For The Love Of...The House of Eliott

Remember The House of Eliott? I sure do. Originally released on the BBC in 1991, I imagine it probably screened in Australia a few years later - probably 1993 if memory serves.

As a child, being allowed to watch TV was a rare treat and this Sunday evening program with its jaunty violin theme song and billowing silk across the credits was one of only a few that wasn't a nature documentary. As you can imagine it was the highlight of our viewing week! My mum has even kept a letter my brother wrote to her (delivered by me), pleading he be allowed out to watch it with us even though he had been sent to his room hours earlier!

Centered around the trials and tribulations of sisters Evie and Beatrice Eliott as they establish their London Fashion house in the 1920s, this rather earnest period drama probably kick-started my deep and enduring love for the genre with it's fabulous clothes and strong female characters.
Re-watching it today I am struck by the fact even though the production values aren't as spectacular as its modern counterparts (ahem, Downton Abbey) and there is a rather dangerous propensity for overacting (especially as it draws towards the final season...), the romantic notions of success, love and aspiration are still just as relevant today.

Bea and Evie - silk pyjamas forever!

As a youngster, I had always oscillated between wanting to be Evie and wanting to be Bea. I could understand why everyone gravitated towards Evie; she is so beautiful with her dark bob hair and sparkly blue eyes. And being the younger of the two sisters she always has the most spectacular and daring outfits.

This backless gold number gets worn a number of times throughout the series and is basically sartorial perfection.

Beatrice in comparison always seems a little down in the mouth; life seems to have disappointed her one too many times - but she has that gorgeous finger-wave blonde hair and she manages to snare herself the most handsomest of men in photographer Jack Maddox...
Ah yes, Jack Maddox - society photographer, turned film maker, turned political activist...and all the time with the perfect hair and brilliantly knobbled nose!

Beatrice making eyes at Jack.

Beatrice, Jack and Evie...hard at work...

...their work outfits are absolute perfection!

Watching it again now, I find a new-found respect for Beatrice. She never ever shys away from a difficult conversation - be it in business or love; has a firm belief in her abilities as a business woman, is spectacularly organised and still manages to look glamorous through it all. For a newlywed woman in her mid 30s she makes the rather controversial decision to delay starting a family to focus on her career - a decision which still manages to raise eyebrows almost 100 years later. When it comes down to it, Bea is actually a very modern woman living in an era when the concept of a 'modern woman' was only just percolating.

Beatrice has the most perfect finger-wave blonde hair ever. EVER! Sigh...

Wearing the most perfect knitted black jumper with white bow detail.

And Evie - delightfully perfect Evie! With her backless dresses, billowy sleeved blouses, headscarves and bob hair she truly is a style icon. I have hit the pause button many, many times to marvel at the drapery of her work blouses. What I have really appreciated about her character this time around is how independent she is. Move to Paris at 21 to design for a famous couturier? Sure. Go to all-night bohemian parties without a chaperone? Absolutely. Live on her own? Why not!

Young, single and living the life in Paris!

3am and Evie's glass of wine is still full...

She is a curiously solitary character, who gets wonderfully distracted by small details and seems at peace with herself. All fabulously formative for myself as a young girl I imagine.

Designing...

That said, by Season 3 she is basically an insufferable wannabe bohemian bore and I find myself averting my eyes every time the camera lingers on her bobbing head thoughtfully considering the melody of some cool jazz tune...and I never could work out - even then - why oh WHY she chooses such boorish, deeply unappealing men.

The series was cancelled before a fourth season began filming - to the evident surprise of the producers and writers who leave season 3 on quite a cliffhanger. Yet given the lapses into hysteria and melodrama that characterise season 3, I would say this is probably for the best!

And so it remains that my favourite thing about the series overall - beyond the gloriousness of the fashion in every single frame, obviously - is that whenever something even slightly good happens, out springs Jack with a chilled bottle of champagne and a selection of crystal flutes!
And I think we can all take something away from that!

Champagne anyone?!

He genuinely does this at every opportunity...

...to the evident delight of all!

Salut!
xo
rabia

all images are stills from Series 1 through 3 of The House of Eliott.
More stills can be found at houseofeliott.tumblr.com

Best ever shorts

When I decided to make shorts for the Summer 2013 collection, I was pretty sure it would be a risk that wouldn't entirely pay off.
There are so many variables with shorts (or pants for that matter)...they must be a flattering cut around the tummy...not too tight on the legs...roomy enough to not ride up ones derriere...
And I wanted them to be cartwheel ready at any moment!

So you can imagine how elated I felt during the sampling process when I realised that they were actually the best shorts ever! But would anyone else think so?? I couldn't be sure...

I have my Great-Grandmother to thank for the inspiration, and my pattern-maker for getting it so right because these humble and yet entirely fantastic shorts have been our best selling item of clothing ever!!

My beautiful Great-Grandmother outside her house in Rosebery

We have just one pair left. It is a size 10. Do they have your name on them??
 http://www.ginnyandjude.com/store/p11/High-waisted_Shorts_-_Rosebery_Shorts_with_Button_Down_Detail.html

xo
rabia

Three Cheers...

Today would have been my fathers 70th birthday; I am in Melbourne, staying with his wife in their home to celebrate regardless. There will be much laughter and gladness through the tears, along with copious cake and champagne.

