Selena Francis-Bryden has distilled her years of designing, customizing, and selling clothing in London’s Portobello Market into 40 ways to revamp your old clothes. In the tradition of DIY craft culture and eco-friendly design, this slim paperback aims to show you how to refashion (in your own fashion) everything you own. Her approach is completely opposite from many “wardrobe” books - no mad dash to the mall for a structured blazer or wide-legged trouser here. Instead, she rouses our creative senses with promises of rejuvenating preexisting closets.

Francis-Bryden opens the book by evoking a tailor’s intuition, presenting fledgling seamstresses with notes to consider on colour and fabric durability. She points out that timeless fabrics like denim and linen are versatile and sturdy, whereas something like lamé will not stand the test of time (for both physical and trend-y reasons.) Of course it’s always awkward to chaperone creativity, but Francis-Bryden does well to remind readers of the importance of imagining the longevity of these projects within their own aesthetic.

Under the chapter titled “Top Secrets,” she presents ideas for reshaping, slashing, and performing appliqué designs on old T-shirts and tank tops. “We Love Hand-me-downs” recommends ways to take second-hand clothing and tailor it for your taste. Simple stitching and a pair of scissors can help you transform a jumper shirt into a dress or an old t-shirt into a drawstring skirt. A pair of jeans holds many possibilities, and in the chapter on “Denim” she demonstrates how old blue jeans can become a dress, skirt, tie, or even a cushion — just make sure you have a sturdy needle. “Elegance On a Shoestring” suggests certain primping techniques for your everyday objects: transforming a lace tablecloth into a pretty dress, sexing up men’s collared shirts, or making a halter top from a scarf. “Jewelry, Bags, and Accessories” compiles ideas for personalized evening clutches and beautified shopping bags — and the homemade jewelry projects make use of your old cassette tapes and Mason jar lids.

Each project has step-by-step instructions for every customization, and suggests other garments where these alterations could work. Detailed photographs accompany the more difficult projects and it’s nice that most do not require too many supplies: the article to be revamped, a pair of scissors, and a needle with thread will get you through most. They also don’t require too much in the way of mending skill, but you should be comfortable with some hand-stitching.

Any reader who understands that personal style should indeed be individualized could certainly appreciate this detailed guide to simple methods of wardrobe personalization. The suggested customizations are appropriate for someone with minimal experience in alterations, but who is looking for ways to reform their closet on the cheap. Francis-Bryden’s wardrobe may not be your idea of fashion, but you can always adapt her suggestions to suit your fancy. I recommend browsing the projects outlined in DIY Fashion: Customize and Personalize well before your next trip to the mall. A minor closet reformation might be closer to home than you think.

DIY Fashion: Customize and Personalize, by Selena Francis-Bryden. Laurence King, 2010

review by Jennifer Carroll
photography by Samantha Walton

As much a history lesson as it is a chronological account of fashion happenings in 1960s London, Boutique is an attractive, easy-to-read, and overall pleasant approach to explaining the impact of the boutique. Author Marnie Fogg hopes to demonstrate just how the rise of boutiques in the sixties “gave voice, form, and location to the youthful desire for independence and personal freedom, and in turn led to an unprecedented awareness of fashion as a vibrant medium of self-expression.” By talking about the clothes themselves, as well as the individual retailers and designers who provided new styles to shoppers, and, most importantly, the meanings these clothes expressed in the context in which they were worn, Fogg takes an intelligent and informative stance on a topic that could otherwise be light and fluffy.

The word “boutique” originally defined a shop within a shop, or a section of a department store that offered entirely different merchandise than what was available throughout the rest of the store. In the ’60s, boutiques began to separate from department stores, opening their own doors on obscure back-streets and alleyways, and they initially required shoppers to search for them. With the rise of innovative boutiques such as Biba, Mary Quant, and Granny Takes a Trip, which were set up to feel more like a closet or bedroom than a market, shopping became an exciting activity for those with money.

Boutiques gave more credit to designers and quality than department stores ever did, and they allowed shoppers new means of self-expression and creativity with their wardrobes. Because independent boutiques didn’t offer mass-produced merchandise, they had very limited numbers of garments that sold out quickly, causing a fast turnover of styles. There was always something new to buy, and if you were young, wealthy, and cool, you’d be in line to buy it.

