The Cat's Pyjamas

As I mentioned last week, on Friday I got gussied up and went out for a nice blend of culture and fun at the Guildhall Art Gallery's 1920s-themed night. This is what I cobbled together from my existing wardrobe, for a vaguely appropriate look.

Dress: Rokit
Slip: M&S
Shoes: Jones Bootmaker
Sash: Bit of ribbon from a local haberdashers
Stockings: Boots
Brooch (worn on sash): Pierre Bex from Ebay (as written about here)
Earrings: Gift from my mum

But really, the look would have been nothing without the hair...

I'm really pleased at how well this turned out!  I think I ought to play with that style more often, especially until I get my fringe trimmed (which is becoming increasingly urgent if I don't want to be blinded, either temporarily by the curtain that is increasingly lowering, or permanently by being spiked with sharp hairs at the perfect length for painfully poking my eyes...). But this was actually dead simple for me, with my curly hair (God bless my curly hair).  The front just required a bit of coaxing and setting with pins as it dried.  One I removed the pins, the curls around my forehead stayed put without assistance and I just needed to pin the longer strands in place as a curl over my ear.  Everything else went into a Gibson roll and, voila!

By the way, those rings are the ones that never leave my fingers,

except when I'm asleep. The Whitby Jet (on the right) was a 25th

birthday gift from my mum and the other used to be The Cat's.

And here's some shots outside the Guildhall just to prove that I did actually leave the house.

I'm out of the house for something other than work!  And it's so mild that I have my coat casually open!

I would take outfit posts outside more often, finding interesting backdrops, but I never like having to remember to take photos when I'd rather be abandoning myself to fun.  Also, there's that awkward thing of being pose-y when there's random strangers about...  But, here, we found a relatively quiet spot on the opposite side of the courtyard from the Art Gallery.

Twirling about in the Guildhall complex, with its intriguing mix of old and post-war
buildings

Finally, we had a lovely night inside the gallery.  We perused the Age of Elegance exhibition, which was rather nice but which I wasn't blown away by.  There were some interesting and some pretty paintings in there but I felt that the theme didn't really come through that strongly, except in parts.  Baring in mind that all the pictures were drawn from their own collection, however, you couldn't really expect it to be as comprehensive or coherent as if they'd pin-pointed and borrowed from other collections.  So, it becomes more impressive when considered like that.

And, in fact, I'd like to go back to look at the rest of their collection when I'm not distracted by music, other entertainment and crowds.  It was difficult to focus purely on art with so much else going on!  There was a band in the main gallery with commendable stamina, playing classics and swing.  There were dance classes downstairs but I actually skipped that in favour of getting to look around the paintings at a leisurely pace.  But my highlight was potentially a chap called Mark Oostervan reading a P.G. Wodehouse short story, The Truth About George.  He was great, the story was a brilliant choice, and I was giggling away at all the best moments.

So!  The morals of this story are:
1) If you don't have authentic 1920s in your wardrobe, take the time to get the hairstyle right as that will work wonders in making your outfit more convincing.
2) Consider going to the Guildhall's Age of Elegance exhibition but don't break your neck in a rush to get there.
3) Take out a copy of P.G. Wodehouse's short stories from your local library and have a read.

A Dress Fit for the Savoy

As you'll know from my previous post, on Saturday evening I went for a birthday treat at the Savoy Hotel.  Of course, any excuse to dress up...

Dress: Beyond Retro
Shoes: Beyond Retro
Hair flower: Accessorize

I had been planning to go for a '30s look, as a nod to the Deco style of the hotel but then a stumbled across this divine dress when I got distracted whilst out out shopping for winter warms the other day...

I was going to write more about the Savoy itself but I feel I must tell you the story of the dress (particularly after receiving such nice comments after it appeared in my last post - thank you, lovely readers!).  Whilst hunting for knits and other warm wear, I spotted it on a rack at Beyond Retro, Cheshire Street, and scooped it up immediately to carry off to the fitting rooms.  I pulled it over my head and proceeded to try to close the zip but there was one point at which it didn't want to go any further.  I tried and tried (gently, of course) but to no avail.  I was just about to admit defeat when I looked in the mirror again and thought "No!  This dress is perfect for me!  I can't let it go..."  I was in love, and surely you can see why.

I was smitten with the shape, the fabric colour and pattern, the ribbons under the bust...

... the gathered detail and the sash (if that's the name for it?) to one shoulder...

... the rusty pink lining and purple netting to compliment the blue fabric.  All such wonderful details.

I was entranced and felt that, if it could get past that one sticking point on the zipper, it would all be okay.  Tight, but okay.  It wasn't one of those situations where the circumference of the bodice is less than your rib cage and you know no amount of lung contraction will help...

And I was right!  I managed to get it past that one point with some nifty shifting of bra strap and I was in.  It was a little restricted but, considering how wonderful I felt otherwise, I could live with that.  But THEN, when I took the dress off, I noticed that there was some loose stitching around the arm.  I sighed a little, knowing repairs would be necessary before wearing.  UNTIL, I looked closer and realised that someone had adjusted the armholes!  Maybe, I thought, just maybe, when I unpick those arms, the whole bodice will just shift slightly south to such a degree that it would fit me JUST SO.  And, when I got home, I discovered I was correct!  It fit like a very comfy glove!  The dress was slightly imperfect for the previous owner but it just so happens that it must have been made for me.

And it's in such fabulous condition, I can't spot a single flaw.  It was reasonably priced too, especially considering its condition and age, and the fact that I will treasure it forever.  I guessed it was probably late '50s, judging by the style, finishing, and the placement of the zipper.  Doing some online research on the label when I got home, I discovered that the International Ladies' Garment Workers' Union had that specific label design between the years 1955 (after the American Federation of Labour - AFL - and the Committee for Industrial Organizations - CIO - merged) and before 1963 when they designed and registered their new label.  (Thank you, Ikwewe on Ebay guides.)  So it seems my dating was correct!

So, on my visit to the Savoy, I went 1950s instead of 1930s, though my hair could have fitted in to either, I think.  I side-parted it and included my fringe in the overall pin curling in preparation for the evening.  I was going to wear it loose after brushing out but it's getting rather long and it didn't feel quite right, so I ended up doing a rough Gibson roll.  A first ever attempt, without a hair rat, and it didn't quite come together as expected but I was pleased with the result nevertheless.

In my '50s dress, coiffed hair, sipping cocktails in the American Bar, listening to the pianist play Frank Sinatra, I felt I right at home.  Marilyn Monroe, one of their many famous guests, may have walked through the door and I wouldn't have been surprised... much.