Arabian Nights

Still no time to do blog pictures, so instead here's a warm weather trip down memory lane. These illustrations come from one of my favourite childhood books, an edition of 'The Arabian Nights', 'selected and retold for children by Gladys Davidson with many illustrations in colour and in black-and-white by Helen Stratton', printed circa 1910 (although the publishers, Blackie and Son Ltd, reissued it several times at later dates, with variations on the tales and illustrations included). The book lived at my French grandmother's house, and it was one of my rules of holiday behaviour that it was the first thing I read on our annual visits. This book and, especially, the rather lovely Art Nouveau-influenced illustrations by Miss Stratton, represented escape  to another world, an exotic and magical place in which the landscapes, if not the plot lines, somewhat reflected the hot Mediterranean location of 'Villa Maite', as my grandparents' house was called. At the time, the likes of Dulac and Heathcote Robinson (in his romantic rather than his humorous work) were my favourite artists, and Helen Stratton was very much in the same mold. The extravagant gestures and  exotic costumes (those turbans!), the pleated and flowing drapery, the curling smoke and piles of gold coins and jewels, the endlessly blue skies, were all mesmerising. The oriental fashions, heavily embroidered and sequinned, appealed to my budding sartorial tastes, and there were other fascinating details- the heroines, so often in distress, all seemed to possess long, serpentine and untamed hair. No sign of combs or plaits! And so many of the characters dispensed with shoes and ran around on their improbable errands in finely-drawn, bare (although often bejewelled) feet, despite the obviously rocky and snake-infested terrain they inhabited. A fabulous and perfect realm of the imagination.

Repeat Business

River: n 1. a copious natural stream of water flowing in a channel to the sea or a lake, etc.
             2. a large and disparate group of veins in the legs, affected by a condition (varicose) causing them to become dilated and swollen and hideously visible when the owner attempts to wear a skirt without the benefit of tights, usually during the spring and summer seasons; thereby generally necessitating expenditure on a product  to disguise these veins, and consequential frustration when said product proves to be completely ineffective. An annual occurrence.

(Apologies for the reappearance of this drawing. Other business has got in the way of new work)

Dyed and Gone to Heaven

When I was in college I was very high-minded. I wore no make-up (and never would) and I didn't dye my hair (and never would). I don't think I even registered other possibilities. I still wore outfits my mother sewed for me. Well, things have changed. As it turns out, Nice 'n Easy and I have been together for longer than I was married. 

Malcolm Gladwell's 1999 essay 'True Colors', a really great read, is in large measure about advertising hair dye. 'Between the fifties and the seventies, women entered the workplace, fought for social emancipation, got the Pill, and changed what they did with their hair. To examine the hair-color campaigns of the period is to see, quite unexpectedly, all these things as bound up together, the profound with the seemingly trivial. In writing the history of the postwar era, did we forget something? Did we leave out hair?' The slogan 'Does she or doesn't she?' was written in 1956 by Shirley Polykoff for a ground breaking Clairol D.I.Y. hair colour product, Miss Clairol. About this, Gladwell says, 'The question "Does she or doesn't she?" wasn't just about how no one could ever really know what you were doing. It was about how no one could ever know who you were. It really meant not "Does she?" but "Is she?" It really meant "Is she a contented homemaker or feminist, a Jew or a Gentile - or isn't she?' It was all about self-invention.

A couple of decades on, a woman called Ilon Specht was working on a campaign for Preference by  L'Oreal. In an angry response to the rather traditional ideas her male colleagues were coming up with, she wrote a commercial ending in the now famous words 'Because I'm worth it'. Sprecht is quoted as saying, by way of explanation, 'It meant I know you don't think I'm worth it (Preference was a little more expensive than Nice 'n Easy), because that's what it was with the guys in the room. They were going to take a woman and make her the object. I was defensive and defiant. I thought, I'll fight you. Don't you tell me what I am. You've been telling me what I am for generations.' L'Oreal later turned the phrase into a slogan for the whole company. (For arcane reasons of consumer psychology, it was eventually changed to 'Because we're worth it'.)

