Millinery
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Dewhursts created a wonderful range of bright colours, including this rich shade of blue, which has the most delightful name: "Very Dark Turqoise".
When it was my birthday three years ago, a very dear friend who enjoys photography as much as I do, and knows that I collect beautiful and vintage pieces, gave me a wonderful selection of antique ribbons, buttons, buckles, lace and other fine notions. She also gave me three follow up tins of similar delightful gifts for Christmas that same year.
Those wonderful gifts are what has inspired me to create this series of "Embroider my World" images featuring my vintage bobbin collection. In this case I am using my Very Dark Turquoise spool sitting on an antique deep blue silk ribbon which features bands of bronze thread. To go with the name of the spool, I have accesorised it with a lovely turquoise foliate brooch with the beads on copper wire, allowing the brooch to be arranged to suit the wearer. The spool is also accentuated with blue material flowers are millinery stock from the 1950s. This image also features an elegant German Art Deco half-doll made by porcelain manufacturer Kestner from the 1920s, who whilst dressed in Georgian style, has a very definite Art Deco flavour about her, rather like a silent film star in a historical melodrama.
The "half-doll" is a dainty porcelain or bisque figurine, fashionable in the early Twentieth Century with an upper body, head, arms, but no legs. These dolls were produced in the thousands at the height of their popularity by German factories such as Dressel and Kister, Heubach, Goebel and Kestner. Later they were produced in France, America and later still, in Japan. They commonly served as handles and toppers for fabric covers made for powder boxes on ladies’ dressing tables and small brushes, however they were also made for jewellery boxes, pincushions, tea cosies and other covers. In this case, my German half-doll iwith her Art Deco influenced Georgian style would have been made for a lady’s boudoir and was most likely the topper for a jewellery box, powder bowl or wand. She has been beautifully hand painted, as Kestner were well known for.
Belle Vue Mill, commonly known as Dewhurst’s, was built by Thomas Dewhurst in 1828. It opened in 1829 as John Dewhurst & Sons and was one of Skipton’s largest spinning and weaving mills. The mill’s position next to the Leeds Liverpool Canal meant that raw cotton could be shipped in by boats from Liverpool. Finished goods would then be sent back the same way ready for distribution. Coal to power the machine’s steam engines was also delivered by barge. In 1897 Dewhurst’s was bought by the English Sewing Cotton Co. It continued to produce Sylko, one of the mill’s most famous products. It was produced in over 500 colours and sold throughout the world. Sylko cottons are still available at haberdashers today.
"'Neath the waves where moonlit ribbons gleam,
She trims her hats with seaweed, pearls, and dreams.
A thimble carved from shell upon her hand,
She stitches foam like lace from glistening sand.
Her brimmed creations bloom with starfish bright —
A mermaid’s millinery, stitched from sea and light."
A poetic offering written by your humble photographer (2026).
The theme for "Looking Close on Friday" for Friday the 27th of February is "dried plants". In my library of antiquarian books, I have a few albums of tobacco cards and one very interesting dark green leather volume embossed with gilded letters, declaring it to be a book of sea weeds, ferns and flowers, which I bought at an auction many years ago. Entered into a Women's Work Exhibition in the late 1800s by Helen Stead, the book consists of fifty pages of the most beautifully pressed and catalogued seaweed specimens, each with their botanical names written in an elegant hand in pencil in the corner of every page. Because the book sits closed, and has for over a century, except for the occasional turning of the pages by its owner, the seaweeds still retain the most vibrant of colours. Therefore, when the theme was announced, although I press flowers profusely, and have some lovely examples between the pages of many of my books, I could not look past this wonderful book by Helen Stead, created for a Women's Work Exhibition more than a hundred years ago. The page I chose features a very delicate dried and pressed example of Dasyphilia - which is a term related to a genus of red algae (Rhodophyta) in the family Ceramiaceae, specifically Dasyphilia plumarioides. I have added to it for my own interest and amusement, a business card, advertising Mrs. G. P. Stanton's Millinery and Fancy Goods (haberdashery) of Norwich in Connecticut, from around the same time as Helen Stead's amazing book of seaweed specimens. I added the business card because it features a wonderful chromolithographed image of beautiful shells, seaweed and two mermaids, which got me to thinking that this Dasyphilia seaweed would make a wonderful feathery plume for a mermaid's hat! I hope you like my choice for this week's theme, and that it makes you smile!
By the way, after extensive research, I could not find anything about the creator of the wonderful book of pressed, dried seaweed specimens, Helen Stead, but I do know that her painstaking efforts won her a five pound award for her submission!
On the northeast corner of W. Main and Race St., across the street from the Bennett Building (drug store) featured earlier in this series, is the Cohen Building. Completed in 1907, the classical revival style structure was designed by Urbana architect Joseph W. Royer (1873-1954), a University of Illinois School of Architecture graduate and the man who designed the magnificent Champaign County Courthouse.
When it opened in 1907, the Cohen Building contained many different businesses, such as Nathan Cohen’s cigar factory on the second floor, offices at the street level, an ice cream and candy store on the east side with an adjacent barber shop, and the Urbana Banking Company’s headquarters in the corner. A tailor shop was added in 1909 at the back of the building while the same previous businesses remained After Cohen retired from the cigar business in 1913, the full expansion of the offices, bank and commercial stores was established. The Cohen building continues as a professional office and commercial building.
To the east (right) of the Cohen Building are two single story buildings connected by a common wall. Both buildings were completed in 1885 and are nearly identical in detailing. 130 W. Main, next to the Cohen Building, historically was a millinery shop and barber shop, and is now a legal office. The building next to it at 126 W. Main, historically was a flower shop, and is now a restaurant known as the Dancing Dog Eatery and Juicery.
The Cohen Building, along with 130 W. Main and 126 W. Main lie within the Joseph W. Royer Arts and Architecture District in the heart of old Urbana, and are contributing buildings within the Downtown Urbana Historic District listed in 2019 on the National Register of Historic Places.
Urbana is the seat of Champaign County. Located in east central Illinois, the twin cities of Urbana and Champaign are the home of the University of Illinois. The population of Champaign County at the 2020 census was 205,865.
The theme for “Smile on Saturday” for the 1st of March was a “guessing game”, where to meet the theme, I was required to photograph something in such a way that it was not obvious what the subject of the image really was. The object had to be an ordinary item that anyone could identify if a bigger picture is shown of it.
The photo I took showed some folded red velvet as you can see here: www.flickr.com/photos/40262251@N03/54356302365/in/datepos... I had many fantastic guesses from a red velvet jacket (and for those of you who suggested that I am happy to say that I do own a crushed red velvet jacket) to a scarf, from a father Christmas hat to a Christmas tree skirt. I\'m afraid that none of those were correct. Most people did identify that it was red velvet. However, one person got it right just from a macro showing a tiny piece of the item. Josef (Josef17 ) identified it as a flower, and as you can see it is! I photographed the bottom right hand corner of this red velvet rose from my vintage haberdashery collection. So that is what it is!
Both of these buttons are made of celluloid and metal and date back to the 1890s. The larger one has an arc of cut steels. Behind the buttons is the lower part of a small Noritake porcelain vase that once belonged to my grandmother. It was made in Japan in the 1920s. The fabric flowers on the right, originally for millinery, also date from the 1920s.
"A woman can be overdressed but never over elegant." – Gabrielle (Coco) Chanel
The theme for “Smile on Saturday” for the 28th of May is “headwear in square”, which can be any kind of headwear, so long as it is cropped into a square image. Anyone who follows my photostream knows that I love and collect 1:12 size miniatures which I photograph in realistic scenes. The artifice of recreating in minute detail items in 1:12 scale always amazes me, and it’s amazing how the eye can be fooled. Therefore, when the theme came up, I immediately thought of some of my miniature artisan hats, which really are exquisite little pieces of art in their own right. 1:12 size miniature hats made to such exacting standards of quality and realism are often far more expensive than real hats are. When you think that one would sit comfortably on the tip of your index finger, yet it could cost in excess of $150.00 or £100.00, makes them an extravagance. American artists seem to have the monopoly on this skill and some of the hats that I have seen or acquired over the years are remarkable. I have selected five of my favourites for you today. I hope you like my choice for the theme this week, and that it makes you smile.
Going clockwise from the top left-hand corner:
“Shona” (yes, this hat actually has a name, just like hats from the Golden Age of Fashion) is a purple Edwardian toque in the style popular just before and after the Great War. Made of soft velvet, she is covered in silk flowers and lace and is made by Miss Amelia’s Miniatures in the Canary Islands. It is an artisan miniature made just like a real hat, right down to a tag in the inside of the crown to show where the back of the hat is!
The camel coloured wide brimmed Edwardian picture hat is made of brown felt and is trimmed with miniature coffee coloured braid. The brim is decorated with hand curled feathers, dyed to match the shade of the hat, as well as a spray of golden “grapes” and dyed flowers. Acquired from an American miniatures collector who was divesting herself of some of her collection, I am unsure who the maker was, other than both this and the green hat were made by the same American miniature artisan.
The romantic cream wide brimmed summer hat decorated with pink satin roses and ribbons, and trimmed on the underside with the finest lace, is reminiscent of the style of hats worn and made popular by the Queen Mother (then the newly minted Duchess of York) in the mid 1920s. The maker for this hat is unknown, but it is a part of a larger collection of 1:12 artisan hats and miniature accessories I bought from an American miniature collector Marilyn Bickel.
The yellow straw hat decorated with ornamental flowers and an organza ribbon of lemon yellow is of late 1920s to early 1930s style. The maker for this hat is also unknown, but is another piece from the collection I bought from American miniature collector Marilyn Bickel.
The green coloured wide brimmed Edwardian picture hat is made of bright green felt and is trimmed with miniature turquoise coloured braid. The brim is decorated with hand curled feathers, dyed to match the shade of the hat, as well as a spray of silver silk flowers. Acquired from an American miniatures collector who was divesting herself of some of her collection, I am unsure who the maker was, other than both this and the camel hat were made by the same American miniature artisan.
By Emma Moscow displayed at Open Studio at Proteus Arts Centre Basingstoke. www.emmamoscowmillinery.co.uk/bespoke-millinery/
Anyone who follows my photostream will know that I collect and photograph 1:12 size miniatures. Some pieces are lovely, but nothing particularly special as they are mass manufactured in factories in places like China and Korea, whilst others are beautiful and unique artisan pieces that have been lovingly handmade, such as this 1:12 size miniature book made by the British miniature artisan Ken Blythe. I have quite a large representation of Ken Blythe’s work in my collection, but so little of his real artistry is seen because the books that he specialised in making are usually closed. Entitled “Revue des Chapeaux”, this book’s pages review in brilliant pictorial detail, millinery styles between 1913 and 1917. What might amaze you even more is that it is an authentically replicated 1:12 scale miniature of the real book “Revue des Chapeaux” published in 1917. The pages shown in my photo may be seen photographed from the actual book in these two links: here ( www.flickr.com/photos/taffeta/7062767671/in/album-7215762... ) and here ( www.flickr.com/photos/taffeta/7062758273/in/album-7215762... ). This book is only three centimetre in length, two centimetres in width and three millimetres in depth. To create something so authentic to the original in such detail and so clearly, really does make this a miniature artisan piece.
