PROPER PYJAMAS...

If you know me well, you'll know that one of my very favourite things is proper pyjamas. Not wispy floral slips, not jersey leggings and a T shirt, definitely not a onesie: proper, men's style pyjamas. 100% cotton, with contrast piping preferably. I'd been looking out for a new pair for a while, since my APC swiss dot ones from ages ago were starting to fall apart, and my Toast Japanese print ones had needed some repairs - I was starting to feel embarrassed when I answered the door to the postman.

If you work from home, you need good pyjamas. If I was just sleeping in them I wouldn't bother. Lounging is also one of my essential activities, which requires the correct pyjama.

Obviously Olatz is the dernier cri, the ne plus ultra, the creme de la creme (sorry, I've been watching too much Del Boy) of the pyjama world, but they're SO spen, even when they often go on sale, and they're silk, which means dry cleaning. Can't get my head around doing that - and how often would you need to? I'll be wearing them all the time, so that doesn't really work for me.

Olatz

 I'd had my eye on the gorgeous, remind me of those Coco Chanel ones, Poplin Gatsby pjs with teal piping for so long that it actually felt almost too easy to just click and buy those (which I still may do).

Poplin Gatsby

Sleepy Jones has the vibe I am utterly down with, and has exactly the pyjamas I want, but they're not cheap, and they don't ship internationally yet. Once I saw the red trim on blue end on end of their Marina style though, I knew that was it. But surely I could find some like that here in London.

Sleepy Jones Marina

This is how I found myself in Jermyn Street, home of world renowned shirt makers Hilditch & Key (where Karl Lagerfeld gets his nightshirts made FYI) in a wood panelled room full of shirts, being measured and pinned and ordering monograms. I had to have them altered because they're gentlemen's pyjamas, cut for gentlemen, who evidently have much longer arms than me, but the same length legs, generally speaking. H&K only do the blue with the red trim in men's - though they do have ladies' pyjamas but they're all baby pink or baby blue or something not proper. I only like proper, as if I hadn't driven this point home enough. In any case they don't have red piping for ladies, although I'm sure you could probably special order it.

Hilditch & Key blue end on end - they don't give them names, cos they're proper.

For a freelancer, it's sort of like buying a suit, I thought; as I wandered back up to Piccadilly clutching my receipt for the monogramming, which was being sent away to be done by hand and collected two weeks later. There's something almost uniform-like about them; such a classic combination of sky blue with red trim. Which is when it hit me: Royal Mail. The uniform of Royal Mail is sky blue with red trim and embroidery on the chest pocket.

Instagram by Charlotte Bland of my crumpled, just unpacked pjs - this is not an accurate representation of her photographic oeuvre. 

Oh well, at least I'll be showing solidarity next time I open the door to the postman.

NEEDLES...

If you've never spent any time with me in real life, you might not know that I'm not a jeans girl, or a trainers girl for that matter. In fact, we can rule out any kind of sportswear. This leaves me in the pleasurable position of being able to bypass trends in these things. Nike Air Max? Um, ok - go for it other people! Not me. I've got one rotting pair of Converse which I drag out if I need to do something like go for a country walk if it's not a wellies kind of day.

Until about ten years ago, jeans suited me - and then about the time they got skinny, they got uncomfortable. I would occasionally buy a pair, actually quite a lot of pairs, only for them to sag and for their low waistbands to cut into me. My kidneys got cold because there was always that gap at the back when I sat down. I stopped wearing them.

I kept meaning to try some jeans on at Acne - oh for about five years. I kept putting it off because they all looked very skinny and I was never in the mood to subject myself to both discomfort and inevitable humiliation, when I couldn't get them on and had to go up and up in sizes until they fitted on the legs but there was a huge gap at the top - which is what inevitably happens when I try on jeans. But the other day I had half an hour to kill and was feeling gung ho. I had had this picture of Jessica de Ruiter by Garance Dore in my mind for a while:

Acne Needles: high waisted, narrow, not quite skinny, washed black, stretchy and as it turns out really, really comfortable. I tried on every style of jeans at Acne and I just kept coming back to these because they were so comfy and the colour is uniform all over, which is most important to me. And they make your legs look really long. Now I have jeans. I don't quite look exactly like Jessica here, what with looking nothing like her, but that's something to aim for and I'm pretty pleased to have joined modern society in the wearing of jeans. I have no idea really if high waisted or mid waisted or boyfriend or what is what I'm supposed to be wearing and don't really care. I wear these. So all this to say that I have finally *discovered* Acne jeans.

