her illuminating energy. I'm incredibly sad that I'll never get the chance to visit with her one last time.

You can read all about her amazing career here, but you can also read the interview I did with her for Vintage LA below. There were so many hours of wonderful material, it should have been a book in itself . . .

Above: My photo of lovely Theadora in her vintage finery, taken the night we met in 2003 at the American Cinematheque (L.A.), for a screening of I Love you, Alice B. Toklas (1968).

I was a teen-age goth.

Each and every October, when Vincent Price movies are projected at midnight in local revival theatres, Siouxsie & the Banshees songs slink out of the radio, and historic cemeteries begin to give spooky night-time tours . . . I'm reminded that I was once a 15 year-old, clove cigarette-smoking, Munsters lunch-box carrying, kohl eyeliner addicted, goth.

During this chilly time of year, whenever I wake to a rainy grey sky, I'm filled with nostalgia for lazy days spent lying on my bed in tattered '30s silk-velvet gowns (once so cheap and easy to find), listening to Love and Rockets LPs, drawing spiderwebs on my school notebook, and talking on the phone to my vintage hearse-driving, Robert Smith look-a-like beau.

So, when I spotted Tabitha Simmons's perfect pointy death-rock booties, it took me back to a day, circa the early-90s, when I sold a garbage bag full of dresses at Claudia's Boutique in the Valley, and hopped in a cab to a rock n' roll supply shop on Hollywood Blvd., so I could hand the Nikki Sixx wannabe behind the counter $100, and buy a long-coveted pair of black patent stilettos with skull buckles (photographic evidence above).

My parents would have keeled-over at first glance of these treacherous heels, so I kept them hidden in my Mary Poppins needlepoint doctors bag, and the moment I was in the clear, out they came, ready to ghost-dance the night away to Sisters of Mercy.

So, in homage to my inappropriately dramatique after-school shopping ensemb's of spike-heels and floor-length velvet gowns, here are some stylish vintage finds to achieve this sinister Fall look . . .

 

Above: Antique handcrafted diamond and ruby snake bracelet, Tabitha Simmons Early boots ($1,130), me at age 15 browsing on Hollywood Blvd. in my skull buckle stilettos, rare antique sterling lion claw necklace ($3,950) c.1900

  

Above: Victorian Whitby jet and silver buckle bracelet ($850) c.1860s, Dova needlepoint handbag c.1950s ($99), blood red silk velvet and chiffon déshabillé coat c.1920s, Radley of London moss crepe and satin gown c.1970s ($825), midnight blue silk velvet bias cut gown ($1,250) c.1930s

Tangerine Dream.

Whilst watching a video for the 1985 Howard Jones song, Things Can Only Get Better, on YouTube at 6:30 am this morning (don't ask me how these things happen), I discovered my new muses for stellar Summer style . . . his back-up singers.

Dressed in simple white cotton, with dip-dyed tangerine accessories, wrapped turbans, and African bone jewelry, they're a fashion force to be reckoned with.

I'm off to buy some orange sherbet RIT dye, but first, here are some ideas on how to emulate their easy, breezy look.

   

 

Vintage African shell necklace from Zanzibar, Tanzania c.1940 (contact dealer for price), Rick Owens Belted jersey dress ($595), suede turban c.1960s by Irene of Montreal ($350), Vintage African hinged bangle made of carved ox bone ($125).

G-L-O-R-I-A.

This one goes out to all the ladies in the house.

If you want to watch a brilliantly crafted film that makes you feel crazy-empowered deep down into your gritty New-York-City soul . . . then Gloria is your dame.

Above: Rowlands as Gloria, the ultimate Manhattan heroine, popping caps in her lavender satin suit, and running away from the bad guys with her antique tapestry satchel. Below: Gloria's amazing water-colored opening-credits, designed by Sam Shaw.

Cinematic dream-doll, Gena Rowlands, plays Gloria, a tough-as-nails ex-Mafia mistress, thrown into the initially un-wanted role of bodyguard to a six-year old Puerto Rican boy with hit-men on his tail (p.s., Little "Phil" is one of the slickest, grooviest kids ever to grace celluloid). So, when Gloria's fierce maternal love-vibes kick-in, you're in for one of the coolest, most bad-ass female actions films ever, starring a Film Noir-esque lioness, protecting her velvet bell-bottomed baby cub.

Above: Two epic things . . . first, Rowland's character wearing men's pajamas and a trench-coat to do errands around Harlem (why did I never try that?), and second, Gloria's gigantic walk-in closet-room, as big as a small dry-cleaners, and filled with hundreds of disco dresses in garment bags (talk about New York City dreams!).

