Pretty little delicacies of silk

If you have been to the Central Highlands in Vietnam, it is very likely that you’ve visited Dalat, a town touted as Vietnam’s mini Europe. And if you’ve been to Dalat you must have visited Crazy House. It is aptly named, although mere words cannot adequately describe it; a picture is worth a thousand. 

Handicrafts are sold in several of the public rooms, but there is a Mai Anh Craft gift shop in the garden where, much to my motorcycle driver’s consternation, I spent at least half an hour browsing amongst the silk goods. It took a moment to decide to purchase the pretty belt pictured above that fastens with silk cord around the hips. Made of ovals of coloured silk, it is embroidered; appliquéd with silk baubles; and trimmed with sequins.

I was also trying to choose between two silk necklaces. One of them was impossibly tangled up, and it took the salesgirl at least 20 minutes to unravel the knots. Of course no sooner than she had done so and I tried it on, I realised that I much preferred the other: the butterfly and ladybug necklace you see below. I apologised laughingly, for as the Vietnamese are fond of saying it was really a case of “Same, same, but different.”

But I had to be sure.

Stylish Steps

It is not difficult to be stylish. Even just a little bit of effort goes a long way.

A case in point: this morning I saw a young woman, wet hair hanging limply to her shoulders and her fringe skinned back. Not a scrap of makeup adorned her pale face; and the dreary grey of her ill-fitting, non-descript suit did nothing to improve her complexion. She looked as unhappy and grey as the weather.

Yet her problems are so easy to remedy.

1. Never underestimate the importance of a good haircut – or hairstyle. By the latter I mean styling hair variously, eg, high ponytails, French twists, chignons etc. Another excellent idea is to apply a comb to it occasionally.
2. Wear some makeup. You don’t need to go out in full battle regalia, but perhaps some under-eye concealer and blush. They are of particular assistance in suspected case of unflattering clothing shades. Optional extras: mascara and lippie.
3. Add an accessory!* Or two, or even three. (You have to wear shoes anyway, so they don’t count.) But don’t go overboard. Remember what Coco said: “Before you leave the house, look in the mirror and take one thing off.”

In the case of the young woman mentioned above, a colourful scarf** would have gone a long way to improve her look; maybe even a coloured bag and shoes. Not to mention drying her hair.

And what you don’t wear is as important as what you do: try to leave the scowl at home.

* Want more on accessories? Look here.
** Need to know how to tie a scarf? Look here.

O (wo)man!

Last year in Oman, I wandered through Muttrah Souq with X. He had a specific objective: to buy an Omani man’s traditional robe and embroidered cap. In our search for authentic clothing, we were forced deeper and deeper into the maze, leaving the glamorous shops and most of the tourists far behind.

At last we found a merchant selling goods that pleased X, after he convinced them that he wanted a dishdasha that any Omani man would wear. He settled on basic pale blue with pinstripes, but no-one could lay their hands on a kummah that fit his head, until a passer-by (getting into the spirit of the thing) declared his uncle, or possibly brother, had just the thing. He sped off and before long returned with a length of folded fabric. X was directed to sit on a camping stool whilst a cluster of Omanis surrounded him and correctly wrapped the muzzhar, or turban, around X’s head.

Eventually they all glanced at me, wondering which costume I would like to choose. It hadn’t yet occurred to me to purchase one but suddenly it seemed imperative.

Omani women’s clothing is more colourful than their Gulf neighbours’, but I didn’t want anything gaudy. Several garments were displayed to me before I found one that satisfied me.

So here I am in my Muscat-style thawb, (the women’s version of a dishdasha) suitably embellished with gold threads and pink tilli (locally made braid). Of course I should be wearing my pretty green pashmina to cover my head – not around my neck as directed – and they neglected to sell me the necessary pair of pantaloons. That was probably just as well, as between us, X and I only just managed to scrape together enough Omani rials and UAE dirhams to pay for my expensive pashmina and robe.

My silver dangly earrings are from the same souq, but my gorgeous Arabian slippers are from Dubai.

Where to next?

Puffs Still Speak Volumes

Weren’t these once called balloon skirts? There’s so much volume in this outfit I would ascend like Mary Poppins, umbrella or no umbrella, if I actually wore this in the street.

But this spring’s been so wet I probably would be carrying an umbrella!

No need to be dispirited though: spring’s arrival brings on the racing carnival and a mood of frivolity; and as usual there’s plenty to be had in Melbourne’s boutiques.

And yes, puff sleeves are still well and truly in, as are frills, layers and asymmetrical details.

So don’t be afraid to go bouffant, for after all, I expect you’ll be well-grounded by the fierce heels you’ll be wearing to counteract all this sugar.

Cloisonné Kitties

Whenever I wear these sweet enamel earrings I am complimented, from giggling young beauty therapists in District 1, to more jaded waitresses in Windsor. I rescued them from a jewellery stall at Ben Thanh Market in Saigon. The said therapists were thrilled to learn they could buy their own right there in Saigon, for less than US$5.

Cloisonné is an ancient metalworking technique of pouring liquid enamel into compartments formed by thin bands of metal. It was first developed in the Near East, and then spread to the Byzantine Empire (one of my favourite periods in art) and on to China via the Silk Road. Here are some examples:

Clockwise from top left: cuff, 9th–10th century, Museum of Byzantine Culture in Thessaloniki; Jen Forland Designs earrings from etsy.com; egg cup by Slatikov, Moscow ca 1900; making cloisonné, from cultural-china.com; Water Lilies by Greig Steiner. As for the woven ribbon cushion, I snatched that up at the Salvos for $2. I was rather amused to see the prior owner’s cat had mangled it in patches, overzealously kneading its paws no doubt. An appropriate backdrop for my sedate little kitties then.