Graphic Journey Blog

Send in the clowns

David Bowie: the man who started it all.

The Bay City Rollers

Prince charming in the shape of Adam Ant

 Garry no longer Glitters.

Boy George in his sartorial heyday.

There was a time when it was only performers in the pop world who made deeply embarrassing fashion mistakes. I’m thinking here of the ’70s and ’80s. They were quickly followed by the disc jockeys, who, bathing in the reflective glory of their rock and roll masters, started to appear on television looking ridiculous…

The least said about this despicable man the better.

But most other individuals involved in television presenting tended to be kitted out on the lower slopes of sartorial sensationalism…

In his ‘everyone’s favourite uncle’ outfit, John Betjeman was perfectly pitched for his television appearances in the ’60s and ’70s.

When John Betjeman made his famous British Transport Filmseries, he dressed in his own everyday attire, often topped off with a rather shabby looking mackintosh or trilby hat. But it didn’t distract from his brilliance.

Originally Michael Portillo presented the series in a fairly conservative mode.

Contrast that with the more recent Michael Portillo series Great British Railway Journeys. We see him wandering around clutching his precious Bradshaw railway guide close to his chest like a Gideon’s bible. When the series started, he was dress in a relatively low-key way. However, halfway through the series, something strange started to happen. Brightly coloured shirts became the order of the day.

As the series developed into Great Continental Railway Journeys, Portillo started to wear rather bizarre colour combinations of jackets, shirts, trousers and socks, so much so that I became more transfixed with his dress code than with the journeys and scenes he was describing.

One wonders who advises these presenters on matters of styling. In the case of Portillo, someone is surly sending him up. I can imagine it – Producer: “Michael, I think the lilac jacket and lime-green shirt will work really well.” Out of earshot, directed to the cameraman: “He fell for it again, Charlie.”

Portillo in his true clours

It amuses me how this clamouring to become a ‘character’ through fashion is increasing – mostly in middle-aged men – across the board and is no longer the bastion of the young.

The original presenters of the Antiques Roadshow were rather sober in their dress code, like the red-faced, rotund figure of the late Arthur Negus, whose point of difference was his down-to-earth Berkshire accent. But, over the years, the presenters on this programme have not only got increasingly posher, looking down their noses in mild disgust at the hoarding middle classes who hope to be told that their heirlooms are worth £50,000, but have also become far more garish in their dress code.

Arthur Negus in his old tweeds.

They are now desperately attempting to ‘brand’ themselves with an array of trappings from bow ties to fake tans, from veneers and brightly coloured waistcoats to novelty spectacles: all to elevate themselves to ‘personality’ status.

Bargin Hunt's Tim Wonnacott

"Yes well, apart from all that how much is it worth?"

The Antiques Roadshow's Paul Atterbury

Mr perma-tan David Dickinson presenter of Bargin Hunt

Here are some presenters from the past and more recent prize peacocks... 

The architectural critic Ian Nairn was totally disinterested in his onscreen appearance in Nairn across Britain (1972).

 Kenneth Clark allowed the world be the star rather than himself in BBC’s Civilization in 1969.

Laurence Llewelyn-Bowen: he no doubt wore his outfits to detract from the dreadful interiors that he created during the run of Changing Rooms.

 The former TV horse-racing pundit JohnMcCririck must take the prize for wearing the most ridiculous outfits.

 

The kings of the fashion world are in a league of their own. The Nazi-ranting pirate John Galliano.

And Harry Hill lookalike Karl Lagerfeld.

Long before Sarah Lund’s jumper became famous in The Killing, we had Gyles Brandreth’s monstrosities on TV-am in the ’80s.

Just one of the many horrors worn by Brandreth while on TVAM

 Braces became the branding device of Ground Force’s Tommy Walsh.

 Meanwhile, Tommy’s Ground Force co-presenter Charlie Dimmock had two other distinguishing presentation points that she used to great effect, cheering up many an ageing gardener.

 The darling transvestite of the art establishment, Grayson Perry.

