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

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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?

Outfit(s) of the Day at Waddesdon

Anyone who knows me can vouch for the fact that i'm a super fashionable lady.

Check out my OOTD: 

Spot the Rothschild in this photograph
Hint: it's not me

White is in at the moment. And black. Look, even Vogue says so. Monday to Friday, I turn up to Waddesdon dressed for the catwalk. 'Back' in the monochrome I never left. 

But what are those sneaky purples I'm pulling out, you ask.
'They are thermals' I answer, slightly shivering. 

 
In the closed season, Waddesdon tends to be a little bit chilly. We keep the heat down to conserve the artworks, and it's not unusual to see curators wandering around the Manor in their coats and scarves.

Unlike the people who work there, the portraits in the house (being inanimate objects) do not change their clothes with the seasons.
Despite their fashion insensitivity, there are some pretty great outfits on display.

Léon Bakst, The Sleeping Beauty: The Good Fairy's Promise, 1913-20; Waddesdon, The Rothschild Collection (Rothschild Family Trust)

On loan since 1995; acc. no. 89.1995.2 © The National Trust, Waddesdon Manor

This is one of the seven panels painted by early C20th Russian artist Léon Bakst. Best known for his fantastical theatrical designs, he painted these panels for James and Dorothy Rothschild and included them, their dog and himself in the works. Paris was apparently short on models.

But the focus of these paintings isn't on his patrons and their canines, it's on the textiles. Three panels later, he almost evaporates a looming dragon to concentrate on the drapery of the frightened courtiers.

Equalling Bakst in 'swag', is Callet's diplomatic portrait of Louis XVI, the last Bourbon King of France. The experimental red pigments that were used to paint his cloak are 'fugitive', which means that over time his clothes are going to look bluer and bluer (Lucky for Louis, Glamour Magazine thinks blue is 'refreshing'). 

Unfortunately for the dead King, this is making his rosy cheeks appear to be turning redder. It's as if he's enjoying covert glasses of port when the lights go out. 

Antoine-François Callet, King Louis XVI (1754 - 1793), 1781-82; Waddesdon, The Rothschild Collection (Rothschild Family Trusts)

On loan since 2006; acc. no. 57.2006. Photo: Mike Fear © The National Trust, Waddesdon Manor

Perhaps my favourite 'fashion moment' in the house is this little number being modelled by Emerentia von Berensteyn. A portrait to be displayed to potential suitors, a real fash' blog would say that 'her red/gold dress is perfectly accessorised with a cheeky smile'
.
But I'm most interested in her 'huik'- the Dutch name for the hat and veil she is wearing. The veil could be pulled over the nodule of her hat, and would have covered her very like a burka. In fact, the 'huik' was still being used in Holland as mourning clothing this century, and was used as an argument against the banning of burkas in the Netherlands. Topical stuff, this 'art'. 

Pieter Claesz Soutman, Emerentia von Berensteyn (c1623-1674), c 1634; Waddesdon, The Rothschild Collection (The National Trust)

Bequest of James de Rothschild, 1957 © The National Trust, Waddesdon Manor

And there we go. My Waddesdon fashion round-up. 

Apologies for wimping out of bird-watching. More blue tits next week!

Byeeeeee

The Intern Diaries

The question people most often ask when I tell them that I work at Waddesdon Manor is 'but what do you actually do?' And so, despite my surprisingly sociable nature, I thought I'd use this blog to fend off that much repeated enquiry. 

Here, dear readers, are my 'Intern Diaries'

I can only apologise for what is perhaps the least creative name for a blogpost ever written. 

Also, for calling you 'dear readers'.

My official job title  at Waddesdon is 'Collections Assistant', a transitional position set up for recent graduates, allowing an individual to spend a year at the manor learning about curating, museums and how to find a fuse box in the dark.
 

And you get a badge

I'm tempted to say 'no two days are the same!', but I have a feeling that no two days are the same for anyone in any job, and so will instead tell you that 'what I do varies enormously!' 

Working in a collection like ours you find yourself one day showing students priceless drawings and textiles, and the next assisting with a frames survey of the house. The day after that you might be photocopying auction catalogues. Crazier things have happened.

