Let me start with a story. I was living the corner office dream in the 1990’s. A well-paid corporate job, big hair and shoulder pads, and a big ego, I was General Manager of an international consulting firm, saw little of the family and a lot of the coveted glass domed corner office, a fishbowl by any other name. But life was good. I’d made it.
My Eastern European mother was not impressed. I was the daughter she rarely saw. My constant travel seemed exhausting and dangerous to my mum whose life revolved around her beautiful garden and sewing clothes for me, that I never wore.
She was thrifty. Mum lived alone and bought food at Aldi when it was on special. Nothing wrong with that, except she had eleven frozen chickens and six hams in her freezer at one time…in case the economy crashed!
One Christmas I decided to share my bonus, buying luxury gifts for the family. In the exclusive store Georges, which used to grace Collins Street here in Melbourne, I would find all the treasures for my Christmas splurge. This was the kind of store where Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman would have been denied service. Georges was a store where after an exhausting day of shopping, ladies would take tea and often champagne, in the tearoom.
I walked the soft pile carpet looking at designer handbags, dresses my mother might like, but settled on a Christian Dior pale pink dressing gown in the softest luxury fabric and finished with the CD monogram sewn with a flourish on the breast-pocket. To accessorize, elegant mule slippers in pink with a large jewel front and centre, surrounded by pink feathers and with kitten heels. Mum was in her 60’s but what the hell! Viva 70! Mum will love it!
At Christmas, two large boxes tied in pink ribbon and showing a discreet Christian Dior logo, were ceremoniously handed over to mum. My expectations? She would be overwhelmed with adoration and gushing love at her clearly successful, generous, talented daughter. She would immediately rip open the box, thrown all the tissue in the air, try on the mules with their kitten heels and strut the dining room catwalk in her fabulous pink dressing gown. She would swoon over the Christian Dior brand and adore her daughter
Mum’s response? ” Oh no! I just bought a new dressing gown from Target. Can you take it back?”
Seeing my death stare, but missing the opportunity for diplomacy she continued ” Oh the slippers are very beautiful, but could you wear them, Nora? I wear my slippers in the garden sometimes, just when I’m cutting carrots.”
Years later, after she died, I was clearing out her wardrobe and there were two quite yellowed boxes bearing the Christian Dior logo. Inside each box, immaculate and never worn were the dressing gown and feathered slippers.
Christian Dior.
A few weeks ago, I encountered his work again at the National Gallery of Victoria. Other designers such as Yves Saint Laurent, John Galliano, Gianfranco Ferre also designed for the house of Dior. I bumped into the collection tucked away on the third floor. It was a random visit, filling in time before I met a friend for lunch, but what a lovely rendevous with Dior and my memories I had.
I love random encounters. Out and About in the city and the joy of discovery.
The house of Dior was founded in 1947 when post war women craved opulence after all the austerity of the war years. The New Look was launched. His collections were known for their classic tailoring and evening glamour. Dior saw fashion as an art form and a way of preserving French cultural heritage. He described maintaining the tradition of fashion as an ” act of faith,” a way to preserve the mystery and beauty that fashion bought to society.
Wandering the exhibition of beautiful gowns and exquisite fabric and colour choices I remembered the feel of his clothes as much as their shape and design. There was a story behind each piece. If you were lucky enough to own a Dior dress or suit you stepped into a new age for fashion but also a new age for women. There was classic elegance but no timidity in the designs.
The embroidered cocktail dresses reminded me of Jaqueline Kennedy’s fashion style. You can also see the influence of different designers. The moderated flamboyance of Galliano for the House of Dior. The grace of Yves St Laurent’s evening wear.
What’s interesting is the influence of the early days of Dior on modern fashion. Tailored suits for women are very in vogue. Transparent clothes which reveal the body are on every celebrity red carpet and balloon skirts on chic short dresses are now popular.
My unplanned visit to the Dior exhibition underlines what we already know about ageing well. Take the detours. Drop in on the unplanned. Trigger memories and stories by seeing life as an adventure. I didn’t see my mum’s pink dressing gown at the NGV but I had a quiet laugh when I remembered my attempt at buying luxury goods for my mum.
Words and images by Nora Vitins