Glamablog by Anna Christie - Sydney, Australia

For glamorous thinking women, aged 20 to 100.

Sunday 28 October 2012

When glamour is just not possible

From time to time, fashion editors decide that a photo shoot in the desert, or some other harsh forbidding place, is  a great way to show off some glamorous new clothes or looks.

They parachute a photo crew, make up artists, wardrobe assistants, stylists and a collection of amazing garments, together with some cool-as-a-cucumber models, into a completely unlikely location - usually with very striking effect.

Let me tell you now, however, that glamour in the desert is a very hard thing to achieve. I know this, because despite my dedication to glamour, the past weeks I found it impossible.

I have just driven thousands of kilometres  across the Australian continent, with temperatures of 39-41 degrees nearly every day. Heat, dust, bush fires, blazing sun ... all of these conspire against good grooming.

In conditions such as these, nail polish is about the only grooming aid that stays the distance. Any form of makeup slides immediately off the skin as you perspire. Strands of hair pick up sweat, sun block and dust. The hair becomes matted and unkempt.

One's wardrobe is restricted, by the need to limit the number of clothes, and also because practical clothes are needed.

The solution?

Come up with a "look" that is hardy and practical, but has some individuality or style. 






Thursday 21 June 2012

Hat love affair started in 1985

It was 1985, and he was seeing me off on my trip to London to meet up with my girlfriend Jo Winston, when then-Sydney-style-identity John Cole exhorted me in the campest of tones: "Darling, you must get into hats when in London".


I need no excuses to dress up, so I can't blame my decades-long passion for headwear on the former DJ's creative head.


But when I hit London, it unleashed my adventurous fashion flair. Before long I was wearing hats rarely seen even on London streets and often reserved for the race track.


I still love to complete a look with a hat, and not only for special occasions.


It is partly for fashion, but much about practicality too. Warm hats in winter, brims in summer.


One of my winter favourites is my Phillip Treacy grosgrain beret. 










I am not sure if it helped me get upgraded to 1st class on an Emirates flight last year, but quite possibly arriving to check in with this beret, black ankle length Colette Dinnigan 1990's satin skirt, cream ruched vintage gloves might just have given me that VIP quality.


I aint no VIP, but a humble Greek girl from Kenso!


The secret is not to be afraid of hats. Learn which styles suit you, and you will love the way they add a new dimension of style to your look.

Wednesday 16 May 2012

Peter Pan Committee fabulous clothing SALE

Ladies, here is my fully sequinned, lycra tartan split skirt that I bought some years ago from the Peter Pan Ladies Committee clothing sale. It's from the UK fashion brand Joseph, and probably dates from the 1990s.

"Recent vintage", you might call it!

The famous twice yearly clothing sale is on next week from Wednesday 23 to Friday 25 May 2012 at the Paddington Town Hall, Oxford Street, Paddington, New South Wales.

The Peter Pan Committee, also known as the Black and White Committee, raises money for children's charity Barnardos.

It goes for three days, and on the last day ( which ends at midday on Friday) everything left is half price.

I have found some of my most treasured and amazing garments at the Peter Pan sale.

I thoroughly recommend it, but be aware that sometimes you may walk out with nothing. Other times, you can be incredibly lucky. This can depend a lot on your mood on the day, because poring through racks of clothes can be tiring. Trying on clothes can be a drag too.

If you are not up to it, your chances of zooming in on an amazing find can be minimised.

They also have teenage girls' and children's clothes, sometimes still with tags.

I've been telling my friends about this sale for years, and those who have tried it have not regretted attending.

Invest in your new winter wardrobe and support Barnardos!

Sunday 8 April 2012

Chickabooti does not equal Marnie Skillings: A tale about the Sydney Clothing Exchange

