Baz Luhrmann’s ‘The Great Gatsby’ premieres in London
tonight. I’ve been on the internet
and have picked up some of the
excitement Leonardo di Caprio fans are experiencing as they wait for his red
carpet moment. I’ve also watched
the film’s trailer on You Tube, and as a result can confirm that I’ll be going
– though not tonight, and it’ll be to Old Potts Way, Shrewsbury, not the Odeon
Leicester Square. I’ve seen the
Robert Redford film, so it’ll be interesting to find out what Leonardo makes of
the part. I’ve also read the book
[by which I mean F. Scott Fitzgerald’s book, not Baz Luhrmann’s!]. In fact, over
the years I’ve read it several times.
I love the writing of F.Scott Fitzgerald. I even love ‘Tender Is The Night’,
which I’ve heard described as ‘about nothing’. I particularly love Fitzgerald’s long short story ‘The
Diamond As Big As The Ritz’, but I love ‘The Great Gatsby’ too. More than the story itself, it’s
Fitzgerald’s cool, pared-back style that grips me. But his classic tale of glamour and greed, privilege and
decadence in the jazz age is pretty gripping too - and as relevant now, I’d
suggest, when divisions between rich and poor are growing, as they ever were.
Over the coming weeks I’m guessing that interest in Twenties
clothing, especially those of wealthy, party-loving women, is going to be
booming. I was on St John’s Hill
today, in the vintage clothes shop, E. A. Jones, looking at Emilia Jones’s
collection of 1920s dresses, jackets and coats. Some items are for sale, but
most of what I’d come to look at and photograph form her own private
collection.
And what fabulous stuff she collects. Where to start sharing it with you? Certainly this beaded,
flame-orange dress from the early ‘20s is an important one in Emilia’s
collection. It was one of her
first pieces, bought at a Christie’s auction when she was only fourteen. Young, you might think - but Emilia was
a collector before that.
‘It was through my dolls that I first became interested in
clothes,’ said Emilia. ‘My
first doll was brought for me when my brother was born. I was two and a half at
the time and I grew to love the clothes, the dressing of dolls and exhibiting
them. But I was never interested in playing. It was always collecting that I wanted to do.’
Now Emilia’s collection of dolls extends from the eighteenth
century onwards. Most are British
or German, some are tiny, others almost life sized. Emilia also collects early clockwork toys, which she says
drive her poodle crazy. And then
there are the clothes. Emilia’s
parents are collectors too, and at around the age of twelve, inspired by her
mother’s collection of period costumes, Emilia moved into vintage
clothing.
The purchase of the orange dress was a defining moment, however.
Emilia had never bid in a big sale before. She left commission bids on everything she fancied, with no
idea how successful she’d be, and waited to see what would happen next. It was really exciting to learn from
Christie’s that many of her bids had been successful, and even more exciting
when her purchases started turning up in the post, all individually packaged,
carefully wrapped in layers of tissue paper.
Emilia had bought a wide range of items from a variety of
periods, and now found herself inspired to find out more about them and
research the history of fashion. ‘But it was the orange flapper dress that
turned me into a collector of 1920s clothing,’ she said. ‘The rest was
interesting, but it was the 1920s I fell in love with.’
I looked around the shop, its rails hanging with dresses,
skirts, blouses and coats, its walls with pretty frocks on hangers, its stands
with jewellery and hats. It was a
perfect treasure trove. I wanted
to know how Emilia made her choices about what to buy. Her shop was packed with not just
clothing but pieces of period furniture and little knick-knacks, and downstairs
I found a whole room full of vintage fabrics and another of men’s period coats
and suits and assorted hats. ‘Of course I buy what I think Shrewsbury people
will like,’ Emilia said, and I’ve been here long enough now to have an idea of
what that might be. But I’ll also
try to buy things that are special, that belong to a particular moment in
history like the 1780s dress I bought last week, and that lovely 1948-50 New
Look coat on the rack over there.’
All the while that she was talking, Emilia was taking dresses out
of boxes, shaking them out of their tissue paper and hanging them up. On one wall hung a shocking pink velvet
coat [shocking pink as a colour was first named in the '20s by Elsa Schaperelli], lined with something soft and beige that looked remarkably like fur. I had to try it on. It felt like drowning in warm milk - a
surprisingly agreeable experience. I thought it looked rather fetching as well,
and imagined the stir it might cause if I turned up in Waitrose wearing it. Oh,
for a bit of glamour in our lives!
Suddenly out of tissue paper emerged a beautiful black dress, as
light and fine as gossamer, decorated with beads and tiny dots of silver. Its
hemline was scalloped, beaded and embroidered and a sash hung down one side of
it, creating an asymmetrical effect. Emilia said this dress would have come
from the late 1920s. By that stage designers were getting away from the
tape-chested androgynous look, waistlines were rising and the desired effect
was becoming more feminine. 
This dress was definitely feminine. Everything on it shimmered.
I’ve seen butterflies in the jungle, and I’m telling you they didn’t shimmer
more. But then everything about
the 1920s, apparently, always had to have a shine on it. We moved on to a black flapper
dress which was absolutely smothered in beads, its skirt made of rows of shiny
silk tassles under which could be seen a flash of red silk. Emilia dated it around 1925. The beaded orange dress was 1922, she reckoned, when the
whole flapper thing was really kicking off. Then there was a light, white, sleeveless dress beaded with
silver, which she dated around1926. Then, draped over a dummy was a black
long-fringed shawl covered in snow-white silk embroidery that shone like
moonlight on a midnight lake.