Directed in 1980, by her husband, John Cassavetes, Rowlands is totally luminous . . . all Lauren Bacall curls and menthol smoke, suited in a chic wardrobe courtesy of Emmanuel Ungaro. It's a film guaranteed to make you wish Manhattan was still accessorized in graffiti, and that your nicest Carlos Falchi purse contained a loaded pistol.

Above: How much do you love her crimson kimono/leather shoulder bag combo? Also, the round honeymoon-style bed and Oriental rug tapestry = bitchin. Below: Don't mess with a woman (in a silk wrap-dress) scorned.

Gentlemen Prefer Gowns.

Not sure if you heard about the astronomical results of the Debbie Reynolds auction, but Marilyn's billowy white dress went for a cool $4.6 million. And I swear that I'm not much of a braggart, but I once had a magical Monroe moment that I just can't resist sharing . . .

Above: Vamping in homage to Norma Desmond, c.1990s, while wearing Marilyn's pink satin Gentlemen Prefer Blondes gown, as designed by Travilla.

In the mid-'90s, when I, along with every other Eva Herzigova-worshipper I knew, was attempting to create a modelling portfolio, I had the amazing opportunity to wear three of Marilyn's most iconic dresses during a photo shoot. My hairdresser at the time, who knew I adored MM, had an uncle that was close friends with William Travilla (Marilyn's most beloved costume designer) and his partner, Bill Sarris. Travilla sadly passed away in 1990, but Sarris wanted to make sure that future generations knew of his important contribution to costume design history, so based on our enthusiastic love for Travilla, he sweetly offered to lend us the frocks.

Several days before the shoot, I went over to meet Travilla's L.A. archivist, Giorgio, in his Downtown L.A. showroom, to try on three dresses . . . Marilyn's hot pink-satin Diamonds are a Girl's Best Friend gown, the famous scandalously low-cut gold lamé publicity photo gown, and *the Seven Year Itch dress. So after the once-in-a-lifetime opportunity of holding Travilla's Academy Award for Adventures of Don Juan (1949), and making lame fake acceptance speeches, I stepped into the dressing room, and was alone with the ultimate triumvirate of glam. Words cannot ever express how magical it felt to slip the slinky white pleats over my head, onto my body, and spin around to make the skirt twirl-up. So for our little shoot, in keeping with the spirit of the dress, we rented one giant fan, in lieu of a NY subway grate.

*Costume designers sometimes created duplicates of designs, in case one was damaged during filming, but the white dress auctioned by Reynolds was the original.

These shots bring back lovely vintage memories for me . . . of a time when kooky curvy girls could be models (I actually booked a few jobs, most likely thanks to Travilla's pleats), and ones hair could never be too platinum. There are more looks from this magical day stored away in a box somewhere, along with color shots of me in the gold gown, and I promise to post them when they are found.

On another note, sincerest apologies for the lack of posts lately. Sadly, my grandfather, Johnny, passed away, and he was a very important and colorful force in our lives. So we recently drove from NY to DC, then onto Atlanta (where he lived for the third portion of his long and wonderful life), to be with our family. He was a celebrated Lieutenant during WWII, responsible for releasing concentration camp prisoners in Germany, and was given dozens of medals for his bravery, including a Bronze Star. After the war, he worked for the City of New York (a role of which he was hugely proud) and the National Guard, but the thing we all loved about him most, was his ecstatic and vibrant personality . . . constantly armed with a uniquely surreal anecdote or hysterically old fashioned saying. He was also a caring father and awesome grandfather (he taught me how to collage!). Johnny was an unforgettable character in the lives of everyone he met, and we already miss him something awful.

Above, L: Nic & I visiting Grandpa Johnny, at his home in Atlanta for his 90th birthday. It's pretty doubtful that I'll meet anyone as genuinely happy, fulfilled, and entertaining again in this lifetime. R: Lieutenant Hollmen c.1941.

Costume Party.

On June 18th, a Hollywood costume and memorabilia auction of epic proportions will occur, featuring iconic, museum-worthy items from the life-long personal collection of American sweetheart, Debbie Reynolds.

"My passion for collecting began in earnest when the studios broke up their inventories. In 1970 MGM announced it was going to auction off everything except their real estate. I was still under contract at MGM and knew this inventory well. These were the clothes that the studio wouldn’t even lend us to wear to events or parties. Prior to this auction, I was a “normal” collector. After the auction, preserving as many of these costumes as possible became my obsession. After MGM’s auction, the other studios followed suit. I was very fortunate that I knew the president of Fox Studios, who allowed me to purchase many items prior to their auction. Over the years, I continued to save as many pieces as I could as the studios threatened their very existence."—D.R.