The theme for “Looking Close… on Friday” for the 30th of July is “holding”, for which an image of one or two human hands much be photographed holding something. As soon as the theme was announced, I knew that I wanted to photograph one of the many 1:12 miniature artisan pieces I have in my large collection of miniatures in my hand. The big, and difficult, question was – which one? I settled on this book by Ken Blythe for a number of reasons. I love vintage and antique clothing and accessories, including hats, and I love this era of fashion before the Great War. However, the main reason why I chose it is to show off what I don’t often get to, the contents of just one of Ken Blythe’s amazing miniature books. I am fortunate enough to have a substantial representation of Ken Blythe’s work in my collection, however it is seldom seen because most of them are books, and they are closed, sitting on a shelf or tabletop. Thus, you miss seeing the amazing quality of detail paid to authentically reproducing the publication in 1:12 size which makes these pieces so incredibly special. Ken Blythe’s work is highly sought after by miniaturists around the world today and command high prices at auction for such tiny pieces, particularly now that he is no longer alive. I was fortunate enough to know and acquire pieces from Ken Blythe prior to his death about four years ago. His legacy will live on with me and in my photography which I hope will please his daughter. I hope that you enjoy this peek at just one of hundreds of his books that I own, and that it makes you smile with its sheer whimsy!
The We're Here! gang is looking for shopping carts in the wild today. This is staged (obvi) so I won't put it in the shopping cart group...
The story behind this little trolly:
My lifelong friend Robin and I, in our late teens (or was it early 20s?), used to roam about in Vancouver's East End late at night. We liked walking up and down the alleys and residential streets -- you always saw interesting things. Almost every time we did this, we found shopping carts lying about. If we didn't see one right away, we would stand on a corner and bellow, "SHOPPING CAAAAAART!" We would always find one right after doing that. No, seriously!
One of us would get in the shopping cart, and the other would push. We would take turns pushing each other up and down the streets, laughing like maniacs. Many years later, she gave me this cute little shopping cart to remind me of those fun times.
The #MacroMondays #Swag challenge
A 1cm square lapel badge from the Royal Society for the Protection of Birds, superglued to my rucksack. They fall off, y'know. A nice lady at one of their reserves insisted I took it when I presented my membership card to gain entry one morning.
Upper class Victorian ladies liked birds. Or, more accurately, they liked their plumage and, let's face it, a bird does not last long without it, particularly when they are shot to obtain it. Emily Williamson liked birds too, but she preferred them to be in one piece and flapping a bit. In 1889 she and a number of like-minded other ladies created The Society for the Protection of Birds, specifically to oppose the fashion for the murderous millinery which allowed the hats of the more fashionable ladies in society to be adorned with the gorgeous feathers of great crested grebes, egrets, birds of paradise and the like. After all, the male-only British Ornithologists Union was doing nothing about it. So it was left to the ladies to write to the papers, speak to shopkeepers who stocked feathers, contact those who wore them and to persuade the greatest fashion-setters of the age, The Royal Family, to change their own taste in hats. Progress was made. In 1899, Queen Victoria instructed those of her regiments which wore osprey feathers in their headdress to stop doing so. 10 years after it started, the campaign was clearly gaining traction.
In quite rapid order (1904) the society gained Royal Charter status and in 1921 The Importation of Plumage (Prohibition) Act was passed. It was a good start, but great crested grebes are as British as robins and sparrows are, so their plumes did not have to be imported. Still work to do then, but this was the first successful campaign by the RSPB. From that humble yet important single issue beginning, the RSPB has evolved into an influential organisation with a membership of over a million. It speaks for our birds and thereby indirectly for all flora and fauna, exerting pressure home and abroad, running over 170 reserves in the UK. Access to reserves is free to members and is a cheap (or is that cheep?) day out for others.
The stylised bird used for its logo is an avocet, a bird extinct in the UK before it bred at RSPB Minsmere and which is now widespread enough to be seen with pleasure but not much surprise from train journeys where the tracks pass through the appropriate habitats.
Another success attaches to ospreys, which, having been persecuted to extinction in the UK, unexpectedly returned to breed at Loch Garten in 1954. Egg collectors raided their nest, but undeterred the birds returned the following year. The RSPB mounted a 24/7 guard on the nest, resulting in a successful breeding season. Although still scarce, ospreys, summer migrants to the UK and at the very north of their range, now breed at various places throughout the UK. The organisation also encouraged marsh harriers to breed at and spread from Minsmere. In 1971 that reserve had the UK's only breeding pair. Today there are around 600 pairs at various sites, still a very scarce bird, but improving. The RSPB was also involved in the successful reintroduction of red kites in The Chilterns. I now see them fairly regularly 100 miles away. Avocets and red kites are no longer on the UK conservation red list, but there is no reason for complacency. Of all birds, the house sparrow is regarded as common, yet its numbers have crashed and it was added to the red list on the very day the red kite was taken off it.
Incidentally, Minsmere has a cafe which serves quite superb cakes. It's almost a pity to leave them behind to do a bit of birdwatching, but I digress. The photo was taken as shown using 32mm of extension tubes. It's a colour photo of a very monochrome subject.
HMM all.
William Chambers Millinery shoot for Indicate Magazine.
Model: Vivi
Make-up: Kaeleigh Wallace
Milliner: William Chambers
Issue 6
Prints for sale
Either Flicr mail me or e-mail me at Indykitty1@hotmail.com
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Monique Lee Millinery SS'14 Dark Times collection
Photography by Kenny Ip
feat. Wei-Chiung Lin
Hat Design & Art Direction by Monique Lee
Styling by Manveer Sagoo
Hair styling by Federico D'Abate
Makeup by Keum Jin Hwang
made with vintage millinery sourced on my recent trip to cali! each is one of a kind... the woodland one is one of my favorites (center,) but they are all special.
Women in a millinery shop, Sydney, I July 1952, ON 388/Box 059/Item 115 collection.sl.nsw.gov.au/record/nZNWbXEn/xDlW5DBxlBD6w
inside an old crumpled brown checkbook box i found a bundle of tissue paper and this is what was inside!
happy day
Hat Making book by publisher Ondori (Japan), I think it is created by Clover Japan to promote their Hat template kits (they have two kits in retail - one for caps and one for hats). Sorry I cant read Japanese.
ISBN978-4-277-49057-3. I bought this book at Kinokuniya bookstore at SDG$7.50.
Clover Japan website www.clover.co.jp
Collaboration between myself and Hilda Westervelt (Bellissima Couture) for Live Auction at "Kenvention" 2015
Starting this week with a flourish of scintillating confections, exuberant creations, magnificent millinery, and beautiful women at a wedding in Donegal. Our long time expert on matters millinery, La Belle Province, would be able to give us chapter and verse on these? Mr. Bardy of Lifford in Donegal ordered the photograph, but did Mr. Poole travel there, or did the Bardys take the long trip down to Waterford?
Photographer: A. H. Poole
Collection: Poole Photographic Collection, Waterford
Date: ca. Wednesday, 7 August 1901
NLI Ref: POOLEWP 1184a
You can also view this image, and many thousands of others, on the NLI’s catalogue at catalogue.nli.ie
Sweet pink velvet ribbon and millinery flowers.
Part of my blog series "Treasures From Grandma's Attic".
Collaboration between myself and Hilda Westervelt (Bellissima Couture) for Live Auction at "Kenvention" 2015
'There should be a glass of wine in my hand!'
Credits:
Sabrina is a 'Miss Fairchild' Poppy Parker (modified) on a 'Nu-face' body
Dress - Mattel
Jacket - Mattel
Millinery - Mattel
Stockings - IT
Boots - Mattel
Bracelet - OOAK
Chanel Purse - DollhouseAra (etsy)
William Chambers Millinery shoot for Indicate Magazine.
Model: Vivi
Make-up: Kaeleigh Wallace
Milliner: William Chambers
Issue 6
Prints for sale
Either Flicr mail me or e-mail me at Indykitty1@hotmail.com
Cavendish Mews is a smart set of flats in Mayfair where flapper and modern woman, the Honourable Lettice Chetwynd has set up home after coming of age and gaining her allowance. To supplement her already generous allowance, and to break away from dependence upon her family, Lettice has established herself as a society interior designer, so her flat is decorated with a mixture of elegant antique Georgian pieces and modern Art Deco furnishings, using it as a showroom for what she can offer to her well heeled clients.
Today however, we are south of the Thames in the middle-class London suburb of Putney in the front room of a red brick Edwardian villa in Hazelwood Road, where Gerald has brought Lettice to visit his friend, Harriet Milford. The orphaned daughter of a solicitor with little formal education, Harriet has taken in lodgers to earn a living, but more importantly for Lettice, has taken up millinery semi-professionally to give her some pin money*. As Lettice’s mother, Lady Sadie, has forbidden Lettice to wear a shop bought hat to Leslie, Lettice’s brother’s, wedding in November and Lettice has quarrelled with her own milliner, Madame Gwendolyn, Gerald thought that Harriet might benefit as much from Lettice’s patronage as Lettice will by purchasing one of Harriet’s hats to resolve her fashion conundrum.
Lettice glances around the front parlour of the Putney villa, which doubles as Harriet’s sewing room and show room for her hats, with the critical eye of an interior designer, all the while listening to the notes of the oboe being played upstairs. The room’s middle-class chintzy décor immediately appals her as she takes in the floral covers of the flouncy Edwardian sofa on which she perches gingerly, and its matching roomy armchair by the fire, a hand embroidered pouffe and the busy Edwardian floral wallpaper. A bookcase stands in the corner, full of mystery novels covered in dust which Lettice suspects might have belonged to Harriet’s father, the deceased Mr. Milford. The bookcase’s top and the fireplace mantle are cluttered with family portraits taken in the possibly happier days of the idyllic summers before the Great War. The walls are hung with a mixture of cheap botanical prints and quaint English country scenes, all in gaudy gilded plaster frames. “How ghastly,” Lettice utters quietly with a sigh.
