Dappled rabbit

The heat is on. For me, there aren’t many redeeming qualities to the summer. But as I’m in a minority, I tend to keep it to myself. Well, mostly.

But tonight as the sun was going down I got some fabulous shadows on my bedroom wall from the trees outside. And my felt Jaeger rabbit, who sits on his lonesome on my fire mantelpiece, suddenly got an impressive shadow friend (his Harvey?). It was almost enough to make me like a hot evening.

The rabbit was an early eBay find and he has been sat in a box in bubble wrap for a few years - whilst I got around to decorating and found somewhere to put him. Jaeger, now known purely for their adult fashion, did a nice line of children’s clothes and toys in the 1930s.

The toys, from what I found whilst researching a dissertation on shop display in the inter-war years (as you do) were mainly animals. Fat felt animals. I only found them featured in trade journals and shop photographs, never pictured in advertisements.

Jaeger have hit their 125th birthday this year, with a nice wee exhibition at London College of Fashion and a swanky book, that I’ve yet to justify buying. The company had a fabulous history of display and use of illustration in their advertising. They used one of the best inter-war advertising agencies – Colman Prentis and Varley and great architects, interior designers and display people. Despite a recent re-launch of the brand, though, they have struggled to match that peak of creativity of the pre-war years.

A picture is worth...

My Colette e-news brought me an illustration that intrigued. Even better, the artist’s blog satisfies the intrigue. Now, how often does that happen?

Darcel Disappoints, blog name, character name - and the artist seems to sign himself with this moniker too.

This blog is lovely. Really sharp observations - moments in urban time - each delivered with a really great illustration. I found myself looking back through the whole blog, which is easy to do as the whole thing consists of images and brief comments. But it doesn’t need to be anything more than that.

The illustration here is accompanied by the words:

‘A quiet afternoon in the African wing of The Met was just what I needed.’

It made me think of a favourite therapy destination I have – the lusciously peaceful Elizabethan room at the National Gallery.

Darcel Dissapoints has just done some designs for the French place to shop trend: Colette (who have just launched a nice new website too). But I prefer the blog and look forward to seeing more posts. They just make me think, in the best possible way, 'yeah.'

This is Sasek's London

I have to admit that my shelves are very slowly filling with London-related books and booklets. I tried not to do it - but it seems my penchant for illustrated books now includes London ones.

There is something captivating about seeing the city through the eyes of artists - recognising landmarks, vistas and scenes of everyday life. London certainly can look picturesque in reality, but how much nicer to see it re-drawn, re-coloured, re-imagined.

Before I came to live in London in 2000 I already had my favourite book on the city: This is London by Czechoslovakian artist Miroslav Sasek. Sasek produced 18 This is... books and the illustration here is the artist himself. He appeared, in suitably themed attire, on the frontispage of each one. I’m not sure the book made me want to live in London but it conjured up a vision of late 1950s shops, museums, flower sellers and city gents that I have been looking for ever since.

There is still an M. Sasek London to be found. In Mayfair and Piccadilly with their gentlemen’s requisite shops and porticoed clubs. Around Smithfield Market - whilst it waits to be completely gentrified - there is sometimes still a feel of bustle and trade. The French Lycée in South Kensington, with its chattering Madeline’s and evocative baguette emporia. And certainly in the big national museums, which Sasek drew, there is still authentic 1950s dust to be found on exhibits not yet removed to make room for shiny re-developed galleries.

There is a great web site called This is M. Sasek with all his books listed and intriguing bits and bobs on his other work, including early animations of the books. The recent interest in Sasek has led to his books being reprinted, nice editions in the original large format. Meanwhile the originals are hotting up in price on eBay. I found my copy in a suitably drab and damp charity shop in the North West..

How much is that...

Spotted this lovely window display at Dover Street Market. Barbie’s 50th isn’t so very interesting to me but it’s an iconic visage. This one represents the first Barbie, I think. It looks great in the window, a nice play on dolls, mannequins, miniatures and over-sized Jeff Koons sculpture.

I like it even better that, Dover Street being Dover Street, the website tells me who designed and who made the display. They take their presentation very seriously there. Very much fashion as theatre as fashion.

I always find it a great place to mooch about in, although I like to take a fashionable friend as my 'in'. I rarely buy anything but it’s as relevant as going to see an exhibition in the fashion court at the V&A. The range of labels is impressive and spot on. It's great to be able to examine the workmanship on the Azzedine Alaïa dresses and try to work out the cut on the Comme des Garcons’ pieces.