“Chickabooti” - what does this name say to you? and would you ever be caught dead in a garment of that name? Say the word to yourself a few times: “chick - a - booti”. Sounds like you are reciting over and over again the word “craap” “craap” “craap”
When I RSVPd to attend a clothing exchange event at the Tap Gallery, Palmer Street Sydney last week, no one had warned me that I would be expected to swap a brand-new-with-tags Marnie Skillings dress that cost $530 for some of the most pathetic crap that most people might hide in the bottom of their wash basket.
Clothing exchanges, are becoming popular as a “sustainability” gimmick. The idea is it’s a girls party with a glass of wine, a nibbly and then everyone browses through the clothes that people want to swap, because they are too big, too small, don’t fit, or as in my case just didn’t suit me.
My Marnie Skillings dress was of the finest black cotton and silk blend, with black lace. This soft-as-a-feather flounced mini-dress seemed great at the time I tried it in the shop. I thought I would wear it with a tan/black/gold belt and just thrash it to death like I do with my other beloved Marnie garments.
But I was wrong. With a wide yoke of (beautiful) lace and tiers starting just above the pointiest part of the boobs, it looked sadly awful on me, hence I never wore it.
What to do? I knew at least two women whom it would have suited, and I would have given it to. But recouping the cost of my error was probably the sensible thing to do. I could have put it on consignment at a reputable recycled fashion outlet, or sold it on Ebay, but I decided that I would give the Sydney Clothing Exchange a go.
Big Mistake. Ha, life is full of mistakes, but this is one I didn’t need. Not only did I lose my title to the dress as soon as I paid my $25 entry fee (as well as title to  the excellent gabardine skirt that was just a bit, optimistically, too small around the waist) but I had to do it blind, not knowing how low the standard of clothing would be from me to choose from. 
This was a boring, dispiriting night of the worst clothing that can never claim a right to use the name “fashion”.
I nearly pulled out when I arrived and the organisers explained their business model to me: people can bring up to 6 garments, and are given tokens for the same number of garments. Patrons are not allowed to browse and look at the garments until the room is all set up and then everyone enters and picks up their selections, and first in best dressed. It didn’t seem very satisfying to me, the clothes in another room, while I was corralled in a bar area drinking warm white wine and having a weak laugh with some other sweet victims of the Sydney Clothing Exchange. When asked “what happens if you don’t find anything you like, or if there is nothing of equal value?” “We have been doing this for a long time, and we have customers who come back and back again” said the organisers, “There is something for everyone”.
Caringly transported in a taxi, on a hanger with plastic cover, my offerings were certainly the best quality and best condition items in the entire sale. But when the time came to swap, what choices were there for me? Worn out Portmans from a few years ago, tired polyester, clothes entirely lacking in any distinction, and of course the pinnacle of crassness - Chickabooti.
OK, I have told you how bad it was for me, but there were another 19 or so females who attended the Sydney Clothing Exchange on the same night. Some of them were repeat customers. What’s in it for them?
Well it’s obvious isn’t it. If you bring half a dozen clothes that you wouldn’t be seen dead in and suckers like me bring good condition, good label, fashion items, then that equals a pretty good deal for some.
Like the girl who got my Marnie Skillings dress, who swooped on the floor the minute she heard the word Go, like a veteran sale-time trooper. Within seconds she had swept up her armfuls of booty. Last seen scuttling out of the place with her hips slung low to the ground, no doubt she will be gloating to her friends how well she did out of the Sydney Clothing Exchange. Man, she was almost skating.
It was an expensive lesson to learn, and sorry Kylie and Katinka, the dress will not be yours but is now the property of the said scuttler. 
This is but one vignette from a thoroughly unfashionable, unsustainable and rather unfriendly skirmish with the Sydney Clothing Exchange. 
What did I get out of it? It was looking like I would find nothing, but there was one top I quite liked. I wasn’t willing to try it on, as I wasn’t sure how clean it was, so have yet to see if it is any good on. And as I was leaving I thought I would take away a pair of Manolo Blahnik red suede high heels boots, a size too small for me, and needing a good shampoo. They were filthy and I am not sure whether I will get them clean. I only thought they would be useful for a forthcoming photo shoot.
The organiser assumed that I must be overjoyed to find a pair of grubby Manolos one size too small for myself. No, I wasn’t, and this should have been clear from the way I was holding them away from myself with my fingertips. I was just poker-faced and stunned at the experience of attending this ill-conceived event.
Sometimes it is good to learn life’s lessons vicariously, and save oneself the hurt. 
Ladies, this is  one such occasion.

Sunday 20 November 2011

Idle bridesmaids hang, while bride struggles

Along the foreshores of Sydney Harbour, at beaches, scenic lookouts and parks, it is common to see bridal parties in full regalia having their wedding photos taken. Yesterday was no different, as the temperature passed 30° and swimsuited beach lovers watched one bride make her way across the sand where she was to climb onto a large rock wearing an ankle length fitted dress and long veil.





I stood in my pink bikini watching as she struggled.







Two professional photographers were on hand as well as her groom, who was kitted out in tails.


Really, they weren't too much help as she tried to manoeuvre onto the rock.


I wondered, Where are her bridesmaids? Where were they, if indeed she had any, to help her?


I scanned the beach to see if I could see them and as I turned, this is what I saw.




A gaggle of bridesmaids stood with their backs to the bride, doing what? Checking their phones? Checking their navels? Whatever they were doing, they certainly were not trying to support and assist their friend, the bride.


But they are not alone, for I have noticed in recent years that many bridesmaids seem to be forgetting their role.


Bridesmaids, please note. Presumably, you are there to share the dream – your friends dream. You are there, as tradition decreed, to provide assistance to the bride with her long cumbersome dress and her hopelessly impractical veil.


This is the phenomenon I refer to as “the idle bridesmaid”, she is the one who does not spare a thought for the bride. The idle bridesmaid is focused entirely on how she looks, what she is going to do next, how to pose for her own photos and possibly how to best manoeuvre to catch the bouquet.


