New haircut, pincurls and a boyfriend

Preface.
The last time I had bangs I was eight years old - no kidding.
You probably couldn't care less about it but - I assure you -, it was quite an important assumption to me.
I've always had a one-lenght cut, with super-straight, waist-long hair; quite boring, to say the truth. Last week, after realizing that the last time I had gone to a hairdresser's was in, uh, March 2009, and I could have easily won a competition for the best split ends, I decided to put an end to it - and I had my hair cut.
I went to the hairdresser, holding a sheet of paper - the diagram below - tight in my hand like a weapon, and I warned him not to deviate from it. Surprisingly - hairdressers never do exactly what you ask them to do; is a matter of principle - he followed it slavishly.
So, now, fourteen years later, I have bangs - and layered hair - again.




When I saw him cutting it, and four-inches long strands of hair falling in front of me, I honestly had a moment of panic - the "This-Is-The-Worst-Mistake-I've-Ever-Made" kind of thing - but I have to admit that, now that is done, I find it amazingly versatile.
I set my hair in pincurls for a night out, and the result pleased me a lot.
Here's me, makeup-less and glassy-eyed, with my bew haircut; and, just above, me in my vintage-inspired hairdo.

(Dress - gift; Bag - vintage 1950s, thrifted; Coral earrings, bracelet and necklace: vintage, thrifted; Hair flower - Ninetynine store)

Even my boyfriend liked the new cut, and greeted it with -- a bunch of her grandmother's roses! So cute!

Christmas time

Just a few pictures of my Xmas:



It has been snowing quite a lot in the past few weeks, with temperature swinging around - 15°C (5°F, if you're more comfortable with Farenheit degrees).
Streets have been impassable for days, and the whole north Italy had been covered by a thick white layer; but, unfortunately, yestarday a hot wind melted the most part of it.
Our Christmas has been a very windy, hot, bright yellow-lighted day - some African wind brought us a sand rain, that gave the landscape a funny sepia shade - with not even a hint of snow.


My older brother, as a (new) member of the citizen band, had to dress up ("Mum, I will never go out like that!", he said) with the band uniform (black suit, green vest and blue tie - I would have felt ashamed, too) to play the flute in our church, for the usual Xmas concert.
At some point he had to perform a solo, and he was tomato-red with embarrassment - just to complete the chromatic whole!
When we got out of the church (that was actually a lot colder than the outside), we had to psychologically prepare ourselves for The Christmas Lunch (with capital letters).

We're a pretty big family, when we are all reunited; so, every time we share some festivity, we have to go to my uncle's restaurant - closed for the occasion - and put all the tables together to achieve this gigantic dining-table.
My mom and her sisters-in-law, supervised by my granny, used the restaurant kitchen to put together two first courses (tortellini and vegetable lasagne), and five - yep, five - second courses (including pig's trotter, osso buco, rabbit stew and two or three kinds of roasted meat, coming with all sorts of handmade, delicious sauces) with plenty of side dishes (roasted potatoes, stew runner beans, mixed salad) and quite a lot of excellent wine. And say nothing about desserts!
I've made a cheesecake and a chocolate cake, my granny a fig jam-and-macaroon pie, one of my aunts a pumpkin pie, and forgetting panettone, marron glacés and chocolates!

Those kind of things are often a tour de force that can wear the sturdiest man out, but when the company is good and the occasion is - thank God - an una tantum, it becomes quite enjoyable.

At the eleventh hour (literally!) I was told I had to decorate the table: somehow, with what I could find turning drawers over and ransacking the restaurant warehouse (I hooked some angel hair from a window, too), I managed to do...

those little luminaries...

... and this centre-piece.
Lots of use of tangerines there, I fear - at least it smelled good!

(Why I look so old?)

Here I am wearing my mom's Xmas present - an adorable vintage pied-de-poule coat (mid-1960s, I think) with funny astrakan trimming around the neck and sleeves. By my side you can see my brothers - the older one being only 14-year-old, but quite a lot taller than me.
I tried to match the coat with a 1960s hairdo, inspired by superkawaiimama (I would have loved to try a 'flip' like the one showed by Aya, aka StrawberryKoiVintage, but unfortunately my hair is far too long for it to look good).
I used a home-made hair rat (made with my own hair wrapped into a hairnet) to achieve some volume at the top - if you think it's gross, you should talk with my mum, who raised her eyebrow and asked me, why the hell I put a dead mouse on my head?

