Biba my baby

Repetitive, generic so-called maxi dresses today don't know the meaning of the word, maxi. Take this picture of Twiggy in 1960s Biba. A free flowing, print-tastic, don't give a f*ck maxi. Anticipating House of Fraser's September relaunch of the brand, I'm not sure they'll do justice to the long towering gowns (not to mention micro minis) that made Biba the most iconic store of the decade, but I'm hopeful that they will.


I've loved Biba since long before making my first purchase (a black and white crocheted cardigan from Dapper Boutique in Camden) and think its founder Barbara Hulanicki, sounds like an amazing woman. I'm currently reading her autobiography, From A To Biba (almost as snappy as the title of this post) which chronicles her journey from growing up in Jerusalem to founding her first boutique in Kensington, London then watching the brand being taken over in the 1970s. She writes beautifully with passion in abundance and emotion where appropriate (her opening paragraph reads: 'My childhood was so secure that I remember wishing one of my parents would die so I could feel some emotion, even misery. I was twelve years old when my wish came true.')


I remember interviewing Twiggy a couple of years ago for something TV related and (naturally) we got onto the Biba subject and she painted the most enviable picture of running down Abingdon Road in her lunch hour (when she used to wash people's hair on a Saturday morning) to buy a dress.


She told me: 'I think Barbara changed high street shopping forever. There were no boutiques before Barbara did Biba. There was no teenage clothing at a cost that kids could afford. She started that. And we wouldn’t have Topshop now probably if she hadn’t done that.'

Twiggy didn't keep many of the clothes that are so synonymous with her image, (and I suppose brand) in the 1960s, but she kept her Biba. Course she did. It feels like such a shame that someone of Barbara's skill lost the rights to what started out as her own baby. Of course her talent lives on (I loved her Biba-esque line for Topshop last year). But it will be interesting to see what House of Fraser and 'muse' Daisy Lowe do with the ethos Barbara put her heart and soul into. And if it worked for Halston...

How do I love thee, Ossie?

Ossie Clark and Celia Birtwell crepe de chine maxi dress (sigh)

One of the reasons for calling my blog Dreams In Dresses was because so often you daydream about a particular dress or a designer you can't afford but there's such an affinity there, you never give up hope that one day, the right funds and perfect fit will come together like the two most difficult remaining pieces in the world's longest and most boring jigsaw.

I came closer to that day last weekend when I stumbled across a beautiful vintage boutique, Hope & Harlequin, on Sydney Street in Brighton. Among the delicate rails of carefully selected designer pieces, there were not one but two 1960s/1970s Ossie Clarks. And they both fitted me perfectly. What are the chances?

I should repeat here that I came closer, (unfortunately I couldn't justifiably purchase either at that moment) I should also backtrack that to own an Ossie Clark is my ultimate dream, which is what made the Hope & Harlequin experience that little bit more special. 

How often do you feel comfortable enough to try on clothes you'd really-love-to-buy-but-realistically-can't and not lead the shop assistants up the garden path? It's all too easy to try something on, sheepishly mumble something about going to find a cash point and never return. But here, both ladies were friendly and helpful (adjusting straps and giving me shoes to try on with etc) but above all realistic. They take payment in installments and genuinely seem to care who goes away with which of their clothes. 

Ossie Clark biased cut crepe de chine trouser suit (sigh)

I'm seriously considering taking up the offer of installments if the maxi dress or the suit is still there next time I visit. But sadly, I know they probably won't be. That's Ossie Clark for you. I've been fascinated with his and one-time wife/one-time creative partner Celia Birtwell's designs ever since reading his journals when I was living back at my parents' house after graduating (I spent a lot of time at the library, along with lots of other frustrated people searching for meaning). Since then, I've written articles about him and searched high and low for his designs whenever at fairs/boutiques/markets. He's become a bit of a hobby...

I always imagined if I bought a piece of Ossie it would be one of his dresses, complete with Birtwell print, but after trying on this pale pink two-piece, I'm not so sure! It reminds me of something he would have dressed Patty Boyd (or even erm, Mick Jagger) in, in the 1970s. And while Celia's prints live on in her more recent lines for Topshop or John Lewis, there's something a lot more rare and covetable, even sacred, about his tailoring, through the bias-cut, use of collars and draping fabrics.

If you're not familiar with Ossie and would like to know more, read this. Hobby? That's just a polite word for obsession.

Paparazzi

Flashing lights, click click clicking, stalkers amidst the crowds, after show parties, champagne on tap. Being famous has its pros and cons. While the very notion of 'celebrity' post-2000 baffles and often infuriates me, I do like a glass of fizz. But would you let the lady (who am I kidding) above, get her greasy hands on the canapes? I assume not, and at the National TV Awards, they didn't. Sadly all after show parties were reserved for 'winners and nominees'.

Not that I wasn't dressed the part. Was a bit self-conscious at first exposing so much leg, but I love this dress! The top part, covered in sequins is actually a leotard with shoulder-pads and the skirt is attached to the back and ties at the front, leaving a massive slit where, unless you're a member of the Hollyoaks cast or have ever stepped through the doors of Big Brother, you'll be needing some seriously thick tights. Mine let me down a bit as stretched to look more transparent than I was going for, but I won't hold it against M&S. Kate (at Little Red where I bought the dress) suggested teaming it with a bright colour of tights which I might do next time. From the back, it has the appearance of a long, sleek maxi dress.

Despite being told it was 'very Cheryl Cole' (not really what constitutes a compliment for me), she's better than most of the Z-list 'nominees', taking my place at the after show party, drinking my champagne...