 Related Fashion Posts:

Jelly mould politics

Fashion Feature

Dedicated followers of Fashion

The way we were

 Most people think of ‘branding’ as a relatively recent phenomenon. But during the Second World War, the Board of Trade introduced a rationing scheme called ‘Limitation of Supplies (Cloth and Apparel) Order 1941’. All items of clothing under this order were manufactured to specific standards and labelled with this mark:

It stood for ‘Civilian Clothing 1941’. Reginald Shipp, who worked at label makers Hargreaves, designed the logo. It quickly became known as ‘the cheeses’ for obvious reasons.

The CC41 logo was displayed in every Utility clothing item

Designs were commissioned from the pretty swish fashion designers of the day, including Hardy Amies, Norman Hartnell and other members of the Incorporated Society of London Fashion Designers. Here are some examples of what they dreamed up:

At the end of the war Utility 'Demob' suits were provided free to every ex service man.

In 1942, the scheme embraced furniture, and the Utility Furniture Advisory Committee was set up, which consisted of Royal Designer Gordon Russell along with Ernest Clench, Herman Lebus and John Gloag. Between them, they oversaw the designs. Here are some pages from the official catalogue from which you could purchase furniture under the country-wide rationing coupon scheme:

Much of the furniture was inspired by the Arts & Crafts movement 

There were just 20 designs of plain, functional, solidly constructed domestic furniture. As a kid, I remember our Utility wardrobe as a rather forbidding dark object sitting in the corner of the bedroom.

The Utility scheme was wound up in 1948, but furniture continued to be manufactured until 1952, during the lean post-war years. Much of it can be found in second-hand shops and still in some homes: check with granny. It is easy to identify as it displayed the distinctive CC41 mark literally branded into the wood:

 

Above one of the many government publications to encourage the population to be thrifty

Also a hang-over from the war years, ‘make do and mend’ still permeated the nation throughout the 1950s. People recycled, repaired, reinvented and saved items of scarcity.

Having just returned from my local dump, I am reminded what a wasteful society we are and how we could learn from our past in this new age of austerity.

To see some truly hilarious films about Utility dress making click here.

 

 

 

 

 

Neshia Crosland: A pattern of Life

 This is Neisha Crosland…

 

Neisha is one of Britain’s leading textile designers. She started her own company in 1994 designing scarves and accessories, and has gone on to design fabrics, wallpapers, rugs, bed linen, tiles, fine china and stationery home and fashion accessories that sell around the world. I recently recorded an RDInsights interview with her, about her life and work.  You can listen to it right here.

 

 

Do graphic designers read or just look?

It was 1980. I was judging the graphics section at D&AD. Amongst the other members on the jury was George Hardie. We were thumbing through some stationery when we were distracted by rather a startling range. It was both by and for the Dutch consultancy Studio Dunbar and consisted of a bizarre collection of dots, dashes, boxes, graduated rules, grids and letter spaced san serif type - a sort of mélange of isms from the previous six decades...

Studio Dumbar's stationery created in 1979.

We both acknowledged that this piece of work was going to have an effect on the British graphic scene. Sure enough, those little graphic devices used on that stationery range started to weave their way into the fabric of our industry.

At the time mainstream British graphics was dominated by a classical approach to typography, with lashings of nostalgic pastiches thrown in. One of the key exponents of this genre was John Gorham, whose work was everywhere in the 70s…

More adventurous directions were happening in the music world absorbing the influences from the Constructivist and Bauhaus periods. This was evident in the sleeve designs of  Barney Bubbles, George Hardie and Storm Thorgerson…

George Hardie's Souther Comfort album design from 1972.

The classic cover for The Dark Side of the Moon 1973 by Storm Thorgerson with George Hardie.

Generation X Day By Day album cover by Barney Bubbles 1977.

Barney Bubble's 1977 cover for The Dammed. Below his inspiration by Wassily Kandinsky from 1923

Above Joost Schmidt while at the Bauhaus 1924

They, in turn, were influencing a new breed of graphic designers that were incubating in the bustle of Manchester City during the late 70s – Ben Kelly, Malcolm Garrett and Peter Saville…

Malcolm Garrett's Buzzcocks cover of 1977

Above 3 creations by Peter Saville in 1981.  Below the original source.

