Posted in Costume In Museums, Fashion History, Fashion Museums, History Of 20th Century Fashion, Journalism and Creative Writing, Online Magazine Articles, Vintage Fashion Blog, Vintage Fashion Journalism

Short Story about Being Your Own Museum Curator, When Mrs Mac Invited Me Into Her Home..

I was only 6 when an American couple moved next door. Mr and Mrs Mac were as easy as their Southern drawl and their generosity and warmth were also.

I called him The Man With The Invisible Stetson. She, though, was slight and small.

They drew us in quick until one night dressed in fawns and beige, they took us to dinner at The Belvedere to say ‘thank you.’

I was gauche and said “YUM” but they remained calm, even when I slid between the bars in their balcony, looking into their home.

She found me of course and invited me in using a delicacy as light as her words.

I saw things inside; huge wooden cabinets inlaid with glistening walnut and dusky rose, silently closed.

Seats in gilt and leather beside curtains that brushed the floor. I held my breath as I walked around, listening to the lilt in her voice and taking in the new.

I polished a dining room table so vast I stood on a chair to reach to the middle. The soft ‘swoosh swoosh’ of the duster went in circles until the reflection from the nearby windows was sharp and deep.

“You are better than my cleaner,” she said.

Later that day she taught me how to make popcorn the American way and afterwards we walked into Mac’s room.

I stood in the doorway as she padded to a low drawer, it opened with a creak.

She asked me to “come over and look.”

Inside was tissue paper folded in layers. Slight fingers pulled one side open, then another and she paused before raising a long white glove.

Running up the side were buttons the size of my fingernails. It was of a color so pale, it could hardly be seen amongst the others.

She held it in her hands and let me touch; it was cool and soft.

She opened it up and slipped it onto her thin, long hand until she’d smoothed up to her elbow.

She held her arm out as I watched her move. The glove was pure and perfect but it looked still on her arm, like a thing with no life, no breath at all.

She told me she was a collector and pointed inside.

I stepped in. The drawer was full of 100 leather fingers all wrapped in their own white sheets.

“They are from The South,” she said, “long, long ago.”

“I’ve had some of these since I was a child.”

“My mother had them and my grandmother. They go as far back as we do, Mac and I.”

Her eyes flicked into mine, telling me something I was too young to understand.

“They are beautiful,” I said.

The silence between us was as soft, as soft as the carpet.

“You like these things, don’t you,” she said to me.

“Yes, yes I do.”

“We’ll do a deal,” she said, stepping back as she closed the drawer.

“If you polish my table every week, I’ll tell you what I know.”

© Carrie Henderson 2016

Leather gloves for a Southern Belle.
Leather gloves for a Southern Belle.
Posted in Creative Non Fiction, Fashion History, History Of 20th Century Couture, History Of 20th Century Fashion In Hull, History Of Hull, House Of Mirelle Fashion House Hull Book, Hull Fashion, Interviews, Journalism and Creative Writing, Social History, Vintage Fashion Blog, Vintage Fashion History, Vintage Fashion Journalism, Vintage Fashion Research

House Of Mirelle: It’s People’s Memories and Stories That Makes History Come Alive

In my school days we learned about history by reciting a seemingly endless list of dates and events.

“Chartism, The Corn Laws, Peterloo and World War 2,” chanted me and my friends as we held our history homework in our hands, waiting to enter the musty-dusty, dated classrooms.

By the time I took A level classical history things had got better.

Plays written by ancient voices made us gasp and laugh and we imagined living in the ancient ruins we visited. Descriptions of the lives of the average Joe or Joan were more interesting than reciting lists of kings and queens and prime ministers and acts of Parliament.

Classics made history better – it wasn’t necessary to ‘do lists’ to learn any longer.

What made the difference was the people’s voices that spoke out from the pages of history. Despite being over a thousand years past, it was fresh and said more about the time than any encyclopedia or text book. Voices and experiences and arts and culture made history come alive.

Researching the House Of Mirelle started with the modern equivalent. The research into the background of the fashion house means doing a lot of reading, then a lot of questioning about what I find, then even more reading and fine-sifting of information I’ve discovered.

That research has to happen before getting to the next bit – asking people about what they remember of the fashion house in real life. Like ancient history, this part makes the black and white information from the pages of materials I’m reading leap into life.

