LFW at Waddesdon (feat. The Duchesse de Polignac)

Last week I went to London Fashion Week.

I know- I was as surprised as you are. If you want to see what I was up to you can see the video I made for XXY Magazine here. At the end, I ask people about YOLO and pizza, if that's your sort of thing.

Just having a cHAT

Many of the outfits I saw- especially in the Somerset House Courtyard- were vying to be controversial; almost-naked anime characters brought to life; fox tails; hats that trumped any Ascot headwear.

What does the fox say?

This got me thinking about some of the more ‘risqué’ outfits we have here at Waddesdon- (where I work as the Collections Assistant, if you haven't already picked that up!) and one in particular: the dress belonging to ‘Madame de Polignac’ in this gorgeous painting by Madame Vigeé-Le Brun.

Elisabeth Louise Vigée-LeBrun, Martine-Gabrielle-Yoland de Polastron, The duchesse de Polignac (1745-1793), 1783; Waddesdon The Rothschild Collection (The National Trust) Bequest of James de Rothschild, 1957; acc. no. 2154 © The National Trust, Waddesdon Manor

This sweet little white number might not scream of controversy- it’s precisely the type of outfit some Victorian artists would later dress their vunerable virgins in- but in C18th France, this white percale dress, topped with a simple straw hat, caused a bigger stir than any busty corset or meat dress would on the red carpet today.

And here’s why:

Madame de Polignac (1749-1793), as you may know, was one of Queen Marie Antoinette’s favourites. Recently, revolutionary rumours that she was the Queen’s lover have resurfaced, with the release of ‘Farewell, My Queen’ in 2009. But, irrespective of her sexual preferences, she was part of the Queen’s inner circle, and would eventually become governess to Marie Antoinette’s children, spending much of her time indulging in an imagined life of a peasant with the queen at Trianon, pretending to milk cows, running through perfectly pruned fields, and playing on a purpose built carousel.

Trianon's very own working mill

This luxurious faux-poverty, exemplified by the women’s carefree outfits, highly angered the pre-revolutionary French public, showing them just how out of touch their rulers were. Similar images of the Queen herself, also by Vigeé-Le Brun, caused a scandal at the 1783 Salon (a public hanging of artworks a bit like the Royal Academy’s Summer Exhibition), and had to be taken off the walls.

Oil on canvas, Private collection of Hessische Hausstiftung, Kronberg, Germany

In some ways, it seems that we have become increasingly lax- think Miley or Madonna- but today just as then we have expectations of our state leaders. Imagine if the queen was spotted in a mini-skirt, or David Cameron starting wearing a fox tail! 

Au revoir mon petit choux

Follow my blog with Bloglovin

Valentines Shmalentines at Waddesdon Manor

I'm not the biggest fan of Valentine's Day. I love Valentine's Day cards-  this year I wrote an article about my obsession with them for XXY Magazine- but the actual day I can give or take.
Basically, I have spent the last two Valentine's Days in a library, and I'm not sorry. 

Working at Waddesdon, though, I decided to try and get myself out of that Valentine's funk. And it turns out that the art collection here is pretty effective emotional therapy. Unfortunately for you single laydeez/gentlemanz the house is closed until March, but for those who really need a stint on the couch, here's my summary of Waddesdon's least romantic offerings. 

Some day my prince will come? 

Alice de Rothschild (1847-1922), the long suffering sister and live-in companion of Waddesdon's patron Ferdinand, loved flowers, so much so that she was said to walk around the garden with a pair of secateurs to wrench out any weeds that had struggled through the parterre beds.

This week, appropriately, the first snowdrops were spotted peeking through the frozen ground

Birds eye view of snowdrops

Alice's preference for the floral is also evident inside the house, particularly in the State Bedroom, which was used by Queen Victoria when she rested on her visit to Waddesdon. It's a sort of proto Cath Kidston design. As rosy as a box of Cadbury's roses. 

The room's rosy-ness is, in a roundabout way, down to Alice. It was she who imposed a stringent housekeeping regime after her brother's death, known as 'Miss Alice's Rules'. This meant shutters down, even in the presence of royalty: when Edward VII paid a visit to Waddesdon she refused to raise the blinds to let him see the paintings. Pretty badass. 

It is very Victorian

But Miss Alice was not only interested in flowers and housekeeping. A permanent bachelorette, she took over the running of the estate after her brother died, and organised the garden into allotments to feed the less fortunate during WW1.

#filter

She was also good friends with Queen Vic herself, who affectionately referred to her as 'The All-Powerful One'. Who needs Valentines, Alice might have said, when you have a collection of pipes and guns to play with in your country mansion? 

