the book:
Love in a Cold Climate by Nancy Mitford
published 1949 Part 2, chapter 4
I remember that my mother, during one of her rare visits to England, brought me a little jacket of scarlet cloth from Schiaparelli. It seemed to me to be quite plain and uninteresting except for the label in its lining, and I longed to put this on the outside so that people would know where it came from. I was wearing it, instead of a cardigan, in my house when Cedric happened to call, and the first thing he said was,
‘Aha! So now we dress at Schiaparelli, I see! Whatever next?’
‘Cedric! How can you tell?’
‘My dear, one can always tell… So your wicked mother the Bolter has been here?’
‘Might I not have bought it for myself?’
‘No, no my love, you are saving up to educate your twelve brilliant sons, how could you possibly afford 25 pounds for a little jacket?’
‘Don’t tell me!’ I said. ‘ Twenty-five pounds for this?... Simply silly. Why, I could have made it myself.’
‘But could you? And if you had would I have come into the room and said Schiaparelli?’
‘There’s only a yard of stuff in it, worth a pound, if that,’ I went on, horrified by the waste of money.
‘And how many yards of canvas in a Fragonard?...’
observations: This is the archetypal Clothes in Books extract, discussing the very philosophy of what makes clothes important. I was reminded of it by a discussion with the fabulous writer on popular culture, June Thomas (follow her on https://twitter.com/junethomas to find out what she’s writing about now), where we noted that books feature clothes endlessly, but they don’t often describe that feeling of buying something wonderful just for its beauty: for example, buying expensive gorgeous shoes rather that utilitarian ones. You can keep warm with a nice fleece – so why did people buy Schiaparelli jackets? Cedric says it’s a work of art, which is one justification, but that’s not the whole psychology behind it. And why does this trope not appear in books when we all know it exists – is it because it’s hard to make the buyer sound rational and sensible? There are lots of worthy women scrimping to dress well or buy a special frock – Little Women and Ballet Shoes– but that’s not the same thing. If you have counter-examples we’d love to hear about them.
Nancy Mitford would always have been on Cedric’s side – unlike her narrator Fanny. There is more of Fanny and choosing clothes here, along with a little more on Nancy’s appearance; and this book has featured before here and here - clothes, always clothes.
Links up with: David Copperfield in an entry last week was willing to spend money for vanity, and Stella Gibbons’ characters are interested in whether feminists should spend money on clothes: Women having it all. Schiaparelli again: The slender girls are sharing dresses on a very commercial basis.
The picture – yes it is a Schiaparelli jacket – can be found on the rather wonderful Ye Old Fashion tumblr.
Love in a Cold Climate by Nancy Mitford
published 1949 Part 2, chapter 4
I remember that my mother, during one of her rare visits to England, brought me a little jacket of scarlet cloth from Schiaparelli. It seemed to me to be quite plain and uninteresting except for the label in its lining, and I longed to put this on the outside so that people would know where it came from. I was wearing it, instead of a cardigan, in my house when Cedric happened to call, and the first thing he said was,
‘Aha! So now we dress at Schiaparelli, I see! Whatever next?’
‘Cedric! How can you tell?’
‘My dear, one can always tell… So your wicked mother the Bolter has been here?’
‘Might I not have bought it for myself?’
‘No, no my love, you are saving up to educate your twelve brilliant sons, how could you possibly afford 25 pounds for a little jacket?’
‘Don’t tell me!’ I said. ‘ Twenty-five pounds for this?... Simply silly. Why, I could have made it myself.’
‘But could you? And if you had would I have come into the room and said Schiaparelli?’
‘There’s only a yard of stuff in it, worth a pound, if that,’ I went on, horrified by the waste of money.
