Pearls

It’s the time of year when you realise with a start that all the major exhibitions you’ve been meaning to see all winter are about to close. Pearls at the V&A ends on the 19th.

It wasn’t a particular “must see” of mine, but a friend wanted to catch it and I tagged along for the ride.

Reader, if you have been meaning to see it but haven’t got around to it, I would avoid the last weekend absolutely. There will be an incident.

Lesley remarked that the V&A seemed to have spent more time considering customer flow patterns in the shop than in the exhibition. It really is the most cramped exhibition I have ever attended in London, and that is quite a competitive field.

Museum exhibition designers just don’t appear to think about crowded conditions. The experience is just so miserable.

Here we have a quite frankly awesome collection of gems from all over the world - featuring some unique and historically very important examples. They are all, obviously, tiny and need close observation.

So let’s put them in a dark room. Why the dark? Does electric light fade pearls? - and then place screeds of text in small fonts at the bottom of each display case. Viewers will then cluster round the display case blocking the view of others behind them. Meanwhile, those others are casting shadows across the text panels, making them hard to read and making sure that the people in front spend even longer in front trying to work out what number 6, 7, 8, 24 is and what it all means. Cleverly, I had picked up one of the large-print exhibition guides (with all the exhibition texts) on offer at the entrance - it helped a bit, but it still was so dark that reading even this had difficult moments.

There was no room to move about on your own volition - visitors are funnelled though from start to finish. Think Ikea, but in the dark and in rush-hour tube conditions. I started to panic halfway through.

One feels that fewer exhibits given more space to breathe might have helped - but it would have been a pity to miss some of the really wonderful examples the curators had assembled. The V&A really need to have given this whole show more space.

This issue does seem to recur in recent V&A offerings. I recall desperately cramped sections of the Hollywood costumes show. Very clever, varied design helped the David Bowie show a lot (also, I went to this multiple times so could skip bits that were too crowded, catching them on a second or third visit as necessary. I’m a Friend and can do this - my sympathies to those to have to shell out quite a lot nowadays for a single ticket).

Rant over.

The show is beautifully curated and the organisers seem to have gone out of their way to be super-educational on all aspects of the pearl industry. I noticed this trend at the Museum of London’s Cheapside Hoard exhibition as well - almost as if there is some guilt involved here; the educational content makes up for all the luxuriating in the frivolous trinkets of the super rich. Actually, comparisons with the Cheapside Hoard show are apt here because their display was far better organised than the V&A’s Pearls. But I reckon security is the big unspoken issue - the Museum of London has turned its entire exhibition room into a strongbox; here at the V&A each display case was its own safe - no doubt locked up every evening for protection.

Two things I learned about pearls:

1) No pearl is created by a grain of sand irritating an oyster. Instead, pearls seem to be a response by the animal to parasitic invaders - usually tapeworms. The oyster captures the invader in a cyst which continues to grow until it becomes a pearl.

2) Every shellfish can make pearls - but most usually and frequently bivalves. And not just oysters - the humble mussel can too.

I was quite staggered I hadn’t known about the parasitical origin of pearls before. But I suppose it’s not in the interests of the industry to promote that knowledge - not something their customers would enjoy knowing, wearing a pearl necklace!

Halloween

Halloween has really taken off as an annual event and Claphamites celebrate it with gusto - here is my random selection of creepy ghouls and beasties prowling the clubs and bars of South London.

Clapham History: Murder and Fashion

Feels a bit odd discovering a sensational murder took place virtually on my doorstep almost 60 years ago, one which propelled a youth phenomenon into the national consciousness to boot.

In the early 50s Londoners were still overcoming the legacy of World War II, with austerity still casting a baleful pall. Gangs of youths in South London started to adopt a flamboyant style of dress in rebellion against the depressing drabness. Apparently, they were inspired by upscale west end gay fashionistas. The look was flash and expensive.

On the evening of the 2nd July 1953 a fracas started near Clapham Common bandstand and spilled over to North Side, where two lads were dragged off the 137 bus and one of them, John Beckley, was fatally stabbed. The gang wore the cutting-edge fashionable teenage costume which referenced Edwardian style - newspapers found the word too long for headlines so shortened it to "Teddy" and the Teddy Boys were born.