There are usually some interesting in-house exhibitions and the staff aren’t sniffy at all.

And when you've debated over buying another covetable, sweetie-like Comme wallet or purse, there amongst the clothing is a Rose Café (the subject of one of my very first blogs) and a Labour & Wait, for that essential curated ironmongery purchase.

Happy Birthday Shelf Appeal

This blog is two years old. To celebrate - a scan of a chocolate 'dazzler' sweet, which was eaten very soon afterwards. I was pondering the idea of who actually designs sweets the other day. Much 'research' to be done...

A paper tale

I received a lovely book in the post a couple of weeks ago, from a friend who also has shelves full of stuff, both metaphorically speaking and in reality. The book The New Practical Display Instructor dates from 1954 and is full of ideas and step-by-step recipes for the window display practitioner in your life.

The Instructor was printed by the Blandford Press, printers of many similar sorts of books in the first half of the 20th Century, some of which I already had on my shelves. The Practical Display Instructor books were produced regularly and - particularly in view of their low production values - seem to have been the Dummies Guides of their day. But the photographs were usually updated with each edition, making the books great for researching changing trends in window display.

Paper cutting and paper sculpture was a skill that was peculiarly Polish, developing out of a common folk art into a fine art. It came to England and America, like so many aspects of shop window display, with the arrival of émigré artists fleeing Nazism in the 30s and 40s.

The only remaining evidence of these artists is often found in these funny window display books, which almost always have a chapter on paper sculpture. The cracker pictured here is credited to Jan J Kepinski & Associates. It was obviously chosen as an exemplary example of the genre. But who was Jan J Kepinski? Where did he work?

And through whose shop windows did this chipper gent stroll, in his jaunty checked trews, trying to keep his magnificent beard dry under his paper umbrella?

She's a model

The V&A may be congratulating itself on the wonderful show Hats: An Anthology by Stephen Jones which has just opened but you can find hats in less busy places, places you didn’t expect to find them – the Science Museum, for instance.

I pass this scene most weeks, whilst working alongside the venerable Shipping Gallery in the museum. It is one of my favourite galleries, full of cases of model ships. All kinds of ships and 'sailing craft' from all over the world. The models and their backdrops are beautiful - crafted by different hands, some good, some great and some just surreal. But they all repay close examination for anyone with an interest in things museological and display.

I love the Barbie quality of this particular model Pedalo scene. Actually, it’s Barbie and Ken. Dressed in summer casuals for a leisurely pedal past Brighton Pier. The expressions on their faces suggesting a discussion on the merits of a post-pedal ice cream, over a cool G&T with a slice.

Although tiny, (to a scale of 1:8) I have always loved the straw hat she is wearing. It is a bit of Spain in Brighton. It's doing nothing to keep off the sun, merely acting as an accent to her outfit and being great to look at, as a good hat should be.

What is really satisfying is that the museum case still has the original label and it credits the person responsible for making these models, way back in 1959 - a Miss B.M.Campbell. Both the figures and the Pedalo were made in the museum workshops, which are still going strong in the basement. They smell of sawdust, machine oil and history.

Knit one, Snow one

I had the doubtful pleasure of taking an exhibition to the Knitting & Stitching Show a few years ago. Although Alexandra Palace has great provenance, it’s a bit of an unloved shed these days. And, really, you could be anywhere once they fill it with stalls.

But the ladies who flock to Knitting & Stitching aren’t interested in the architecture. Talk about a textile bun-fight – it was a bit scary. Stall after stall of domestic craft, manic knitting displays and really horrible embroidery kits. Not to mention exhibitions of all sorts of things warp and weft. I’m all for ‘making’ but I like a bit of taste thrown in. Subjective thing though, taste, of course.

Anyway, amongst the neon wools and scary dolls, I found a nice little stall selling horrendously expensive balls of yarn. I like to think I appreciate an overpriced, nicely packaged something. In fact they see me coming. And so Habu Textiles got me to part with too many pence for this tiny ball of yarn. A New York shop, Habu obviously peddles to an urban craftsperson that should know better.

I have never found a better use for this than sitting it on a shelf. It has always reminded me a little of winter, like a tiny bush shivering under a frost. And when I scanned it, it came out rather grey and blurred around the edges. But in a nice way, like the sky just before it snows.