“I know: you hate the floral chintz,” Gerald says in reply to Lettice’s laconic observation. “You don’t need to tell me. The look of distaste on your face says it all. But you aren’t here to redecorate Lettuce Leaf, so be a darling and remember to mind your manners. You are a viscount’s daughter, after all, and Hattie is just a solicitor’s daughter. However, in spite of her low birth in comparison to your own, she is a good person, and she is my friend. Show some of your good breeding and be gracious.”
Lettice shoots Gerald an annoyed look at his use of her abhorred nickname yet again. “I’m beginning to question your choice of new friends – not that I even knew she existed prior to today.”
“Oh, there is a lot about me you don’t know, Lettice darling.” Gerald says with an air of mystery.
She glances around her again. “It’s awfully untidy in here.” she remarks not unjustly as she takes in the sight of a concertina sewing box on casters which stands cascaded open next to the armchair, threads, embroidery silks, buttons and ribbons pouring from its compartments like entrails. Hats in different stages of being made up and decorated lie about on the arm of the chair and the settee or on the floor in a haphazard way. The brightly patterned rug is littered with spools of cotton, scissors, ribbon, artificial flowers and dogeared copies of Weldon’s** magazines.
“Yes, well, Hattie hasn’t learnt the finer points of presentation yet,” Gerald admits. “But I’m working on that. However, suspend your judgement until you see what she can create for you.” Pointing to the three hats Lettice inspected a few minutes before sitting atop what must have formerly been a tea table, he adds, “You’ve already seen that her work really is every bit as good as Madame Gwendolyn’s.”
“Well, we shall see.” Lettice pronounces, withholding her judgement on Harriet’s work.
Just at that moment, Harriet’s scurrying footsteps across the tiled vestibule floor outside the door announce her arrival and she hurries through the door bearing a tray loaded with tea making implements and a plate of biscuits. “Be a lamb and bring over father’s chess table, will you Gerry darling.” she instructs Gerald.
Obediently Gerald gets up from his seat on the floral sofa next to Lettice, and with the familiarity of a regular houseguest, picks up a tilt table nestled on the far side of the fireplace. Tilting its surface into an upright position, Lettice momentarily sees the chess board set in marquetry on its surface before it is quickly obscured by an old fashioned Edwardian gilt banded tea set and the plate of biscuits as Gerald takes everything off Harriet’s tray.
“Thanks ever so!” Harriet sighs with relief before depositing the tray on the floor by the door, walking back across the room and around the table and then collapsing into the armchair with another deeper sigh.
“As an interior designer, Lettice has just been commenting on your décor, Hattie darling,” Gerald says to their hostess as he resumes his own seat.
“Gerald!” gasps Lettice, her face flushing at her friend’s frank admission.
“Oh I’m sorry it’s so untidy, Miss Chetwynd.” Harriet apologises as she snatches a rather tattered copy of Weldon’s* off the arm of her chair, shoving in behind her floral cushion, and tries to bundle her sewing bits back into the tray of her sewing box on casters. “Gerry has told me I need to improve the presentation of my premises, but having no domestic staff to speak of other than me, and trying to run a boarding house at the same time as make hats means I just don’t seem to have the time to tidy up in here.”
“Nor do I, Hattie darling,” Gerald scolds. “But that’s no excuse.”
Harriet blushes at her friend’s gentle rebuke.
“Shall I be mother then***?” Lettice asks. When Harriet nods in agreement, Lettice perches herself on the edge of the chintz sofa and sets out the tea things. “So,” she asks, pouring hot brackish tea into the first china cup. “You run a lodging house too?”
“Yes, for theatrical artistes.” Harriet explains proudly with a smile. “That’s Cyril playing his oboe upstairs,” She rolls her eyes up to the white plaster ceiling decorated with floral boiseries. “Although he is a professional actor as well as a musician in the West End.”
“Indeed,” muses Lettice.
“Although I do wish he’d play something other than Schumann or Mozart when we have guests.” mutters Harriet.
“Oh why, Miss Milford?” Lettice asks.
“Well, it’s not exactly the jolliest of music, is it?” Getting up again, Harriet walks over to the open doorway leading to the vestibule. Standing astride the threshold she calls up the stairs, “Do you think you could play something a bit jollier on the oboe, Cyril? We have guests. Gerry’s brought a friend. How about a nice bit of jazz?”
The music stops abruptly followed by a rather feminine sounding man’s fey voice opining from upstairs, “How can you, Hattie? I’m an artiste!” The last word is uttered dripping with melodrama. “Jazz music does not make one money.”
“Really? Then explain to me how the Savoy Havana Band**** make a living, Cyril? Please? Do it for Gerry, if not for me!”
“Oh, alright,” the fey voice bemoans. “But only because Gerry brought a chum.” The music recommences, only this time the opening bars to ‘The Sheik of Araby’***** fill the air.
“Hattie had a rather awkward situation with a retired colonel when she first started letting rooms.” Gerald says in a lowered tone as Harriet smiles at the change in music.
“Yes, the old chap couldn’t keep his hands to himself.” Harriet replies with a curt nod as she walks across the room and takes her place again. “Dirty old lecher was old enough to be my grandfather!”
“How awful, Miss Milford!” Lettice exclaims.
“I don’t find I have the same problem with men who are theatrical types, especially those from the chorus, those who paint the sets or work in the wardrobe department,” She smiles at Gerald, who smiles back. “If you understand my meaning, Miss Chetwynd” Harriet says with a wink, returning her attention to Lettice “I feel much safer around the likes of Cyril and his chums.”
“Indeed yes.” agrees Lettice, glancing between Gerald and Harriet, the pang of jealousy curdling her stomach as it did when she first saw Gerald and Harriet embrace in the way she thought only she and Gerald did.
“My father sent me to domestic science classes, so I’m quite a dab hand at plain cooking and keeping house when I get the chance, so my lodgers are happy.”
“Do try one of Harriet’s jam fancies, Lettice,” Gerald encourages, picking up one for himself from the blue and gilt banded sandwich plate, placing it on the edge of his saucer as he picks up his cup of tea. “They really are rather good.”
Lettice picks one up and takes a small bite, the biscuit dough melting in her mouth. “Very good, Miss Milford.” she enthuses. “Every bit as delicious as my maid’s baking.”
“Thank you, Miss Chetwynd.” Harriet replies with a proud smirk. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“Considering that Lettice doesn’t know how to make a cup of tea, never mind bake a biscuit, I would.” Gerald remarks cheekily.
Ignoring his remark, Lettice asks, “So how is it that you came to make hats, Miss Milford? I was just admiring those hats on the table over there before you came in. They are beautifully made.”
Turning her head, Harriet gazes pleasingly at the three hats sitting on the table next to her sewing machine in the bay window. “Thank you, Miss Chetwynd. Well, my mother before she passed on taught me how to sew and embroider. She embroidered that.” Harriet indicates to the pouffe at Lettice’s feet with its green flounces and a rose stitched on its top. “I always enjoyed sewing and working with fabrics, so I thought I’d try my hand at making hats.”
“Harriet had to turn over her sewing room to Cyril when he came to board with her.” Gerald adds.
“How do you know where Cyril sleeps?” Lettice asks with mild shock, her face flushing with colour when Gerald clears his throat awkwardly and blushes bright red as a silent form of reply. “Oh… oh, I see.”
“The light is much better in here anyway,” Harriet quickly pipes up brightly in a chivalrous effort to prevent her friend any further embarrassment, a gesture that does not go unnoticed by both Gerald and Lettice who both admire her action. “The bay windows downstairs are much bigger than the oriel windows up under the roof. Besides it’s much easier for customers to step in here than trudge up three flights of stairs to the attic.”
“And your little enterprise has taken off, I believe Miss Milford.”
“I’ve been moderately successful, Miss Chetwynd.”
“You’ve been very successful, Hattie darling.” Gerald corrects her encouragingly.
“And what are you going to call your cottage industry, Miss Milford?” Lettice asks. “Not Hattie’s Hats, I hope.”
“Oh how drole you are, Miss Chetwynd,” laughs Harriet. “No. Well, I hadn’t actually thought what I should call my ‘little enterprise’, as you call it, Miss Chetwynd. Maybe you and Gerry can help me find the perfect name.” Clearing her throat, she carries on. “Which brings me to the reason why you are here. I believe that you are in need of a new hat, Miss Chetwynd.”
“So, Gerald has told you about me then, Miss Milford?”
“Well, yes, Gerry did tell me that you are both to attend your brother’s wedding at the end of November – a country wedding in Wiltshire I’ve been told – and he did tell me that you have fallen out with your former milliner, Madame Gwendolyn of Oxford Street. He also gave me some background to your family,” She leans forward in her seat, her demeanour suddenly going from a relaxed stance to a more professional and formal one. “However, I am also perfectly capable of doing my own research, Miss Chetwynd. I’ve often seen your picture in the society pages in the company of Gerry, Minnie and Charles Palmerston, Celia Bamford, Willie Chelmsford, Priscilla Kitson-Fahey and more recently, American department store heir Georgie Carter: your ‘Embassy Club Coterie’ I believe you call it. You are also acquainted with Elizabeth Bowes-Lyon****** who has been linked romantically with the Duke of York in the last year. I also saw you in Vogue twice this year: once at the wedding of Dickie and Margot Channon in January - Margot Channon née de Virre your best friend – and then again at the marriage of the Princess Royal******* in February.”
“My, you are well informed, Miss Milford!” remarks Lettice, unable to disguise how impressed she is at Harriet’s research.
“I also noticed, without Gerry needing to tell me,” Harriet glances momentarily at Gerald slyly scoffing another of her jam fancies before returning her attention quickly to Lettice. “That the rather fetching straw hat with silk and feather trim you wore to the Royal Wedding was a model bought from Selfridges.”
“Gerald!” Lettice exclaims, slapping him hard on the knee.
Sitting up and spluttering out bits of biscuit onto the floor in front of him he manages to utter between coughs, “I… I didn’t… tell… her.”
“It’s true,“ Harried elucidates. “Gerry didn’t need to. I make it my business to study fashion, and anyone with a keen eye who reads Selfridges advertisements would know that it is a French mode Mr. Selfridge paid to import from Paris. Pretty yes, but not unique. No doubt, after your falling out with Madame Gwendolyn you found yourself in a tight spot Miss Chetwynd, needing a new hat, but not one from her. Being one of hundreds of guests at the wedding, you could get away with a shop bought hat. As a significant event on the Wiltshire social calendar, I imagine that you need something a little more discerning to wear to your brother’s wedding, considering that there will be far fewer guests in attendance than there were at Westminster Abbey, and therefore more attention paid to you.”