Read Another Nickel in the Machine's great post on this incident.

Grace Kelly - Style Icon at the V&A

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"I am very happy that Grace has found herself such a good part" - Alfred Hitchcock

Grace Kelly’s film career ended when she was 27 upon her marriage to Prince Ranier of Monaco, and thereafter she lived the life of a European Princess – atoning for her privilege by doing good works while dressed in haute couture. But not acting. A rumoured comeback in 1962 was quickly denied. And thereafter one of the most notable film actresses of her generation did not act in films. Like Garbo before her, she absented herself at the peak of her career: unlike Garbo Grace remained centre stage for life.

The wedding of the Prince and the actress was incredibly glamorous and hopeful at the time – a symbol of an alliance between an America maturing into easy sophistication with a shattered Europe reinventing itself after the cataclysm of war. Joy was returning to the nations, even if we still had rationing.

But the dutiful timeline in the V&A’s exhibition brochure tells a more melancholy story – pre 1956, classic films with Alfred Hitchcock - an Oscar for Best Actress; post 1956 – this ball and that ball; cutting this ribbon or that ribbon. And this room full of pretty frocks, so dismally failing to conjure a sense of the woman.

Post Diana and Charles we are used to examining the cracks in the magicked up veneer of "happily ever after" - the newsreel footage showing an interview with Ranier on their engagement reminds one forcefully of Charles's ominously wooden public declaration of love: "Yes, whatever that may mean". Grace acts her part to perfection but there is no screen chemistry with her prince. And the rest is couture.

Grace Kelly: Style Icon
Victoria & Albert Museum
running to 26 September 2010

crafty me

This Spring has seen a veritable renaissance in creativity at Hedgie towers, especially in the textile arts.

Many years ago on the bus to college my dear friend Ingrid taught me to knit. Ingrid was a free-form jumper knitter – she never followed a pattern and just seemingly randomly used different colours. The results were always amazing; true works of art.

So recklessly I threw myself into knitting jumpers – not a traditional start for the novice knitter. Of course unlike Ingrid I always followed a pattern religiously. The repetitive knitting experience soothed the stress of studying for exams. My first jumper ended up miles too big – tension issues – and I didn’t like the cut of the neck of the second.

Then I moved to the UK to complete my education and was seduced by a Kaffe Fassett exhibition at the V&A. I launched into his Persian Poppy pattern vest.


The colour work I took in my stride but Kaffe’s basic sweater patterns follow the divide-for-neck at armhole level formula that I hated in my second sweater. Altering a pattern to raise the neck was a bit daunting, Ingrid was a continent away, and work on the sweater was abandoned at this point. Some twenty years ago.

However, a rare attempt at spring cleaning recently revealed the wool stash and on a whim I just starting knitting a scarf – quite the easiest thing to do.


This led to me looking at the poppy vest again. I plotted every stitch on a graph sheet, and hopefully now have an altered neckline that will work. So the poppy vest is going to be finally completed! Woop!

Meanwhile, my freeform stripey scarf led to me trying a stripey hat to match – less successful, but still quite fun. I want to do stripey gloves now to finish the ensemble.

All this knitting activity was egged on marvellously by web 2.0: YouTube helped with knitting primer lessons and a twitter friend referred me to the
Ravelry site – networking for knitters! It’s speeded my progress up amazingly.


But, that’s not all! My textile activities are expanding . . . but that’s another post . . . .

life hacks - clothing

The internet is so educational! I've been rocking the folded looped scarf thing for a while now - it keeps your scarf nicely secured and your neck extra warm - but lately have been getting a bit bored with it. Also, the knot is quite bulky on the neck. So it was great to see on the wonderful Sartorialist site a new scarf knot, complete with instruction video, and I only had to watch it about 5 times before I could do it too (I'm severely challenged co-ordination wise):



The great thing about this knot is that it lies flat against your neck - it's far more elegant and much less bulky, but I imagine still as warm and your scarf won't unravel and fly away.