At the Yarra Boathouse in Melbourne, 2008

My father passed away last September; just shy of his 69th birthday and not a day passes by where he doesn't slip into my thoughts at some point. As he was a musician, my family and I and every one of those who loved him (and there were many) are fortunate to have the most beautiful and resonate mementos to remember him by. His poetry put to music remains behind on this earth forever; tender wisps of a life that was.

As a young session musician before the beard and long hair, 1960s

In those last days before he dropped the body, his dear friend Guy Blackman of Chapter Music (you can read his heartfelt tribute in Mess + Noise here) was a constant bedside companion finalising the details of what would become a posthumous retrospective of collected recordings from a lifetime of songs; In The Doorway of the Dawn. It is an immeasurable comfort to have these to conjure him beside me at any time.

In the EMI Studios in 1970 aged 27, recording with his band Tully

Grief is a curious emotion. It seems foolish to revel in sadness, but in the sadness of remembering is the unmitigated joy of memory. And so I do find myself going for long walks listening to his music and remembering.

... that he loved Anne of Green Gables, telling me only a few years ago that there really was no better instructive work for young women than Anne... helping my brother and I try to save many an injured sparrow found on our walks by the Cooks River and the heartbreak of so many not making it through the night... his getting up before dawn to collect the songs of the elusive Blackbird in the back streets of Melbourne...  our tramps through the overgrown weeds beneath some overpass beside the Yarra River, trying to find those elusive dandelions he loved so dearly to uproot and take home... practicing violin in my grandmothers garage and the look on his face as he clapped, overjoyed that I had finally mastered the tricky Bach Allegro from Book 8... our jaunts around Melbourne chasing the best piece of chocolate cake... the elaborate rigging of traps along the most vulnerable areas of our childhood home in the hope of ensnaring unsuspecting intruders... singing to us as we were trying to sleep as children... that in the past few years we had begun to inexplicably greet each other in French 'bonjour papa!' bonjour ma fille!...

Kidding around at dinner with me, 2008

Nobody cast a shadow quite as long, or commanded a room with as much panache. Many will remember and cherish his warmth; his big hugs, his considered wisdom, his quiet authority. 

And so today on his 70th I remember him again - three cheers papa!
xo
rabia

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

Saving history

When I moved to Ashfield almost 10 years ago, there were a few things that made the location extra special.
Firstly, the flat I had moved into was in a building that looked like an original picture plate from an Austen novel - an ancient crepe myrtle drapes over one end of the front yard whilst abundant lavender bushes line the pathway to the front door. In the morning the sun hits the Victorian lacework on the front porch, projecting the intricate patterns across the wall.

The stunning lavender path and the top of the house - back when it was painted pink

When I was first peeking through the windows of my flat-to-be - hardly able to contain my glee - one of the residents came outside, introduced themselves and told me about the history of the building. It was the original Rectory that was built in 1880 to house the family of the Rector of St John's - the church across the road from the house. In the 1920s the Rectory building had been relocated onsite (another stunning pieces of architectural history in itself) and this original building had been converted into flats. I was captivated with her descriptions of how lovely it was to walk through the churchyard every day on her way to the train station, and walked that way myself on my way back home.

Under one of the Acorn trees, looking at the oldest surviving building in Ashfield, circa 1840

You see that lovely little piece of green land to the left of the Church? That's where they want to build, cutting down all the trees to do so.

To this day I still walk through this original 1840s churchyard on my own 1 kilometre journey to the train station every morning. In Winter tiny snowdrop flowers emerge from between the graves and every Spring is heralded by the heady perfume of wild freesias bursting from every corner. There is a shady walkway lined with Palms, gnarly Acorn trees and some truly beautiful fir trees. Majestic eucalypts on the boundary of the property are home to Kookaburras, Rosellas and Cockatoos. Walking home through this in the last light of the day is magical and I feel able to slow down and breathe out. 

Just a few of the wildlife nestled in the branches

The beautiful trees at sunset and in full sun

It might sound slightly morbid, but I've always loved graveyards. In hundreds of years their intention never changes - they are exactly as they were and there is something truly evocative about that.

The original gravesite, thankfully not affected by the current development application. Photo: Copyright John Cowper

Recently the church has put plans to council to develop the remaining green spaces of the site. An obtrusive new Ministry Centre will completely obscure the view of the original heritage listed building from the street. And with a recent proposed change of zoning from Special Uses to Residential, the Church's plans for building flats in a far corner seem a whole less far-fetched. I have since spent many sleepless nights drafting and re-writing a 10 page submission to council opposing these plans.

A concerned neighbour who lives on the adjacent property has written a truncated version of her own submission to council so that concerned folk who want to express their concern can do so.
You can download the letter here:
http://www.weebly.com/uploads/2/9/9/0/2990852/letters_to_councils.pdf
If you care about this issue, sign and send this letter by 5pm May 17th to:

General Manager, Ashfield Council
Post: PO Box 1145, Ashfield NSW 1800 DX 21221
Fax: 9716 1911
Email: info@ashfield.nsw.gov.au

Ashfield is the second most densely populated municipality in New South Wales and sadly we also have the lowest ratio if parkland to people in the state. To remove this historical piece of parkland from the public is deeply upsetting. And one I hope we have the power to stop.

xo

rabia

p.s. this original Heritage Walk brochure for the area is really fun