“Please forgive me, Miss Milford,” Lettice smiles across at Harriet, suddenly sitting up straight and looking her hostess directly in the eye. “I must confess that I underestimated you. When Gerald brought me here, and when I first met you outside, I didn’t detect an ounce of your shrewdness.”
“My father may not have valued my further education, but I did learn a few tricks and traits from him before he died.”
“Bravo, Miss Milford.” Lettice’s eyes glisten with interest. “You have my full and undivided attention. What are you proposing?”
“I believe you are wearing lemon yellow to the wedding, with russet accents. Is that right, Gerry darling?” Still recovering his breath after choking on biscuit crumbs he can only nod in reply before coughing again. “Then considering the shape of your face and the colour and style of your hair, I would suggest a yellow dyed straw, small brimmed picture hat with lemon yellow muslin and perhaps some russet flowers or autumnal shaded imitation fruit.”
“Hmmm….” Lettice ponders Harriet’s suggestions with a downwards gaze, envisaging what the hat might look like, before looking up again. “Very well Miss Milford. Consider yourself engaged to make my hat for Leslie’s wedding.”
“Oh hoorah!” exclaims Harriet, clapping her hands in delight. “We can settle terms later.”
Just as Lettice is about to agree, a tall, slender and handsome young man with pale patrician skin and a mop of blonde curls walks through the parlour door, dressed in a set of tails with a square instrument box in his right hand. Unnoticed by the party sitting in the parlour, the oboe music had ceased a short while ago, and the player now stood before them.
“Well, I’m off up the West End, Hattie.” Cyril’s voice, still containing that fey quality, was instantly recognisable. Placing a kiss on Harriet’s proffered right cheek, Cyril turns and snatches up a biscuit off the tray on the table before leaning over to Gerald and placing a kiss squarely on his lips, causing Gerald and Lettice to both blush at the brazen expression of affection bestowed upon Gerald so openly by the young men. As if nothing could be more natural, the young musician spins on his heel and elegantly walks to the door. Pausing on the threshold he turns back to the trio and says dramatically, “Don’t wait up.” Then he looks intently at blushing Gerald and adds, “I’ll see you after the show, Gerry darling. Ta-ta!” And he disappears from view, his exit from the villa being heralded moments later by the opening and then slamming of the front door.
The room is suddenly plunged into quiet, broken only by the ticking of the floral china clock on the mantle and the chirp of birdsong in the bushes outside the parlour window, the silence even more evident by the lack of Cyril’s playing drifting from upstairs.
“Well, you were right, Gerald,” Lettice says breathily after a few moments.
“About Harriet?” he asks gingerly.
“Well yes,” she agrees. “But also, about the fact that there is so much about you I don’t know.” She smiles cheekily, breaking the nervous feeling in the room. “So, is Cyril the reason you have come to know Miss Milford, or did you come to know Cyril through Miss Milford?”
*Originating in Seventeenth Century England, the term pin money first meant “an allowance of money given by a husband to his wife for her personal expenditures. Married women, who typically lacked other sources of spending money, tended to view an allowance as something quite desirable. By the Twentieth Century, the term had come to mean a small sum of money, whether an allowance or earned, for spending on inessentials, separate and in addition to the housekeeping money a wife might have to spend.
**Created by British industrial chemist and journalist Walter Weldon Weldon’s Ladies’ Journal was the first ‘home weeklies’ magazine which supplied dressmaking patterns. Weldon’s Ladies’ Journal was first published in 1875 and continued until 1954 when it ceased publication.
***The meaning of the very British term “shall I be mother” is “shall I pour the tea?”
****The Savoy Havana Band was a British dance band of the 1920s. It was resident at the Savoy Hotel, London, between 1921 and 1927. Players in the band included future American crooner Rudy Vallée and British pianist and composer Billy Mayerl.
*****“The Sheik of Araby” is a song that was written in 1921 by Harry B. Smith and Francis Wheeler, with music by Ted Snyder. It was composed in response to the popularity of the Rudolph Valentino feature film The Sheik. "The Sheik of Araby" was a Tin Pan Alley hit, and was also adopted by early jazz bands, especially in New Orleans, making it a jazz standard.
******Elizabeth Bowes-Lyon as she was known in 1922 went on to become Queen of the United Kingdom and the Dominions from 1936 to 1952 as the wife of King George VI. Whilst still Duke of York, Prince Albert initially proposed to Elizabeth in 1921, but she turned him down, being "afraid never, never again to be free to think, speak and act as I feel I really ought to" She was one of Princess Mary’s eight bridesmaids at her 1922 wedding.
*******Mary, Princess Royal and Countess of Harewood (1897 – 1965), was the only daughter of King George V and Queen Mary. She was the sister of Kings Edward VIII and George VI, and aunt of Queen Elizabeth II. She married Viscount Lascelles on the 28th of February 1922 in a ceremony held at Westminster Abbey. The bride was only 24 years old, whilst the groom was 39. There is much conjecture that the marriage was an unhappy one, but their children dispute this and say it was a very happy marriage based upon mutual respect. The wedding was filmed by Pathé News and was the first royal wedding to be featured in fashion magazines, including Vogue.
This rather cluttered and chaotic scene of a drawing room cum workroom may look real to you, but believe it or not, it is made up entirely with pieces from my 1:12 miniatures collection, including pieces from my childhood.
Fun things to look for in this tableau include:
1:12 size miniature hats made to such exacting standards of quality and realism such as these are often far more expensive than real hats are. When you think that it would sit comfortably on the tip of your index finger, yet it could cost in excess of $150.00 or £100.00, it is an extravagance. American artists seem to have the monopoly on this skill and some of the hats that I have seen or acquired over the years are remarkable. The natural yellow straw hat with white ribbon trim on the arm of the settee was made by an unknown artisan in the United Kingdom and was sold through Doreen Jeffrey’s Small Wonders miniatures shop. The red velvet hat covered with roses on the arm of the chair was made by an unknown British artisan. The two hats on the carpet were both acquired from Kathleen Knight’s Doll House in the United Kingdom.
The copies of Weldon’s Dressmaker and the Lady’s World Fancy Work Book scattered about the room are 1:12 size miniatures made by the British miniature artisan Ken Blythe. The books on the bookshelf in the background are also made by Ken Blythe. Most of the books I own that he has made may be opened to reveal authentic printed interiors. In some cases, you can even read the words, depending upon the size of the print! I have quite a large representation of Ken Blythe’s work in my collection, but so little of his real artistry is seen because the books that he specialised in making are usually closed, sitting on shelves or closed on desks and table surfaces. In this case, the magazines are non-opening, however what might amaze you is that all Ken Blythe’s books and magazines are authentically replicated 1:12 scale miniatures of real volumes. To create something so authentic to the original in such detail and so clearly, really does make this a miniature artisan piece. Ken Blythe’s work is highly sought after by miniaturists around the world today and command high prices at auction for such tiny pieces, particularly now that he is no longer alive. I was fortunate enough to acquire pieces from Ken Blythe prior to his death about four years ago, as well as through his estate via his daughter and son-in-law. His legacy will live on with me and in my photography which I hope will please his daughter.
The concertina sewing box on casters which you can see spilling forth its contents is an artisan miniature made by an unknown artist in England. It comes from Kathleen Knight’s Doll House Shop in the in the United Kingdom. All the box’s contents including spools of ribbons, threads scissors and buttons on cards came with the work box. The box can completely expand or contract, just like its life-sized equivalent.
The hand embroidered and home made cream and green pouffe, the black japanned fire screen, the black metal fire tools and the plant in the corner all also come from Kathleen Knight’s Doll House Shop.
Harriet’s family photos seen cluttering the mantlepiece and the bookshelf in the background are all real photos, produced to high standards in 1:12 size on photographic paper by Little Things Dollhouse Miniatures in Lancashire. The frames are almost all from Melody Jane’s Dollhouse Suppliers in the United Kingdom and are made of metal with glass in each.
The porcelain clock on the mantlepiece is made by M.W. Reutter Porzellanfabrik in Germany, who specialise in making high quality porcelain miniatures. The pot of yellow and blue petunias on the mantlepiece has been hand made and painted by 1:12 miniature ceramicist Ann Dalton. The castle shaped cottage orneé (pastille burner) on the bookshelf has been hand made, painted and gilded by Welsh miniature ceramist Rachel Williams who has her own studio, V&R Miniatures, in Powys. The bowl decorated with fruit on the bookshelf was hand decorated by British artisan Rachael Maundy.
The spools of threads, the tape measure, the silver sewing scissors in the shape of a stork and the box of embroidery threads I acquired from Kathleen Knight’s Dolls’ House in the United Kingdom.
The tilt chess table in the middle of the room I bought from Mick and Marie’s Miniatures in the United Kingdom. The Edwardian tea set and cake plate on its surface come from Kathleen Knight’s Doll House in the United Kingdom, whilst the biscuits on the plate come from Beautifully Handmade Miniatures in Kettering.
The sewing basket that you can see just behind the straw hat sitting on the arm of the sofa I bought from a high street shop that specialised in dolls and doll house furnishings. It is an artisan miniature and contains pieces of embroidery and embroidery threads.
The floral chintz settee and chair and the Art Nouveau china cabinet are made by J.B.M. miniatures who specialise in well made pieces of miniature furniture made to exacting standards.
The sewing machine to the left of the photo, I bought from Melody Jane’s Doll House Suppliers in the United Kingdom. It is made with extreme attention to detail, complete with a painted black metal body, authentic sewing mechanisms and a worksurface “inlaid” with mother-of-pearl.
The Chinese carpet beneath the furniture is hand made by Mackay and Gerrish in Sydney, Australia.
The Edwardian mantlepiece is made of moulded plaster and was acquired from Kathleen Knight’s Doll’s House in the United Kingdom.
The bookshelf in the background comes from Babette’s Miniatures, who have been making miniature dolls’ furnishings since the late eighteenth century.
The paintings and prints on the walls all come from Kathleen Knight’s Doll’s House in the United Kingdom.
I think romance must be in the air, I sculpted this pair from paper clay and perched them upon a fancy paper mache box. The arch is made from painted wire and embellished with lots of sweet little vintage millinery forget me nots. This would make a sweet little cake topper for a sweet couple!
Collaboration between myself and Hilda Westervelt (Bellissima Couture) for Live Auction at "Kenvention" 2015
Cavendish Mews is a smart set of flats in Mayfair where flapper and modern woman, the Honourable Lettice Chetwynd has set up home after coming of age and gaining her allowance. To supplement her already generous allowance, and to break away from dependence upon her family, Lettice has established herself as a society interior designer, so her flat is decorated with a mixture of elegant antique Georgian pieces and modern Art Deco furnishings, using it as a showroom for what she can offer to her well heeled clients.
