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Do you always watch for the longest day of the year and then miss it?

vintage Jaeger black flapper dress“Do you always watch for the longest day of the year and then miss it? I always watch for the longest day in the year and then miss it.”

This is the one line that I find most memorable from The Great Gatsby. The Longest Day of the Year is quite like the great parties of Gatsby’s, or The Money, The Dream. Well what does it do for you, and what did you want it to mean?

I think Mia Farrow is absolutely outstanding as Daisy in the 1974 The Great Gatsby. With her nervous energy and a combination of unwillingness and cunning, there’s something spot-on Daisy there.

(The Photo is from the upcoming shop collection and is a super fabulous vintage 80s Jaeger flapper style dress. I’ve finally finished taking all the detail photos this week, so I promise they’ll be up soon!)

(Photo by JEG)

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Ophelia Passing (Ophelia 2)

(Ophelia, John Everett Millais 1852)

(Hamlet, Act 3, Scene 1)

HAMLET

Ay, truly; for the power of beauty will sooner
transform honesty from what it is to a bawd than the
force of honesty can translate beauty into his
likeness: this was sometime a paradox, but now the
time gives it proof. I did love you once.

OPHELIA

Indeed, my lord, you made me believe so.

HAMLET

You should not have believed me; for virtue cannot
so inoculate our old stock but we shall relish of
it: I loved you not.

OPHELIA

I was the more deceived.

HAMLET

Get thee to a nunnery: why wouldst thou be a
breeder of sinners? I am myself indifferent honest;
but yet I could accuse me of such things that it
were better my mother had not borne me: I am very
proud, revengeful, ambitious, with more offences at
my beck than I have thoughts to put them in,
imagination to give them shape, or time to act them
in. What should such fellows as I do crawling
between earth and heaven? We are arrant knaves,
all; believe none of us. Go thy ways to a nunnery.

So here are the rest of the photos from the Ophelia photoshoot. Much happenings have passed since my Ophelia post. I’m still (happily) slaving away at the boutique, and I’m two weeks older. I think I really should go and re-read the original script of Hamlet, because many of the interpretations sadden me a little. We’ve finally finished watching Laurence Oliver’s 1948 film version of Hamlet this week, which I must say wasn’t an entirely satisfying experience. I was unsure about several cuts that he made from the original play, but that I can’t comment on intelligently until I’ve studied the play again. Though course I’m bearing a personal grudge towards Olivier for not letting Vivien Leigh play Ophelia on grounds of her age, which seems to me strange if he didn’t have concerns of the same degree for his own age. There was for me a bit of unintended comic moments, perhaps resulting from the film’s Film Noir tendencies. And poor Jean Simmons(otherwise a very, very pretty girl) was sometimes disturbing to behold (methinks not in the intended way).

But there, I’m launching into a (slightly bitter) review. That I should not do, until I’ve educated myself well enough to know what I speak. For now it should suffice to say that I’ll probably have more good times reading about Ophelia. And I may do a review of the film in time. I also hope to find more relevant images for my Ophelia Pinterest picture board.

The above excerpt from Hamlet Act 3 contains one of the quotes that often surface to my mind: “Get thee to a nunnery”. I wonder whether by her drowning, Ophelia has gotten herself into a nunnery.

And I personally entertain the thought and vision of Ophelia, safe and dry, watching herself passing in the water as if it’s another self or life. If the maiden’s life was as elusive as her death was, and if she had never really lived while she was alive, then it may as well be that she never died.

(Hamlet Act 4, Scene 5)

OPHELIA
They bore him barefaced on the bier;
Hey non nonny, nonny, hey nonny;
And in his grave rain’d many a tear:–
Fare you well, my dove!