Above an advertisement by Paul Schuitema c. 1927

Meanwhile, Dunbar’s work became more challenging and highly decorative, evolving into eccentric three-dimensional cut-outs and exaggerated perspective. It was embraced open-armed by designers in Britain and a crazy fusion of classicism, modernist and Dutch design appearing at a rate of knots…

Above Studio Dumbar's 1984 cover for the Dutch Post Office Year Book.

Above two theatre posters by Studio Dunbar's in 1988 during their increasing eccentricity. They won a D&AD silver award that year.

Another Dunbar piece from 1991 

And some examples of British design that followed Studio Dunbar's lead. Above pages from BA's annual report 1987

The Royal College of Art's yearly report from 1987.

Spreads from Seymour Powell's 1986 work brochure designed by Siobhan Keaney.

Vaughan Oliver's work for the Young Vic from 1994.

An album cover designed by Nick Bell in 1991.

This patchwork of borrowed styles and influences became increasingly popular around the world, especially on the American west coast.

Then in 1986, this appeared…

8vo (Octavo) the International Journal of Typography. It was the brainchild of  Mark Holt, Simon Johnston and Hamish Muir. They planned 8 issues, hence the title. Their quest was to debate and reflect only modernist design principles. None of the idealised serif, symmetrical classical forms of typography for them. Just a series of grid systems and sans type to harness their world view of design and typography, which followed the more deconstructed, an almost Swiss punk feel created by one Wolfgang Weingart…

Above 3 examples of Wolfgang Weingart's hyped-up Swiss-style from the 1970s.

I remember at the time of the first publication of 8vo there was a general buzz about this new ‘serious’ journal. It read and looked like a technical specification manual - painfully small type and a myriad of footnotes and cross-references. It was quickly viewed as the clinical antidote to the decorative style excesses of the period. Over the next few years,’ it was 8vo’s influence that was to work its way into the studios and consultancies across town. Their take of modernism was now de rigueur.

Poster designed by Cartlidge Levene 1991 picks up on 8vo's mantra.

But over the span of the 8vo’s six-year life, the typography became increasingly problematic to read. I have to admit that I bought all the issues but I never read past the first few pages.  Here are some examples of what I mean…

Interestingly the 8vo trio was very critical of what they termed, ‘over-stylized’ or ‘superficial design’ (like Neville Brody’s work for The Face) on BBC2’s The Late Show in 1990. They favoured  ‘client, user and functionality’. But they too fell into the same trap. Take this for example…

8vo number 6 1988

Does it really ‘favour the user’ or just geeky designers high on all things typographic?

What links much of the above work is its intentional exclusion of the reader. There seems to come to a point where the designer disconnects with the reader in favour of a decorative playground. It is a highly seductive visual landscape, but alienates most people other than like-minded folk, rendering the notion of communication redundant.

A surprise item of the 90s was the above D&AD silver and gold award-winning magazine, designed by Paul Elliman and Peter Miles (who now works in the United States). This crude photocopied style, with echos of the Jamie Reid's punk era, spawned some imitators for a while.

Let’s look for a moment at the work of one of the key figures in the creation of modernist design, Jan Tschichold. His work was just as eccentric and startling as Dunbar’s, but some 50 years earlier. But Tschichold turned his back on his brainchild… in favour of this approach…

Why? Well, my own view is that he wanted to rid himself of the rigid dogma that he had in part created and that the classical form had spirituality and beauty that increasingly appealed to him in his later years, as well as during his years in Switzerland. His most important work is with Penguin books in the late 1940s…

A post by Ben Terrett recently struck me, over at his noisydecentgraphics blog. It was his (plus the mum and dad test) reaction to the work this man...  

Wim Crouwel

 and one of the many typefaces designed by him. This one is 1967.