Today however, we are south of the Thames in the middle-class London suburb of Putney in the front room of a red brick Edwardian villa in Hazelwood Road, where Lettice has come to see her childhood chum Gerald’s friend, Harriet Milford. The orphaned daughter of a solicitor with little formal education, Harriet has taken in theatrical lodgers to earn a living, but more importantly for Lettice, has taken up millinery semi-professionally to give her some pin money*. As Harriet made Lettice a fetching picture hat for her brother Leslie’s wedding in November, Lettice thought that Harriet might benefit as much from her patronage as Lettice herself will by commissioning a new millinery creation for the wedding of Lettice’s friend Lady Elizabeth Bowes-Lyon** who is marrying the Duke of York*** in a few months.
As the taxi she has taken from Mayfair putters away down the street, Lettice pushes on the black painted wrought iron gate flanked by two capped red brick pillars. It protests shrilly with the squeal of hinges as she opens it. She sighs and walks up the garden path snaking across a well clipped lawn. Lettice can hear the notes of an oboe being played as she walks.
“Coo-ee, Lettice darling!” comes a bright, rather effeminate call from above as the oboe music abruptly stops. Shading her eyes from the sun as she looks up, and peers to the roofline where she can see Cyril, one of Harriet’s theatrical lodgers, leaning out of his open oriel bedroom window above, waving madly. “Hattie! Hattie, Lettice is here!” he calls down over his shoulder. As well as being Harriet’s tenant, it has also come to light in more recent times that he is Gerald’s younger lover, and Lettice worries about Cyril’s indiscretion at being a homosexual, in comparison to Gerald who is very appropriately circumspect about his inclinations.
Without replying, she smiles and waves weakly in an understated way, embarrassed at being called to from above like a butcher’s boy or some other domestic. She glances around to make sure no-one has seen the interaction, not that there would be anyone she would likely know or run into in her upper-class circles in middle-class Hazelwood Road, Putney.
She goes to depress the doorbell next to the front door, but as she does, it is flung open exuberantly by Harriet, her mousy brown hair framing her pretty face, her bright print frock covered by a white cotton pinny, looking rather like the maids Lettice is used to answering doors for her, rather than mistress of the house she is about to enter. “How do you do, Miss Chetwynd!” she says brightly.
“Miss Milford.” Lettice replies with a pinched smile and a curt not of her head.
“Lord love Cyril, eh?” Harriet beams, glancing up, wincing into the unusually sunny sky above. “Who needs a doorbell when you can have an oboist trumpet your arrival. Right, Miss Chetwynd?”
“Err, quite.” Lettice says awkwardly.
“Right this way Miss Chetwynd.” Harriet says with a genuine smile of pleasure at receiving Lettice. “Well, you know the way.” she adds, flinging open the first door on the left side of the hallway and indicating with an extended arm for Lettice to enter her parlour cum salon. “I’ve got the kettle on already, and you can be the first to sample my freshly made fruitcake.”
“The second, actually, Hattie.” a rather deep and drooping male voice annunciates clearly. From behind Harriet’s shoulder, a mature man with white hair and an impressive, expertly waxed handlebar moustache appears dressed in full evening attire with a top hat in his hand. “I just appropriated a slice from the kitchen table on my way out. Good of you to cut it for me in anticipation of my expedient departure.”
“Oh you cheeky boy!” Harriet slaps the older gentleman on the forearm playfully. “Without even so much as a by-your leave!”
Eyeing Lettice standing in the hallway dressed in her powder blue three quarter length coat and matching hat with a large arctic fox fur wrapped around her neck and draped down her front, the man asks, “And who have we here Hattie, my dear? An ingénue come to steal away the hearts of your bevvy of lead actors?”
“No lady will ever steal your heart away!” she scoffs.
“Never a truer word was spoken, my dear.” He puts a hand to his mouth. “But a great thespian can put on a convincing act.”
“Miss Chetwynd, may I present Mr. Charles Dunnage.” Harriet announces. “Charles, this is the Honourable Miss Lettice Chetwynd.”
“The honour,” Charles replies. “Is all mine, dear lady.” Taking up Lettice’s kid glove clad hand in his own white evening glove clad ones, he raises it dramatically to his lips and kisses it.
“Oh, get away with you, Charles!” Harriet laughs. “We don’t want Miss Chetwynd thinking she’s entered a home for retired theatrical lunatics.” She turns to Lettice. “Sorry, Miss Chetwynd. Charles is a Shakespearean actor at the Old Vic****. I…”
“How many times must I tell you, Hattie!” Charles huffs irritably, suddenly animating his shoulders, making them rise and fall with every syllable. “I’m a thespian,” He emphasises the word with reverence. “Not an actor.” He spits the last word out like an insult. “He’s an actor.” He points upwards with his cane to the plastered ceiling above, where the sound of Cyril’s oboe playing can be heard. “Only true thespians can perform the works of the Great Bard. Anyone can be an actor, and anyone is!” He arches his eyebrows, causing her brow to furrow in folds of pale white flesh.
The oboe playing stops. “I can hear you, you know, Charlie Boy!” Cyril calls down from above.
Charles shudders. “Like I was saying, my dears,” he pronounces loudly so that Cyril can hear. “Anyone can be an actor, however only some of us have the strength of character to be a thespian!” Looking at Lettice he continues conspiratorially in a more moderately toned voice. “My dear Miss Chetwynd, I suggest you flee this den of iniquity and retreat to the salubrious surrounds from whence you came, before you are swept into the maelstrom of actors that pass through this door.”
Stunned into silence by his dramatic and verbose statement, Lettice can only look the older man in the face with wide eyes and a closed mouth.
“Oh get on with you, Charles,” Harriet laughs good naturedly. “Or you’ll be late for rehearsals. You don’t want to miss your train. When shall I be expecting you?”
“I’ll be home around eleven, my dear, but don’t feel you have to wait up. I have my latch key.” He reached into his pocket and pulls out a key tied to a russet coloured ribbon which he dangles from his finger.
“Right you are then, Charles. See you later then.”
And with a bow, the older man dons his top hat and sweeps down the garden path, his black evening cape billowing behind him.
“You must really think I run a theatrical madhouse, Miss Chetwynd.” Harriet says apologetically with a shake of her head as both women watch Charles slip out the gate. “Please do go in and make yourself comfortable. I’ll be back in a jiffy***** with tea and what cake is left that Charles hasn’t yet consumed.”
Stepping across the threshold of the room, Lettice’s critical eye again glances around the front parlour of the Putney villa, which doubles as Harriet’s sewing room and show room for her hats. She crinkles her nose in distaste. She finds the room’s middle-class chintzy décor an affront to her up-to-date interior design sensitivities, with its flouncy floral Edwardian sofa and roomy armchair by the fire, a pouffe hand embroidered by Harriet’s deceased mother and the busy Edwardian floral wallpaper covered with a mixture of cheap botanical prints and quaint English country scenes, all in gaudy gilded plaster frames. Yet what makes it even worse is that it seems that no attempt has been made to tidy the room in spite of Lettice and Gerald’s constant nagging of Harriet to present her hats in an orderly space. Harriet’s concertina sewing box on casters still stands cascaded open next to the armchair, threads, embroidery silks, buttons and ribbons pouring from its compartments like entrails. Hats in different stages of being made up and decorated lie about on furniture or on the floor in a haphazard way along with baskets of millinery provisions. The brightly patterned rug is littered with spools of cotton, scissors, ribbon, artificial flowers and dogeared copies of Weldon’s****** magazines. Lettice usually sits on the rather lumpy and sagging overstuffed sofa, but today that is an impossibility, with the seats covered in cardboard hat boxs spewing forth a froth of white tissue paper and hats stacked upon them. She sighs irritably and remains standing amidst the chaos of the room, unable to take a seat.
“I really am grateful that you’ve come back to see me again, Miss Chetwynd!” Harriet gushes as she steps across the threshold into the parlour carrying her wooden tray on which stand tea things for two and a silver platter with several slices of dark fruitcake on it. “You were true to your word, telling people at your brother’s wedding about who made your hat, and I’ve already had an order from a Mrs. Minchinbury and her sister, Miss Rentoul.”
Harriet unloads the teapot, milk jug and sugar bowl onto a small hexagonal Indian table, and whilst balancing the tray on the edge of her deceased father’s former chess table, she pushes aside cotton threads, ribbons, a tape measure and a pair of scissors in the shape of a stork with her elbow to make room for the teacups and the tray of fruitcake slices, which Lettice notices rest upon a pretty lace doily.
“Ahh yes, they are my second cousins on my mother’s side.” Lettice says.
“And a Miss Eglantine Chetwynd from Little Venice, who I believe is your aunt.”
“She is, Miss Milford.” Lettice smiles.
“Please do sit down, Miss Chetwynd,” Harriet says as she leans the tray against the flounced edge of the sofa. “There’s no need to stand on ceremony here.”
“I’d be happy to, if only I had a place to sit, Miss Milford.” Lettice remarks crisply.
“Oh!” Harriet’s eyes grow wide. “Sorry, Miss Chetwynd,” she mutters apologetically as she quickly whisks a tangle of ribbons off the salon chair she uses when at her sewing machine onto the floor and draws it up to the Indian and chess tables. “I know you and Gerry keep telling me, but, well as you can see, I still haven’t had an opportunity to tidy up in here yet. I just don’t seem to get the time.”
“It’s of no consequence, Miss Milford, so long as I can sit.” Lettice lies as she perches on the salon chair and hangs her crocodile skin handbag over its arm. “And I would imagine my Aunt Egg would have rather enjoyed the chaos of your theatrical household.”
“She did, Miss Chetwynd.” Harriet admits with a shy smile and a nod.
“Shall I be mother******* then, Miss Milford?” Lettice asks poignantly staring at the teapot.
“Oh no, Miss Chetwynd,” Harriet springs from her own seat in the overstuffed armchair. “I’ll do it.”
Resuming her line of conversation whilst Harriet pours tea into the two pre-war Edwardian style cups, Lettice says, “Of course Aunt Egg would like this because she is an artist. However the likes of my cousins, or some of the finer people, even more exalted and refined, you may yet encounter doubtless wouldn’t approve,” She waves her hand around her. “Of all this.”
“Well, Gerry tells me that I should give this place up and move to your side of the river.”
“Gerald’s suggestion is quite a prudent one, Miss Milford.” Lettice replies, taking her teacup and saucer and placing them on the closed lid of the top layer of Harriet’s concertina sewing box.
“But I can’t afford that,” Harriet admits as she resumes her own seat. “At least not until I know my hat making can support me.”