{Photo: Garance Dore}

A WOMAN'S RIGHT TO BRAS...

I did mull over whether it was appropriate to post about lingerie on International Women's Day, which I've often marked here over the years. It's true that a photo of a teenage girl with her nipples showing, in order to promote a brand, isn't very feminist as well as having little to do with the customer that's likely to buy it. But I do think there's something about buying yourself fantastic lingerie that's liberating as well as being your right to do. We don't need to burn our bras anymore do we? That's something to celebrate I think. We can be educated, accomplished and respected and support our curves/not curves with beautiful lingerie should we so desire. Or not. I just happen to like nice underwear.

One of the things on my to-do list in Paris was to finally pluck up the courage to visit the infamous lingerie shop Sabbia Rosa - favourite of every A list celebrity you can think of. I'd read various articles about it over the years, which never included photos of its goods - just the description of visiting it, where you'd be whisked into a changing room, measured, appraised and would then be given outrageously expensive items of lingerie that the shop owner chose for you to try, then purchase - as it would be too awkward not to.  I'd passed by the shop in rue des Saint-Peres lots of times but the sight of banks of green drawers (of the wooden furniture variety!) which I wouldn't be allowed to open put me off. This time I braved it, expecting to emerge triumphant with a tale of humiliation by lingerie.

What actually happened was: I went in, they were really nice, and I was able to browse through quite a few things and decide that while the array of coloured silks was amazing, the styles were a little too classic, maybe even old fashioned for me. I'd already been to the lingerie department at Le Bon Marche and found Elise Aucouturier and into the Eres boutique to see the spring/summer 13 collection in pop pastel shades of pale blue, coral and watermelon pink. I knew that was more for me. No bows - Eres lingerie never has bows, I love it so. The spring collection is here - you can see all the glorious spring colours there, but this {Pompone} is my favourite:

I'd never seen Elise Aucouturier's collection before, but at Le Bon Marche there was a big display of it in prime position. To me, it's crossover ready to wear lingerie, that maybe isn't all that functional but is really, really pretty. The spring collection is all thin cotton and delicate crochet in indigo, cream and rust. Despite Elise Aucouturier's maddeningly slippery flash site I managed to cobble together some screencaps by cutting off various body parts of the model, who has no doubt already suffered enough in the name of fashion. Happy International Women's Day indeed!

BOW AMNESTY...

I've been undertaking a major upgrade of my lingerie wardrobe and in doing so, have discovered exactly what I like and dislike. (More on that another time. Boythongs: why do these exist?)

While I like delicate lace and silk, the one thing I CANNOT stand is the little fake bows that are plonked on most underwear, even really expensive brands. They're not even real bows - just bits of ribbon trim folded into a bow shape and tacked to the middle of a bra or knickers, which does nothing except make a small lump in the line of your clothes. Sometimes there's more than a bow - there might be a pearl, or in the most hilarious case on one of my recent online purchases, a fake enamel locket with the Eiffel Tower on it. I like Paris A LOT but I don't need that dangling from the middle of my bra. There was no mention of it in the description and you couldn't see it in the photo - in fact I don't think it was IN the photo, which makes me think there is some kind of automated process that just churns these things out randomly and attaches them at the end of production, like a games arcade grabber arm that just pulls them out of a barrel and sticks them on.

One thing I do like however, is cutting those stupid things off. The satisfaction derived is, I imagine, on a par with how Lola feels when she methodically pulls the legs off a spider one by one. There, much better. Here are some I removed earlier:

BEST FOOT...

I was genuinely shopping for Christmas presents for other people when I walked straight into the path of these Celine slippers. Burgundy and navy in one shoe? Really comfortable butter soft leather, can wear them all the time, plus enabling friend's encouragement? Then a slight wobble about do they possibly look like the kind of slippers that Boycie from Only Fools and Horses would have worn - I mean maybe, but no - and anyway is that a bad thing? The shoes were on my feet - they weren't coming off except to allow a nice girl to stuff them with tissue, put them each in protective bags and tissue and more tissue and shoe bags, a box, then a bag expertly sealed. My credit card fell out of my purse and into the machine.
There. The decisive moment.