For those who haven't yet been dazzled by her adorability in musicals such as Singin' in the Rain, Debbie grew-up in front of the cameras at MGM . . . sharing milkshakes with Elizabeth Taylor at the studio commissary, dancing with Gene Kelly, and hanging out in the wardrobe dept., watching legendary costumers like Helen Rose create intricately beaded glamour gowns. This is where her passion for collecting bits of Hollywood's history began. She was 'vintage' obsessed, before it was even a term.

As the old studio system crumbled in the early-'70s, and MGM was sold, a legendary auction was held on the lot, and Debbie had her bidding paddle raised throughout. She knew in her heart that these artifacts would one-day be seen as an important part of America's cultural history. She rescued as many costumes and props as possible, with the dream of opening a Hollywood museum, but in recent years found that the constant preservation and storage care, were too all-consuming, both financially and emotionally. So she now hopes to find loving homes for her trove, which happens to include Chaplin's bowler, Scarlett O'Hara's curtain hat, Harpo's curls, Eliza Doolittle's derby frock (designed by Cecil Beaton), as well as a certain infamous white pleated dress. I'm also floored by the items she acquired from personal estates and prop houses, including silent-era stunt cars, sound stage lights, and rare camera equipt. This is a woman who truly loves film, body and soul.

Here are some of the featured treasures currently slaying my old Hollyweird heart:

Above: Mother-of-pearl button embellished costume from Cover Girl (Columbia Pictures, c.1944), as featured in Rita Hayworth's Poor John number. Below: Antique Native American canvas canoe, used in various MGM Westerns.

Above, L: Gold bullion-embroidered silk velvet gown designed by Adrian for Norma Shearer in Romeo and Juliet (MGM, c.1936). Above, R: Gold bullion fleur-de-lis trumpeters tunic designed by Adrian and featured in Marie Antoinette (MGM, c.1938). Below: Egyptian ceremonial headdress worn by Elizabeth Taylor in Cleopatra (20th Century Fox, c.1963)

Above: Gold lamé gown designed by Travis Banton for Claudette Colbert in Cecil B. DeMille's Cleopatra (Paramount, c.1934) Below: Antique carved Chinese rosewood bed from The Good Earth (MGM, 1937)

Above, L: Gold lamé Egyptian gown worn by mezzo-soprano Blanche Thebom in The Great Caruso (c.1951) Above, R: Art Deco-era 10K Fresnel MGM kleig light (can't you just picture Jean Harlow being meticulously lit with this?) Below: Ivory appliquéd lace gown worn by Mary Astor in Meet Me in St. Louis (MGM, c.1944).

Above: Watercolor, gouache and glitter sketch of Mae West by Edith Head and Theadora Van Runkle for Myra Breckenridge (c.1970). Below: Jaunty life-size oil portraits of Marion Davies from her estate (c.1920s).

Above: Portrait of Marion Davies in various film roles by Federico Beltran Masses (c.1920s) Below: The white rayon-acetate crepe dress by Travilla for Marilyn Monroe in The Seven Year Itch (20th Cent. Fox, c.1955), estimated to sell for 2 million (though I suspect it will go for much more). Remind me to tell you the story of when I got to try on this dress (I even have photographic evidence)!

Fellow film nerds, I implore you to download Debbie's auction catalog, and swoon over the historic treasures contained within.

Pussy Velour.

This recently auctioned vintage '90s velveteen Tabby cat blazer by Moschino Cheap and Chic, is just too amazing not to share . . .

Sadly, bidding has already ended, and it went for, hold on to your chapeau . . . $30! Don't you wish you could go back in time, place the winning bid, and send it to Grace Coddington as a gift for being so magical? Well played, lucky bidder. P.S. It also boasts bakelite buttons with feline silhouettes. Meowch.

Pretty in Paul.

If Pretty in Pink's Andie Walsh were shopping for the perfect new wardrobe, she'd surely swoon over Paul Smith's Spring/Summer '11 collection, with its mis-matched pastel prints, chintzy rose-patterned pencil skirts, ankle booties, Wayfarers, fedoras and men's blazers. After all, I'm sure by now, she and Ducky (let's go with the original Hughes-preferred ending) are living happily in their West Village townhouse . . . he's a stay-at-home dad watching over their pouty-lipped babies, until night, when he sings in a No-Wave cover band, and she brings in billions with her Sonia Delaunay-inspired line of triangular gowns, so she can totally afford to skip the vintage for a spell . . .

