Geometrimania or my love for 1920's abstract prints

 via palmbeach tumblr

 L'Officiel de la Mode, 1928

 20s Chanel jersey ensembles via adeline's attic tumblr

 L'Officiel de la Mode, 1929

Deauville fashions, 1929

Still ferreting away at the turn of the decade, caught in a web of my own making, my mind cannot find peace. When I sleep, this is the kind of stuff that I dream of. When I'm awake, it wouldn't let me alone. Like a lover's longing, it's with me at all times, sweetness and pain in the same chalice. 

From Patou to Chanel and Delauney, this is deco fashion at its best. If only I could step one step closer! Alas, my means of recreating the fashions of my dreams are scarce, and if improving at all, then the pace is sloooow... But this dream is here to stay. In the meantime, one fools around...

Wishful stripe (a story of emulating late 20's fashions)

From all the prints there may be, I like stripes best. Always have. They speak to me and make me happy. 

Ok, I know I look very mean just there, 50% covered in them, but I didn't say they make me a better person. Or fun, for that matter.
I like them regardless, and certainly enough to pick this shirt a while ago from ebay. A size too big didn't put me off, all the more roomy, and it's silk, not the dreaded polyester in which this 70's (?) stripe orgy often occurred. And it has allowed me to play at my favourite deco style outfits like no other. 

I have featured this before in another post, where the inspiration was Poirot-esque. But I return here to what really fires my imagination, images from a bunch over which I have drooled again and again:  ladies and gents, I give you the striped sporty fashions of the late 20's. Now this is the real deal!

 Minerva pattern from 1927

 

L'Officiel de la Mode, 1930

 L'Officiel de la Mode, 1928

 

L'Officiel de la Mode, 1928

Naughty spot for a 1920's child

 

 ...I had to sit there for a little while until the tantrum passed. 

I'm not going to go into details, suffice to say that - explained or not - mood swings are part of my lovely personality. 

The deep well of calm of my childhood and teenage years must have spared wast energy resources which I spend nowadays flaring up at the smallest opportunity. Add to that the strong call of the genes claiming what's theirs and the (not so) funny way life has of transforming bland children into angry adults. In any case, in my menopausal years I expect to be a walking tempest.  

 

But for now the tempest passed and I was able to enjoy what was left of an otherwise wonderful summer day, together with the shredded remnants of the initial good mood that had prompted me to put that outfit on (vintage skirt and blouse ensemble from etsy, vintage crochet bag, modern shoes and charity shop dumped hat). 

We had gone for a walk in Tewkesbury, my friend and I,  and you can see the Mill building behind us, and a bit of the canal. The highlight of the afternoon was the visit to the Abbey, where at 6 o'clock I was asked to relieve them of my presence under the pretext of having to close the grounds. I can't keep wondering though if my eating away (I mean, prolonged) from their mulberry tree could have possibly had anything to do with it...

Red handed, purple tongued, naughty and shameless... Yours, truly.