“Then I strongly suggest that you take Gerald’s and my advice and make the time to tidy up in here.” Lettice takes a sip of tea. “Not to be unkind, Miss Milford, but it’s slovenly, and if you want to be taken seriously as a milliner, you need to present a professional front. Surely there is an equally light and spacious room upstairs you can use as a workroom.”
“You’re quite right, Miss Chetwynd. That wasn’t unkind at all. It’s the truth,” She looks guiltily at Lettice. “And I know it. I’ll do better. I promise.”
“I should hope so, Miss Milford, for I have a commission for you, and if you take it up, which I hope you will,” Lettice pauses for a moment for impact. “It could lead to many more commissions from much finer people than my second cousins.”
“I’ll be delighted to accept, Miss Chetwynd.” Harriet says, moving forward slightly on her chair, her teacup and saucer perched on her knee, help in place by her hand. “What do you wish to commission?”
“Before I tell you, do I have your solemn promise of secrecy, at least for the time being?”
“Yes of course, Miss Chetwynd.” Harriet’s brow furrows with concern. “What on earth is it you want?”
“My friend, Lady Elizabeth Bowes-Lyon, is going to marry the Duke of York in a few months.”
“But the papers say she is supposed to marry the Prince of Wales********.”
“It’s not been officially announced yet,” Lettice interrupts Harriet’s spurt of unfounded gossip. “But it will be very shortly, that she will marry the Duke of York.” Her eyes widen a she nods at Harriet, making her statement of fact clear. “And I need a hat for the occasion, Miss Milford, but not that one.” She points to a hat of straw decorated with garlands of lace ribbons and faux flowers around its wide brim sitting in a hat stand on Harriet’s appropriated work table. “Who on earth is that for? It looks like something the Miss Evanses would wear to one of my mother’s tombolas.”
“Well, I’m not sure who the Miss Evanses are, Miss Chetwynd, but this hat is meant for Mrs. Leonowens who lives down the street. Her granddaughter is getting married next Wednesday. She was very particular about what kind of hat she wanted, and its trimmings.” Looking critically at the hat she adds. “I suppose she is a little old fashioned in her taste,” She shrugs. “But that’s what she wanted.”
“Well, I’m very relieved to hear you say that your Mrs. Leonowens decided what was to go on that hat, and not you.” Lettice says with a sigh of relief. “After the beautiful creation you made for me for Leslie’s wedding, I consider you to have more than an ounce of good taste,” Looking again around her critically she adds. “In clothing and hats at any rate.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment, Miss Chetwynd,” Harriet says somewhat warily, yet with a smile. “I take it that Gerry is going to design your frock for the royal wedding?”
“He is, Miss Milford. Although even I am still a little unclear of the exact date, I believe the wedding will be in late April or early May at Westminster Abbey, so a spring wedding. Gerald thinks that as Lady Elizabeth is quite romantic, and loves pastel colours, that I should wear peach floral crêpe de chine, which I’ve agreed to. What do you propose, Miss Milford?”
“Well, Gerry and I can chat more about this when he visits Cyril later in the week,” Harriet pauses. “I take it I can talk to Gerry about this? I’m not sworn to secrecy from him, am I?”
“Oh no, Miss Milford! Gerald knows Lady Elizabeth too, so he knows her news and will doubtless be on the guest list too.”
“Oh, that’s a relief!”
“But not Cyril, even if he and Gerald are…”
“Friends, Miss Chetwynd?”
“Friends, Miss Milford, you mustn’t mention why you are making this hat for me, at last until after the official announcement of the engagement is made in the newspapers. I do not wish to be the source of more gossip. I know Lady Elizabeth is very irritated by the current rumours.”
“I doubt Cyril will care to ask why I’m making a hat for you, Miss Chetwynd, but if he asks, I shall make up an excuse. Now, if your friend Lady Elizabeth is romantic, and looking at her pictures in the papers, in keeping with your friend’s style and something that would suit you as well, I suggest a deeply crowned hat with a wide, poke style brim.” She gesticulates around her own head how wide the brim would be and how it would sit. “Stiffened of course.” she adds. She looks at Lettice’s expectant face. “Made of apricot felt, edged with the thinnest trim of white lace I think and ornamented with pink and orange taffeta roses. What do you think, Miss Chetwynd?”
“That sounds quite splendid, Miss Milford!” Lettice says, returning her cup to her saucer and sitting back in her chair. “Yes, do it!”
“Splendid, Miss Chetwynd! It will be subtle and yet striking as well.” Harriet remarks. “You might even outshine the bride.” She giggles girlishly.
“I do hope not, Miss Milford.” Lettice replies, albeit with a slight smile.
“But secretly, you wouldn’t mind it if you did.” Harriet responds with a knowing look. “A slice of cake, Miss Chetwynd?” She holds out the silver tray on which lay four slices of rich, dark fruitcake with a thin layer of white marzipan icing.
Lettice saves herself from having to reply by putting the piece of cake to her lips and taking a bite of it, allowing the moist sliver to fall apart in her mouth.
*Originating in Seventeenth Century England, the term pin money first meant “an allowance of money given by a husband to his wife for her personal expenditures. Married women, who typically lacked other sources of spending money, tended to view an allowance as something quite desirable. By the Twentieth Century, the term had come to mean a small sum of money, whether an allowance or earned, for spending on inessentials, separate and in addition to the housekeeping money a wife might have to spend.
**Elizabeth Bowes-Lyon, as she was known at the beginning of 1923 when this story is set, went on to become Queen of the United Kingdom and the Dominions from 1936 to 1952 as the wife of King George VI. Whilst still Duke of York, Prince Albert initially proposed to Elizabeth in 1921, but she turned him down, being "afraid never, never again to be free to think, speak and act as I feel I really ought to". He proposed again in 1922 after Elizabeth was part of his sister, Mary the Princess Royal’s, wedding party, but she refused him again. On Saturday, January 13th, 1923, Prince Albert went for a walk with Elizabeth at the Bowes-Lyon home at St Paul’s, Walden Bury and proposed for a third and final time. This time she said yes. The wedding took place on April 26, 1923 at Westminster Abbey.
***Prince Albert, Duke of York, known by the diminutive “Bertie” to the family and close friends, was the second son of George V. Not only did Bertie propose to Elizabeth in 1921, but also in March 1922 after she was a bridesmaid at the wedding of Albert’s sister, Princess Mary to Viscount Lascelles. Elizabeth refused him a second time, yet undaunted Bertie pursued the girl who had stolen his heart. Finally, in January 1923 she agreed to marry him in spite of her misgivings about royal life.
****The Old Vic theatre in the London borough of Lambeth was formerly the home of a theatre company that became the nucleus of the National Theatre. The company’s theatre building opened in 1818 as the Royal Coburg and produced mostly popular melodramas. In 1833 it was redecorated and renamed the Royal Victoria and became popularly known as the Old Vic. Between 1880 and 1912, under the management of Emma Cons, a social reformer, the Old Vic was transformed into a temperance amusement hall known as the Royal Victoria Hall and Coffee Tavern, where musical concerts and scenes from Shakespeare and opera were performed. Lilian Baylis, Emma Cons’s niece, assumed management of the theatre in 1912 and two years later presented the initial regular Shakespeare season. By 1918 the Old Vic was established as the only permanent Shakespearean theatre in London, and by 1923 all of Shakespeare’s plays had been performed there. The Old Vic grew in stature during the 1920s and ’30s under directors such as Andrew Leigh, Harcourt Williams, and Tyrone Guthrie.
*****The expression in a jiffy was in use as early as 1780. It is a colloquial English expression for “in a short amount of time.” The origins of jiffy are unknown, though there are theories. One suggestion is that it comes from British thieves’ slang for “lightning,” hence very fast. An early instance appears in 1780 edition of Town and Country Magazine: “Most of the limbs of the law do every thing in a jiffy”.
******Created by British industrial chemist and journalist Walter Weldon Weldon’s Ladies’ Journal was the first ‘home weeklies’ magazine which supplied dressmaking patterns. Weldon’s Ladies’ Journal was first published in 1875 and continued until 1954 when it ceased publication.
*******The meaning of the very British term “shall I be mother” is “shall I pour the tea?”
********In early January 1923 a newspaper ran a gossip item that Elizabeth Bowes-Lyon was soon to be engaged to Prince Albert the Duke of York’s elder brother, the Prince of Wales – a story that reportedly annoyed her. Rumour has it that part of Elizabeth’s hesitance to marry Albert was due to her being in love with David – the loftier “catch” – however, these stories are highly unlikely and probably have more to do with trying to explain her later hatred for Wallis Simpson. More likely, she knew that the story meant more pressure for her to make up her mind about Albert and she knew the rumour would wound him.
This rather cluttered and chaotic scene of a drawing room cum workroom may look real to you, but believe it or not, it is made up entirely with pieces from my 1:12 miniatures collection, including pieces from my childhood.
Fun things to look for in this tableau include:
1:12 size miniature hats made to such exacting standards of quality and realism such as these are often far more expensive than real hats are. When you think that it would sit comfortably on the tip of your index finger, yet it could cost in excess of $150.00 or £100.00, it is an extravagance. American artists seem to have the monopoly on this skill and some of the hats that I have seen or acquired over the years are remarkable. The natural straw hat with white lace ribbon trim and faux flower garlands on the table was made by an unknown artisan in the United Kingdom and was sold through Doreen Jeffrey’s Small Wonders miniatures shop.
The concertina sewing box on casters which you can see spilling forth its contents is an artisan miniature made by an unknown artist in England. It comes from Kathleen Knight’s Doll House Shop in the in the United Kingdom. All the box’s contents including spools of ribbons, threads scissors and buttons on cards came with the work box. The box can completely expand or contract, just like its life-sized equivalent.
The black japanned fire screen in the background, the black metal fire tools and the potted plants and their stands all come from Kathleen Knight’s Doll House Shop.
Harriet’s family photos seen cluttering the mantlepiece in the background are all real photos, produced to high standards in 1:12 size on photographic paper by Little Things Dollhouse Miniatures in Lancashire. The frames are almost all from Melody Jane’s Dollhouse Suppliers in the United Kingdom and are made of metal with glass in each.
The porcelain clock on the mantlepiece is made by M.W. Reutter Porzellanfabrik in Germany, who specialise in making high quality porcelain miniatures. The pot of yellow and blue petunias and the ornamental swan figurine on the mantlepiece have been hand made and painted by 1:12 miniature ceramicist Ann Dalton.
The tilt chess table I bought from Mick and Marie’s Miniatures in the United Kingdom, whilst the Indian hexagonal table comes from Kathleen Knight’s Doll House Shop in the United Kingdom.