Now back to hunting down a vintage peach, chrysanthemum-patterned kimono, like the one worn by Molly in the scene below. I've been coveting this robe ever since first viewing the film in 1986, at a $1 theatre in Boulder, Colorado, while visiting my grannie . . . and from then on, life was all about; lace collars, beaded cardis, dusty-rose Karmann Ghias, tortured boys, and The Psychedelic Furs. Sigh . . .

Les Femmes (1974)

I've been totally transfixed by photographer Jacques Henri Lartigue's gorgeous 1974 tome, Les Femmes, which features portraits of society women, taken from the 1920s through the early-1970s.

Above: Autochrome of Bibi and Germaine Chalom, Cannes, c.1927 Below: Spain, c.1905

Every photo in the book looks as I want my entire Summer to feel . . . one where my wardrobe solely consists of; Victorian whites, mariniers, straw hats, palazzos and Spanish espadrilles, and we sit on linen picnic blankets talking about art, eating tangerines, and drinking Lillet under cherry blossom trees. View for yourself, and dream away . . .

Above: Autochrome of Bibi in the new Eden Roc restaurant, Cap d'Antibes, c.1920 Below: Florette at Picasso's Studio, Cannes, c.1955

Above: Fashion model Colombe, at Nevez, Brittany, c.1970 Below: Lartigue's muse and lover, Renée Perle at Cannes, c,1931, and Renee in her painting studio (where she only painted portraits of her own face), Paris, c.1931

Above: Autochrome of Bibi at Cannes, c.1927 Below: Yvonne Printemps, sunbathing in Royan, France, c.1924

Damaged Goods.

Ever since recently viewing the heart-wrenching film Damage (directed in 1992 by Louis Malle), I've been absolutely haunted by Juliette Binoche's exquisitely chic wardrobe in the film, as chosen by Milena Canonero, who, to me, is forever in the echelon of legendary costumers, along with Adrian, Thea Van Runkle (whom I interviewed in Vintage LA), and Orry-Kelly.

Binoche's antique-appraising character dresses as only a woman who grew up in Paris could . . . with compete restain from trend or frivolity, swathed in classic black with the perfect accessories, a sleek androgynous haircut, and exquisite stockings. Her timeless look has sent me on the hunt for a cream silk shirt, dark pinstriped blazer, silver link necklace, matching silver cuffs, and noir trenchcoat . . .

Busy, Miss Lizzie.

Feeling so proud of my stylish little sis, Lizzie, today, after reading through her colorful profile on StyleLikeU. Every time I visit her in L.A., she lets me take over her jewel-box of a boudoir, which for a vintage collector like me, is like entering Aladdin's cave. Her wardrobe, as well as her collection of  whimsical trinkets, is unlike any other I've seen . . . it's really like walking into the treasure chest diorama on Disneyland's Pirates ride, and also brings back fond memories, as I've handed-down some fun frocks throughout the years (as all good, vintage hoarding big sissies should).

Above: The night table in Lizzie's Beverly Hills boudoir accompanied by a fabulous '60s stained-glass lamp once belonging to Chris Robinson and Lala Zappa, and (R) Lizzie wearing a vintage dress by Young Edwardian, the fashion line our father helped to create in the 1960s, and our mom, Moira (pictured below), placed in Contempo boutiques, where she was the head buyer (which is how our parents met)!

Above: Lizzie wearing a white lace maxi gown of her own creation while hanging with Moira, and (R) Lizzie wearing her favorite vintage Sex Pistols tee, Terry  de Havilland platforms, and zoot suit pants.

Lizzie is a designer who creates gorgeous custom party dresses, all sewn of rare vintage fabrics (two of which are featured in the interview video accompanying the story), each infused with her signature delicate dollybird style. She also works with Anthropologie, inspiring their visual merchandising team daily with her penchant for sequins and bows, as well as running a fabulous online vintage boutique called Dream Baby Dream, with fellow StyleLikeU alumnus and bestie, Kimme Aaberg.

My favorite quote from the interview . . .

“I recently rediscovered my journal from the age of eight. I wrote the following entry (spelling included): 'Two of my favorite things are red roses and blue silk dreses with lase at the bottem. i just love egrolls, flowers, kittens, pink wigs and satten dreses. it was hard to do it, but i finally put all my sunglasses in the right order. i just love to do art, go shopping on mellrose avenue. the best thing about school is art because i love art so, so, so much! p.s. i love carnifals.' Honestly, not much has changed since then.”

Pirates, Jewels and Geometrics.