I first noticed the phenomenon a few years back at Balmoral beach when a pretty bride, having been left behind by her negligent bridesmaids who were some 20 or 30 m ahead, nearly fell up the sandstone steps by tripping on her dress while struggling to control her veil.  I have been noticing it ever since.


It is true that customs change. Who would once have thought that a bride and groom in formal wear would be traipsing through the sand surrounded by seminude beach goers?


But some things should not change, and the bridesmaid's duty is one of them.


If the bridesmaid is not committed to supporting her bride, why have bridesmaids at all?





Tuesday 1 November 2011

Janice's rule - camel toe at the Hilton not a good look

It's so easy to let one's standards slip.

It could be anything... wearing a rotten bra, leg hair regrowth, rough hands.

Here's one habit I had lapsed into, until my friend Janice told me her rule against wearing tight gym pants in the street. I was doing it shamelessly.

Just last Friday I nearly went out in a pair of skin tight Adidas lycra gym pants.

That's until I saw camel toe.

I realised it was a step too far wearing my gym gear on the half hour walk in to town, on my way to the Living Well fitness centre, downstairs from the Sydney Hilton.

To the rescue black diaphanous pleated georgette skirt (Alberta Feretti) which I threw on over the Adidas.

The final look? Adidas outdoor walking shoes / cross trainers with a skirt normally associated with evening wear. But no sequins, beads or other embellishments. And a glimpse of athletic lycra underneath.





I think it worked.

Thank you Janice.

Wednesday 1 June 2011

Bravo Zara, bravo Kylie


Bravo Zara
Zara is the Spanish fashion brand that has been longed talk about by Australian travellers overseas, which has recently launched well-positioned, large stores in Sydney and Melbourne. Zara offers excellent styled clothes for remarkably low prices, especially considering that it often uses far superior fabrics than most budget fashion labels.
Many of Zara’s garments are also more well-made than comparable brands. How do they do it? Some insights into the Zara business model can be found at a well-researched Wikipedia entry, which records that all fashion clothing manufacturing is conducted in Spain and Portugal, with perennial basics being produced in Turkey and China.
If you are interested in the business model of Zara: 

Kylie in Manhattan
I don’t get to see my friend Kylie very often, because over the past two years she has lived in Fiji, Geneva and New York, rarely returning to Australia. Don’t be surprised however that when we met during my visit to New York, a rendezvous that took place at Bryant Park, corner Fifth Avenue and 42nd Street, within 5 minutes of getting together we were in Zara over the road, and deliberating over a floral, sleeveless dress.
Little did Kylie know when she led me across the road and into Zara, that I had admired the same dress just the day before when I had been in Zara’s larger three-storey branch further uptown in Fifth Avenue. In fact I had gone so far as to turn the dress inside out and check out the internal construction, noting how well-made it was, with an unusual detail in the structure, facings and seam bindings. Very, very unusual for a dress costing close to $100.
This was a great buy for Kylie, who is still studying for her Masters of Law in Human Rights and International Law at Columbia University. The style, cut-away armholes, tulip skirt and highish waist, is perfect with her gamine, fine-limbed look. She can wear the dress alone, or with a jacket for a more business-like look.
I loved the floral pattern the minute that I saw it. It is hard to describe what makes a great floral, but this one has it - vivid colour, pleasing blend of colours, nice lustre of fabric, and not “cheap looking”, the latter being a quality hard to describe in words.

I know she will love wearing it for some time to come. 
Kylie in Zara floral dress Spring 2011

Black jacket transforms the look

Kylie's nail varnish is picking up the hints of poppy red

A second sighting
On the weekend I took a train ride to Princeton, New Jersey, and saw a young woman wearing the same dress, in a larger size. She teamed it with moss green suede platform sandals, and looked great. Should Kylie care? Absolutely not. She will customise her look with her own accessories. It can also make a great deal of difference what size the dress is in.
More good news for Kylie
I felt even more certain of the merits of the Zara dress when days later, I was walking through the ultra-fashionable Meatpacker area in the lower west side of Manhattan, where many top ultra-fashionable clothing brands have opened stores, Diane von Furstenberg and Stella McCartney to name just a couple. I came across a dress in a similar, gorgeous pattern in a boutique - by Dolan. It was a very pretty, a floaty, semi-transparent dress of a slippery polyester fabric - HELL in the sweltering New York summer!  
It was more than twice the price (US $220) but half the versatility, and judging by the fabric and finish, half the quality of Kylie’s Zara dress.
Dolan dress is gorgeous too, but more than twice the price
Check out the similarity of the print. Not so distinctly floral, but the colours a close match.
To conclude, you done well girl.
Bravo Zara, Bravo Kylie!


Kylie pictured wearing royal blue silk sleeveless ruffle blouse from Saks Fifth Avenue, with polka dot skirt and gold vintage leather belt, sitting pretty in Bryant Park, Manhattan