– a man celebrated in an almost evangelical way by many young British designers - at recent London exhibition. This is what he said… ‘Crouwel is a very good designer but a lot of the work, in fact, all of the work, left me very cold. It felt like design for designers. If I took my mum and dad to the exhibition I don't think they would enjoy it. Whereas they would have loved the Alan Fletcher exhibition… Crouwel's work is too cold. Too inaccessible. It needs more warmth, it needs a way in. But there is no way in. I realise Crouwel's work is modernist and part of that is inaccessibility and a coldness (like it or not, that's how it presents). But this for me raises a bigger question about graphic design. Is there any point to it if it's inaccessible? If my mum and dad can't enjoy it, is it irrelevant? ". I think Terrett makes a very valid point.

The fact is designers get bored. The idea of sticking to one typographical discipline can become tedious. Younger designers always want to displace the status quo. It is in the natural order of things.

Design can only move forward by reassessing what has gone before – questioning, deconstructing, and experimenting has, and will always, happen. Out of that new approaches emerge.

Today designers in their early 40s are hanging on to their versions of borrowed modernism. Meanwhile, the 30 something designers have re-engaged with a more literary approach to design, using classical styles and techniques from the 40s and 50s.

Above just 2 examples by David Pearson who's work pursues a more traditional 'literary' design style.

The balance and elegance of Tschichold and Gorham’s work are back and perhaps with it, designers will once again have sympathy with the words that have been written and for the readers who really want to read them. 

If you read this I would love to know. So please do leave a comment, even if it is just to say 'Yes'.

Mike

 

 

 

Dedicated followers of fashion

Drainpipes, flares, double breasted, single breasted, blouson, button down, waisted, polo necked, raglan, mullet, mini, maxi, shoulder pads, see through, high waisted, hipster, low slung, button through, denim, fairisle, corduroy, floral, chino, knitted, kipper, loafers, checked, stripped, kickers, desert boots, baseball.

We like to think that fashion is a way of signaling our individuality but actually we are just joining a tribe to communicate our membership. As you become older you begin to understand that fashion is a recurring theme and all the clothes you threw out 15 years ago are now back in fashion rediscovered by a younger set. The artists Gilbert & George overcame this tricky problem back in the late 60s by establishing a dress code that they have never deviated from...

Above Gilbert & George in the 70s and bottom today

I’ve always had a bit of a love hate thing with fashion and it never ceases to amaze me how quickly everyone falls into line with a new style. And styles come thick and fast these days thanks to the web with its many fashion blogs like The Satorialst…

Above The Sartorialist - from blog to book form

Take for example the current trend of wearing jackets, shirts and jumpers two sizes too small…

I’ve nicknamed it the Norman Wisdom look…

Norman was well ahead of the fashion game back in the 1950s

It got me thinking about all the fashion phases over the past 60 years and I remembered that from around the mid 70s, the D&AD annual used to photograph the juries, often in full length, not just the mug shots they feature these days. So I rummaged through my stack of old annuals and hey presto. Take a look at these fashion statements 30 years on…

Above some of the fashionable D&AD design and advertising fraternity from 1976 to 1979 

Yes it can be deeply embarrassing after the event. But it doesn’t stop us from being seduced the moment a new mode of dress hits the scene.

My own default fashion preference is classic Ivy League, first discovered in the 60s. Then I lapsed into the flowered wasted shirt and crushed velvet, hipster flares era. In the late 70s I reverted back to Ivy again only to veer off  in the 80s to the baggy, structure-less Armani period with those front pleated roomy trousers topped off with a voluminous shirts. All are now languishing in an Oxfam shop somewhere.

This is me judging the 1984 D&AD entries kitted out head to toe in Ivy League...

all courtesy of J.Simons, then in Covent Garden now relocated in Marylebone. And it is this style that I will probably stay with, as I am not wasting any more money on passing fads (famous last words). Or maybe I have just become boring?