(Photos by JEG)

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Ophelia

(Photos by JEG)

There is a willow grows aslant a brook,

That shows his hoar leaves in the glassy stream;

There with fantastic garlands did she come

Of crow-flowers, nettles, daisies, and long purples

That liberal shepherds give a grosser name,

But our cold maids do dead men’s fingers call them:

There, on the pendent boughs her coronet weeds

Clambering to hang, an envious sliver broke;

When down her weedy trophies and herself

Fell in the weeping brook. Her clothes spread wide;

And, mermaid-like, awhile they bore her up:

Which time she chanted snatches of old tunes;

As one incapable of her own distress,

Or like a creature native and indued

Unto that element: but long it could not be

Till that her garments, heavy with their drink,

Pull’d the poor wretch from her melodious lay

To muddy death.

(Hamlet Act 5, Scene7)

I had bought my first copy of Hamlet when I was fourteen while on a trip. It was also likely the first Shakespeare play that I had read from beginning to end in the original. I wonder how at the bookshop I had chosen it over the other plays, but I could have known something of Laurence Olivier’s old film production – in fact I must have read about the film somewhere and the Prince of Denmark must have been on my mind from that source and other far, far earlier ones.

I remember that it was a lovely cover from Bantam Classics, with a painting of Hamlet and Ophelia, which I did find and still do find a little curious, since Hamlet is Hamlet and not Romeo and Juliet. But I guess I liked seeing both of the young people there instead the Prince of Denmark only. And maybe because of the book cover, I’ve always thought of Hamlet as he himself plus Ophelia.

The death scene of Ophelia gives a strong image, which to me always appears in a pale palette, with striking whites and greens. which was the main idea of Victorian theatre designs for the play, too. I think her death, because it is vague and perplexing, and because the curious report of it; is of a most haunting kind. She eluded the audience both when she is sane and “insane”, and her death is even more elusive. If it was suicide, then it calls to mind Edith Wharton’s Miss Lily Bart in The House of Mirth, in that “is this suicide”? or “an accident”? – it must be both, as the character herself cannot decide and the writer is unwilling to tell, except the opposite of truth.

That is if Ophelia’s death is completely self-induced. But here opinions must arise again, when one remembers the sinister court that she is surrounded by. Yesterday I came across a blog post that suggests Hamlet’s mother, the Queen Gertrude, to be the murderer of the fair maiden; the only question of the theory being, what could have been the motive? to which I cannot form my own answers definitely except through impressions, and one of my deepest impressions of the play, when I first read it, is this:

HAMLET

    Lady, shall I lie in your lap?

    (Lying down at OPHELIA’s feet)

OPHELIA

    No, my lord.

HAMLET

    I mean, my head upon your lap?

OPHELIA

    Ay, my lord.

HAMLET

    Do you think I meant country matters?

OPHELIA

    I think nothing, my lord.

HAMLET

    That’s a fair thought to lie between maids’ legs.

So yes, I would agree that the truth is not plain.

Then two years ago I became an admirer of Elizabeth Siddal, who was one of the first and most famous of the Pre-Raphaelite models and later the wife of Dante Rossetti as well as a poet and artist herself. But she is often most known for being portrayed as Ophelia in Millais’s painting, which is now in the British Tate Museum and possibly the most famous painting of Ophelia’s death.

Other classical paintings of Ophelia can be seen here in this Wikipedia article.

(Ophelia, John Everett Millais 1852)

Recently I re-developed an interest in Ophelia when I was putting up last week’s new listing at the shop. It was a close-fitting long pink gown with bishop sleeves and front buttons from the 1960s but very much in the 1940s style,  and it reminded me of some of the stage costumes that Vivien Leigh wore, especially her Ophelia in the 1937 Hamlet. I wouldn’t say that the dress was in any way resembling Vivien’s costume bit for bit – I think it was the spirit and style conveyed by the close-fitting bodice, long sleeves, and sweeping skirt…and of course dusty rose would always be a natural choice for Ophelia. You can still see the listing here with the original photos at the shop.