TRANS-SEASON EXPRESS...

Autumn is here. I know this because I've already got my regular trans-seasonal cold. Making the bitter pill of impending winter easier to swallow: The first sighting of parrot tulips this week, burgundy Bass Weejuns, which bring my current shoe rotation up to 100% mens / unisex shoes. But that's ok, because I'm still into silly girl stuff like the new *FRENZY* nail polish from Chanel. I didn't know it was a thing until the girl at the Chanel counter told me I was lucky they'd just got a new batch, which would be gone in an hour. I'm also in quite a lather about this cute little wool navy Sessun top with tobacco coloured Peter Pan collar, cuffs and hem.  Autumnal pursuits: reading The Gentlewoman - obviously; picking blackberries with Little Friend Susan and drinking tea out of my new fave stoneware mug.

On the subject of mens / unisex and somewhat related to the above: I've been skulking around mens clothing shops, looking at socks and knitwear usually, and I bought the Bass Weejuns at Present. They happen to have them in girl sizes, which was lucky, cos I have tiny delicate feet. When I look at mens shoes is the only time I wish I had bigger, sturdier feet two sizes larger. Why don't more mens labels just make the EXACT SAME THING in womens sizes? It would be such a winner. Anyway, this mens shop in Greenwich called Meet Bernard has opened a womens shop next door and I love it. It's where I got the Sessun top from and they have just the kind of basic, well made, laid back cute, chosen by the boys, girls stuff I love to wear.

I LIKE THIS...

{It's Getting Late by Massy Tadjedin for Miu Miu FW12}



{And behind the scenes of the Mert Alas and Marcus Piggott shot ad campaign}

I WANT IT NOW...

Oh thanks Valentino, for giving me an extremely ungracious Veruca Salt style meltdown. These were supposed to be MY shoes, I was willing to save up for them and everything. I would've preferred the red patent low heels they had in the show but I can't even find those for sale anywhere in the world.  Actually the black suede ones are kind of beautiful, first pic. Want them. Want them all. Now.

WEATHER REPORT...

I thought my subconscious was up to something. Despite the cold, wind and rain, I'd been amassing quite a little trove of clothes in light cotton prints more suited for exotic climates. I even bought a white and leopard print APC canvas bag to carry my camera in, like a summer bag! (Online it's full price, but it's on sale in stores.) There's usually no point in buying summer stuff here, since summer only lasts three days - far more sensible to get a discounted full length Barbour with a hood; but at a sample sale I was drawn to some Isabel Marant printed muslin pyjama trousers, a little APC Liberty print skirt of the lightest cotton lawn, which I've seen tons of times before and never bought, even though it's almost identical to one my grandmother made me and I wore incessantly when I was about five years old. (To be fair, granny's one was better quality.) A little Isabel Marant top - perfect for sizzling hot days... I could only assume my subconscious was plotting an escape to Belize or Sicily. But now, the weather report says that temperatures will stutter into the low 20s this week in London! It will only rain once or twice a day! The sky is blue right now!

I don't quite believe that I'll be able to not wear socks today yet. I might put some in my bag just in case.

I'M INTO - HEATWAVE EDITION...

I'm really into these chambray twill (is there such a thing?) high waisted '70s shorts that belonged to my mother. I've been wearing them on and off since I was about 13 and with the recent freak hot weather here, I've been wearing them a lot - strictly in the garden or on the beach you understand, although they're pretty good to wear under short dresses around London. It's also not lost on me that I should get into them as much as possible until I... can't get into them anymore! A few more years and that back hem might have low hanging bum cheek cleavage below it - upon which moment I shall pass them on to some lithe legged fifteen year old and let them live on...

ROPE...

Maybe it's all the time I've been spending by the sea and hanging around with people who are obsessed with boats, but my current wants are all very rope related.

{Braid trim mod dress/Emerson, Magnitude plait fishbone ring/Ayako Kanari, Rope and gemstone bracelets/The Vamoose}

BACK TO BLACK...