One last note on this fashion thing. In 1988 a very young Fernando Gutiérrez was working as my assistant. Even then he was a snappy dresser. On one particular day he had a very forlorn look. “What’s the matter?” I asked. He pointed to the front of his no longer pristine, white Paul Smith shirt. There was a horrid splat of roitering ink, and permanent at that. So it got my mind thinking about how to overcome this little problem. Eureka! I set a competition for some fashion students at St Martins. Having briefed 20 odd enthusiastic students on stories of the many ink splattered shirts, skirts and jackets, I asked them to reinvent the studio smock. Off they went. Elle magazine heard about it and featured the winning creations from the students. This photograph...

taken by Terry O’Neil, appeared Elle's with the following caption…

I had a job lot of the winning jacket design made and virtually everyone at Carroll, Dempsey & Thirkell wore them…

This shot was taken in 1988 at the company’s then home at Brownlow Mews in London’s Bloomsbury. I am 7th from the left  and Fernando Gutiérrez is 2nd from the right all clean and dandy. 

Fernando Gutiérrez modeling an early prototype in 1988

At that time I was working on a project that involved the painter and sculptor, Allen Jones. He was so taken by the jacket that I gave him one. There I was thinking that I really had been responsible for the reworking of the old studio smock now to be use by a bonifidi artist in the privacy of his studio. Not a bit of it. 6 months later I ran into Jones at a Tate function. And what was he wearing? You guessed it.

For any of you interested in the Ivy look visit J. Simons here.

 

 

 

Jelly mould politics

I have been following the political musical chairs over recent months, as you might know from my earlier post.  
So now we have a new leader of the opposition in the shape of Ed Milliband…

Have you noticed how remarkably similar many of the new leading political figures are? 

 Dave 1
 Ed 1

Dave 2

Nick  

Ed 2 in hand gesture mode 

See what I mean? They wear identical outfits ­– single-breasted, close fitting suits in either navy or charcoal.  Along with the not too cutaway shirt collars with the accompanying bit of colour, expressed in the tie department (mostly plain or with mini polka dots) and the occasional flash of

bright socks, topped off with a pair of classic immaculately polished Churches shoes… 

 All employ the same obvious presentation skills (lots of meaningful, sincere hand gestures and dramatic pauses in their delivery). Did they all learn this from watching CDs of trailblazing master Tony Blair?
 
Then there are the accents. Many of the new political elite are products of the very best public schools with accents to match. But once again as perfected by Tony B some have affected the Estuary style with its peppering of glottal stops now ‘de rigueur’ to achieve that ‘man of the people’ persona – just check out Ed dropping his ‘T’s’, wicked innit.
 
They are all coached in the art of combating difficult questions from media heavies of the likes of Messers Humphreys and Paxman. When under pressure they will break their flow with the word ‘Look’. In other words, let’s cut the crap. They normally go on to say ‘Let me make this perfectly clear’ and of course they never do. All this stuff seems to have come out of the same packet. This got me thinking about the corporate look and behaviour of politicians.
 
Last year I was invited to afternoon tea at the House of Lords. A tea that would be accompanied by what I was told would be the most delicious scones in Britain. (My elevated host will remain anonymous) I was delighted to do this, if only out of curiosity and architectural interest.  But the whole experience was rather surreal.  
 
From the moment you enter the hallowed space, you could be forgiven for thinking that you had strayed onto the set of Harry Potter or a BBC period drama by mistake. The only sign of modernity is the electronic security frame gracing the sedate reception of the House of Lords private entrance. One is greeted by frock-coated, stockinged attendants in an air of quiet tranquillity. As you move onto the inner sanctum the space opens out into an expansive arched corridor of Portland stone and marble flanked by book-lined mahogany cabinets interrupted by various rooms off at regular intervals.  
 
As you breeze past, groups of bewigged barristers and judges can be seen. The whole place has a sense of being in a crazy time warp. Then there are the Lords themselves. Their code of dress befits their wider girths. The favoured style is the double-breasted suit ...

 The aim is to look circa the 1930s. Forget the 21st century.

often with matching waistcoats along with the occasional half hunter chain peeking out...

Their highly polished shoes are often a little quirkier than the occupants of the House of Commons. Eccentric buckles are not uncommon...

and ties are a little freer with a smattering of the classic clubs like the Garrick with its distinct cucumber and Salmon colouring. And they all wear the extremely discreet lapel pin denoting their peer status.

