Category Archives: Vintage Clothing

Rita Rollers Skating Sweater

Part of the purpose of this post is to remind you of just how incredibly awesome the internet actually is. Those of us who grew up in the days before the world wide web are not apt to forget how locating information that once took trips to the library are now at our fingertips. Still, a little reminder to be grateful for that reference library in your pocket is in order.

I found this sweater in my Instagram feed. I waited patiently until the seller, Woodland Farm Vintage put it on her site so I could buy it. I have seen a lot of athletic sweaters in my time, but none with a big old dated roller skating patch on the back.

But who were the Rita Rollers? The seller guessed that it was a roller derby team, but I somehow didn’t think this was flashy enough for those skaters. Still, I thought the possibility was intriguing.

Research proved otherwise. I could find no reference at all to a roller derby  team from Chicago called the Rita Rollers. So I did what any modern researcher does – I consulted social media. To be more exact, I posted a photo of the logo patch on Instagram and hoped for the best.

I wasn’t disappointed. My friends at @styleandsalvage thought it might be connected with a Chicago Catholic boys’ school, Saint Rita of Cascia. Another IG friend, @hollyhobbiedthis went on Classmates.com and actually confirmed that is was a school skating club jacket from St. Rita. Not only that, but she found school yearsbooks in which the Rita Rollers were mentioned.

I’ll not post any photos here because of a potential copyright issue, but in the 1942 Cascian there’s a picture of a student wearing his Rita Rollers sweater, and there are team photos of the members wearing their sweaters as well. We are also treated to a bit of information about the club

The reason for the existence of any club is the good of its members. If it does not offer to its members advantages and opportunities for the betterment there is no reason for its existence.

The Rita Rollers organization offers its members social, cultural, and physical advantages. Roller skating is a good, wholesome, exercise for boys and girls. The parties conducted by the club give the boys an opportunity to meet good Catholic girls, and to associate with them in a clean and spirited form of entertainment. The cultural value lies in the refining influence that association with the gentler sex has upon boys.

So, simply put, the purpose of  joining the Rita Rollers was to meet girls. Now that’s settled, here’s a closer look at my sweater.

Even without that super patch on the back, this  would be one nifty sweater. The striped yoke, echoed by the ribbed section at the bottom and on the cuffs puts this one a few notches above the average letter sweater. Also, note that it zips, and has a cute little zipped pocket.

I really do love that zipper.

There are elbow patches sewn to the inside of the sleeves, thereby helping to solve the old problem of holes forming at the most stressed part of the garment.

There’s no maker’s label, only this “All Wool” declaration. I’ve seen this in other sweaters, and also in wool swimsuits.

And just when I thought it couldn’t get any better, I found a patch with the original owner’s last name embroidered on it.  So I went back to Classmates.com to try and locate a student named Przyscuha in the 1942 yearbook. Surprisingly, I couldn’t find him in 1942, but there was a Przysucha in the junior class in the 1941 book. Unfortunately, first names weren’t listed except for seniors.

So what happened to our Mr. Przyscuha/Przysucha? Did he get his sweater and then transfer to another school? Did he turn eighteen and quit school to join the military? Was he absent the day school portraits were taken? Maybe some day we’ll discover the answer, but it would really help if I could find his first name.  I did find a pair of Przysucha brothers from Chicago in the 1940 census, Joseph and Chester, who would have been fifteen and eighteen in 1942. Perhaps the sweater belonged to one of them.

 

 

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Filed under Collecting, Sportswear, Vintage Clothing

1970s Pants Set by Stephen Burrows

A big part of my goal in developing my collection is to show when and how and what types of pants were being worn by women. The pair above shows one of the last hurdles women leaped over in the quest for bifurcation – pants as evening wear. In the 1950s women were wearing at-home evening ensembles, often with a long, open skirt over a pair of slim pants. But even in the late 1960s, the day of the tunic pantsuit, women were often denied entrance to restaurants when wearing pants. There are many stories floating around about women who stepped out of their pants and then were allowed to dine wearing only the tunic.

But just a year or two later, things were changing. Designers and fashion magazines were showing pants specifically designed for a night out.  Pants had clearly crossed the finish line, though there are plenty of instances of women being denied the right to wear pants even today.