On a grey and misty day in Manhattan last week, the mister & I went on a lovely visit to the Cooper-Hewitt, bringing us tons of inspiration, not to mention a few extra pounds, after noshing on decadent corn arepas and plantains afterward at Caracas, one of our all-time favorite cafes in the East Village (which we always try to keep secret, but I feel so guilty not sharing the culinary love with you).

Above: Rhthme Coloré by Sonia Delaunay, (France, c.1946)

Currently on display are two gorgeous exhibits . . . Color Moves: Art & Fashion by Sonia Delaunay, and Set in Style: The Jewels of Van Cleef & Arpels. For many moons I'd been awaiting the debut of  Delaunay's exhibit, being that she is a muse of mine. . . both for her commitment to live an unconventional life as colorful as her creations, and the harmonious creative partnership she shared with her husband, painter Robert Delaunay.

(L) Sonia in her studio on boulevard Malesherbes (Paris, c.1925), and (R) a printed silk satin dress with metallic embroidery (Paris, c.1925-28)

Sonia was an abstract painter whose rainbow-hued art flourished in the otherwise cold & grey machine age. She applied her modern sensibility to textiles, clothing (including costumes for films and theatre), book bindings, and interior design. In the 1920s, she and Robert, with whom she frequently collaborated, began designing dresses described as "poems in motion", sewn of prints featuring controversial prose by Dadaist poets.

(L) Cover of La Prose du Transsibérien et de la petite Jehanne de France written by Blaise Cendrars and illustrated by Delaunay (France, c.1913), (R) sketch of Robe Poemè no. 1328 (France, c.1923)

Above: Film still from Le P'tit Parigot (which must have been a huge influence on Klaus Nomi, as well as Bowie), directed by René Le Somptier and costumed by Delaunay (France, c.1926)

Her controversial brand of couture led to much success and a storied Paris boutique, Maison Delaunay, which sold Sonia looks from top-to-toe, every time featuring her avant-garde patterns and textiles, and collected by stylish stars such as Gloria Swanson and Nancy Cunard.

A wool embroidered coat (so amazing in person, it had me entertain the thought of becoming a professional cat burglar) handmade for Gloria Swanson, (Paris, c.1923-24)

Looking at her work today, one can't believe how fresh and modern it all feels . . . there were whimsical embroidered cloches that felt totally Anna Sui, and other pieces in the exhibit that if you told me were designed by Marni or Rodarte, I wouldn't doubt it for a second.

Above: Models in Delaunay beachwear (France, c.1928), Sonia and her models in Robert's studio (Paris, c.1924), and design #253 in gouache and ink (France, c.1928-30)

And then there was the crazy ice on display in the Van Cleef & Arpels exhibit, featuring très dazzling pieces worn and loved by Elizabeth Taylor, Marlene Dietrich, Princess Grace, Jacqueline Kennedy, Doris Duke, Eva Péron, et al. Here are some choice pieces I'll be placing on my birthday list this year  . . .

Above: Kikumakie butterfly brooch (created using age-old Japanese lacquering techniques) c.2004

Art Deco Anneau (ring) brooch (Paris, 1919), and Art Deco compact (Paris, c.1928)

Stunning Lamartine bracelet, given as a gift to Dame Elizabeth Taylor (along with matching earrings, naturally) by husband Richard Burton, during a romantic visit to Geneva, c.1971. Le sigh . . .

Diamond lapel clips, inspired by the Egyptian and Mayan pyramids (Paris, c.1920)

Egyptian Odalisque evening bag, featuring quite possibly the most exquisite clasp I'll ever encounter in this lifetime (Paris, c.1927)

Spec-tacular.

Just a heads up that I've listed the most perfect pair of Joan Holloway-worthy Ferragamo spectator pumps, ever to exist, in my eBay boutique. I'm weeping a million tears that they don't fit me, but happy that soon some dame is gonna be strutting down the boulevard in them, puttin' on the ritz . . .

 

Dames with Trains.

And my awards for the best dressed ladies at last night's Academy Awards ceremony and the Vanity Fair after-party go to  . . .

Dame Helen Mirren in classic Vivienne Westwood bombshell mode, and celebrated Texas socialite and style icon, Lynn Wyatt in a simple white bias-cut gown and amazing sculptural neckpiece featuring crystal fragments and silk ribbon (if anyone knows who designed her ensemb', please fill us in). C'est magnifique, babes!

Turban Cowgirl.

I'm in the process of writing an epic fashion week post, so in the meantime, I give you this fab article found in one of my 1940s issues of the Saturday Evening Post, written by hat designer Sally Victor on the history of the turban (one of my all-time favorite accessories), and how to wear it (click images to view full-size).