My dad gave me an amazing vintage garnet ring as a gift, as I adore garnets. This gift caused a little misunderstanding, because my pack and my mum's were wrapped with the same paper, and my dad mixed them up.
When he gave my mum her present, and she opened it, she found my ring and tried to wear it - but she noticed that it was way too small for her fingers. At the same time, I thought I would have loved it, if it was my own gift, and wondered why my dad didn't give it to me.
He saw mum struggling with the ring, and said "Whoops, I must have made a mistake".
Both me and mom thought he was referring to the size of the ring, but he rapidly replaced my mum's gift with mine, and vice versa. My mom started laughing and told me, "Sorry, I spoiled you the surprise!"

Inside my gift was also a note from dad, saying (more or less):
Giulia,
With all the silly geese around the world, why a smart daughter happened just to me?
Anyway, I won't change you for anything else in the world - not even a pack of chewing gums.
Merry Xmas, Cocca.

When I asked him, "What if it was two packs of chewing gums?", he answered, as I knew he would have, "Well, in this case I would look on the exchange."

My brothers had a note into their presents, too.
Enrico's one said
Enrico,
you're a donkey! [And I can confirm it's true, nda], but among all donkeys you're my favourite one.
Merry Xmas, Gibus

Andrea's one said
Andrea,
you're a good kid, and a bit of a mama's boy.
If you were obedient, too, you would be perfect... Too perfect!
Merry Xmas, Chicchi.*


*Now, don't ask me why Giulia is became "Cocca", Enrico "Gibus" and Andrea "Chicchi", because nobody remembers it, and my dad remembers it less than anyone.
Considering that he often calls my mom "Wife" ("Wife, come here just a moment, please" "What time is it, Wife?"), and she calls him by surname, you shouldn't be surprised of those kind of nicknames! :-)

Library finds, part II - Modern... Vintage!

For all those people who think "vintage" as a synonymous of "granny-like", I found out some photos that could make you change your mind... a little bit!
After another raid in the local library, I came home with, among others, a photograph book about Dior and another one about the great fashion designer Renè Gruau.
So, what? You could say.
They were both used to draw clothes in the 1940s-1950s: what's new about that?
Well, I noticed some similarities between a few different pictures; and I decided to ask you to play with me an old game: the kind of game you can find in the crossword magazines.
So... are you ready to find the differences between the photos I'll post below?


Look at this picture: this quirky, luscious red evening dress, named "Ispahan", was designed in 1947 by Gruau for - guess who? - Dior.
Ruby red silk, gloves, stiletto heels, pearls. A refined updo to let the model's bare shoulders uncovered.
Looks like a typical case of the mixture of elegance and craziness, malice and voluptuousness, that characterized French fashion in the early 1950s - no more financial straits, people long again for elegance, luxury, and some fun.
With its fancy bodice - red baroque roses emphasizing the bust, an equally red shawl around bare shoulders, this model is peculiar of its time - today, its rococo roses would appear dated and out of place.

... Or not?





This fire-red taffeta dress belongs to the Winter Collection 1989-1990.
A draped stole wraps the model showing its peculiarity: extravagant silk roses all around the shoulders, surrounding bare neck and shoulders, highlighted by a high chignon.

It's just me, or this dress reminds us of something we have already seen before...?



Same thing with these couples of photos: which one is following the other's exemple?









On the left: pattern from the 1940s.
On the right: model from the 90s.






























On the left: Dior dress, 1950s.
On the right: Dior dress, late 1980s.





















Now, take as well this picture, and its modern, offhand, jaunty feel.
When I first saw it, I could have bet it was made in the late 1980s: a bright pattern, high-waisted tight trousers, flat shoes.

Nothing further from the subdued colours, neatness and panache of the war and post-war times... If we ignore the fact the picture was drawn in the late 1940s for the cover of the International Textiles.

I found a slightly, but funny resemblance with some 1980s dresses I've seen on the net, like this, or this.