The set above is by Stephen Burrows, who gained fame as a designer in 1968 when he was given a boutique space withing Henri Bendel, Stephen Burrows World. In 1973 he went independent with his own business and label. My set dates to that second period.  It was during this period of Burrow’s career that he participated in the famous “Battle of Versailles” in November of 1973.

Even when designing in black, Burrows managed to put in a color accent. He had become known for finishing the edges of his clothes with a zig-zag stitch, and he often did the stitch in red.

Both the tunic and the pants are made of three layers of sheer and floaty chiffon. The sleeves are just one layer, which leaves them sheer, giving a bare, but actually covered up look.

This is a magnified look at the little sparkly dots on the fabric. You can see that they are tiny metal strips that are clamped around the weave of the fabric. I can’t imagine how this was created. By hand? By machine?  A few of them are missing, mainly from the shoulders. That’s understandable.

The pants have been professionally altered to enlarge the waist.  At first this puzzled me, as the back of the elastic casing was overlocked, which made it look original as it continued over the added piece. A closer look revealed that the stitching was a bit uneven, and the Stephen Burrows label had been shortened in the process.

The alteration does not bother me, mainly because it does not affect the way the set displays. I will sometimes remove later alterations to a garment, but I plan to just leave this one as it is. The fabric is delicate, and I could end up doing more harm than good to the piece.

I spent several days engrossed in early 1970s Vogue and Harper’s Bazaar magazines, hoping to find this set featured. I wasn’t so lucky, but there was an editorial in one 1973 magazine that showed a very similar Burrows top along with a flowy pantsuit by another designer.

I was pretty darn tickled when I spotted this gem when visiting friends at Style and Salvage. I want to thank them for giving me first dibs and for the use of their photo. But most of all thanks for letting me hang out and interrupt your busy day. Vintage friends are the best!

 

 

 

 

 

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Filed under Collecting, Designers, Proper Clothing, Vintage Clothing

Jean Muir, Woman Designer

Jean Muir is one of those designers who really deserves more attention. I wrote a bit about her back in 2007 when a book about her, Jean Muir: Beyond Fashion, was released. At that time Muir had been dead for twelve years, and the Jean Muir brand closed shortly after.

I was reminded of Muir last month when visiting my friends at Style and Salvage Vintage.  The great thing about having top-notch vintage dealers in the neighborhood is that whenever I need a dose of inspiration, all it takes is a visit to their studio. On this visit I was struck by a wonderful suede jacket by Muir.

I took lots of photos mainly because the piece was so great, and I wanted to study the details a bit more. Seriously, there is suede, and then there is top-quality suede, which is what Muir used in her creations. This leather is thin and light and smooth. It’s a shame that all suede can’t be like this.

My photos can’t tell the entire story, so S&S kindly let me borrow theirs. I went back and reread Beyond Fashion, because I wanted to refresh my memory of the woman who created this jacket. I tend to associate Muir with knit jersey, but she was also known for her work in suede.

That is a seriously wonderful sleeve.

Muir began designing in 1962 under a label called Jane & Jane. In 1966 she started her own label, Jean Muir. She was considered to be one of the new British “Mod” designers, but she really came into her own in the 1970s with her softer construction and styles. She continued to design clothes that women found comfortable and beautifully constructed. In designing a new season, she went back and studied what she had done for the past two years, She saw “fashion” as a progression of ideas, rather than a slavish dedication to what everyone else was doing.

For this reason, Muir garments can be a bit hard to date. They were meant to fit in with what came before, and what would come later. In other words, she designed for the way women actually build a wardrobe.

In this Muir jacket we can see a mix of suede and leather.

It is also a great example of one of Muir’s favorite design elements – top-stitching.

 

Muir is also remembered as a minimalist, which you can certainly see in the very dark green wool crepe dress. She says it best:

Clothes which step back allow the personality and some kind of cerebral presence to be felt. I do not think one should indulge the weakness for fripperies, which is present in human nature. I think people should be what they are visually; they should simply enhance with clothing what they are naturally. You should like your self, not disguise or hide it.