For yet more chapeau inspiration, view this post from the Vintager archives, which should provide you with a major turban incentive for the coming season.

Hearts, Moons and Pliés.

Kerry Taylor's celebrated Passion for Fashion auction will be held on the 17th of next month, and there are loads of dazzling items to choose from. I'm warming up my bidding paddle for the following yummy vintage finds . . .

Above: Schiaparelli Schiapsport waist pouch c.1949 once belonging to the Duchess of Windsor (low est. of £3,000), Christian Dior gold brocaded evening coat-dress with matching boots by The Chelsea Cobbler c.1970s from the estate of actress Sian Phillips (est. £400), Black tulle Thea Porter kaftan covered in sequin moons c.1970s once loaned to Princess Margaret (est. £600).

Above: Original costumes from Diaghilev's Ballets Russes (each piece est. £600-5,000), designed by Léon Bakst c.1920s, and first auctioned by Sotheby's in 1973, much to the delight of London's young bohemians (the stylish Ormsby-Gore sisters bought many Ballet Russes items from the historic Sotheby's auction, and wore the costumes mixed with new designer items, causing a sensation amongst the rock 'n roll set). Bakst designed costumes such as these were also the inspiration for Anna Sui's latest collection. I'd just love to have fairy-ballerina dress-up fantasy time with these whimsical frocks.

Minnie and Moskowitz (1971)

There are few things cruddier than being stuck in bed with the flu, but i'm thanking the stars above for instant watching on Netflix . . . distracting me from all the aches and pains with some of my favorite films. One of which is the John Cassavetes masterpiece of mayhem and true love, Minnie and Moskowitz, starring Seymour Cassel and the always radiant, Gena Rowlands.

It's a neurotic love story about the unlikely pairing of a hot-tempered parking lot attendant and an emotionally fragile museum curator, who go through loads of childish dramz in order to come to terms with their feelings for one another. It also features wonderful footage of long-gone Hollywood locations, as well as one of the funniest bad date scenes in cinema history.

 

Not to mention Minnie's perfect style, fabulous apartment, and signature giant sunnies (which are like another character in themselves). It's a passionate roller-coaster, only good for those who can stomach lots of yelling, but also shows beautifully what can happen when you let go of unrealistic expectations and surrender to your heart.

Above: Minnie's amazing Miracle Mile Apartment (accessorized with a killer old book collection, brass daybed, and Cocteau-esque eye mural) Below: Minnie and her antique needlepoint handbag at C.C. Brown's legendary ice cream parlour on Hollywood, Blvd. (which was a favorite date spot of Marilyn's). C.C.'s was tragically gutted in the '90s, much to my heartbreak, though it's lovely that it is preserved forever in a beautiful scene.

Va-va-verde.

While browsing past auctions in the Sotheby's archives, this fabulous vintage coat-dress caught my eye, and I found the multi-tiered ruffled collar and black buttons to feel surprisingly modern, and also very '70s-Ossie Clark, due to its exaggerated proportions, pirate cuffs and maxi length. It soon had me even more entranced when I read that it was worn by Vivien Leigh in the 1941 film, That Hamilton Woman. It sold at auction in 2002 for $8,365 (and worth every penny).

 

Dearest High-Bidder,

New York can be quite chilly this time of year, so if you decide out of the kindness of your heart to part with this coat and help me stay warm, please be in touch.

Sincerely green with envy,

~ The Vintager

 

 

Purple Haze.

Ads for Cacharel photographed by Sarah Moon (as found in the book Modern Publicity 1971/72).

Holiday Haute.

Seeking fancy frock inspiration for a swank holiday soirée?

Above: Jane Birkin at the Rothschild "Proust Ball", c.December 1971 (portrait by Cecil Beaton).

Christmas Dream.

I can't think of a more dramatic stocking stuffer than a 1970s "crystal teardrop by Ells and Farrier". I'm fantasizing that it is a totally easy-to-find Ren Faire item, but it's doubtful. Back to crying actual tears of envy . . .

Photo: British Vogue, Barry Lategan, c.June 1972

When David met Celia.

When thinking about artists and their muses, one inspiring pairing immediately comes to mind . . . that of David Hockney and his best friend, textile designer Celia Birtwell (who was also muse and wife to Ossie Clark). This triumvirate of characters has been tantamount to my aesthetic development, as we're talking about one of my all-time favorite painters on Earth, one of my absolute personal-style ideals, and a designer whose frocks I could wear solely until my very last breath. Being that Celia has the dreamy eyes and fair ringlets of a Botticelli goddess, Hockney was naturally drawn to her, stating that . . .