(Laurence Olivier and Vivien Leigh in Hamlet stage production, 1937)

Because the gown at the shop was such as a lovely one, I thought that it really deserved a better photoshoot; but then it sold on Saturday (of which I can hardly complain!), so there was no need to take more photos. However, it got me thinking about Ophelia and Ophelia dresses, and I realised how one of the recent outfits that I had blogged, the “Birds of Lake” white gown, could as well be Ophelia-themed, especially considering that the photos was taken near water, and it just struck me how long Ophelia had been out of my mind, that I did not associate the scene with her at all. But once she was back on my mind, I started developing a slight obsession and thought her river/brook scene would be such a great theme for a photoshoot. So on Sunday when I was heading out for the shop photoshoot and putting on this green floral dress of mine, I suddenly realised that this very dress would make a perfect Ophelia-impression outfit, with the printed little blossoms  resembling Ophelia’s flowers, such as depicted by Millais in his painting with Miss Elizabeth Siddal.

And with the addition of a vintage flower wreath, the image was quite complete.

This dress, which has been in my possession for some one or two years, happens to be one of my favourite. It is vintage 1960s with a back metal zipper (why don’t we use such nice metal zippers anymore?), and I had always thought it quite Edwardian, too.

I had come across quite a number of contemporary Ophelia-themed photography and art projects while re-researching the Hamlet/Ophelia related artworks last week, so I guess the interest in the elusive maiden is a shared one. I’ve created a picture board dedicated to such artworks and projects here on my Pinterest – and I’ll keep adding to it! Speaking of which – this is the first time that I’m actually appreciating Pinterest’s and finding it really, really useful for keeping these pictures in one place while retaining links to their original sources. I find the re-enactment of Ophelia in bathtubs in some of the art projects particularly inspiring – after all, the bathtub is a convenient choice with an unmissable contemporary spin and we all know that Millais did have to put Elizabeth Siddal (fully dressed of course) in a bathtub to model for his Ophelia painting; but my bathtub is really just a bathtub and nowhere artistic, so we went to the canal instead for these photos.

(There are a few more photos from the shoot that I think I’ll put in another post.)

OPHELIA

    [Sings]
    You must sing a-down a-down,
    An you call him a-down-a.
    O, how the wheel becomes it! It is the false
    steward, that stole his master’s daughter.

LAERTES

    This nothing’s more than matter.

OPHELIA

    There’s rosemary, that’s for remembrance; pray,
    love, remember: and there is pansies. that’s for thoughts.

LAERTES

    A document in madness, thoughts and remembrance fitted.

OPHELIA

    There’s fennel for you, and columbines: there’s rue
    for you; and here’s some for me: we may call it
    herb-grace o’ Sundays: O you must wear your rue with
    a difference. There’s a daisy: I would give you
    some violets, but they withered all when my father
    died: they say he made a good end,–

    Sings
    For bonny sweet Robin is all my joy.

(Hamlet Act 4, Scene 5)

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Books from the Temple Bar Book Market: Picnic at Hanging Rock

I ought to be putting up new listings on my Etsy shop (there are a few dresses that I can’t wait to edit the photos for; big polka dots, more floral, Edwardian dress, and a Middle-Eastern style robe), but I’m a hopeless reader. We stopped by at the Temple Bar Book Market on Sunday, and got these books and more for a little money. These are mine:

Four book covers, Richard Hollis, The House of Mirth, Picnic at Hanging Rock, Oscar Wilde Richard Ellman

[The House of Mirth (1905) by Edith Wharton, Penguin Classics Red edition (2010); Graphic Design, a Concise History by Richard Hollis (2001 edition); Picnic at the Hanging Rock (1967) by Joan Lindsay, Penguin Books (1986); Oscar Wilde (1987) by Richard Ellmann, Penguin Books (1988).]