POW POW POW

Happy Valentine's Day y'all!! 

Châteauesque and other fancy words

This was my view on leaving work today 

Not bad

As I looked up at Waddesdon, finally able to wander around outside in the blistering heat (I kid, I kid), I was reminded that I haven't yet written about the architecture of this crazy place I live and work in.

So here we go. Get ready for the fancy words.


Waddesdon Manor was commissioned by Ferdinand de Rothschild (1839-1898) not long after the death of his wife Evelina (1839-1866). He had been intoxicated by the aesthetic of the châteaux of the Valois kings- buildings like this- and wanted something similar in England, but with all the comforts of modern day life. The architect for the job was Gabriel-Hippolyte Destailleur, who not only had an impressive name, but also had impressive credentials, having recently adapted the Château de Mouchy. 

Claire's back and she's wearing a snood
#moderndaycomfort

The style chosen was 'Châteauesque', or Châtaeu+, as I (and Google) like to call it. Wikipedia calls it 'eclectic' but I prefer to think of it as 'intelligently nuts'. Somewhere between a C19th American hotel and a C16th French castle, it is adorned with sweeping staircases, disney towers, grimacing gargoyles, and accessorised with many, many finials. 

For Ferdinand, comfort meant electricity, French and Italian chefs and central heating. I'm told that Queen Victoria asked for the lights to be turned on and off repeatedly when she visited. She also (apparently) asked for the menu to be sent back to the palace, so impressed was she with its design. There is no mention of her thoughts on the central heating. I imagine they were positive. 

Spot another royal
Hint: it's not me

The entire estate was erected over twenty years on the site of a farming property with a 600-foot malformed cone at its centre. Exotic, fully grown trees were brought in, and gave the impression of woodland. 

Too big for the camera

Both the interior and the exterior are patchworks of old and new. The ancient is uplifted and placed in a new arrangement, in many cases saving it from destruction. Perhaps this is a metaphor for life. But I think not. It does make one cool building though, even if the central heating is Victorian. I suppose if it was good enough for her madge....

It's chilly. Wot ya' gunna do. 

To see more, come and visit. The gardens are open to public at the weekend from now, and the house from 26th March. 

Alternatively, if you are feeling lazy and/or impatient, come back here this friday for some Waddesdon Valentines capers....


Byeeee

Saturday Soujourn at Waddesdon

This week the 5.30 pm sky turned from black to dark blue, which meant that when I walked home I didn't need a torch to work out if it was a pheasant or a mass murderer running ahead of me on the track (it was a pheasant).

But to be honest, when I wasn't at work, it was still pretty dark, pretty much all the time.
Luckily this weekend, I stayed up at Waddesdon, and despite terrible weather warnings the sun actually shone. 

My friend Claire was visiting, and I was so doubtful of it staying nice that I actually took this picture, to prove to her that the sky had once been blue.

Over there it's actually sunny

Claire has temporarily moved from Paris to London, where she is working at a major auction house. She hadn't packed for England with a weekend in the countryside in mind, and was concerned her outfit wasn't weather-proof enough. 

Her boots were inappropriately nice

Our first stop was the aviary. Commissioned by Ferdinand Rothschild before 1889, it is in the style of a French or German C18th garden pavilion. Think a modern (mini) menagerie at Versailles. 

Having fallen into disrepair after WW2, it was restored in 2003, and is now the sight of a variety of breeding projects for rare birds, including the Rothschild Mynah, named after Ferdinand's eccentric nephew Walter.

The gardens have once again opened to the public, and so on arrival we were accosted by a three-year-old girl, who had wanted to take a picture of the puddle we were so rudely standing in. 

Puddle features bottom left

I decided to dress as a robber

The birds knew Ferdinand's voice, and apparently used to wander over to the bars when he visited, hoping for food and affection. Claire tried this tactic to tempt them to pose.

Spot the golden urns
Hint: they aren't Claire

A love of exotic birds inspired many of the objects in the Waddesdon collection, notably the vibrant Razumovsky Service. There are also some excellent parrot over-mirrors. The influence of C18th chinoiserie is prevalent throughout the house, sweeping downward lines; exotic animals. Walter Rothschild even rode in a zebra carriage. 

Claire is an artist, and did some slightly more subdued sketches of the illusive birds. I tried to get some pictures, but they were all bars and flashes of blue. Bluddy iPhone. 

She's really good.

Claire is not only an artist. She's also a French person. We briefly visited the (finally open) gift shop, where I attempted to out-do her on this front. 

This is definitely fine, and politically correct

Then we went to the pub for dinner. C'est la vie, oui?