For some reason it reminded me of this classic Japanese video showing you how to fold a t-shirt in 2 seconds. So fantastic - it's turned me into a laundry ninja:

My Mother at the Zimbabwe Ruins

My Mother at the Zimbabwe Ruins
Originally uploaded by hedgiecc

One of my favourite old family photos.

I spy with my little eye . . .

Yay for the vernal equinox! - Spring is busting out all over on Clapham Common, with sun-happy commoners soaking up the rays. Hard to believe just weeks ago we were all frolicking in the snow. I’m just back from a quick sortie to Sainsbury’s to pick up some fruit (just off a stressed 36 hours) and the Guardian. Just enough time to share some blog love with you all before heading off to the Royal Academy to meet Catriona and the Byzantines.

Guess who I saw in Sainbury’s?? Vivienne Westwood, that’s who!!! Amazing! Of course always knew La Westwood lived in Clapham but never in a million gazillion years did I think I would bump into her at Sainsbury’s. She was buying flowers and lots of fruit and vegetables. She was reusing shopping bags!

She was wearing a rather gorgeous lime green coat, and had beautiful glasses (own brand? - couldn’t tell). I pass over her footwear in silence.

Yep, unfortunately I spent my time in the queue scoping her out (I hope relatively discreetly) - I did however manage to refrain from asking for her autograph or a mobile phone photo.

Kate Moss in the British Museum

Marc Quinn is probably my favourite sculptor working in Britain today. He recently exhibited a sculpture of Kate Moss made of cast solid gold at the British Museum, as part of the Statuephilia show. It was brilliant.

The museum staged a talk between writer Will Self and Marc Quinn as one of the events accompanying the show. It was very well attended and reasonably enlightening. Quinn spoke about how the piece was about cultural notions of 'value' and contemporary myth. The sculpture clearly links a contemporary cultural icon, Moss, with classical mythological systems and questions our value systems, or the process whereby cultural value systems are created.

Unfortunately, the audience question section threw the floor open to retrogrades who felt authenticity means the artist should make everything himself (the romantic cult of the mark of the artist dies hard). I was impressed with the good humour and ease with which Self and Quinn handled these comments. I just squirmed in embarrassment for the questioner.

Sex and the City

Two sex posts in a row – almost becoming a sex blog (!)

Finally caught the movie last night, in the company of the flower of Clapham womanhood: Clapham Picturehouse was packed with 20-30 somethings of the female persuasion, many of them clutching cosmopolitans (the cinema is offering 2 for £10!) This two weeks after the movie came out.

Apparently, Sex and the City is beating Indiana Jones at the box office, so props to Sarah Jessica Parker and her team.

I suppose it’s a cliché to say if you liked the tv series, you’ll love the film – but it’s true. They have made the step-up to the big screen in a most assured manner. Amusing to see some macho reviewers complaining of a ‘lack of plot’: obviously some knuckleheads feel only a car bowing up or someone getting shot counts as plot development.

an evening at Ted Baker

I detect a new training programme for Ted Baker’s sales staff. They are trained to be friendly and engage with customers and lead the customer on to more purchasing opportunities. That’s ok with me; what I really dislike is the crude high-pressure sales technique one can come across in other shops. Reiss certainly was quite unpleasant a few years ago; I don’t know what it’s like now because I haven’t gone back!

Anyway, I got an invitation to Ted Baker’s Summer Evening of Shoppping with a 20% discount. I needed some shirts, so I thought I’d better check it out.

My Bank Holiday foray was to check out the scene in advance. What I didn’t say then, was that an assistant helped me with jacket sizes, and when I said I wanted to look at shirts, told me to try on a few for size because “this season we are cutting our shirts slim”.

Did she just call me fat??! Cue Hedgie leaves shop fast.

However, the lure of a bargain and Mr Baker’s shirts drew me back last night.

Luckily, I still seem to fit into my old size of shirt. :-)

However, the lighting in the changing rooms is very unforgiving – it makes me look like a pregnant hippo!

Right, that’s the end. My exercise programme is going into high gear and No Carbs! None!

Atonement

I researched the Balham tube WWII bomb blast, and found this. Definitely not as beautiful as Atonement’s take on the incident. The movie pursues a ‘beautiful’ agenda – the sequences with Keira Knightley’s emerald green evening dress push wardrobe excellence to new levels – a welcome and for this novel appropriate emphasis on artifice in historical drama adaptations. It fails only in so far as the novel itself is frankly unfilmable.

