Rock'n'Roll Royalty

Regular readers will be aware of the beneficent avuncular role our main clothier Huddersfield Fine Worsted plays in our life these days. So when HM the Queen decided a jolly way to celebrate the 60th anniversary of her coronation was to invite all the Royal Warrant Holders - suppliers of goods to the Royal Household - to the gardens of Buckingham Palace, they invited us to ride through the gates on their coat tails. So on Thursday July 12th we first rode the bus over the bridge then walked across St. James' Park to the big house on the far side of the lake.

It was blazing hot as we walked around the gardens and chatted with folk from other companies, from Walker's Shortbread to Bentley Cars. We introduced ourselves to James from Lock & Co., the hatters of St. James and he said, "I know Earl of Bedlam!" 

We reminded him that we had posted a picture to their Facebook page of Rollo wearing one of our Tectonic suits, styled with a vintage shellacked coke of theirs, and he exclaimed that he had liked it very much. So that was worth the bus fare on its own.

Next we nosed around the beautiful Bentleys and noticed a familiar set of tools - including a fork, that I imagined someone had inadvertently left out after lunch. Noel Thompson, their master craftsman from Crewe, explained that Bentley invented a fancy machine to make the holes for the leather steering wheel covers to be stitched together, as the slightest bit too tight or slack can cause blisters for the driver. But it never got it as correct and comfortable for the human hand to hold as a human hand and the tines of a fork! Then he let me have a go at stitching it myself and presented me with a piece of their lovely leather embossed with the winged "B".

I got to have a go (and yes, it's been a while since I had my blond swoosh roots done)

Me and Noel with one I made earlier

My feet were on fire by the end of the afternoon, I could have done with soaking them in the little stream that feeds the huge lake in the Queen's back garden, or getting a lift home in one of the spare old cars that were left lying around all over the place like Steptoe's yard.

Then at 4.30pm we all had to troop out in order to return again a few hours later for the concert. I asked a policeman if we could just climb a tree and hide there til showtime. "We will find you Ma'am," he assured me.

Once home - luckily only the other side of Westminster Bridge - I could barely contemplate putting my shoes back on but anaesthetised with a glass of wine, I did and I was glad of it. It was a beautiful evening. Chris Evans was filming the One Show live and we presented him with a business card, saying we considered he goes rather well with our company name. He scrutinised it and laughed, "LOVE IT!!"

Dame Kyrie Te Kanawa sang the National Anthem - not in my key - but wearing my kinda pink. People were politely enthusiastic during the concert, we had to wait to the following night to let our hair down.

There are often extended pauses 

between blogs as I generally await the conclusion to some project or escapade in order to post the full story in one chunk. You will know if you dip into our Facebook page that we are in the process of launching our first series of silk scarves and pocket squares. And if you didn't already, please be persuaded to give our page a thumbs up "Like":

https://www.facebook.com/pages/Earl-of-Bedlam/157642327606726

While we have been engaged in the artwork and trying to get clearances from the chosen subjects where required, we took on a charming new client, Miss. Curbishley. We are making her a trouser suit for school. 

As I wrote on our Facebook page, she is, as you can see above, a beautiful girl born into an environment of some cool privilege. This might, you could be forgiven for expecting, have engendered a sense of entitlement and a certain aloof reserve. However her heart is as warm as her face is lovely and much credit for this must of course go to her mum and dad. Bill, her papa, is a legendary figure in the music and film world. He manages The Who and Judas Priest and used to look after Jimmy Page & Robert Plant . He produced those peaks of British cinema -"Tommy", "Quadrophenia" and "McVicar". His latest film project, "The Railway Man", stars Colin Firth and Nicole Kidman. 

http://thebestyoumagazine.co/who-is-the-man/ 

And the enthusiasm and support of her mummy has thoroughly refreshed and reinvigorated our spirits. When we showed her the artwork for the scarves, Marcela helped the project along by pre-ordering a sumptuously large Clara Bow, as indeed did Madame Randolfi-Favel, head knitwear designer at Prada. When I mentioned we were still trying to get Keith Richards' blessing  http://www.keithrichards.com/ on his portrait in order to proceed she not only offered me a ticket for the Rolling Stones http://www.rollingstones.com/ in Hyde Park but said they would take on presenting it on our behalf. In my fevered imagination I pictured Bill getting backstage just as they were about to go on, Keith going "Wow, that's cool man", putting it round his neck and amblin' out to the roar of the crowd. Well. It didn't quite go like that. But take it on trust that we are sat with baited breath on some word back this week. Which is a diversion from my usual whole-book-not chapters blogging technique, but if we're suffering in the heat of suspense then you can jolly well join us in it.