There are, however, two or three strands that tie the odd-jobs I help with together. The first of these is preparation for the upcoming exhibition of Roubiliac busts of Alexander Pope. The curator is Malcolm Baker, who works at University of California Riverside, and so I get to spend some of my time on the phone to L.A., feeling very transatlantic and glam. 

 Teeny tiny model of the exhibition 

Working with Malcolm and Juliet (Dr Juliet Carey, the Curator of Paintings, Sculpture and Drawings), I have learnt a lot very quickly. Who knew what a socle was? Not me. Have any idea what the average weight of a marble statuette is? No? Neither did I!

I also get to spend a pleasing amount of time learning about, researching and showing people round the house. 

People like Martha! 

I really like looking at art (hence the degree), so this is pretty great. And Waddesdon, as I may have mentioned, is fantastically eclectic (or nuts) both in its design and collection. Decades are quite literally stacked upon one another, and then collaged together. 

Yesterday I was looking at some Roman coins; today I was noting the condition of a resident Freud. 

Waddesdon, The Rothschild Collection (Rothschild Family Trusts). On loan since 1995

 © The Lucian Freud Archive / The Bridgeman Art Library

And check it out! I think I even know how to use image copyright properly! Rachel...? (Rachel Jacobs is the head of our photographic library)

Of course, all this hard work requires plenty of emergency tea and (gluten free- wooo) cake. Both are National Trust staples. Join me next week for more on that, and possibly a few naughty pictures of some beautiful birds. 

Cheeky....

Christmas at Waddesdon

Yesterday I posted a link to this blog on Facebook. With a wisdom tooth hammering through my bottom left gum, I threw caution to the wind and decided to detail my un-romantic and romantic new job to my un-romantic and romantic old friends.

To capitalise on the brief, subsequent rise in 'blog' traffic, and to make up for the fact that Waddesdon is now closed and the gardens plunged in to darkness for 100% of my non-working hours, I thought I would have a lil' #tbt.

Waddesdon gets really, really Christmassy

I arrived at Waddesdon just as Autumn began. It was what our historic gardens consultant Sophie Piebenga calls a 'phantom Autumn'; a bit like a phantom pregnancy, only with leaves that turn orange before the cold sets in, rather than a belly that fills with gas before the egg is fertilised. 

Pretty, pretty, pretty

With the stewards hurrying to finish jobs before the house re-opens, the collection department were roped into cleaning the statues in the North Fountain. Dentures' toothbrushes were worn to stubs as we attempted to remove a year's worth of pollution and moss from the marble allegorical figures, imported from the ducal Palace at Colorno, (now a hotel, with some- presumably- rather bare watering holes).

Teehee

Once cleaned, the garden statues are wrapped in their rather attractive winter coats, ready for the frost. I live in a cottage on the estate, and it was a bit of a surprise wandering into one of these fellas in the dark on the way home from the Manor...

Boo!

By the end of October, it was pitch black before I left the office at 5.30. I had to invest in a MagLite to stop myself tripping over falling conkers and to  help me investigate rustling pheasants in the bushes.
Luckily the main house had some new lights on show.

It's chriiiiiiiistmaaaaas

Christmas at Waddesdon is a really big deal. This year British artist Bruce Munro set up a field of light in the garden, and the house was decorated as an homage to Austria- with a Sound of Music corridor, Swarovski trees, and an information plinth on Klimt written by yours truly.

Yup, I finally hit the big time.

It is magical the first time you walk in. Strauss booming down the East Gallery, and roaring fires make you want to take someones hand and waltz them to the mistletoe.

It's pretty magical for the subsequent week, too. Enormous Christmas bouquets (I didn't even know what a Christmas bouquet was before Waddesdon), and lots and lots of trees.

But there are certainly downsides to living in a permanent cloud of Christmas cheer.

It's (still) chriiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiistmaaaaaaaaaaas

I was stationed in the Sound of Music corridor for three hours one night, standing guard while the press wandered around. No longer can I put the  SoM soundtrack down on my list of 'favourite things' (eh-oh).
The smell of pine trees becomes almost potent by December and the collections department is subject to the same temperature controls as the house, which has a set humidity level to protect the artworks. It gets cold.

This past winter has been magical, and properly full of festive cheer #festivecheer. But having overdosed on twinkly lights and thematic baubles, I was happy to be spending Christmas with my uncle in Africa, where I could keep the tinsel and santa hats at a safe distance.

Oops...