[Edit 23/10/09] Wow! This is a pretty sensational find. Londonist has been researching Pathe's archives and has come across this originally unbroadcast material showing a bus in a huge crater in Balham High Street. I suspect this is the incident which flooded the tube tunnels at Balham Station and inspired Ian McEwan.

London Transport museum also has a photo of the bomb crater with the bus.

Ta Dah - Marie Antoinette

Late reviews - but what the hell -

Marie Antoinette by Sofia Coppola is more enjoyable than is reasonable for such a self-indulgent film; the cinematography and soundtrack, as well as Ms Dunst, are ravishing.

The movie it reminded me of most is Bertolucci's The Last Emperor - both films convincingly depict the effects on the captives of their gilded cages, and both are somewhat tableau-esque in construction. Bertolucci's story is aided by the extreme stylistic changes operating in his history - Imperial China to Art Deco to Mao. Alas, although Sofia does track the development of fashion at Versailles in the period from the stiff and formal panniered dresses of Marie's arrival in France, through the towering wig phase, and onwards to the deceptively simple 'natural' yet equally ruinously expensive flowing muslin gowns of the pre-revolutionary years, this transition is I fear too subtle for a modern audience to comprehend and certainly not enough to carry the plot.

Copolla's triumph is her exquisite, intimate perceptions of a life enmeshed in public royal ritual. I think her choice of near-contemporary music enhances this dimension.

Of course, if she wanted to be truly contemporary, she would have chosen tracks off Scissor Sisters latest CD, Ta-Dah. I think the most flattering thing I can say about it is that I bought it; I must have been the only person in the UK disappointed by their debut. Although some tracks were promising, and Jake Shears's voice was amazing, for me nothing reached the heights of their cover of Comfortably Numb.

I bought Ta-Dah after listening the thing on the band's Myspace page. It's really rather superb - a massive jump up from no.1 and also shows signs their musical development is just beginning. The first track, I don't feel like dancin' has justifiably been hailed as a dance classic, but I think Ooh is even better - in fact everything on the second half is just marvellous.

The Devil Wears Prada

The title is stupendous, and of course the story’s provenance is intriguing (based on Lauren Weisberger’s lightly fictionalised experience as Anna Wintour’s assistant). I have been looking forward to this film all year, and it did not disappoint – superbly crafted entertainment and one of the sharpest films about fashion ever, because it focuses so intently on the financial power of the industry, and understands the mechanics and the redundancy of consumer desire. Unlike Altman’s Prêt-à-Porter, for example, The Devil Wears Prada ignores designer eccentricities in favour of cold, hard brutal economics and its effects on the characters.

Meryl Streep’s performance as Miranda Priestly, the editor of Runway magazine, completely makes the film and I reckon will become legendary. On one level just a ‘character’ role – she’s the devil boss – Streep’s subtlety and laser sharp comic timing, allied with a brilliant script by Aline Brosh McKenna, transcends genre. Streep channels both the evil and the insidious seductiveness of the devil (say, Milton’s devil), conjuring up our admiration and even our sympathy. Priestly understands power inside-out: barely raising her voice above a whisper, she instils complete terror in her staff of glossy lovelies. And the film ruthlessly shows how they have to be lovely, just as a basic requirement of survival in this jungle.

Anne Hathaway plays Andy, the high-minded journalism graduate who lands the job millions would kill for and decides she wants to stick out a year for her CV’s sake. In this urban fairy tale, she’s a Cinderella who learns the fashion game: we watch her progress from goof to glamazon, but slowly and unwittingly become corrupted by her ambition. Her performance is a great foil for Streep's: a wide-eyed ingenue, and yet clever, committed, and emotionally true.

As with Sex and the City, part of the joy of this film is the level of intelligence and skill which have been invested in something so basically entertaining. Director David Frankel has worked excellently on both; costume designer Patricia Field has as well. Her work in this movie is very notable – gone are the endearing quirk and fashion-forwardness of Sex in the City; here all is high-taste, high-glamour, high-powered.