On and on the items came - a velvet evening coat decorated with
tiny flowers, which had been sold at auction as a 1970s coat, which Emilia said
was a common mistake; a black velvet jacket with a quilted stand-up collar; a
lilac and primrose frilled and layered fancy dress, trimmed with a hint of
yellow down; a heavy black cloak literally smothered in the most intricate
silver embroidery. Talk about
shimmering – it was hard to believe this piece wasn’t being exhibited in the V
& A.
To begin with, E. A. Jones was very much a retro shop, selling to
a young audience at the less expensive end of the market. Surprisingly, Emilia
found that 1920s clothes didn’t prove as popular as Victorian or 30s and 40s
items. My guess is that after a
few weeks of The Great Gatsby, this will change. By now, however, Emilia has
developed a reputation for high quality garments with the sort of detailing and
finishes that make them of value to collector, or to re-enactment enthusiasts.
There were a lot of these around, apparently. Emilia said that frequently she
attended events that might be anything from tea dances to weekend-long military
re-enactments. One of these was coming up at Berrington Hall in June. Last time Emilia was there, she said
the front lawn was full of military vehicles, including a tank, and there was a
fly-past of Hurricanes. ‘People come to these events dressed in the clothes of
the day,’ Emilia said, ‘and they’re looking to buy more of the same.’
By the time The Great Gatsby has run its course, I’m guessing
there will be ‘20s re-enactments too.
It was such an interesting time, Emilia said. Certainly a time of dramatic change when it came to clothes.
In a short space of time, hemlines shot up, arms and legs appeared and
everybody wanted shiny, shiny clothes.
‘Lots of glass, beads, sequins and metallic thread, ‘ Emilia said,
bringing out a series of head dresses beaded in silver and bright colours and
crocheted in gold. ‘The flapper
dress is very much a 1920s stereotype. It’s important to realize that not
everybody dressed like that. The
whole flapper phenomenon was more of a showgirl thing. Amongst the wealthy,
even in terms of evening attire, not everybody went for the full flapper
look. Clothes were being designed
that were more beautiful and imaginative than flapper dresses. Some of the
items here – the black evening dress with the scalloped edge, for example -
aren’t what you’d call typical flapper dresses. But they are very much of the
period.’
Today Emilia’s shop is a riot of periods. Rifling along the
rails, I found Victorian lace nightdresses, satin 1930s knickers, a World War
II ‘utility’ coat of a quality you’d never get today and a lovely lavender
coloured 1930s evening dress. Emilia told me it was Madelaine Vionnet who first
introduced this style of slinky, bias-cut evening-wear. Plainly she knows her history of
fashion. I loved the fact that all her clothes were labeled with where they’d
come from, and when, and as much of their background as Emilia knew. 
Emilia talked about how hard it was buying 1920s daywear. She was always on the look-out for
Chanel-inspired knitwear – sports suits, knitted skirts and jackets, and
trousers for women. Behind her, as she said this, stood a massive wedding dress
that was the polar opposite of Chanel.
It was a typical ‘Four Weddings & A Funeral’ meringue – a mass
of swirling silk, net and God alone knows what else exploding outwards from a
tiny waist. ‘Size 8, and taken in because, incredibly, it was too big,’ Emilia
said. ‘I didn’t know where else to
put it but there in the window. Anywhere else, and it would fill the shop.’
Where did Emilia buy from, I wanted to know. She said some of
her clothes came from France, others from the US. American clothes were expensive, she said, because of
customs charges. But there was a real difference between them and British
clothes. A 1940s American
blouse would be more extrovert than a 1940s British one. ‘The US one would be more confident,’
Emilia said, holding up an example to show me. ‘The British one would be more demure. The war hadn’t bitten so deeply over
there, and it showed in the clothes.’ 
There was a vast market in the US, Emilia said. Vintage clothes that were hard to find here were readily available in the US, and the interest was huge. Many of Emilia’s clothes were bought online nowadays, rather than at auction. She’d got to know a variety of sellers, not just in the US but around the world and in this country too. She knew what to expect from each of them, who to get in touch with if looking for something in particular. At the same time, she was working towards getting a name for herself as someone who sold exquisite, interesting things.
If you want to look at Emilia’s exquisite, interesting things,
take a peek at her Facebook page, or better still visit her shop, E.A. Jones,
on St John’s Hill. Another way to
find her is at some of the major antiques fairs. Emilia was at one of the biggest, Antiques for Everyone at
the NEC, back in April, and she’ll be there again in July. Did she ever exhbit her collection, I
wanted to know. Emilia said she
didn’t, but she did give talks.
The history of fashion up to the 1950s was her subject. I bet she gives a fascinating talk. I’m
sure she’d take bookings if you wanted to ask.
It’s time to pay up and leave. Not content with rifling along
rails and chatting to Emilia over a cup of coffee, I’ve also been buying – a
couple of small items that [just in case you get one for Christmas] I won’t
describe here; also a green velvet Canadian coat that will be finish off my
outfit for a friend’s wedding later this year. Given how much I love clothes,
it’s amazing that this is the first post I’ve written on the subject for My
Tonight From Shrewsbury. H & M, eat your heart out. And French Connection, Fat Face and M
& S too. Emilia’s shop, E. A. Jones, is to clothes what Shrewsbury Market is
to fish, fresh meat, fruit and veg. In other words, this is the real deal - and
I’ll be back. Oh, and F. Scott Fitzgerald, I’ve just started re-reading ‘The
Diamond As Big As The Ritz’.
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