my-ear-trumpet

fellowfrockery:

Top: Food science class in 1907 at the Melbourne College of Domestic Economy, sitting on hard pews in aprons with big bows at the back ties. Below: a casual kitchen pose in 1927 at the Emily McPherson College with comfier wrap aprons and rather gormless caps. Note plethora of containers in which to boil food for simply hours. Photos held at the State Library of Victoria.

my-ear-trumpet
fellowfrockery:

Going anywhere for the weekend? I’m crazy for a travel outfit - say, faux ocelot collar and beige butter-soft gloves, with umbrella featuring hidden sword. No corset, mind you. Lacking a steam-train and handy porter or funnel-fancying steamship lifestyle, one can only get vicarious. I love the idea of steamer/traveller/vaudevillean trunks, from creaky wicker baskets held together with leather straps to moulded binocular cases. The State Library of Victoria has the most incredible book which slides satisfyingly out of a hard slipcover. It’s called ‘100 Legendary Trunks: Louis Vuitton’ by Pierre Léonforte and Eric Pujalet-Plaà with the collaboration of Florence Lesché and Marie Wurry with a preface by company man Patrick-Louis Vuitton. The huge format book has pictures, diagrams, ads, descriptions, designs and stories for all sorts of real, mostly classic and nifty trunks, including antique ones which fold out to sleeping stretchers, hat stands, wardrobes, writing desks with pigeon-holes, bars, zinc florists’ or botanists’ sinks, medicine cabinets, and puncture kits. From the 19th century onwards they were purpose-designed for getting into posh hotels or hot air balloons, onto the running boards of vintage cars and swirling through the minds of Vogue editors.

This picture is not from the book, it’s reblogged from acadiabooks.tumblr.com and is a Louis Vuitton catalogue cover from 1901. Come in and see the book yourself next time you’re in the Melbourne town.

fellowfrockery:

Going anywhere for the weekend? I’m crazy for a travel outfit - say, faux ocelot collar and beige butter-soft gloves, with umbrella featuring hidden sword. No corset, mind you. Lacking a steam-train and handy porter or funnel-fancying steamship lifestyle, one can only get vicarious. I love the idea of steamer/traveller/vaudevillean trunks, from creaky wicker baskets held together with leather straps to moulded binocular cases. The State Library of Victoria has the most incredible book which slides satisfyingly out of a hard slipcover. It’s called ‘100 Legendary Trunks: Louis Vuitton’ by Pierre Léonforte and Eric Pujalet-Plaà with the collaboration of Florence Lesché and Marie Wurry with a preface by company man Patrick-Louis Vuitton.

The huge format book has pictures, diagrams, ads, descriptions, designs and stories for all sorts of real, mostly classic and nifty trunks, including antique ones which fold out to sleeping stretchers, hat stands, wardrobes, writing desks with pigeon-holes, bars, zinc florists’ or botanists’ sinks, medicine cabinets, and puncture kits. From the 19th century onwards they were purpose-designed for getting into posh hotels or hot air balloons, onto the running boards of vintage cars and swirling through the minds of Vogue editors.

This picture is not from the book, it’s reblogged from acadiabooks.tumblr.com and is a Louis Vuitton catalogue cover from 1901.

Come in and see the book yourself next time you’re in the Melbourne town.
du-wyrda-abr-evarinya
Had I the heavens’ embroidered cloths
Enwrought with golden and silver light,
The blue and the dim and the dark cloths
Of night and light and the half-light,
I would spread the cloths under your feet:
But I, being poor, have only my dreams;
I have spread my dreams under your feet;
Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.
W.B Yeats, “He Wishes for the Cloths of Heaven” (via showthemwhat)