The ‘Pin’ Is Mightier Than The Sword

Both the pen and the pin can be mightier than the sword. Vintage hatpins from the Sue Ryder charity shop, Norwich.

I come from a long line of writers and authors, and have always been encouraged to produce stories and words. I’m also a proud ‘south paw’ and like to think I have rather pleasing penmanship [sic], especially as a left-hander. I’ve always enjoyed the act of writing, too: forming letters on the page; the feel of nib on velum (okay, biro on file paper); even, the typing of font on keyboard. I hold, dear reader, the dizzying ‘Stage 1’ typing qualification – with distinction – awarded by the Royal Secretarial College (RSA), circa 1992.

As a career academic, I’m also reasonably ‘well published’ (as we professors tend to say, or claim, at least). I published my first 80k-word book with Bloomsbury in 2005, The National Fabric, and have since produced (churned out) many a journal article and book chapter as an occupational requirement bound up with a personal passion. I’ve also had the opportunity to get involved with editorial, commissioning, and review work, sitting on the Boards of several academic journals published by Intellect, Taylor & Francis and Emerald and Chairing the Lord Aberdare annual book award. Heck, I even won ‘Outstanding Reviewer 2008’ in the Literati Awards (yes, that’s a thing).

It’s not often I assemble, as above, my word-y activities in one place. It’s a good reminder that so much of my life has involved, even been dedicated to, the written word. Only last month, I delivered a workshop for colleagues at the Art School on ‘First Steps In Publishing’. That proved an enjoyable mentoring opportunity to share my experiences of a world with which I am familiar and that others find daunting. My advice? There are few tricks or short cuts. The secret is to sit down, shut up, and write something.

The point I’m labouring to get to is that recent weeks have brought forth a literary-millinery alliance. Bournemouth (a resort and retirement hot spot on the South Coast) has an annual writing festival and, by chance, I stumbled on one of its competitions: a 200 word piece of flash fiction on any hat-related theme. Now, that is my bivouac!

My 193-word submission is reproduced below. Fictional, although loosely based on historical precedents, it proved, unfortunately, not to be a prize winning piece. I’ll let you judge for yourself.

Mrs Holroyd’s Hatpin 

It was a bitterly cold morning in early Spring when Clara Constance Holroyd entered the dock at Bournemouth’s Courts of Justice.  Clara’s case had drawn an unusually large crowd to the public gallery, hungry for lurid details of her recent arrest.  The onlookers were anticipating a bit of a show.  Clara was among the more outspoken members of the local branch of Pankhurst’s WSPU; one of those misguided and wholly reprehensible Suffragettes.  

“Mrs Holroyd” said the presiding judge in measured tones, as if addressing a persistently ill-behaved child, “are you aware of the gravity of your actions?”  He continued, “you are charged with disorderly conduct, with attempted assault of a police constable and with possession of a weapon”.  At that, he gestured towards Clara’s favourite hatpin – a thirtieth birthday gift from her godmother – which now bore a cheap cardboard luggage tag marked ‘Exhibit A’.  

“Do you have anything to say in your defence, Mrs Holroyd?”

There was an expectant hush as Clara held the man’s gaze with steely assuredness, jutting her chin.  “VOTES FOR WOMEN!”  Her voice rang out across the courtroom, a clear, strong, urgent, clarion call.  “VOTES FOR WOMEN!”

Greetings From Poppy Land

‘Norfolk Poppy’ by Goodrum & Merryweather, October 2023.
With hand cut petals and leaves, hand dyed fabric and hand made in the Poppy Land of Norfolk, England.

Earlier this month (October 2023), I spent an intense Saturday afternoon being put through my flower-making paces by Jenny Roberts, the renowned milliner based in Harrogate, Yorkshire. I’ve taken several of Jenny’s online classes over the past two or three years and they are always excellent; full of tips, clear instruction and striking just the right pitch and pace. This latest class was a four hour-long Zoom session focusing on the hand production and custom ombre dyeing of poppies in a slightly hard-to-come-by fabric called cotton organdie (refer to image for end results)

Norfolk, the county where I’m based, has historically been closely connected to the poppy flower. However, I think I am correct in saying that, these days, the connections are rarely referenced in local or popular culture, save for the occasional tourist postcard or souvenir tea towel. Time was (in the late Victorian period) when visiting the ‘Poppy Land’ of Norfolk was nothing short of a fashionable craze and Norfolk was coined as the place “where the regal red poppies are born”. There are some wonderful old travel posters for the now defunct Great Eastern Railway promoting the “charm” of Poppy Land and the railway line as the “royal route to Poppy Land” (don’t forget, for example, that Sandringham House, the Christmas residence of the British Royals, is to be found on the North Norfolk coast).

