A Life in Frocks

 

Another unofficial borrowing from the Westgarth Blue Cross library! In A Life In Frocks, Kelly Doust has produced a charming personal memoir, tracing the course of her life through the clothes she's worn and loved (not all frocks). Obviously Doust takes fashion much more seriously than I do; I'd be hard pressed to remember most of the clothes I've worn over the years and (despite what my husband thinks) I don't buy many new ones. I used to buy a lot of my clothes from op shops but as I grow older, it's harder to find clothes that appeal. Doust does the same, but she has the advantage of being able to sew, so she can alter her retro and vintage finds to suit her better. (Learning to sew is one of those life skills that I've been vowing to acquire for a long time, but never seem to find the time to actually do.)

A Life In Frocks, with its pretty pink cover, is not trying to be anything more than it is -- a gentle, sometimes moving, sometimes amusing memoir that might nudge the reader into reminiscing about their own wardrobe.

The Capsule Wardrobe

My non-fiction purchases tend to fall into two categories: Worthy Educational, or Fun. Which is not to say that I might not learn something from the Fun reads, or that the Worthy Educational books can't be enjoyable to read (to wit, The Forgotten Rebels of Eureka, a terrific, engaging history, which I am slowly making my way through).

The Capsule Wardrobe falls squarely into the Fun basket. I have a weakness for books that promise to transform my clothes. I have loads of Trinny and Susannah books, I am tempted by books that will tend me what clothes to buy for my body shape (not that I can ever decide what my body shape actually is), or what colours I should wear. I don't enjoy buying clothes and I want to get it right. "1000 outfits from 30 pieces" sounded too good to be true.

I think what I really wanted was for Wendy Mak to come to my house and show me how to combine the clothes I already own in new and exciting ways. But that's not what this book does. It's not rocket science: get a dark jacket, a light jacket, dark pants, light pants, make sure everything goes with everything else, and mix them up. Yeah, I can probably manage that on my own.

I'm not a sophisticated fashionista and to me, putting on a different pair of shoes with the same top and bottom does not count as a new outfit! Also, nearly half the book (and it's not a big book) consists of spreadsheets of different combinations. I seriously doubt that anyone would bother trying on every single outfit on this list.

The Capsule Wardrobe was a quick, fairly fun read but it's going straight back into the donation box.

Material Girl

One day recently I was hounding Alice to get dressed (nothing new there). She disappeared into her bedroom and a few minutes later emerged wearing a dress I'd never seen before, a little pinny-type number with frilly sleeves, over a long-sleeved top and leggings.  (The dress is modelled above by Bunbun.)
'Where did that come from?'
'Oh, I made it,' she said airily. 'Just now.'
She'd taken a length of fabric given to her as part of a birthday present (great present!) and made it into a dress. 'But what's holding it together?' I asked in bemusement. She hadn't had time to sew anything. It wasn't even pinned together.
She widened her eyes and whispered, 'It's the magic of holes.'
All she'd done was snip a couple of arm-holes into the fabric and twisted it around her. But it looked amazing, and it was a perfectly serviceable little dress (if slightly ragged round the edges).

What's most exciting is that someone has just given us an old sewing-machine. If Alice can whip up frocks without sewing, I can't wait to see what she'll be able to create now!

What You Can Do With A Schooliform

In one of the Charlie and Lola books, Lola announces that she doesn't want to go to school because she doesn't want to wear a "schooliform." (Luckily as it turns out, her school doesn't have a schooliform and she can go dressed as an alligator if she wants to.)

Our school does have a schooliform, though a fairly flexible one. There is an official jacket, official windcheater and hat, and the uniform shop sells checked frocks, tops and trackie pants. But in reality, as long as it's navy or white, pretty much anything goes. Thus Evie went to school the other day in a dark blue Seed skirt with a nifty buckle belt (thanks, Sandra!), a white skivvy and stripy tights and got away with it.

Among the older girls,the current fashion is for white leggings (preferably lace-trimmed)* and netball skirts. Nothing else will do. Some girls also wear skinny pants under their dresses. Others wear a very smart tunic (not part of the uniform, but in prep Alice wanted one because her cousin had one, and she actually started a trend. Now she won't be seen dead in it.)

Back in my day, we rolled our socks down as low as they would go, and we all buttoned our shirts under our chins and turned up our collars (it was the 80s). We did our best to contrive drop-waists in our dresses, knotting our belts or even our school ties at hip-height (until we were reprimanded).

It's astonishing how much flexibility schoolgirls can wring out of the same basic ingredients. I was shocked a few years later to realise that the kids on the tram were wearing their socks LONG and their shirts unbuttoned and their skirts hitched UP. Quelle horreur!

So what did you do with your schooliform?

* if there is a less practical garment for schoolyard play, I'd like to know what it is. We are on our sixth pair already this year.