But back to that promised tea. I was guided into one on the many eateries in the Palace of Westminster. This one, exclusively for Peers and their guests, was a dark-timbered panelled affair with tables generously spaced out covered in crisply starched white damask and an array of silver pots and cutlery.  A middle-aged woman in a black and white uniform served us. She looked like she had been transported from a Lyons Corner Houses of the 1950s. She took our order – the promised scones. I couldn’t wait.
 
I looked around. Sitting alone over there in the corner was Lord Bragg quietly reading. A little later Lord Winston stops by and chats to Melvyn. The whole place had the serenity of a good reading library. I could image it being engulfed in cigar smoke a decade ago.
 
Ah, the scones have arrived with an accompaniment of clotted cream and strawberry jam. My host watches me as I take a bite, an expectant look on his face. “Well?” he says. “Hmmm,” I say. “I see what you mean”. (Lying through my teeth). They were sawdust dry, tasteless and as hard as a rock. Give me Waitrose’s almond croissants any day.
 
I think when you are initiated into the House of Lords you must have to sign up to the myth that everything about it is, well, perfect. All of the eateries within the Palace of Westminster are vastly subsidised. A substantial meal that would set you back a fair few quid in the outside world, is a mere pittance within these cosseted walls. And this is just one of many perks paid for by the dear old tax payer. You can be sure that it will not be subjected to any government cuts.
 
I then spent a fascinating hour in ‘the other place’ – parliamentary speak for the House of Lords Camber – to listen to my host's speech. It has a much less hysterical atmosphere than the Commons with their childish jeering and yah boo behaviour. Peers listen to each other with respect and patience and there is a quiet dignity about the place. As a peer enters, he makes a brief stop and bows in respect of the speaker. I see Lord Puttnam – whom I knew well in the 1970’s.  In those days you would never see him out of 501’s, a Margaret Howell shirt and a brown leather flight jacket. Now there he stands in the obligatory Saville Row tailored double-breasted suit blending in with their Lordships. How things have changed.

Get the look
 
Bored with looking like a graphic designer? Have a Milliband makeover and instantly increase both your hourly rate and stature with your clients. And don’t forget the all-important hand gestures. And if they protest just say, “Look. Let me make it perfectly clear. £500 an hour is not a lot for my substantial talent”. 

 And for you're a budding Lord don't miss...

 Get your own coat of arms here
 And don't forget the all-important signet ring with crest

There you're all set. Good luck.

  
     
 
 

Paul Smith in conversation

This is Paul Smith...

 Photo of Paul Smith courtesy/copyright ES magazine

 He left school at 15 without qualifications.

But once out in the real world he used every job as an apprenticeship for his future. That future became one of the most successful fashion brands with a 230-store presence around the word with a multi million pound turnover.

His story is an celebration of tenacity. Click here to listen to my recent interview with Paul.


Paul Smith multi coloured striped football 

Margaret Howell – Simple perfection

This is Margaret Howell...

Photo Reme Compos 

Margaret Howell is very much like her clothes – quietly understated, but with a wealth of hidden qualities. 

 

It was the discovery of an vintage shirt, while rummaging at a jumble sale, that was to become her ‘eureka’ moment and propelled her on a creative journey. That simple, beautifully crafted man’s shirt was the catalyst for her approach to fashion design.  Today she heads up the highly successful Margaret Howell international brand and she has never deviated from the simple belief that craft and quality will always shine through.  Her work has a relaxed, nostalgic British feel, but always with a modern twist. She also has a real passion for 20th century British modernist design in products, textiles, furniture and architecture. Her shops are peppered with an array of work from other designers working in differing fields.  This is most evident in her beautiful shop in Wigmore Street where she also has her London design studio. 

The Wigmore Street shop 

I had the pleasure of interviewing Margaret a couple of years ago for my RDInsights podcast recordings. 

If you would like to hear her fascinating and inspiring story click here 

And to see more of Margaret's work click here