A dress cut from memories

In a cream box with tulips printed on the lid, hidden away from the ravages of sunlight or moth by sheets of white tissue paper... the perfect dress.
It was made from coffee coloured crepe and when it was put on the body, it cleaved to the torso while arranging itself in soft drapes at the neck. The skirt, although cut on the bias, only just skimmed narrow hips and this boyish narrowness mixed with the delicate flip at the hem had the effect of making the wearer appear youthful, demure, energetic and elegant all at once. Inside, the dress was just as beautiful with its soft voile lining covered in a scarcely visible spider web of tiny stitches.
The  woman reached for a sheet of heavy grey note paper and wrote... 'Robe de la grande creatrice Gres (decedee) de la rue Royale Paris, qu'elle a faite a mes mesures.' She was about to tuck the paper in with the dress: it had become a habit of hers to catalogue all her clothes; just a line about the designer and the occasion when she had worn each item. The scent of carnation coiled up and she was taken back to a fragile, tender evening. Words said.
She had resisted the note for this dress until now. It had been such a magical dress! Casting a spell on the wearer that made her believe that life was beautiful, that she was beautiful that only good things could happen...
But, as all little girls know, and the woman was to learn, dresses and spells rarely keep their magic past midnight.
She sighed and wrote... 'Je l'ai porte seul une fois...'
Extract from: A novel




'She (Mademoiselle Gres) thinks the attention should be concentrated entirely on the dress, and that, generally speaking, no fussy trimmings or jewellery should distract from it. The whole importance, she insists, is in the cut, the architecture of the model.'
Extract from: Paris A La Mode A Voyage of Discovery by Celia Bertin (London Victor Gollancz Ltd, 1956).

Nightingale Fever

A song from the Soviet film, 'The Irony of Fate' starring Barbara Brylska and Andrei Myagkov, directed by Eldar Ryazanov in 1975.

At a Russian train station

'Ida had changed beyond recognition: she had blossomed out, as a magnificent flower sometimes blossoms in the purest water, in a crystal goblet; and she was also dressed accordingly: she wore an immensely modest but immensely flirtatious little winter hat which must have cost a fortune...'
 'Ida' by Ivan Bunin (this translation by David Richards in The Penguin Book of Short Stories, edited by David Richards). 
Photograph: from Two Centuries of French Fashion, a catalogue produced by the Brooklyn Museum in 1949 showing a collection of mannequins which were created by the Syndicat de la Couture de Paris to showcase the craft and artistry of the French Haute Couture designers and ateliers in the aftermath of the Second World War. Designers chose historical costumes to interpret as well as producing perfectly scaled down copies of contemporary designs to fit the wire figures which were less than a metre tall. 
The dolls were part of the Gratitude Train exhibit sent to the USA in 1949. 

Spying through roses

'eager and happy in a world tinted rose-colour by her dreams.'

Prince Jali by L.H. Myers

Spying through crystal

'What's the word for chandelier in Russian?'
Sophie flicked one of the still trembling drops with a fingernail.
'Lyustra,' Dmitri said.
'I like that word,' Sophie whispered. 'It sounds like illustration... like a picture in a story book... as if you could look into the crystals and see things happening...'

From The Wolf Princess


Chandeliers in the house of the artist, Carolyn Quartermaine.