I was absolutely deliriously delighted with these finds. I’ve always wanted to read more of Edith Wharton’s works since Summer, and the cover of this edition was good-humoured enough to entice me to buy the hard copy rather than go and read  the text online (the usual covers of The House of Mirth seemed to have always turned me off at the last minute); Monsieur spotted the Hollis’s Graphic Design and I liked it instantly (who hasn’t?); and I never, never expected to see Ellmann’s definitive biography of Oscar Wilde there at the market, I’ve been holding the college library copy for needing to check it up constantly yet not quite being able to bring myself to buy a full-price hardcover new copy at the bookshop, now it’s going to be some good news for the library!

But it’s Picnic at Hanging Rock that I meant to talk about. I finished The House of Mirth yesterday afternoon so I started on Picnic at Hanging Rock this morning. I think I’ll like it but I’m still feeling a tentative going into it. I never thought I would read the book before seeing the film. Monsieur is a big fan of the 1975 film; I had only caught glimpses of it on Youtube a few years ago when I was watching Louis Malle’s Pretty Baby (Brooke Shields) and checking for its soundtrack on Youtube, I think, I’m not sure. If it was so it must have been because both of the film were set in Edwardian times (Pretty Baby is later in 1917 and Picnic at Hanging Rock is 1900).

That is, white muslin dresses.

Picnic at Hanging Rock, Joan Lindsay 1967

The back of my book cover says: “On St Valentine’s Day in 1900 a party of schoolgirls [in Macedon Australia] went on a picnic to Hanging Rock. Some were never to return…”

(A friend of mine in Australia said last year, “How incomprehensible it is, that you guys know of an Australian cult film that I hadn’t heard of, and in Victoria too?”)

Nowadays for some reason whenever I think of Picnic at Hanging Rock I think of Liebemarlene saying that there are now great vintage inspired independent fashion labels in Australia (like Lover, Secret Squirrel?), which makes my head go all misty because it just opens up another picture of Australia for me and I sometimes feel as if I could be there, this misty Australia with a summer afternoon and a dry hot horizon, I could know that.

The first page in my book:

Joan Lindsay was born in Melbourne, where she went to school as a day-girl for a few years at Clyde Girls Grammar, then situated in East St Kilda. She knew and loved the Macedon district from early childhood.

In 1922 in London she married Sir Daryl Lindsay. The Lindsays travelled together in Europe and the U.S.A, Daryl with his paints and Joan with her typewriter. Sir Daryl died in 1976. Joan lived at their country home on the Mornington Peninsula, Mulberry Hill, Victoria, Australia. She died in December 1984.

I still define my feelings about the film by this tribute with the original soundtrack on Youtube that I was posting on Facebook last year, where in the end one of the girls quotes:

“Miranda used to say, that everything begins, and ends, exactly the right time and place.”

Miranda is the girl on the book cover, and, If you knew me from before, she used to be a namesake of mine.

Monsieur says, it’s a brilliant soundtrack.

But now back to more dress listings. If I have time to fix my 70s Edwardian style white tea gown, I think it would be appropriate for Picnic at Hanging Rock…

“Are we all present, Mademoiselle? Good. Well, young ladies, we are indeed fortunate in the weather for our picnic to Hanging Rock. I have instructed Mademoiselle that as the day is likely to be warm, you may remove your gloves after the drag has passed through Woodend. You will partake of luncheon at the Picnic Grounds near the Rock. Once again let me remind you that the Rock itself is extremely dangerous and you are therefore forbidden to engage in any tomboy foolishness in the matter of exploration, even on the lower slopes. It is, however, a geological marvel on which you will be required to write a brief essay on Monday morning. I also wish to remind you that the vicinity is renowned for its venomous snakes and poisonous ants of various species. I think that is all. Have a pleasant day and try to behave yourselves in a matter to bring credit to the College. I shall expect you back, Miss McCraw and Mademoiselle, at about eight o’clock for a light supper.”

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*Please subscribe to this blog, check out my Pretty Bones Jefferson Boutique on Etsy, and follow on Facebook and Twitter for more vintage and original fashion and ideas!