The creation of the Poppy Land legend was largely down to a Victorian gentleman, lyricist, writer, poet and theatre critic for The Daily Telegraph named Clement Scott (1841-1904). In 1883 Scott, a Londoner, travelled on assignment to the area via the newly opened rail connection between Norwich and the seaside resort of Cromer. On arrival in tourist-y Cromer, and unable to secure accommodation, Scott walked along the coastal path to the neighbouring villages of Overstrand and Sidestrand. There, he stumbled upon the idyllic Mill House, where he lodged and fell in love with both the quiet beauty of the locale and with the miller’s daughter, Louie Jermy. Scott recounted his impressions of Poppy Land in his Telegraph column for several weeks and, later, in his book, Poppy Land – Papers Descriptive on the East Coast (1886). These descriptions of an unspoiled and remote vision of rural England may be attributed to kick-starting the, still flourishing, Norfolk tourist industry and the longstanding popularity of the county as a Summer holiday destination. Scott’s Poppy Land captured the imagination of London’s literary and artistic set, who travelled to Mill House and its surrounds in droves; so much so that Sidestrand became known as “the village of millionaires” for a time.

Ironically, Scott became frustrated by the growth in popularity and bustle that his own writings brought to the area and feared that the peaceful charm of Poppy Land may be threatened by development and what he referred to as the “Bungalow Land” of modern construction and incomers. His was, and remains, a common and unfortunate complaint. However, as a Norfolk resident, I am glad to have spent many happy hours over the years visiting, holidaying on, and thoroughly enjoying, the coastline of Cromer, Overstrand and Sidestrand alike, all of which retain a substantial portion of their simple and nostalgic appeal. And, as a Norfolk milliner, I am glad now to have learned the art of poppy making so that I may add a local and historical splash of colour to my hats; all of them proudly made in Poppy Land.

A-head for Business

Challenging gender norms in ‘City Look’ by photographer Arthur Jones, feat. in Vogue 1963. The bowler hat has come to be a material marker for caricatures relating to finance and business.

September has been and gone in a flash and, I am pleased to report, there were successes along the way. Not least, I won a prize draw, organised by the British Millinery Association, for a one-to-one business mentoring session with Natalie Jackson of ActionCoach in Essex. It’s important, I think, to be open to different voices and to seize opportunity when it knocks in whatever form (I hope my students are reading this), so I was both eager and intrigued to take up my prize and learn from the business world as an addition to my usual, softer, reference points of craft, history and culture.

Natalie and I arranged to meet via the wonders of Zoom on 26/09/2023 and, on reflection, it strikes me that much of the conversation was about confidence: inspiring it, developing it and ensuring it grows despite inevitable knocks to it from time to time. This is a valuable lesson of which to be reminded and I found it affirming to hear it from a new, and expert, voice positioned in the business world (not my natural habitat). Thank you coach Natalie and the British Millinery Association for according this experience, which represents yet another block on which to build my endeavours ever onwards and upwards.

And, reverting to type, there’s always a millinery/history link to be made, even (or maybe especially) in business. The bowler hat (refer to image) and old-fashioned city bankers are closely aligned, at least in British cultural history. The business man (yes, gendered language; bear with me) may be caricatured through particular items of clothing and related accessories: a pinstripe suit, a rolled umbrella, and a bowler hat. Now something of an anachronism, dressing for business in a bowler is nonetheless a recognisable material identity, symbolising respectability, establishment values and belonging to a particular profession and social echelon. Things start to get interesting, though, when this symbol is so well-recognised it can be played with, and even subverted. Charlie Chaplin (a working class hero), Liza Minelli (a Cabaret act), and Kubrick’s dystopian Clockwork Orange, all recognised the bowler hat as a form through which to convey their own, wildly varying, characterisations. It’s interesting that these three, most obvious, examples are taken from the domain of theatre and performance; costuming requires, and exploits, such material and symbolic shortcuts to great advantage.

Yet another layer of interest for me, located here in Norfolk England, lies in the story of the historical evolution of the bowler. Lo and behold, it’s local. And I think more could be made of this heritage (which leads me to ponder the case for a fuller millinery history of Norfolk because there are a couple of additional, significant, hats floating about the County’s past, too). The bowler’s (disputed) Norfolk story is described succinctly by Wikipedia:

“The bowler hat was designed in 1849 by the London hat-makers Thomas and William Bowler to fulfill an order placed by the company of hatters James Lock & Co. of St James’s, which had been commissioned by a customer to design a close-fitting, low-crowned hat to protect gamekeepers from low-hanging branches while on horseback. The keepers had previously worn top hats, which were knocked off easily and damaged. The identity of the customer is less certain, with some suggesting it was Thomas Coke, 1st Earl of Leicester who had estate at Holkham Hall, in Norfolk. However, research performed by a younger relation of the 1st Earl casts doubt on this story, and it is claimed by James Lock & Co. that the bowler was invented for Edward Coke, the younger brother of Thomas Coke, 2nd Earl of Leicester. When Edward Coke arrived in London on 17 December 1849 to collect his hat he reputedly placed it on the floor and stamped hard on it twice to test its strength; the hat withstood this test and Coke paid 12 shillings for it.“

Whatever the exact circumstances of its creation, I predict we may be seeing more of the bowler hat on contemporary heads over the coming months in something of a fashion-led renaissance. That’s a heads up; you heard it here first.

