Mary Lennox, played by Kate Maberly in the 1993 film version of The Secret Garden, is one feisty girl. She is determined, strong, and fearless, and refuses to let anyone boss her around. She breaks all the rules and doesn’t think twice about it. She is curious and intelligent, though intolerably ignorant. Mary is all of those things, and if that’s not enough, she is also extremely well-dressed, thanks to her (stereotypical) country bumpkin of a servant, Martha.

The first time I saw The Secret Garden, I fell madly in love with Mary’s wardrobe. Everything she wears, from the beginning to the end of the film, is classically beautiful. What I want to know is, why am I not Mary? I did go through a childhood dress phase…

The opening scene shows Mary being dressed by servants who wait on her hand and foot, until the earthquake that hits her home in India and leaves her orphaned.

When Mary first arrives in England after the death of her parents and a boat ride from her home in India, her outfits are entirely black, and would be rather suited to, say, Wednesday Addams. Mary can pull off the “girl in mourning” look just as nicely as Wednesday, though without the pasty skin.

“What would you like to wear?” asks Martha, “black, black, or black?”
“Are you blind?” snaps Mary, pointing at three identical dresses. “They’re all black.”

Mary’s style seems to grow and change as time passes. After some time spent settling into her uncle’s castle-like home, Mary’s consistent choice of a black, lacy dress and a permanent scowl wanes. As excitement in Mary’s life rises, so does the excitement that her wardrobe brings me. New textures (ruffles, knits, and pleats) and patterns (plaids and florals) are added, as is some beautiful winter clothing — which is one of my favourite parts of Mary’s wardrobe.

On her first visit to the secret garden, Mary opts for a pea coat, a floppy red hat, and two perfect braids. This is a look I plan on copying, shamelessly, when “new coat time” comes next fall.

Dresses like this one replace Mary’s funeral garb rather quickly. This ruffled, plaid frock is feminine and fun. It shows Mary’s true personality at a time when she finally learns to embrace it.

Even Mary’s nightgown, worn on many secret trips to see her cousin at night, is pretty. It matches the rest of her wardrobe perfectly with its pure white lace and pleats.

When Mary finally takes her cousin out of quarantine for a romp in the garden, she wears this white, frilly, lacy, ribbon-belted tea-party dress with white tights. She has come full circle from the “black, black, or black” dresses she wore upon her reluctant arrival at Misselthwaite Manor.

Mary Lennox will forever be held in my mind as a style icon. She is so much more than a fictional character to me. I’m sure that years from now, I’ll still find myself searching for screen-shots of her always adorable and immaculate outfits, and wonder why I never opted to wear plaid ruffles or braids with matching bows.

If only we could all be trapped in childhood forever, with a wardrobe like Mary’s and a secret garden to play in with our best friends. Our clothes would never get dirty, and we would always have fresh flowers to put in our hair.

- Stephanie Fereiro

You’ve probably already heard some version of events of the life of this stylish socialite. In late 2006, a film about Edie Sedgwick was released. Entitled Factory Girl, it had Sienna Miller playing a wide-eyed Mary Sue of sorts, who could tame horses and make even the surliest of lame Bob Dylan impersonators fall in love with her. Her downfall and drug addiction was sparked by the treatment of the Big Bad Andy Warhol, leading to her eventual death.

The almost cartoonish biopic of the famed sixties socialite, while rooted in the truth, favours the more salacious aspects of Sedgwick’s legendarily sensational life. Her biography, Edie: an American Girl, does not take such a dramatized view of Sedgwick’s life, but it doesn’t marginalize this perspective either. Jean Stein compiles her story entirely from other people’s memories of the icon: her family members, peers, doctors, and pretty much everyone else who had any sort of contact with her during her brief lifespan (including Mr. Warhol himself). The editor retains many of Sedgwick’s more human traits – the good and the bad - rather than elevating her to the goddess-like status she had in the movie. Every memory of her is meticulously recorded, often producing contradicting points of view from different people. For instance, we quickly see the difference in how Sedgwick is perceived by her siblings. Her eldest sister, Saucie, sees her as a narcissistic bully, whereas Suky, her youngest sister, completely idolizes Sedgwick, looking up to her as the single most creative being on the planet.