Fogg’s use of images is perhaps what sets Boutique apart from other, often dry, straight-information history books. It does not, however, dumb down its subject. Each page of Boutique is filled with colourful photographs, designer illustrations, magazine cut-outs, and newspaper clippings - the text is almost secondary. Images are outfitted with lengthy captions that explain why they’re important, and each one conveys something that Fogg’s central text may have left out. Members of fashion-focused subcultures like teddy boys and mods are defined not by words, but through their own aesthetics in all their posed and photographed glory. Fogg’s choice of pictures makes the reading process feel quick and easy - you don’t have to imagine what happened to clothing when LSD became a staple in many young peoples’ diets; you can see it all in colour.

In addition to providing an interesting array of imagery, Fogg’s Boutique provides multiple perspectives on her topic, including those of industry retirees who have quite exciting memories of London’s fashion scene in the ’60s. Although it is sometimes difficult to tell which anecdotes come from interviews and which come from Fogg’s prior readings on the subject (her bibliography is vast, but her acknowledgements list several interviewees), the voices are seamlessly tied together to make Boutique feel more like a ’60s magazine than an informative work on fashion and lifestyle.

Fogg’s Boutique not only describes the merchandise, typical shoppers, and even the aura surrounding several different shops in London in detail, it also talks about the impact the boutique scene had on many facets of life in the ’60s. Besides the newfound fun in the activity of shopping itself - a result of more disposable income than ever before - Boutique discusses the lasting effects boutique culture has had on fashion magazines and art schools. With the sudden obsession with boutique shopping came a widespread desire to attend colleges for all types of fashion design, inspiring a generation of young creative workers. Magazines were no longer about women and the things they ought to enjoy. In the ’60s, they came to be “about femininity itself, as a state, a condition, a craft, and as an art form which comprises a set of practices and beliefs.”

I don’t think there is a page in Marnie Fogg’s Boutique: A 60s Cultural Phenomenon without at least one beautiful picture; there was creative, inspiring energy just seeping from each chapter; and my view of the ’60s is changed forever – no longer is it just “a period of drug- and sex-fuelled decadence,” as the book’s introduction implies. Now, it’s an era whose place in history I can say I understand and appreciate. At times during my reading I felt a bit angry, though: Why wasn’t I alive to experience the era in which “going shopping” was just starting to get interesting?

Boutique: A 60s Cultural Phenomenon by Marnie Fogg, Octopus Publishing Group Ltd, 2003
Reviewed by Stephanie Fereiro

Kate Wilson is a London-based illustrator who, on top of depicting the typical Prada bag will also add her own elements, like birds with mullets and the anatomy of a banana split. Her clients have included Marc Jacobs and The Guardian.

How do you decide what your girls will wear?
I think a little of my own style creeps into theirs! I suppose my own likes/dislikes influence my work, but I also get a lot of inspiration from street style and fashion blogs as well as walking around and people-watching myself (it’s a guilty pleasure for me!).

Many of your illustrations are based on actual fashion collections; what are some of your favourite collections?
I love anything by designers like Luella and Karen Walker, but also quirky labels like April77, Wren, and Charles Anastase. I’ve recently been trying to buy more vintage pieces and have indulged in a great brocade skirt from Liebemarlene Vintage, who I think you featured a while ago.

Have you ever incorporated your own designs into your drawings?
I haven’t as of yet but it’s something I would love to do, probably starting with t-shirt designs, but I think it’s time I learned how to sew properly so I can whip up my own designs!

Usually your fashion illustrations focus on the clothes, often leaving the faces of the models blank, but occasionally you will go into detail on their faces (like this example here). Why is that?
To be honest, at first it was because I found it really tricky to get their faces to look right! For some reason whenever I drew a face it made me dislike the drawing… but as I went on I grew to like the spacing that it gave the images. It offsets the intricate detail I normally use by having that blank space. I hope that covers up my inability to draw faces properly.

The pictures you did of the birds with the shoes are great; can you tell me a bit about how those came to be?
I think it was a mutual love of both things… for some reason it made sense to me for a bird to set up home in a pretty Marc Jacobs ballerina pump! I think that was the first bird/shoe pic I did, which was for my final university degree project.

Your outfit illustrations don’t usually include any shoes, although you do have quite a few detailed illustrations of individual shoes on your site. Do you tend to envision shoes as being part of an outfit, or have you always seen them to be more subjects within themselves?
Personally I think shoes make an outfit. I’m partial to a nice brogue due to my inability to walk without falling over in heels! In terms of drawing, like the faces, I like leaving those blank areas but I take great pleasure in drawing a really detailed close up of a shoe. I think it’s all of the little details on a shoe that people often don’t notice that I like to emphasize. I’m all about the little details!

interview by Anna Fitz