Let's take a last look on this one. This drawing is so amazingly up-to-date, with its comic strip look and a slightly 90s feel, that I was quite surprised it was actually made in 1957.
Nothing it its contrasting, bright colours, or essential and rough-edged lines, reminds me about the Fifties and the dreamy idea of a soft, kind-hearted femininity that it's usually associated with these years.
When I see this jazzy checked pattern, the first image that comes to my mind is more like this... than this!
... But, maybe - I should reassess my idea of what "vintage" is! :)

Library finds

As I promised, I'm trying to make the most of my car wreck, and I'm enjoying the newly found library section devoted to the history of fashion.
From a book called "Vestiti: lo stile degli italiani in un secolo di fotografie" ("Dresses: Italian style, a century of pictures"), here's a few of my favourites.

Look at this girl from 1935, looking amazingly modern in her plain, smooth, low-necked blouse and black pearl necklace, with an elegant silver fox fur around her shoulders and a malicious smile on her face.
Only her super thin, penciled eyebrows, a hint of finger waves, and her cloche hat point out her belonging to the 30s: had the picture been not dated, I could have thought it was taken yesterday.


Looking at those two elegant women, you could bet they were posing for the photographer - just waiting, in their best side, for the picture to be taken.
But, actually, this picture was taken at some horse racing in 1935-1936, and those ladies are actually following their front-runner with a tiny pair of field-glasses.
But look at the bucket purse the lady on the right is holding - or the belt the other one has wrapped around her waist, in contrast with the white, double-breasted jacket: didn't they look like they were modelling for some fashion designer?


How can I not love the casual, yet stylish jacket and matching culottes this girl wears in winter 1937?
The sobriety of her dress, anyway, is sweetened by the nice hat on her head, with its ducky ribbon bow.
According to the caption, she is a model showing a new kind of fabric; at the time, in Italy, there were more than 800 fashion houses.




This amazingly beautiful girl in the picture, dated 1945, is not the starlet of a forgotten Hollywood movie, but Marella Caracciolo Agnelli, the wife of Gianni Agnelli - The Lawyer, as they used to call him - the most well-known, much speculated-about Italian industrialist, the principal shareholder of Fiat (Agnelli was also known worldwide for his impeccable, slightly eccentric fashion sense).
She is still now one of the most influent patron of the arts in Italy - but she is also the daughter of a Duke... as her husband was the son of a princess.


It Italy, we say "Donne al volante, pericolo costante", that we can translate as "Woman driving, peril thriving"; or "Donne e motori, gioie e dolori", that is to say, " Women and engines, joys and pains".
Women and machinery do not mix?
It does not look like so, if we take a glance at this 1948 picture, where two gals smiles at each other through a 1100 Sport Fiat.

I think that, apart from the pleased expression the woman at the wheel is showing, the elegant lines of the car, and the stylish clothes of the ladies... match perfectly!

Jacket-O

I want to make clear first that I have some obsession for black and white clothes. I have, to make ourselves understood, a white dress with black polka dots, and a black dress with white polka dots; a black skirt with white embroidery, and a white skirt with a black pattern. A black dress with white flowers. A white dress with black and white flowers printed on it. Two white dresses with a slightly different black pattern. A white dress with black borders. A black and white jumper. A black halter top printed in white. Countless black and white gingham items...
Er, I think you got it.


This morning my friend Sara and I put on comfortable shoes, fresh white cotton dresses (they're not fresher than every other colour, but they look like they are), and took some water bottles, fans and sunglasses; we rolled our sleeves up, wore a ferocious expression, and we went out for a raid - er, some shopping at the local market.
When I say "some shopping" I don't render the idea of what going shopping with Sara is like.
More than a hobby, it's a mission: when we go out shopping together, we walk for, at least, five hours, with no breaks, following a schedule that would make Lt. Hartman pale.

Sara, goddamn her!, found out some super cute denim high-waisted Capri (the last pair, *sigh*), and an eye-candy ruffled shirt.
I found nothing.
Well, at least, until I saw this.

































There and then, I thought I've never seen anything that reminded me more of Jackie Kennedy.
But I felt shivers down my spine when I realized what I was staring at: the most expensive stall in the whole market.
As usual.
I always like things I can't afford: a gift that I inherited from my mother, who is able to look at an entire clothes shop where everything -from skirts to coats - is half-price, and like the only pair of gloves that are full price.

However.
I shyly took a glance on a random label - and my heart sank: 150 € (nearly 215 $) for a vest?!
What the hell...?
My friend tried to encourage me ("C'mon, don't give up hope... Maybe they have sales"), but I knew she was only trying to make me forget that she bought the last pair of those Capri.
But, unexpectedly, she was right.
Actually, not only they had sales, but the jacket in point was, miracolously, one of those items that, having a little flaw, can not be sold at the full price (someone told me the English for this kind of clothes is "seconds": can someone tell me if it's correct?).