The rest of her biography is peppered with these directly opposing points of view. Depending on who was asked, Sedgwick was either a junkie or the life of the party, a kind soul or a jealous wreck, a free spirit or a victim trapped by the boundaries of her lifestyle. The book declines to make judgements and never really gives an exact account of whose perspective is the most trustworthy, leaving Sedgwick’s true persona something of a riddle wrapped in a mystery wrapped in black tights and a cropped silver haircut.

From a fashion perspective at least, Sedgwick’s status as a style icon is clear. Her clothing choices, which were remembered as much as the woman herself, reflected her party girl persona - inventive, over the top, and a bit ridiculous. She was a true original when it came to getting dressed, unafraid to take risks when colouring her hair or donning dramatic leopard print coats. She would joke with her friends at the factory about how she wouldn’t wear underwear, or would go out in public wearing a fur coat with nothing underneath. Her appearance was always one of her biggest priorities; she often bought clothes that she could not afford.

The book includes several black and white pictures, including stills from her screen tests and modeling shots from Vogue (Patti Smith claims that one particular Vogue photo shoot with Sedgwick posing on her bed in front of a picture of a horse was hugely influential to her as a teen). It’s easy to see how Sedgwick’s fashion influence remains strong, particularly in today’s hipster counterculture – with her waifish figure, heavy eyeliner and black tights she would not be out of place on lookbook.nu.

Whether she was an artistic revolutionary or just a glorified Paris Hilton-esque socialite is up for debate, but there is little doubt that Sedgwick led an intriguing life filled with intriguing people. Her biography is an interesting read that sheds light on some of the darker details of her life - sans the cringeworthy Bob Dylan portrayal.

by Jean Stein and George Plimpton, 1982
reviewed by Anna Fitzpatrick

Vivienne in her famous rocking horse shoes.

This biography chronicles Vivienne’s life from childhood to her sixties, documenting the inward and outward influences that helped shape her into the King’s Road punk, outrageous innovator, and renegade style icon she is known as today. As emphasized in the book, Vivienne always sought attention (declaring at the birth of sister, Olga that she would “‘dead her and put her in the dustbin’”) and adding provocative details to her school gymslips. This originality married with a nostalgic affection for traditional English textiles would become one of Vivienne’s trademarks, as seen in her Harris Tweed and Anglomania collections.

Vivienne was famously uninterested in trends, seeking to create what appealed to her own artistic sensibilities, causing immeasurable stress for those working with her. Her use of impractical fabrics and cuts made her designs “extremely complicated to manufacture, as she [rejected] any recognizable template or pattern”. In the business world, Vivienne’s companies dealt with constant financial mismanagement, largely stemming from employees taking advantage of her trust (or oversight, as the case may be) and swindling money.

Vivienne fought for recognition among her contemporaries, such as John Galliano (with whom she unsuccessfully competed to become Design Director of Dior in the mid-90s), Alexander McQueen and Jean-Paul Gaultier, many of whom restructured Vivienne’s original concepts, such as the corset and bustle, to be more commercially successful.

Naomi Campbell’s famous topple in 10 inch super-elevated lace-ups,
Anglomania gown, corset from A/W 90 Portrait collection.

An Unfashionable Life is fascinating for how it charts a woman who influenced latter 20th century fashion so deeply. Vivienne’s use of sloganned tee-shirts – a design concept which deserves partial accreditation to Malcolm McLaren – ranging from the provocative “naked cowboys shirt” to text based styles, such as, “The best accessory is a book” – reflect Vivienne and her followers’ reactions to mainstream fashion. When 80s power dressing meant androgynous pantsuits, Vivienne reintroduced the corset and celebrated the shape of a woman.

Vivienne was (and probably is) not easy to work with, but this book explores her unrelenting quest for personal satisfaction. Each collections has its own philosophy, and Vivienne’s mix of slapdash (sometimes even getting seamstresses and friends out from the audience to make adjustments, while allowing models to style themselves) and studied, has created a completely unique look. Although all her collections have not been critical successes, An Unfashionable Life provides a detailed and highly readable guide to the Westwood evolution. It provides array of perspectives, including those of her critics, to depict a designer who thrived off intentional and unintentional marriages between challenging the status quo and embracing her English roots.

famous Westwood attitude.

Highly recommended for those interested by Vivienne, the evolution of 60s street-style or contemporary fashion’s roots. Viv covered a lot of territory, and this book has the substance to match.

Vivienne Westwood – An Unfashionable Life by Jane Mulvagh, Harper Collins, 1998
review by Esmé Hogeveen