"Celia has a beautiful face, a very rare face with lots of things in it which appeal to me. It shows aspects of her, like her intuitive knowledge and her kindness, which I think is the greatest virtue. To me she's such a special person … Portraits aren't just made up of drawing, they are made up of other insights as well. Celia is one of the few girls I know really well. I've drawn her so many times and knowing her makes it always slightly different. I don't bother getting the likeness in her face because I know it so well. She has many faces and I think if you looked through all the drawings I've done of her, you'd see that they don't look alike."

Here are some of my favorites from Hockney's endless archive of Celia studies, which he first began in 1968 and continues adding to:

Cozy Overload.

Although I'm a born & raised California girl, you'd never know it (aside from the remnants of my Valley accent) due to my absolute LOVE of Harris tweed coats, hot apple cider, huge scarves, and Hunter wellies. With my pale Irish skin, and love of being snowed-in (am I the only one that finds it to be heaven?), I'm only truly happy when the air begins to chill, so let's talk turkey (season, that is). Here's the kind of Fall fashion I'm feeling;

I recently went shopping at Barney's and couldn't a thing to wear, until I strolled through the men's dept. and realized they had everything I'd ever wanted in a Fall wardrobe . . . (Above, Left): Jerry Hall in a tailored men's suit c.early 1980s (Right): Vintage tweed Annie Hall-inspired ensemb' as featured in the fabulous 1983 tome, Vogue: More Dash Than Cash by Kate Hogg (Below, L): An asymetrically tailored look photographed by Brian Duffy for French Elle c.1979 (Below, R): Margaret Howell trousers, tailored shirt and embroidered braces (I could wear her clothes exclusively, forever & ever, and still be elated).

I'm in the market for a cozy new coat, and have been romancing the idea of finding the perfect vintage fur chubby (and I repeat, "vintage", as I choose not to support the modern fur industry). Jane Birkin (above) epitomizes the warm bohemian vibe I'm swooning over, down to her sweet old basket tote. (Below, L to R): Biba founder Barbara Hulanicki in a glam bustier with '40s-style chubby c.1970s, Mod model (and sister of Pattie) Jenny Boyd in a golden pelt, c.1960s, and flawless Katherine Hepburn in sailor jeans and full-length mink c.1930s ("what becomes a legend most?", and how!)

But I'm also on the hunt for either a classic camel raincoat, or a colorful plaid trench (whichever finds me first). (Below, L to R): Ossie Clark trench photographed by Celia Birtwell c.1970s, Penelope Tree c.1960s, classy Molly Ringwald in NYC c.1980s (Beneath): wooly glam photographed by Duffy for French Elle c.1979

But as is eternally the case, I'm also completely devoted to the boho-Mucha-goddess-dollybird look, as seen below (L to R): Model Raquel Zimmerman in an absolutely perfect assemblage of accouterments c.2000s, a vintage Geoffrey Beene Bazaar paisley dress c.1960s, and a dreamy ragamuffin muse c.2000s.

As for dudes, if you want to be seen as a hip gentlman, attracting only the chicest of sexy brainy ladies, take my advice and go with any of the following Fall fashion vibes (L to R): Clint Eastwood in his legendary poncho from the Spaghetti-Western A Few Dollars More c.1965, and Robert Redford in super-cool literary-hipster/spy garb from Three Days of the Condor c.1975.

I've got baggage.

A few whimsically fabulous vintage Fall handbags, newly listed for your shopping pleasure . . .

(Left): Black textured silk seashell handbag with velvet flowers c.1940s (Right): "Owl + Pussycat" wood box bag designed by Enid Collins c.1960s

(Left): Rare zodiac -themed "Gemini" bejeweled purse by Enid Collins c.1960s (Right): Collins of Texas-style owl + moon tote c.1969

Boo who.

Being that Halloween is one of my favorite holidays, i've decided to share a mini-history of costumes i've worn on ghosty night . . . and I say mini-history, since many photos of bebe J.B.T. were sadly lost in a fire years ago (real-life spooky vibes!). So here is the best (and worst) of The Vintager on Hallows Eve:

(Above): My sister Lizzie and I were Broadway performers (natch'), and I remember crying lots because I really wanted to show off my sequined bow tie vest and my mom wouldn't let me leave the house without a cardigan. During this time I was also obsessed with A Chorus Line, and would force Lizzie to "rehearse" One . . . Singular Sensation over & over & over (apologies, Lizzie). My big finale during these performances involved holding my cane and top hat in the air and jumping on my dad's exercise trampoline.