So, I took courage and I pronounced the terrible words.
How.
Much.
Is.
It?
Da-da-da-daaaam.

But...
Nobody was happier than me to hear the answer: 15 € - about 20 dollars!
So, here I am, now. With my brand-new black and white jacket.
Onassis, here I am!

Straight Jacket

Or, how to revamp an old jacket and come to enjoy the thread and needle.

Have you ever tidy up your wardrobe, and found some pieces of clothing you don't remember when, where or why the hell you have bought?
To me, it happens on a daily basis.
Maybe because I have too much clothes. Maybe.
Or maybe because my closet is some sort of junk shop where I use to gather everything, even remotely similar to an item of clothing, that I stumble into.
Including:
things that I recover from my relatives' wardrobes (my aunts and cousins seem to have quite a good taste in clothes, quite a bad proclivity to put on weight, and some interesting tendency on giving everything they can't wear any more to me - so that everytime they buy some fine skirt or dress, it seem to always end up in my closet);
shirts that were my mother's in the golden days;
clothes that I find at second-hand markets;
and, obviously, things that I bought when I was in high school: and that now I wonder what I had in mind when I purchased something like that.

Well, I recently found out that, apart from a disquieting amount of clothes, in the deepest profundities of my closet - buried under tons of polka-dot fabric - layed also a wondrous gadget: a sewing machine.

After some idle practising on socks and handkerchiefs, I decided to put myself to the test and try something more challenging.
I took one of the countless clothes that I didn't know what to do with - a white, anonymous, squared cotton jacket, and I revamped it - well, sort of - in a (very approximate) imitation of a circa 1940s jacket I've seen in Bologna, into the most expensive vintage store in town.
Here's the result.







Now I'm taking a proof on an old black-and-white two-piece suimsuit.
Who knows what it's going to crop out from it...

Whoops. I did it again!

Remember?
I just finished to say I've got too many shoes.
Definitely too much shoes.
Keep that in mind, folks, because they're my famous last words.

Yesterday I casually ended up into that lovely little shoe store - that by accident had women's shoes 50% off sale.
By accident, I said. I did not keep it under strict surveillance waiting for the yellow posters to come out. I didn't, and don't look me that way.

Well, what was I saying? Oh, yes.
Casually I dropped on into this shop - that coincidentally sells ballroom dancer shoes for tango, swing and Charleston dancers.
Gorgeous dancer shoes, I have to say.
I was walking around pretending to be highly disappointed by every single pair of shoes in here - and slightly disgusted by some of them in particular (primarily to hide the fact I was literally drooling on half the shop)... And then - then I saw them.

It was love at first sight.
Those blurry photos do not do them justice.
I am actually pretty ashamed by how much did they actually cost, but oh, well: those two little orphan beauties needed a home. And I watched Scandal at Scourie too many times when I was a child to stay cold in front of their need.
They deserved a cozy house, and I gave it to 'em.
Am I a charitable person, or not?

The glove collector

Today I was on a one-day-long holiday, and, what do you think I've done all the time at home?
Did I tidy up the house, that is in a great need to?
Did I drive out dust bunnies (now bigger than my own cats) from under my bed?
Did I clean the bathroom, where limestone is creating stalagmites under the sink?

Oh, no. No. Too easy.
Are you wondering what I did?

I filed my shoes.
And hats.
And gloves.

And, guess what? I found out that I have really too many shoes.
And hats.
And, of course, too many gloves.

But at the same time (while dust bunnies went on growing under my bed, and stalactites kept on forming suggestive landscapes on my basin), I recovered these two little beauties from the early 50s. Aren't they cute? And I had them for free!
The hat is made of plain cloth, the gloves are cotton cloth ones, I think.

Hello Bluebird

Nice dress, isn't it?
I found it at a local monthly antique market, and I firmly believe that, for once, I stumbled on a true piece of vintage (1950s or early 1960s, maybe).

It's made of thick, blue polka dot cotton, with nice white Dorset buttons and a heavy metallic zip on the side. No label, no size. It was too large and long for me, but somehow I managed to make it fit - the belt is an addition (the original one was a blue threadbared one).
Don't you think that hat (a present from a good friend) goes well with it?