‘And how many yards of canvas in a Fragonard?...’
observations: This is the archetypal Clothes in Books extract, discussing the very philosophy of what makes clothes important. I was reminded of it by a discussion with the fabulous writer on popular culture, June Thomas (follow her on https://twitter.com/junethomas to find out what she’s writing about now), where we noted that books feature clothes endlessly, but they don’t often describe that feeling of buying something wonderful just for its beauty: for example, buying expensive gorgeous shoes rather that utilitarian ones. You can keep warm with a nice fleece – so why did people buy Schiaparelli jackets? Cedric says it’s a work of art, which is one justification, but that’s not the whole psychology behind it. And why does this trope not appear in books when we all know it exists – is it because it’s hard to make the buyer sound rational and sensible? There are lots of worthy women scrimping to dress well or buy a special frock – Little Women and Ballet Shoes– but that’s not the same thing. If you have counter-examples we’d love to hear about them.
Nancy Mitford would always have been on Cedric’s side – unlike her narrator Fanny. There is more of Fanny and choosing clothes here, along with a little more on Nancy’s appearance; and this book has featured before here and here - clothes, always clothes.
Links up with: David Copperfield in an entry last week was willing to spend money for vanity, and Stella Gibbons’ characters are interested in whether feminists should spend money on clothes: Women having it all. Schiaparelli again: The slender girls are sharing dresses on a very commercial basis.
The picture – yes it is a Schiaparelli jacket – can be found on the rather wonderful Ye Old Fashion tumblr.
Moira - Oh, there's definitely something to be said for having clothes for the sheer joy of it. I really do understand that and you're right; there's not a lot of that kind of discussion in books. Well, at least not in the books I read. Good point!
ReplyDeleteSuch tiny waists. In my local antique shop they were selling a pair of genuine landgirl trousers. They were a fairly large size in the hips and legs. But the waist - tiny.
ReplyDeleteI can’t help quoting from your (and my) middlebrow favorite, Envious Casca, though arguably Matilda buys clothing that is smart, in both senses of the word, not for its sheer impractical beauty. “Matilda was not pretty. She had good eyes, and beautiful hair, but not even in her dewy youth had she been able to deceive herself into thinking that she was good-looking. She had sensibly accepted her plainness, and had, she said, put all her money on style…Valerie Dean, who was Stephen’s fiancée, vaguely resented her, because she dressed so well, and made her plainness so arresting that she attracted a good deal of attention at parties at which Valerie had confidently expected to draw all eyes upon herself.” Valerie, of course (who elsewhere calls Matilda “ugly”), has the kind of flashy good looks that won’t age well. In fact in twenty years she’ll probably resemble her mother, the vulgar and overpowering Mrs. Dean of the large lace-bloused bosom adorned with paste brooch. (One of the novel’s excellent characters.)—Your friend, Trollopian
ReplyDeleteAlways a good idea to go to that book! Heyer good on the nuances of clothes. In the Regency book Black Sheep, the young girl shows her aunt Selina a picture of an outfit she fancies. It is overfussy and unsuitable. Selina - "In her youth she had been the least good-looking but the most modish of the Wendover girls" - wrinkles her nose and says 'So - so deedy!'. And no more is seen of it. Difficult to say exactly how that word fits there, but somehow it is perfect. And useful guide to how to answer requests for advice - comment on the clothes, not how they might look on the questioner. I don't think I have ever used the word deedy in conversation, but it runs through my head.
DeleteThere is much discussion of comfort reads to distract us from current events - I feel Envious Casca (and maybe Black Sheep) might be needed. Trollope always good for that too.
Very early in Casca, Mathilda ribs Maud gently about her taste in books. Maud is now reading Life of the Empress Elizabeth of Austria; " 'Last time I was here it was the Memoirs of a Lady-in-Waiting,' " teases Mathilda. "Mockery slid off the armor of Maud's self-sufficiency. 'I like that kind of book,' Maud replies simply." Well, we like this kind of book. We're not intellectually lazy, but Georgette Heyer and Anthony Trollope are the RX for periods like these. --Trollopian
DeleteAnd think how important the book turned out to be! And yes, for the keen reader there is room for many different styles of book. One of my great comfort reads is Dodie Smith's I Capture the Castle, and that is definitely a great literary work of fiction too.
Delete