I rarely see Jean Muir garment here in my corner of the USA, so these were a real treat. My guess is that they are much more common in the UK. I know there are far-sighted collectors who focus on some of the great American woman designers such as Claire McCardell and Bonnie Cashin. I’d like to hope there are also collectors in the UK who are focusing on Jean Muir. She deserves it.

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Fashions & Home, Outdoor Number, May, 1927

This publication straddles the line between catalog and magazine. The William F. Gable Co, was a department store in Altoona, Pennsylvania. Founded in 1884, it closed in 1990, another victim of the shopping mall.

My decision to buy this publication was based solely on the cover. How could I miss with four sports represented on the cover? Inside is a mix of articles about Paris fashions and advice on what to buy for summer sports, complete with prices. There is also an article on how to decorate a porch with wicker furniture sets beginning at $46.50.

The illustrations are really great, with a big emphasis, as promised, on sports. This woman in her pretty robe de style, is unpacking the summer things she had packed away the previous fall. Is that a bathing cap with a Scottie dog?

This could be a photograph right out of Vogue which regularly featured the real life costumes of the rich and titled.

A “two-piece Knitted Frock, a Swiss or French import…” would have indeed been the choice for the golf course.

Here we see the knitted golf  ensemble, along with the linen tennis dress.

This illustration accompanied an article on picnicking, complete with suggestions, menu, and recipes.

I suspect this haircut would have been a bit outre for Altoona, PA. The dress was designed by Madeleine des Hayes. I have never encountered the name before, so please let me know if you know more about the elusive Mademoiselle des Hayes.

The dress is about as short as hemlines actually reached in the mid to late 1920s.

In contrast is this dress.

Bouffant dance frock for the graduate with tight bodice  and long full skirt of orchid and pink taffeta, uneven hem.

Yes, as early as 1927 it was evident that hemlines were going to drop. The high-low trend of just a few years ago was truly inspired by the designers who used this trick to ease the fashionable into longer skirt lengths in 1927.

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Filed under 1920s fashion, Collecting, Fashion Magazines, Proper Clothing, Sportswear

White Stag, 1953

Over the years I’ve written a lot about White Stag. It continues to be one of my favorite American sportswear companies, and with good reason. It represents a time when quality in clothing was more important than quantity. I’ve seen dozens of White Stag pieces from the 1940s through the 1960s over the years, and in only one instance can I say a piece looked worn out.

Until the 1960s, White Stag made most of their clothing from the same material they used to make tents and other canvas outdoors items. I’ve seen White Stag rucksacks that were made from the same fabric as a canvas coat I have. The fabric was sturdy and remarkably color-fast.

I recently acquired this White Stag blouse from one of my favorite vintage sellers, Past Perfect Vintage. I was eager to add it to my collection because I have some other coordinating pieces from White Stag. And that is part of the joy of collecting sportswear. I never know when a matching piece to things I already have will pop up.

And as luck will have it, I found an ad for this line from 1953. It does not show any pieces in brown, but the ad copy reveals that these items were available in “eleven sunbright colors.” White Stag used brown quite often, sometimes combining it with turquoise and black. I am hoping to someday find that nifty carry-all.

The top-stitching adds to the sporty look. It’s another common feature of White Stag clothing from the 1950s.

I have, on occasion, been accused of putting too much store in the labels found in vintage garments, but when combined with a dated ad, all the guesswork of when certain labels were used is erased. I know without a doubt that this label was used in 1953.

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1970s Design Research and Marimekko Bikini

Here’s a truth about collecting: Sometimes it is easier to effectively collect things that are one hundred years old than it is to collect things one remembers wearing.  When it comes to things within one’s memory, your thoughts can’t help but be clouded by what you actually remember. Does that make sense? Well, here’s an example.

I once went to an exhibition of one woman’s collection of handbags along with her collected contents of what might be in each bag. With the 1900s through the 1950s bags, all was well, but when it got to the late 1960s and the 70s, things seemed to fall apart. I scrutinized each item, as though it was my handbag from that time. It wasn’t until later that I realized that I was reading my own experience into the contents of the bags.

It was a valuable lesson.  But it has also made me very cautious when collecting from my own years of wearing fashion, particularly the 1970s. This helps explain why I have more bathing suits from the 1930s than from the 1970s.