The House Of Mirelle did the same. It started with an interview:

The person said: “my aunt remembers it, she said it was ‘posh.’ She never went there….she thinks they made clothes for the Royal Family.”

I sat there listening to her, thinking of the pages of the text books, fashion books and magazines, the pages of information about the history of Hull, the lists of questions in my note books and drafts of the first chapters.

I listened to her voice some more and the House Of Mirelle became real again, so many years after closing it’s doors and the last item was bought, her voice and her memory was bringing history alive.

© Carrie Henderson 2015

Posted in 1930s Fashion, 1940s Fashion, 1950s Fashion, 1960s Fashion, 1970s Fashion, Creative Non Fiction, Creative Writing, Creative Writing About Fashion, Fashion History, History Of 20th Century Couture, History Of 20th Century Fashion, History Of 20th Century Fashion In Hull, History Of Hull, History of Sewing, House Of Mirelle Fashion House Hull Book, Hull Fashion, Hull Retail History, Journalism and Creative Writing, Social History, Vintage Fashion Blog, Vintage Fashion History, Vintage Fashion Journalism, Vintage Fashion Research, Vintage Wedding Dresses, Writing A Creative Non Fiction Book, Writing Blog

The House Of Mirelle: A Survival Story From The Hull Blitz

From the air, England is a patchwork of cities and country, stitched together with granite and rock and fields and streets.

North_Sea_map-en

Hard against the North Sea is the UK city of Hull, cradled from that vast expanse by the River Humber.  She reaches into Yorkshire in the North and Lincolnshire in the south with the city rooted in the crook of her arm.

Follow her out from the land of safety and your eye falls across the other country: one of rolling and glassy navy blues.

This is a cold sea, a bitter sea, a connecting northern flow that binds Hull with Europe. It is the strength of the sea that in medieval Britain, trade grew and with it the port at the estuary of ‘Mother Humber,’ respect for her lifeblood given in this name.

When docks were built to accommodate trade and industry, Hull became a gateway to the wealth that Europe brings. British woollen products and textiles were transported out from the enormous ship-filled berths, bringing wealth to the growing middle classes.

It was a gift of positioning geographically and economically for a woman called Mira Johnson. In 1939 she established a couture fashion house based at the Church Institute on Albion Street, in the center of Hull.

At first optimistic, this advantage turned when the North Sea blew against Britain in the war.

Hull’s gateway to world conflict would affect business, homes and family life as well as the character of the city for years to come.

In bad weather Zeppelins flying to London in the first world war turned back. The airships dropped their payloads of incendiary bombs onto the roofs and heads of the citizens of Hull. People lost their homes, business and lives.

In the aftermath Hull came to realise that a war could be fought from the sky. The people rioted for better protection. In preparation, 40,000 air raid shelters were built in the City but between Word War 1 and the outbreak of World War 2 in 1939, airship technology had advanced.

With it the dark, sky line threat of aerial attack was realised. Air raid shelters were scant protection from The Hull Blitz. The as-the-crow-flies distance from Nazi occupied Europe gave Germany the arrows they needed to bomb the City and port of Hull.

In 1941 the City lived in constant terror of a Nazi bombardment seconded only by the London Blitz.

95% of houses were damaged. The toll of dead and injured was in it’s thousands. 152,000 were made homeless.

The Hull Blitz Decimated King Edward Street and Prospect Street, Old Hull.
The Hull Blitz Decimated King Edward Street and Prospect Street, Old Hull. Image courtesy The Hull Daily Mail.

The beautiful, historic Georgian, Victorian and Edwardian architecture in the city center caved under the storm.

Half of it was destroyed, taking with it thriving retail and industrial businesses, hospitals, churches, pubs, schools, cinemas, factories as well as homes.

Albion Street, within the lopsided square of roads encircling the old City, looked very different at the start of the war that it did at the finish.

Albion St Courtesyhullandeastridingatwar.co.uk
Albion Street Air Raid Shelter. Image courtsey hullandeastridingatwar.co.uk.

The library, at the head of the street, attempted to maintain normality by opening its doors, but the people who lived in the brick terraces cowered throughout the Hull Blitz until finally, vast swathes of it was destroyed.

The air raid shelter to protect those who lived and worked nearby was a painful nothing, an inadequate and resounding tin hat against the driving onslaught of bombs.

But within this magnet to terror, the House Of Mirelle survived…

© Carrie Henderson 2015