(Left): Lizzie as Strawberry Shortcake and me as Lemon Meringue (sadly, the photo was damaged in the fire mentioned above, which ignited due to a bad fuse on my dad's giant '80s black lacquer salt-water fishtank = dangerous decor!). (Right): Broadway babies, again.

(Above): As a "New Waver", c.1983 (love the white lipstick, Snoopy: Feed the World tee, plastic music note tote, I also recall that my hi-tops were silver lamé).

(Left): We lived down the street from a professional make-up supplier to the film industry, so they helped Lizzie out with some pretty realistic horror-movie effects and I just went as a ghost bride, which wasn't a stretch since I was a goth at this point and probably would've worn that out dancing. (Right): Beatnic chic, inspired by my first viewing of Funny Face, c.early-'90s.

(Left): If this isn't the most '90s photo you've ever seen, I hereby challenge you to prove it. First of all, i'm at a rave, secondly i'm a go-go dancing alien and my beau at the time was dressed as Elvis-as-inspired by Nicolas Cage in Wild at Heart. Not to mention that in this pic alone, there is a grunge guy, a girl with dreads, and a dude with one suspender strap down. (Right): As a bunny for a screening of Suspiria in Downtown L.A., c.late 1990s, where my beau at the time and I were the only people in the theatre.

(Left): With my beloved friend Heather Porcaro (who dressed as an Eliza Doolittle-esque magical street urchin), and me as the St. Pauli Girl, c.early-2000's. (Right): As '70s Jerry Hall at Canter's Deli in L.A. (nice pickles)!

(Above): DJ-ing D.L. & Co.'s Halloween soirée as a Moulin Rouge dancer, c.2003.

(Above): As Tippi Hedren in The Birds, c.2005 (where I rigged little crows behind my jacket, bobbing up & down on wires so they looked like they were flying in the distance). Such a fun get-up to create!

(Above): At MTV's 2007 Halloween party in NYC, as Janis Joplin (they wouldn't let me bring in my bottle of Southern Comfort, which I felt really completed the look).

Happy Halloween, you glamorous goblins!

The Vintager's View: Spring 2011 Prêt-à-Porter

I've completed my wish list of vintage inspired items from the Spring 2011 Ready-To-Wear Collections. It's amazing to me how unanimously the designers channeled the 1970s as their muse this season, and I couldn't be more jazzed. Here are the frocks i'm coveting most (click images to view full-size) . . .

(L to R, above): Tibi, Tracy Reese (there is something so Marianne Faithfull about this little white dress), and i'm having an orange crush, care of Marc by Marc Jacobs.

The world's most perfect blue lace-up trousers courtesy of Vivienne Westwood's Red Label, along with a goddess gown Ava Gardner's character in One Touch of Venus (image on right) would've swooned for.

1970s disco-dancing ballerina/actress chic courtesy of Rebecca Taylor (are you drooling over that capeleted coat, or is it just me?)

Yohji Yamamoto created the perfect '90s goth noir-meets-Stevie Nicks vibe . . .

And Yohji's talented daughter, Limi Feu, echoed a kindred Sisters of Mercy tune.

Ralph Lauren fulfilled all my grunge plaid, sharpshootin', Annie Oakley, creamy virginal Victorian trousseau desires, simultaneously.

Just Cavalli had some bohemian goddess gowns that killed, adorned with amazing giant-geode necklaces, as well as a cream chiffon dream gown with applied flowers that reminded me of Marisa Berenson wearing Valentino (image on right), c.1970s.

Junya Watanabe sent out an animated and inspired nautical collection, much in the spirit of Anna Karina c.Une Femme est Une Femme (1961) . . .

And apparently John Galliano got the seafaring memo too.

Fendi is having a disco glam Jerry Hall moment, ditto for Etro.

Duro Olowu worked a major Slaves of NY/Grace Jones/Married to the Mob/wives of Fela Kuti moment. His collections always make me want to work harder, so I can go shopping, and isn't that what fashion's all about?

 

Donna Karan got herself back to the garden (image on left), along with D&G, who acessorized their flower girls with giant floral canvas tote bags and gloriously patterned platforms (hooray)!

 

D&G also went the tablecloth route, which reminded me of a fashion show I modelled in for the designer Pegah Anvarian in the early-1990s, when her amazing career was just beginning. How crazy-far ahead of trend was she with the picnic pattern and platforms?

Next up . . . the couture collections and a special post about the wonderful and magical, Anna Sui!

Runway Photos: Style.com