The Edwardian tea set and plate of fruit cake slices on its surface come from Kathleen Knight’s Doll House Shop, as do the spools of threads, the silver sewing scissors in the shape of a stork and the spool of ribbon. The skeins of pink and blue thread I have had since I was a teenager, when I acquired the from a high street doll house miniature specialist shop.
The sewing basket that you can see on the floor just behind the chess table I bought from a high street shop that specialised in dolls and doll house furnishings. It is an artisan miniature and contains pieces of embroidery and embroidery threads.
The floral chintz chair is made by J.B.M. miniatures who specialise in well made pieces of miniature furniture made to exacting standards.
The Chinese carpet beneath the furniture is hand made by Mackay and Gerrish in Sydney, Australia.
The Edwardian mantlepiece is made of moulded plaster and was acquired from Kathleen Knight’s Doll’s House Shop in the United Kingdom.
The paintings and prints on the walls all come from Kathleen Knight’s Doll’s House in the United Kingdom.
William Chambers Millinery shoot for Indicate Magazine.
Model: Vivi
Make-up: Kaeleigh Wallace
Milliner: William Chambers
Issue 6
Prints for sale
Either Flicr mail me or e-mail me at Indykitty1@hotmail.com
Cavendish Mews is a smart set of flats in Mayfair where flapper and modern woman, the Honourable Lettice Chetwynd has set up home after coming of age and gaining her allowance. To supplement her already generous allowance, and to break away from dependence upon her family, Lettice has established herself as a society interior designer, so her flat is decorated with a mixture of elegant antique Georgian pieces and modern Art Deco furnishings, using it as a showroom for what she can offer to her well heeled clients.
Today however, we are south of the Thames in the middle-class London suburb of Putney in the front room of a red brick Edwardian villa in Hazelwood Road, where Lettice has come to collect a hat from her childhood chum Gerald’s friend, Harriet Milford. The orphaned daughter of a solicitor with little formal education, Harriet has taken in lodgers to earn a living, but more importantly for Lettice, has taken up millinery semi-professionally to give her some pin money*. As Lettice’s mother, Lady Sadie, has forbidden Lettice to wear a shop bought hat to Leslie, Lettice’s brother’s, wedding in November and Lettice has quarrelled with her own milliner, Madame Gwendolyn, Gerald thought that Harriet might benefit as much from Lettice’s patronage as Lettice will by purchasing one of Harriet’s hats to resolve her fashion conundrum. Today is judgement day as Harriet presents Lettice with her millinery creation.
Lettice’s critical eye again glances around the front parlour of the Putney villa, which doubles as Harriet’s sewing room and show room for her hats. She crinkles her nose in distaste. She finds the room’s middle-class chintzy décor an affront to her up-to-date interior design sensitivities, with its flouncy floral Edwardian sofa and roomy armchair by the fire, a pouffe hand embroidered by Harriet’s deceased mother and the busy Edwardian floral wallpaper covered with a mixture of cheap botanical prints and quaint English country scenes, all in gaudy gilded plaster frames. Yet what makes it even worse is that no attempt has been made to tidy the room since her last visit a month ago. Harriet’s concertina sewing box on casters still stands cascaded open next to the armchair, threads, embroidery silks, buttons and ribbons pouring from its compartments like entrails. Hats in different stages of being made up and decorated lie about on furniture or on the floor in a haphazard way. The brightly patterned rug is littered with spools of cotton, scissors, ribbon, artificial flowers and dogeared copies of Weldon’s** magazines. A cardboard hatbox spewing forth a froth of white tissue paper perches precariously on the arm of the sofa, whilst in an equally hazardous position on the right arm of the armchair, a sewing tin threatens to spill its content of threads, thimbles and a black velvet pincushion all over the chair’s seat and the floor.
“Sorry, Miss Chetwynd,” Harriet mutters apologetically as she ushers Lettice into the front parlour. “I still haven’t had an opportunity to tidy up in here yet.”
“It’s of no consequence, Miss Milford.” Lettice lies as she sweeps into the room swathed in a powder blue coat trimmed with sable that Gerald has made for her. She perches on the sofa in the same place where she sat on her last visit and deposits her crocodile skin handbag against its overstuffed pink and floral arm.
“Your censorious gaze and the reproving way you pass that remark tell me otherwise, Miss Chetwynd.”
“Are you always so observant, Miss Milford?”
“Just like my father,” Harriet replies, glancing up at a very Edwardian photographic portrait of a dour bespectacled man in a large oval frame on the mantelpiece.
“I’m sorry Miss Milford,” Lettice acknowledges her criticality politely. “But I must confess I am used to visiting tidier establishments.”
“Yes, I suppose Madame Gwendolyn’s shop is far tidier than my front parlour is.” Harriet admits. “But then again, I would imagine that she also has a retinue of staff to keep it so for her.”
“Perhaps,” Lettice agrees with a half-smile. “I’m only concerned that if you wish for your little enterprise to be taken seriously, you need to present a professional front. I myself use my own drawing room as a showroom for my clients, so I make sure to keep it tidy when I have clients or prospective clients visiting.”
“Or you maid does, Miss Chetwynd: the same one who bakes biscuits for you.”
“Touché, Miss Milford.” Lettice replies, cocking her eyebrows in amused surprise at Harriet’s quick, yet adroit remark. “I think your father should have taken more interest in your education. You might have made a very fine lawyer, had you been given the opportunity.”
“Thank you, Miss Chetwynd.” Harriet replies, blushing at the compliment.
“The lack of education afforded to women in our country, just because we are women, is a scandal. Yet our patriarchal society is what will ensure that we remain the fairer and less educated sex.”
“You sound like you might have made a fine lawyer too, Miss Chetwynd.” Harriet acknowledges. “I’m sure had you been born a few decades earlier you would have made a fine suffragette.”
“Or a radical.”
“However, that isn’t why you’ve come here today. You’ve come about a far more appropriately feminine pursuit, the acquisition of the hat for your brother’s wedding.”
“Indeed, Miss Milford. My mother would be suitably gratified to see me passing my time thus rather than in radical discussion, even if she would prefer it was at Madame Gwendolyn’s establishment.”
“Then I do hope I shan’t disappoint Lady Sadie, or you, Miss Chetwynd.”
Harriet walks over to a corner of the parlour and withdraws a yellow straw hat on a hatstand that she has kept concealed behind a brass firebox. She reverently carries it across the room and deposits it on the tilt chess table sitting empty between the seats of the two women s that Lettice might inspect it closely.
“Considering your colourings, the shape of your face and the soft chignon you wear at the nape of your neck, I’ve opted for a rather romantic picture hat rather like that featured on the cover of Weldon’s Spring Fashions.” Harriet explains as she holds up the magazine’s cover next to the hat for Lettice to make comparisons. “I know it’s autumn now, but it has been remarkably mind, and,” she adds. “This is for a wedding after all.”
Lettice examines the hat before her. The shape of the wide brimmed hat that sits low on its stand immediately appeals to Lettice, and she can easily see herself wearing it very comfortably. “Very observant again, Miss Milford.” she says approvingly.
“As you can see, I’m acknowledging the season and once again trying to compliment your own colourings with the trimmings.” Harriet says proudly as she carefully turns the hat on its stand. “A russet and golden brown satin rose and some ornamental autumnal fruits in golds and vermillion. I hope you will agree.”
Lettice reaches out and touches the satin rose, rubbing the luxuriant fabric between her thumb and forefinger with satisfaction. “Agree? Why my dear Miss Milford, you have managed to do something Madame Gwendolyn has never done for me.” She beams with delight. “You have made a hat that suits my personality beautifully. How could I fail but to be pleased? I must confess that I am more impressed with what you have created than I even dared hope for.”
“Then may I take it that you won’t quibble over my price of seven guineas, nine and sixpence?” Harriet asks, trying to keep the nerves out of her well modulated voice. She has never charged such an exorbitant price for one of her creations before, but Gerald told her that seven guineas, nine and sixpence should be the price she should ask Lettice for it. Thinking quickly she adds, “It is quite comparable to the cost of a mode from Selfridges.”
“You sell your skills to cheaply, Miss Milford.”
“I may possibly increase my fees if my ‘little enterprise’ as you continue to call it, really takes off, Miss Chetwynd.”
“I shouldn’t speak so disparagingly of your enterprise, Miss Milford. I must sound unspeakably rude and patronising. Please forgive me.”
“Rude, no Miss Chetwynd.” Harriet acknowledges.
“As amends for my snobby behaviour,” Lettice proffers hopefully. “I shall happily promote your name to anyone at the wedding who asks me who made my hat.”
“I’d be grateful, Miss Chetwynd.” Harriet replies with a grateful smile. “And I’ll try and get this place tided up should any of your friends come knocking. I did at least keep the telephone connected after father died, so I am in the book. I found it useful to have a telephone for enquiries about rooms to let initially, but now also for queries about hats.”
“Most prudent, Miss Milford.”
Harriet stands up, reaches past Lettice’s shoulder and takes up the plain cardboard hatbox stuffed with white tissue paper and places it on the seat of her armchair. She proceeds to pick up Lettice’s new hat, and like a mother tucking its child into bed, she lovingly places her creation into the box, nestling it amongst the nosily crumpling paper.
“Miss Chetwynd, do you mind if I make another frank observation?” she asks.
“My dear Miss Milford, you have made several so far,” Lettice laughs. “Why should I stop you now?”
Harriet snatches up the box and resumes her seat, placing the open hatbox on her lap.
“I’m glad you said yes Miss Chetwynd, for you see, something has been bothering me since your first visit here.”
“And what is that, Miss Milford.”
“Well, I couldn’t help but notice how ill at ease you seemed. Could it be because Gerry didn’t tell you about our friendship?”
Lettice looks across at Harriet whose mousy brown hair cut into a soft bob frames her pretty face, free of makeup. Her brown eyes have an earnest look in them. Lettice acknowledges Harriet’s question with a quick and curt nod, before casting her eyes down, ashamed that her feelings have been so easily perceived by someone she barely knows.
“I thought so.”
“I didn’t know you existed until Gerald pulled his motor up outside the front of your house.”
“I must confess I’m surprised, as Gerry talks about you all the time. You two are obviously the greatest of friends, and have been since you were children.” Harriet licks her lips a little awkwardly before continuing. “Perhaps he is a little embarrassed by our friendship, after all, I’m not an aristocrat’s daughter like you and some of your other friends he tells me about.”
“I’m sure that isn’t true, Miss Milford.” Lettice assures her hostess. “Gerald can be a frightful snob. I’ve pulled him up on it enough in recent times, and,” she admits a little begrudgingly. “He’s done the same with me. If Gerald really was ashamed of you, he wouldn’t have introduced us. That I do know.”