Shirley Polykoff also coined 'The closer he gets, the better you look' for Nice 'n Easy. I just checked the box in my bathroom cabinet to see if the phrase is still in use. It seems not to be. These days it's all about technology.

Light and Cool as Your Own Hair

The original advert from which my illustrative hair was taken. Such a wonderful clip, it apparently dates from 1987, although I don't think the styles can have changed since the inauguration of Franklin Fashions Corp in 1960. Every detail is a delight, from the Stepford Wives females on display, to the promise of a 'valuable free gift' (box of matches?), to the great copy. Made of 'miracle modacrylic fiber.. (which) behaves better than real hair', dog, children or possibly even husband. Hormone and indeed life-free, this fiber is on a par with the kitchen table as far as behaviour goes. 'Packs in your purse', something I have yet to achieve with my own hair, even with a larger Louis Vuitton at my disposal. 'Crush resistant' (great for public transport). And the coup-de-grace, the capless stretch wig 'looks and feels like real hair- you'll mistake it for your own', which might cause a mild panic attack when you open up that handbag.

Permanently Disappointed

There is an Alice Munro story in which she describes a woman as having let everything go except for her hair, which remained an elaborate pile of teased, curled, coloured and sprayed blonde locks, years after the rest of her had gone to the dogs. She may have been a brunette. I'll let you know if I ever find that story again.
When I was around twelve or thirteen, my mother took me with her to the hairdressers for my first perm. It was, I think, an attempt to bond in girly activity. She was not a vain woman, but she maintained her hair pretty rigorously with regular perms and sets. I, on the other hand, was the sort of girl who needed to be told to brush hair and wash face before setting off for school. Somewhere in our family archive is the photo my father took of us on our return from the salon- and if I ever find that, you'll never hear about it. I imagine my mother had thought I would be delighted by the change (improvement!) in my appearance- more grown-up, more womanly, etc. Instead, I was just acutely uncomfortable with my new hair, as though an alien had taken up residence on my head and was waving at passersby. I whined about it enough over the next few hours that she eventually smacked me over the head, shutting me up, but not doing half enough damage to that indestructible hairdo, as I recall. Well deserved, I should emphasise, and the end of grooming for some months. 

One of the above might be a close representation of myself, but I'm not letting on which.

Skating 1

I realise we're only just creeping into summer, but it's best to begin preparations early. Want to be ice-fit when the temperature dips below zero again? Start now, with this simple exercise, as demonstrated by Captain S. Duff-Taylor in his little volume, 'Skating', published at some point in the 1930s, I'd guess, although no date of publication was in evidence. As is noted on the fly leaf, 'Captain Duff-Taylor is (was) world famous, not only for his own achievements as a skater, but also for his skill as instructor.'   'Every detail of the International and English styles of skating' is fully dealt with, along with figure skating, exhibition skating and ice hockey. All in under seventy pages. 
The caption above reads, 'Balance on one foot, raising the other leg until the knee is in a straight line with the hip. Now straighten out the leg so that the top and hip are in a straight line, gradually swing the leg from the forward position until it is directly behind you.' 
Try it, and see if you can maintain the cool demeanour of the captain, in his natty hand knit, knee-highs and immaculate hair. The photography gives him a rather strange, guru-like aura. 

Even more guru-like in this photo, our hero demonstrates another exercise, for when we have the first under our belts: 'Stand on one leg, push the other out in front so that the toe is in line with the hip. Hold this position and gradually sink down as near the floor as possible. From the position shown here, gradually straighten up, still holding the unemployed leg (!) straight in front, until original position is gained.' Nothing is said about the delicate hand gestures.     More from 'Skating' later in the year.

(Many thanks to Caroline Holden-Hotopf, who drew my attention to this fine volume.)

Share the Secret of Top Models!

Another lovely little promotion from my personal collection. It's altogether more optimistic and upbeat than the weight-loss flyer I recently displayed, probably because it's American.  Who cares, though? To read it is to improve the shining day. Despite not being either natural or herbal, the Posturmatic promises to make your bust shapelier, more youthful instantly. The straps are super-comfortable, and it will make budget fashions (your wardrobe and mine) look like a million dollars. Even the refund will be cheerful.
Possibly just a little work needed on the name.