Adios pretty, cute, colourful Mexico clothes - I will miss wearing you. Many of you had sat unworn and neglected in my wardrobe since buying one of you per year in a fit of hope during English summers' past. Gracias - I loved taking you out and about in the Mexican sun.

Hasta... well I don't know when, but we will meet again my light cotton lovelies.

*p.s. the handmade embroidered Mexican dress in the picture has a story and needs a post of its own.

BAROMETER...

I find that my Svpply is a fairly accurate barometer of my thoughts and preoccupations at any one time. 

{Details here.}

MOSTLY BEEN WEARING...

Nails, nails, nails; navy, navy, navy; Family Affairs tiny stars and Fellini stripes; rings, rings, rings; Dr Martens Alfred white soled brogues, vintage polka dots; peter pan collars; le fresh cut.

VREELAND IN VENICE...

I'm two weeks behind and still have loads to show from Venice. But it's about time I got to the point.

This year, as it sometimes does, my birthday fell on Mothers' Day. (In the U.K. but not the rest of Europe.) All props to mums but I don't have one and I'm not one - so trying to celebrate your birthday when everyone around you is celebrating mum-ness can be a little... grim?

So this year I took positive action. I'd wanted to try and go to Venice in March to see the Diana Vreeland exhibition at Palazzo Fortuny anyway. Throw in my birthday and some good friends and an escape plan was hatched.
I got on a plane on the morning of my birthday, was met at the airport in Venice by sweet friends and an hour later we were at the DV exhibition.

If you've ever been to Palazzo Fortuny you'll know that the main room is beautiful and atmospheric - hung on all sides with heavy draperies, with low lighting and glimmering pieces of art; even if it was empty it would strike you as special. But this time it had Diana Vreeland's clothes and personal memorabilia displayed in cabinets: all her shoes (always the same style made by Dal Co. in Rome) lined up neatly side by side on a tooo higgghhh shelf, the originals of family photographs and portraits of her I've seen reproduced in books a million times, a huge glass case filled with Harper's Bazaars and Vogues from her time working there. It was almost a shock to see how modern some of the covers from the thirties or fifties looked. The exhibition is intentionally staged not in chronological order but as a narrative, perhaps to place the importance on imagination first and foremost, rather than as a straight up retrospective.

The second floor is more to do with curation than with Diana Vreeland somehow. It was the curators' interpretation of what she represents, is the best way I can describe it. In any case I got the feeling they'd had free reign with this floor, and while it was interesting, sometimes the connection with DV was a little tenuous - though I'm never going to complain about seeing beautiful clothes. Every decade she influenced is represented in some way. Another possibility is that this floor relates to DV's work at the Metropolitan Costume Institute, where she freed up the way exhibitions could be curated and displayed: on entering the room you're greeted by a large white calico covered horse {here} placed with some 1960s Pucci and Missoni - a triple reference by the curators Judith Clark and Maria Luisa Frisa: one, to the infamous Tahiti shoot where DV sent photographer Norman Parkinson in 1965 with strict orders to shoot a picture of a beautiful white horse with a long tail, plaited to the ground using pounds of fake Dynel hair she gave him (DV's favourite prop in the '60s). Upon arriving in Tahiti the crew discovered there wasn't a single white horse on the island. The second reference is to her Costume Institute exhibitions where she would always place a huge prop at the entrance, to set the scene. For her Balenciaga exhibit she used a 17th century white horse, but here the horse is Italian (apparently!). And thirdly, choosing Pucci and Missoni clothes from the sixties to remind us that the exhibition we're seeing is in Italy. (I'm not sure the casual visitor would have picked up on all that!)

At the end of the exhibition (right about the time I overheard two guards discussing 'that girl who keeps snapping away with her cellphone, I've told her time and again not to take pictures' - sorry guards, but you didn't threaten to kick me out!) was the most beautiful display against the stripped, layered, mottled wall of the palazzo: two Fortuny delphos gowns in silvery gold, a Schiaparelli cape from Judith Clark's personal archive and this shimmering soft gold Chanel tailleur from the twenties.

All in all, a fantastic birthday treat!

{Diana Vreeland After Diana Vreeland is on at Palazzo Fortuny, Venice until 25 June (closed Tuesdays).}