Howards End

I got an early start on my passionate, romantic love for all things Edwardian. I was already an ardent fan of the carrot-topped Anne Of Green Gables (and therefore all things puffed-sleeved and early 1900s) when my mum asked my brother and a 9 year old me if we would like to go for a walk by the River or to go and see a film. If anything, this question says much of our love for walking; but on this occasion, we chose the film. Off we trotted to the city to the bright shiny lights of the George Street cinema complex.
The film we watched that Sunday afternoon was Howards End; the Merchant Ivory film adaptation of the E.M. Forster novel...

That afternoon would go down as a seminal moment in my childhood. This was no Anne-with-an-'e', this was something completely different - this was the murky world of adults; of lies, corruption, beauty, longing and ultimately death. I vividly remember with crushing terror the climactic scene where the bookcase slowly falls on Leonard Bast - the final moments of an already broken man; the gorgeous scene where Leonard walks through the night to see the countryside and finds dawn in a field of bluebells; the fiery shrewish pride of Helen Schlegal (a young Helena Bonham Carter) with her messy, curly pouffe of Gibson Girl hair; the thwarted kindness of her sister Margaret (a radiant Emma Thompson).

I really related to this - walking and walking and walking all for the hope of walking through a field of flowers. I hear you Leonard!

Leonard and Helen making out in a row boat. The epitome of a romantic fantasy!

Margaret as played by Emma Thompson sees Howards End for the first time

Helen reading in the window of Howards End

Time hasn't wearied my love. A few years ago I rediscovered this film and was again awestruck by its beauty, it's delicate pacing and exultant praise for nature. Yet, seeing the film through an adults eyes I found myself more keenly appalled at the wretched desperation of the English class system and the inherent social disabilities that came with being a woman in this era.

I have since re-watched this film many times. The opening sequence that slowly follows the train of Ruth Wilcox's dress moving through the long grass in the inky mauve twilight of midsummer as she walks towards Howards End is one of the most beautiful, quiet and moving scenes I have ever seen.

Vanessa Redgrave as the aging matriarch Ruth Wilcox in the films opening scene.

If you're yet to see this film, it I couldn't reccomend it highly enough.

xo
rabia

Ginny & Jude Bridal

Wedding season is upon us! As spring creeps into the air and the freesias and jasmine burst forth, all things wedding generally emerge form the shadowy depths of winter also.

As many of you know - through personal experience - we quite love making a special piece for a wedding. We have had the priviledge of making a number of pieces for some dear friends over the years...

Alexis and Blake - I made a matching Boutonniere for Blake to match Alexis' floral headpiece.

Exra and Brooke - when Brooke got her dress altered, I incorporated the pieces of lace that were removed into the headpiece.

Tenille and Jesse - a birdcage veil made from original 1950s silk veiling really completes this look.

Recently we revamped the bridal section of our online boutique...more finishing options, some stunning new photos and some truly stellar new designs:

Delilah comb with veil - $165 // La Mer earrings- $45

Fleur floral comb in blush and ecru - $105

Sweet 16 floral comb - $95 // La Mer earrings - $45

Sweet Piorette haircomb - $120 // La Mer earrings - $45

Riverina dress in silk/linen - $280 // Sinamay Bow headpiece - $85 // Riverina coral earrings - $40

For most weddings, we have had to customise something specially - so take these as a starting off point to form some ideas of what we could make for your wedding. Send us an email at letters@ginnyandjude.com and we can start working on a beautiful piece together...

xo
g&j

For the love of...fields of flowers

I have always loved flowers. And not in a slight 'oh yes, flowers are nice' way; in an overwhelming all-consuming sensory overload kind of way.

Where I grew up in the inner Sydney suburb of Marrickville, our 1/4 acre block was filled with all manner of simple, uncultivated flowers. I can remember the small waxy buttercups near the back door, the happy brights of the nasturtiums curled up the stone steps, the throbbing blue of the morning glory vine, the great purple clusters of bougainvillaea, the heritage five petal crimson roses which climbed haphazardly, clinging to the wall of the shed. These simple flowers were gathered into posies and scattered gleefully around the house.

Cheerful nasturtiums trailing the curb.

My brother and I in the vegetable patch, 1986

I was always trying - and very unsuccessfully mind you - to create some kind of field of flowers in the top left hand corner of the property, behind the mulberry tree. This rather barren part of the backyard was invariably choked with blackberry vines and curls of bracken, but I dug up a large proportion of it with my brother and tried to create something more colourful. Whilst we did find a great wealth of tiny glass bottles I now use for vases, the bracken always won out in the end.

Wild Forget-Me-Nots, in NY state. Stunning!

Traditionally cultivated varieties hold very little interest for me. I'm not particularly fond of gerberas, long stem roses (boring!) or long stem anything for that matter. I'm completely head-over-heels in love with the abandonment of wild flowers fluttering across a landscape.

Once when traveling in the Blue Mountains during winter many years ago we happened upon an abandoned wooden house surrounded by a field of jonquils. We hopped over the fence and I had no qualms at all ruining a pair of shoes getting through a muddy ditch to gather armfuls of this deliciously scented stuff. 

Drifts of Daffodils. Photo: Erin Glasener

When I think about traveling, my mind quickly jumps ahead to 'oooh, what flowers will I get to see?'. In New Zealand I was completely smitten with the Lupins. There is certainly no shortage of them over there, and yet each time we saw their multi-coloured heads bobbing around on the side of the road, I would exclaim with glee! We saw a glacier, trees bent over backwards from the wind, eerily blue lakes, and vistas that take your breath away, but the thing I remember most vividly was seeing those wild lupins everywhere.

Early morning Lupins!

Near Rarangi in Marlborough, a delightful seaside yellow variety.

Roadside Lupins. Never got tired of them! (Above 3 taken with a Holga, slide film, cross processed)

I still have a few floral fantasies that I must experience now the Lupins are out of the way:

One is to traipse - yes, traipse - through a field of bluebells. And I will almost definitely feel the need to lie down in them. That delicious silvery blue carpeting the floor beneath a canopy of soft green trees...

Bluebells!! Photo: Busy Nothings

Fanny Brawne knows what I'm talking about. Photo: a still from Bright Star 2009

The other revolves around striding through a field of wheat and poppies in Italy. Fans of the genre will immediately skip in their memories to that infamous scene in 'A Room with a View' where Lucy and George steal a kiss in the Italian countryside. 

Lucy approaching the lustful George in the 1985 film.

Red corn poppies dotted through a wheat field

There is something undeniably romantic about wild flowers; their recklessness, the all-consuming scale of quantity, the bright spark of colour and texture.

Native Flannel flowers en masse. Photo: Lilly Pilly

We had not been together long when my beau picked me up from the airport with a freshly picked bunch of flannel flowers he had gathered for me on his way into town. The epitome of romance.

xo
rabia