So there was I on that beautiful evening last Saturday, hair down, hippie dress on, in the posh pen at the front of the stage, feeling thirty years younger in the company of my youthful companions - Miss. Curbishley and her two pals - when a chap in the crowd handed me a cold beer and a compliment, as the only woman who had co-ordinated her eye colour with her dress - red (no, cornflower blue). My cup, or my beer bottle anyway, did bubble over at that point. Then he added, "Are you their chaperone?" 

Bubble burst.

But the beer tasted so good that I merely smiled benignly.

In the course of the Hunt for The Keef we found ourselves a few months back at the private view of Ronnie Wood's exhibition at his gallery on Bruton Street, Mayfair  http://www.castlegalleries.com/artists/ronnie-wood#collection 

A nice man made conversation with us, we figured he mustn't know anybody, so we kept him company for a while. Watching the BBC coverage of Glastonbury the other week, we shrieked and pointed at the screen, for there he was on stage, one-time member of the band returned, Mick Taylor. 

On another day we were on Savile Row to collect fabric from Holland & Sherry (for Ms. Curbishley's suit indeed). In the little lift on the way back down I ran through our Priority To-do list for the day, top of which was "Find Keef". The lift doors opened and there was Ronnie Wood waiting to get in as we got out. I am not normally stunned or mute but I returned his friendly grin with a slack jaw. And then he was gone.

Not Keith

Swinging with the Stones in Hyde Park

Here's some pix of our quarry:

My lovely chaperones. NOT the other way round. And not, obviously, Keith.

KEITH!!! Was the flash of red our scarf??!! No.

Mick Jagger walking over the crowd but if it's not Keith walking toward me then it's not helpful

Not Keith, but Ronnie. Surprisingly fine painter as well, but not Keith.

Keith looked like he was having a good time, and I certainly was

Not only is it Keith but it is SMILEY Keith (we had worried he didn't look too chipper at Glastonbury)

Not only Keith, but Keith with our pal Mick Taylor

Attention seeker

Keith and Charlie, who also look surprisingly happy, possibly as this may be their last gig and he won't have to tour 

What it is we're trying to get to him, Anna McNeil's beautiful portrait that we commissioned, printed on silk satin crepe, as yet unhemmed in this picture

So we hope to have the full and concluded story of our first series of silk scarves, Les Fool'ards de Bedlam, wrapped up and posted soon. Don't go wandering off now!

The Earl of Bedlam packed his truck and said 'ello to the Borders

Trunk shows are a traditional route for designers to take their work to fresh territories. Like travelling salesmen, way back in March we packed our bunches of fabric samples, pieces of our work and the trusty tape measure and headed for the bus stop. We needed a blast of fresh air and our boiler was still broken so it couldn't have been colder in Scotland than it was in our flat. Arthur Sweerts invitation to measure him up in situ at his hotel, the Buccleuch (pronounced Buck-looo with a little throat clearing to finish if you want to be really authentic) & Queensberry Arms in Thornhill, Dumfries & Galloway, was all the nudge we needed. The 59 bus took us - and said trunks - from Walnut Tree Walk to Euston where we hopped the train to Lockerbie. Three and a half hours later, Arthur met us at the station. It was as if we'd stepped through a magical revolving door. Not an hour later we were sitting down to a delicious dinner with his papa, Baron "Dolf" Sweerts de Landas Wyborg.  It was through the beneficent patronage of Sweerts pere et fils ("vader en zoon" meme) (Dolf Vader, get outta here!) that we started the year shored up and able to make the "Hell for Leather" collection. 

The next morning Papa Dolf took us up to the castle. At the risk of making this sound like a Transylvanian idyll, the village of Thornhill is cruciform, and above it sits the rose pink ramparts and onion turrets of Drumlanrig, one of the many seats of the Duke of Buccleuch & Queensberry: http://www.drumlanrig.com/.
I consider myself reasonably familiar with the stately homes of these isles but this gem was a revelation. There was nothing about it the slightest bit familiar to me but now, partly thanks to Dolf and Arthur taking over the kitchens, it is going to take its place on your Places to Visit list. The art collection is magnificent. They have a Rembrandt, a Holbein and a Gainsborough. The da Vinci went out through a window some years back so that is now safely in a gallery. Mr Wesley almost went out the same way with the curly horned ram's head snuff receptacle with little silver spoon, nostril duster and moustache brush attached by fine silver chains.