Still, I can recognize the good stuff when I see it. This 1970s bikini is a good example. I first spotted it on the Instagram feed of  Selvedge Fine Vintage, and I knew it was something I needed for the collection.

I don’t remember Design Research from my youth, though I do remember the brand that was most associated with that store, Marimekko. Growing up in North Carolina, we used to joke that we could get a copy of a two year old Seventeen, copy the styles, and be on the cutting edge of fashion. It was the truth. Looking back at Seventeen from 1973 I can see how great and cute the styles were, but none of us in the back-of-beyond would have had the courage to wear most of what the magazine was telling us was stylish.

But I would have worn this bathing suit.

I’ve written about Design Research before, so I won’t repeat the facts here. But what makes them important was their association with Marimekko. My new bikini does not have a Marimekko label, but it’s impossible to deny the connection. This suit, if not from Marimekko, was strongly influenced by the Finnish brand.

This was about as skimpy a bathing suit as I would ever have worn. What makes it really interesting is that built into the pants is a way to make them even smaller.

On the inside of the sides is a drawstring that can make the side a few inches smaller.

So as the bikini continued to shrink, bathing suit makers came up with ways for a wearer to have it both ways.

I have another Marimekko/Design Research item from around the same time, a shirt with a similar print. I’m not stretching the truth when I say that an early 70s woman would have worn this shirt as a cover-up for her black and white swimsuit. Many swimsuit companies were showing matching shirts as bathing suit cover-ups during this time.

All the Marimekko patterns have names, and if anyone recognizes either of these I’d love to know what they are called.

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Filed under Collecting, Sportswear, Summer Sports, Vintage Clothing

1960s Emilio Pucci Pants Set

Photo courtesy of Meloo Vintage

I find that I’m a bit of an age snob when it comes to looking for sportswear for my collection. What that means is that I find it to be a lot more exciting to look for items from the first half of the 20th century than for those from the second half.

I think part of the problems is that so much survives from the 1960s and 70s, that I’ve learned to be really picky about what I pick up. If I have got mid 1960s “scooter” dresses on my mind, I could go to etsy, Ruby Lane, and Ebay and have my pick of dozens of items.  Even with high-end garments like those from Italian designer Emilio Pucci, there are hundreds of items listed for sale at any given time.

So, I don’t really search very hard for things made in the last sixty years or so, but when I run across a stellar example, I’m ready to shop. And when Melissa of Meloo Vintage posted this set on Instagram, I fell in love.

For years I’ve been looking for an older Pucci set, from his days on the Isle of Capri, but I’ve not been lucky to find what I wanted. I dumbly passed on a great ski-themed top from the late 1950s, and I’ve been kicking myself ever since. But when I saw this tunic and pants set, I knew I’d found my Pucci set.

It dates a little later, from the early to mid 1960s. Pucci can be difficult to date, as the nature of the prints are outside the whims of fashion. Older prints (from the 1950s) are often on a theme, like the skiing blouse I mentioned. The label used is a big help, and my set has the labels most commonly seen in the 1960s.

I’d love to think that some jet setter bought it in Italy, but instead there is a B. Forman of Rochester label alongside the Pucci one. I have no idea what the little “E” label means.

You can see that a metal zipper was used, but be sure to note the way it was inserted – by hand picking. This is a detail seen more commonly in couture clothing, which this is not. But it does go to show how much more handwork went into high-end ready-to-wear fifty-five years ago than you see today.

The crease in the pants is made permanent by the use of hand picking, and the side seams are secured in the same manner.

What really sold me on this set was the way the print of the tunic was designed specifically to be a top with a scalloped edge. It’s one of things that makes the set so special. Imagine, for contrast, if the tunic was made from the same print, but that it was cut in a willy-nilly manner with no thought to the scallops or to the placement of the center of the design.

What could be more Continental than three-quarters length sleeves with French cuffs?

The bateau neck is actually padded. It’s just one more great detail.

In the late 1960s mainstream fashion caught up with Pucci, and these “psychedelic” prints were everywhere. From what I’ve seen of Pucci garments from the 1970s and later, the print became the design, but in these earlier pieces you can see how Pucci was more than just a bunch of color thrown onto the fabric.

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Filed under Collecting, Designers, Sportswear, Vintage Clothing