Pick (of the) Pockets

Hang Your Hat. SolianWare wall pocket, Soho Pottery, Stoke-On-Trent, 1935.

Millinery connections get everywhere. Last weekend (15/07/23) was the much-anticipated neighbourhood yard sale, which takes place annually here in the NR2 postcode. It’s an opportunity to declutter, make some pocket money, find hidden treasures, and, most importantly in my community-oriented part of town, spend time with neighbours and friends in a festive atmosphere. This particular yard sale is neither an amateur undertaking nor for the faint of heart. There is an interactive online map, which gives the location of each yard on the trail and, this year, a breath-taking 380 (or more) yards were registered to participate.

As a dedicated bargain hunter, I seized this opportunity to ramble among my local highways and byways as a buyer, hot on the trail of mid-century kitsch and haberdashery scraps. The weather (we’re having a rainy, typical, British Summer) held off and I set forth early in order to make the most of the day.

After three or four hours of rummaging along a circular route, I had barely touched the surface of all those yards and their amassed treasures. However, I returned to Goodrum & Merryweather Towers with some wonderful booty, tired legs and the need for copious amounts of reviving tea. One of the highlights has to be my millinery-themed purchase of an original, ceramic, ‘wall pocket’ (pictured). I struck a marvellous deal to bag it for just £2. I had a suspicion that it was from the Interwar era and, sure enough, thanks to a little help from an online search engine, I discovered that it originated from 1935 and a, once, well-known pottery in the ceramic heartlands of Staffordshire. I was able to dig up some interesting snippets about the object, the manufacturer and also the wider cultural references imbued within it. Isn’t material culture and its history so very fascinating?

The wall pocket that I purchased is from the ‘SolianWare’ line, produced by Soho Pottery. My particular model is named the ‘Dolly Varden’, a tribute to the fictional character in Dickens’ Barnaby Rudge (1841). Dolly Varden was identified in the novel by her coquettish dress and her name entered into common parlance as a shorthand for a particular style of low-cut, figure-hugging outfit topped with a large, flowered, hat.

A little more online sleuthing, courtesy of the National Library of Scotland database, adds even more flavour to the story. It seems that this millinery reference made it to the Victorian music hall in the form of a ballad, attributed to EB Crawford, 1897, detailing the allure of ‘The Dolly Varden Hats’. With six verses and a chorus it’s a colourful, somewhat bizarre, and lengthy, ode to the romantic power of historical millinery and those that wore it. The lyrics paint a superb picture, and I will continue to keep an ear out for a recorded version and the original score. I wonder how the melody goes?

Yard sales are founded on the elements of surprise, exchange and acquisition. My own experience was no exception and I came away with all manner of unexpected gains, material, musical and more. Let’s end on that song:

The Dolly Varden Hats, EB Crawford, 1897

Come, dear, don’t fear try and cut a shine / And wear a hat and feathers in the fash-ionable line / Lovers you’ll have plenty, of that you may depend / If you wear the Dolly Varden hat, and do the Grecian Bend. 

Come, dear, don’t fear, have your ringlets curled / If you’re out of fashion, you had better leave the world / Your sweet and pretty faces will wear a winning smile / If you get a hat and feather in the Dolly Varden style.

There’s little Polly Pudding chops, don’t she do the grand? / With a tiny hat upon her heed, no bigger than your hand / And this ‘Grecian Send’ toddling on her toes / With a hat like a cockle shell stuck upon her nose.

Our grandmother years ago were comfortable souls / They used to wear a bonnet like settle for the coals / But bonnets are so altered now by woman one and all / They made them smaller every day till now there’s none at all.

I know a jolly carpenter is name is Peter Platt / He courted a girl with a Dolly Varden Hat / And while they were a courting he proved so very kind / He rumpled all the muslin in her panniers be-hind.

Some of them are rather large, some are rather small / Some with very wide brims and some with none at all / I know a girl that wears one, oh ! aint she nice and fat / You could drive’a dozen donkeys round her Dolly Varden hat.

Miss Jemima Jenkins—what a precious flat / Pawned her mother’s breeches for a Dolly Varden hat / She couldn’t get a chignon / ’tis true I do de-clare / So she stole a lot shavings and rolled then [sic] her hair.