Mr Wesley bows his head before the Rosy Queen of the Borders, Drumlanrig Castle; Dolf in his rosy sweater.

Snow was all around and Dolf took us across to their house to check on the lambs. As many as possible were brought into the sheds, those that had survived being born on the icy ground. Here is my lamb:

At their house we noticed the same style, at once best and beautiful but entirely unselfconscious and comfortable, in harmony with its environment, that distinguishes the hotel. This is the skill of Arthur's mama, Caroline. Outside I took in the family crest in which two satyrs, like the goatish gentlemen on the buttons of the Last Emperor's Opium Smoking Jacket that brought our worlds together, stand either side of the shield. I mentioned it, amazed, to Arthur. "I thought you had chosen them deliberately," he replied. Ah, do not dismiss lightly the fateful properties of Grandma Ella's button box.

One of a pair of glass buttons that adorn Arthur's lavish jacket that combines the curly horned snuff receptacle much admired by Mr Wesley in the castle and Arthur's own heraldic satyrs 

Arthur's dog Merlin came along for some dashing about in the snow. We should make him a coat too:

Back at the BQA Hotel it was time to set out our stall and in no time a huddle of the curious and clothes-inclined amassed.

Arthur went first, then Alasdair the hotel manager, then Harriet the receptionist, then Jeff the waiter, then Stephen the barman, then David the whisky maker (www.creativewhisky.co.uk), then Andrew the estate owner, then Dolf, and last and by all means the most tattooed, came Russell the gamekeeper!

In no time at all it was May and I could think of no better place to spend my birthday, so with Taffy in tow we clickety-clacked back up the track to Scotland. It was that much lighter into the evening and we saw fabulous landscape that had been cloaked in darkness the first time we went up.

What everyone else wanted to see was how their clobber was coming along:

"Mr Whisky" David Stirk

Alasdair the hotel manager

Half belt at the back

A little button stops the pocket sagging

Dolf

 Russell,
game keeper of legend

We love Arthur, he has brought good things to Bedlam so it pleases us to see him smile

Arthur went half'n'half with his lining, one side blue for Scotland, the other orange for Holland

The Dolf Vader himself, who is actually waaaaaay Yoda

Andrew being fitted in his chalk stripe. He has no intention of ever seeing London again before he dies (far off we hope) if he can help it so was glad of our bringing Bedlam to his doorstep

Harriet getting horsey in the "Megan" jacket that has proved to be a winner with the Ladies

So don't simply take take our word for it, check out what they say on Tripadvisor:
http://www.tripadvisor.com/Hotel_Review-g1237035-d628001-Reviews-Buccleuch_Queensberry_Hotel-Thornhill_Dumfries_and_Galloway_Scotland.html

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Arthur with Merlin in the door of the hotel, wearing the hat I made him to go with the jacket

Bird's eye view (possibly a peacock) of the hat

Dolf borrows both Merlin and outfit from Arthur to pose in the door of his fine establishment 

Back South, last week saw a preview of the sale of garden statuary that Dolf & Caroline are having through Christies. If you get your telephone bid in this afternoon, it is going on as I type. Go potty, take a browse through the e-catalogue and treat yourself. You know you've urned it:

http://www.christies.com/eCatalogues/Index.aspx?id=35CC46F04E0A4D0798D50DEA6EF27910

We had a lovely evening as the sun came out at the end of the day, led about the gardens of Dunsborough Park by Arthur. 

http://www.dunsboroughpark.com/

Mr Wesley wore his lilly white dinner jacket with the lucky Japanese goldfish shell buttons, and Arthur, what else, wore his Bedlam jacket.

Eric & Ern take a turn about the urns

Cheeky little cherub, and a statue

Arthur and his hand maidens

Arthur, the finest bloom in the garden, in The Last emperor's Opium Smoking jacket amongst the Orientalis poppies

Last Saturday there was another do to preview the sale at which Bentley rolled out some of their fleet. Mr Wesley put this one on his Christmas list:

Not quite sure how I ended up with this, no room for luggage and extremely drafty on the motorway:

We wish them all the best of luck today as their treasured collection goes under the hammer. We know there is a degree of separation anxiety, kind of like when we create a suit for someone and they come to collect it. My secret bid's down for this red trousered character, here dipping into the curly horned ram's head snuff dispenser. Going once! Going twice! Gone to the lady in the fine tweed tailoring!