“He’s been wonderful to me since we met. I’m not sure if he told you, but I’m guessing not if he didn’t really tell you about me prior to our first meeting, but we met at the haberdashers we share in Fulham.”
“That Gerald did tell me.”
“Well, he’s given me encouragement and guidance as I try to get this millinery business up and running, and, well after my difficulties with the handsy General when I first started letting rooms, I feel more comfortable with gentlemen friends who don’t want to paw me.”
“Like Gerald and your Cyril, you mean.”
“Yes.” Harriet acknowledges with a blush.
“Where is Cyril, by the way? I haven’t heard his oboe playing today.”
“He’s in Norfolk, visiting his mother.” Harriet explains. She hesitates for a moment before carrying on. “I’ve never had many friends, you see. I was always the shy one at school, and not at all popular. What few friends I have had up until recently have been rather bookish and shy like me, so it was like a breath of fresh air when Gerry took an interest in plain and shy little me.”
“Hardly plain, Miss Milford.” Lettice counters kindly.
“You do know that I’d never want to intrude on your friendship with Gerry, don’t you? You’re his oldest and best friend, and he’s so proud of you and how you’ve set up your own business all by yourself. You inspire him you know.” Lettice blushes and glances back down into her lap at Harriet’s admission. “And you’re such a chum to him. He says you use the word ‘brick’ to describe your good friends, so you are his ‘brick’ then. Now that I know that he didn’t tell you about me, I must have come across as an interloper: a middle-class girl of no particular note trying to usurp you in Gerry’s affections. However, I can assure you that I’m not. Your friendship with him is perfectly safe. I’m just happy to bask in Gerry’s minor attentions for as long as he wishes to bestow them upon me.”
“Well, I must confess that I did suffer a few pangs of jealously when I first saw the two of you being so familiar together, but I realised after we left you, that you are no threat. Gerald and I had a frank conversation of our own on the way home.” Lettice admits. “Not that Gerald is bound to me by any means. He can be friends with whomever he likes, and so long as his dalliances with gentlemen are discreet, I’m happy. He just needs to be careful in that respect.”
“I tell Cyril the same thing.”
“So, if Gerald wants to be friends with you, who am I to argue? All the same, I am pleased to hear from you that you are no threat, Miss Milford.”
“Not at all, Miss Chetwynd.” She sighs with relief and places the lid on the hatbox on her lap before putting it aside. “Well, now that we have that awkward little conversation out of the way, might I interest you in some tea?”
“Some tea would be splendid, Miss Milford. Thank you.”
Harriet gets up and walks across the room. As she reaches the threshold of the parlour door she turns back and says, “You know we really do have quite a lot in common, you know, Miss Chetwynd?”
“How so, Miss Milford?” Lettice looks up from smoothing down the hem of her frock over her knees.
“Well, we both have Gerry as our friend, and we are both forward thinking women in a patriarchal world.”
“That’s true, Miss Milford.”
“We both are trying to establish names for ourselves, albeit in different areas. And we both have progressed ourselves in spite of our parents’ lack of interest in furthering our education. We could almost form a sisterhood.”
Lettice doesn’t necessarily agree with Harriet’s point about her education, which is quite presumptuous. Her father, the Viscount Wrexham, unlike Lady Sadie, was quite indulgent with Lettice’s education, giving her far more opportunities than were afforded to her elder sister Lally. Harriet realises that she has overstepped the mark by being overly familiar when she sees a cool steeliness darken Lettice’s sparkling blue eyes and harden her features slightly, but it is too late for her to retract her words.
“I wouldn’t go so far as to presume that we will ever be bosom friends***, Miss Milford. However, let me get used to your existence,” Lettice concedes with all the good grace of a Viscount’s daughter. “And I’m sure that we can be friends of a sort that goes beyond a passing acquaintance or an agreeable business arrangement.”
“Very well, Miss Chetwynd.” Harriet replies with a half-smile. “I’ll be satisfied with that. Better that we be friends of a sort than enemies for no reason. I think as women wanting to forward ourselves in this male dominated world, we probably have enough of them as it is.”
“Perhaps, Miss Milford. Let us see.”
*Originating in Seventeenth Century England, the term pin money first meant “an allowance of money given by a husband to his wife for her personal expenditures. Married women, who typically lacked other sources of spending money, tended to view an allowance as something quite desirable. By the Twentieth Century, the term had come to mean a small sum of money, whether an allowance or earned, for spending on inessentials, separate and in addition to the housekeeping money a wife might have to spend.
**Created by British industrial chemist and journalist Walter Weldon Weldon’s Ladies’ Journal was the first ‘home weeklies’ magazine which supplied dressmaking patterns. Weldon’s Ladies’ Journal was first published in 1875 and continued until 1954 when it ceased publication.
***The term bosom friend is recorded as far back as the late Sixteenth Century. In those days, the bosom referred to the chest as the seat of deep emotions, though now the word usually means a woman's “chest.” A bosom friend, then, is one you might share these deep feelings with or have deep feelings for.
Contrary to popular belief, fashion at the beginning of the Roaring 20s did not feature the iconic cloche hat as a commonly worn head covering. Although invented by French milliner Caroline Reboux in 1908, the cloche hat did not start to gain popularity until 1922, so even though this story is set in that year, picture hats, a hangover from the pre-war years, were still de rigueur in fashionable society and whilst Lettice is fashionable, she and many other fashionable women still wore the more romantic picture hat. Although nowhere near as wide, heavy, voluminous or as ornate as the hats worn by women between the turn of the Twentieth Century and the Great War, the picture hats of the 1920s were still wide brimmed, although they were generally made of straw or some lightweight fabric and were decorated with a more restrained touch.
This rather cluttered and chaotic scene of a drawing room cum workroom may look real to you, but believe it or not, it is made up entirely with pieces from my 1:12 miniatures collection, including pieces from my teenage years.
Fun things to look for in this tableau include:
At the centre of our story is Lettice’s yellow straw hat decorated with ornamental flowers, fruit and organza. 1:12 size miniature hats made to such exacting standards of quality and realism such as these are often far more expensive than real hats are. When you think that it would sit comfortably on the tip of your index finger, yet it could cost in excess of $150.00 or £100.00, it is an extravagance. American artists seem to have the monopoly on this skill and some of the hats that I have seen or acquired over the years are remarkable. The maker of this hat is unknown, but it is part of a larger collection I bought from an American miniature collector Marilyn Bickel. The hat stand the hat rests on is also part of Marilyn Bickel’s collection.
The copy of Weldon’s Dressmaker Spring Fashions edition on the tabletop is a 1:12 size miniature made by the British miniature artisan Ken Blythe. Most of the books I own that he has made may be opened to reveal authentic printed interiors. In some cases, you can even read the words, depending upon the size of the print! I have quite a large representation of Ken Blythe’s work in my collection, but so little of his real artistry is seen because the books that he specialised in making are usually closed, sitting on shelves or closed on desks and table surfaces. In this case, the magazine is non-opening, however what might amaze you is that all Ken Blythe’s books and magazines are authentically replicated 1:12 scale miniatures of real volumes. To create something so authentic to the original in such detail and so clearly, really does make this a miniature artisan piece. Ken Blythe’s work is highly sought after by miniaturists around the world today and command high prices at auction for such tiny pieces, particularly now that he is no longer alive. I was fortunate enough to acquire pieces from Ken Blythe prior to his death about four years ago, as well as through his estate via his daughter and son-in-law. His legacy will live on with me and in my photography which I hope will please his daughter.
The spools of ribbon, the tape measure, the silver sewing scissors in the shape of a stork and the box of embroidery threads and the box of cottons I acquired from Kathleen Knight’s Dolls’ House in the United Kingdom.
The tilt chess table on which these items stand I bought from Mick and Marie’s Miniatures in the United Kingdom.
The concertina sewing box on casters to the left of the photograph which you can see spilling forth its contents is an artisan miniature made by an unknown artist in England. It comes from Kathleen Knight’s Doll House Shop in the in the United Kingdom. All the box’s contents including spools of ribbons, threads scissors and buttons on cards came with the work box. The box can completely expand or contract, just like its life-sized equivalent.
The round white metal sewing tin on the armchair is another artisan piece I have had since I was a young teenager. If you look closely you will see it contains a black velvet pin cushion, a pair of sewing scissors, needles, threads and two thimbles. Considering this is a 1:12 artisan miniature, imagine how minute the thimbles are! This I bought from a high street shop that specialised in dolls and doll house furnishings. It does have a lid which features artificial flowers and is trimmed with braid, but I wanted to show off the contents of the tin in this image, so it does not feature.
The spools of yellow, purple and blue cottons come from various online shops who sell dollhouse miniatures.
The bookshelf in the background comes from Babette’s Miniatures, who have been making miniature dolls’ furnishings since the late eighteenth century.
Harriet’s family photos seen cluttering the bookshelf in the background are all real photos, produced to high standards in 1:12 size on photographic paper by Little Things Dollhouse Miniatures in Lancashire. The frames are almost all from Melody Jane’s Dollhouse Suppliers in the United Kingdom and are made of metal with glass in each. The castle shaped cottage orneé (pastille burner) on the bookshelf has been hand made, painted and gilded by Welsh miniature ceramist Rachel Williams who has her own studio, V&R Miniatures, in Powys. The bowl decorated with fruit on the bookshelf was hand decorated by British artisan Rachael Maundy.
Lettice’s snakeskin handbag with its gold clasp and chain comes from Doreen Jeffries’ Small Wonders Miniature Shop in the United Kingdom.
The parlour palm in its striped ceramic pot I acquired from Kathleen Knight’s Doll House Shop in the United Kingdom.
The floral chintz settee and chair and the Art Nouveau china cabinet are made by J.B.M. miniatures who specialise in well made pieces of miniature furniture made to exacting standards.
The paintings and prints on the walls all come from Kathleen Knight’s Doll’s House in the United Kingdom.
( Image owned by the account holder)“ Millinery! (That’s the word I was looking for!) The chance to show a delectable creation would come when one was selected to complement a formal outfit. Weddings, christenings, jubilees, Ladies’ Days, luncheon talks, business socials – that kind of occasion always favored a suitable piece of millinery.
And what ‘confections’ they could be!! A lightly framed basket of petals, leaves, blooms in profusion- looking nice against a plainer color coat or dress, does it not? With dainty gossamer gloves and slender high heels- very nice, if I may say so! Wish I could remember more…! “
Credits: Quality Modes (‘Superior Styles for the Discerning’)
ANNETTE SALON DE BEAUTÉ
CJL PHOTOGRAPHY (COMMERCIAL & PRIVATE)