The V&A is looking for people who own Mary Quant garments to get in touch to help bring a very special exhibition to life: find out more!
For the purposes of writing this article, I am wearing a short, tight Biba miniskirt (fortunately elasticised!) that I dug out of the back of my cupboard, Mary Quant green and black striped tights, a slouchy cable-knit sweater and sheepskin boots. I last wore a miniskirt in 1968 and I just wanted to see what it felt like to wear a mini after all these years.
Although many designers, including André Courrèges, played a part in inventing the miniskirt, it was Quant who brought the tiny band of fabric (designed to fall 6-7in above the knee) to the masses in the mid-Sixties, along with a straight (ironed under brown paper) fringe, smoky kohl-rimmed eyes, white lipstick and PVC boots. Wearing a miniskirt marked you as a ‘dolly bird’, and if you had a Morris Mini Minor to go with it, you were seriously in with the in crowd. In fact, Quant is said to have named the skirt after her favourite make of car.
The aim was to shock your mother, outrage your teachers and send your grandmother to an early grave. I would leave home each morning in my grey knee-length school skirt but, as soon as I’d turned the corner of our street, I’d tug it up at the waistband until it reached a respectable mid-thigh. At Sloane Square tube station, I joined a giggling battalion of schoolmates who had all done the same. When we reached South Kensington station we would (sadly) tug our hemlines down again in case we ran into a disapproving teacher. The big test was school assembly – we were desperate to avoid the fate of one classmate who had been caught pulling down her skirt (and so suffered the indignity of being made to kneel on the floor and measured). Your hemline had to be exactly one inch from the floor – no more. The punishment was writing out ‘I must never wear a miniskirt to school again’ 100 times under the watchful eye of the head prefect (at one time a certain Camilla Shand, now the Duchess of Cornwall).
Since then, miniskirts have never really gone away. Girls still wear them teamed with matt black tights and big sweaters, or with a push-up bra, low Lurex top, towering heels and too-bright lipstick. The first is a great look on the young: the second, not so much, though Quant might well disagree. ‘I love vulgarity,’ she once said. ‘Good taste is death, vulgarity is life.’
Whatever your view, the short, sassy skirt is today as popular as ever.
How to make the jumpsuit work for you
Now in her eighties, Mary Quant was the Queen of Cool in the Sixties. Think a brunette, ultra-creative and more innovative Mary Portas. Her shop, Bazaar, in the King’s Road in Chelsea was the ultimate destination on a Saturday afternoon, along with Quorum in Radnor Walk, Foale and Tuffin in Carnaby Street, and Biba in Kensington. It was elegant and light, her make-up packaged in white or black boxes with her trademark silver daisy on them. Twiggy and Jean Shrimpton could be seen there, browsing through rails of miniskirts.
‘We caused such a hoo-ha!’ Quant says. ‘City gents were so affronted by Bazaar. They would bang on the windows with their rolled-up umbrellas!'
I modelled at Bazaar myself once. We pirouetted up and down a strip of red carpet all day, to my own embarrassment, but to the envy of friends who came to watch. Quant herself was there to tweak the models’ hemlines to make sure they were the requisite shocking length, and her shop assistants were the epitome of British cool.
How to be an older model
A very British thing
Quant was altogether a very British thing. As was Pattie Boyd – the embodiment of a British ‘dolly bird’. Then living with George Harrison in Surrey, she remembers going into her local village. ‘I was verbally attacked by an irate woman, who asked, “Do you know what you look like?” Well, I knew I was wearing a fabulously short skirt by Mary Quant and an antique blouse, so I told her I thought my outfit was very cool. My knickers weren’t showing, so I didn’t see the problem! She snarled at me, then walked away!’
London was the home of the miniskirt, but woe betide you if you travelled. The Danish model and magazine cover girl Dot Jensen remembers wearing a miniskirt in Spain in 1964. ‘Barcelona was steeped in another century – girls still dressed as their mothers did. I was staying at the Ritz and as I stepped out of the revolving doors, men started screaming and grabbing me. I thought they were going to lynch me! I spent the rest of my time there covered from top to toe.’
Vintage sixties and seventies fashion
A fashion trend
They say that in boom times skirts rise and in recessions hemlines fall. The Sixties miniskirt was swiftly followed by the maxi, reflecting a new era of austerity. And although there’s currently an element of ‘any length goes’, the catwalk collections are featuring longer-length, demure day dresses and billowing, ankle-skimming gowns. Anyone who experienced the joyful freedom of wearing a miniskirt in 1965, the insouciance of sashaying down the street to wolf whistles and screeching tyres, will also remember the irritation of wrapping yards of Seventies tweed skirt round the handlebars of one’s bike before setting off. I know which I prefer.
So, how did I feel wearing the mini in the privacy of my own home? Great, actually, but I won’t be wearing it again as the golden rule is that miniskirts look better on the young. It doesn’t matter whether the look is fun, girly and free, or a little bit tarty, the effect should be the same as it was in the Sixties: it should titillate and ensure a girl makes an entrance.
I leave the last word to the model Penelope Tree, whose huge eyes, straight fringe, heart-shaped face and long legs were photographed by David Bailey and Richard Avedon: ‘The miniskirt was a phenomenon – a genuinely original fashion trend. Nothing like it had been seen before. It was all about sex and freedom.’
The first Mary Quant exhibition in 50 years to open April 2019
In April 2019, the V&A will be displaying the first international retrospective on the revolutionary fashion designer in nearly 50 years. The exhibition will bring together over 200 objects, the majority of which have never been on public display.
If you'd like to help the V&A bring the exhibition further to life, you're in luck! The museum is launching a public call-out to track down rare Mary Quant garments and gather personal stories.
Garments that the V&A is looking for include:
• Rare and early one-off designs sold between 1955 and 1960 in Quant’s renowned Bazaar boutiques. Located in Chelsea, Knightsbridge and Bond Street, the boutiques were famed for their eccentric window displays and irreverent, ‘club-like’ atmosphere.
• Early experimental garments in PVC, especially from Quant’s ‘Wet’ collection, unveiled in 1963, when the material was still a work-in-progress.
• Seminal styles from 1964 and 1965 with Peter Pan collars.
• Mary Quant knitwear, swimwear and accessories.
• Garments made using Mary Quant Butterick patterns. The patterns launched in 1964, for the first time making it possible for thousands of home dressmakers on a budget to wear Quant’s designs.
To unearth these elusive garments, capture these amazing stories, and for the chance to feature in the exhibition, the V&A is urging people to get in touch by email at firstname.lastname@example.org, and to share their pictures and memories on social media, using the hashtag #WeWantQuant.
Saga readers say...
'I got married in a white minidress in 1970 - it wasn't a Mary Quant. BUT I do still have a tube of Mary Quant Starkers and a tube of Mary Quant Smoothers in the iconic black tubes. They must be about 50 years old and I'm 75.' - Sylvia, via Facebook
'I wish I still had mine! My khaki one with sunshine yellow zips was cut up to make Action Man accessories!' - Janet, via Facebook
This article originally appeared in Saga Magazine.
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