Stanley Green and his punk connection!

Okay, Miss Mannequin has to admit that she's a figure of some mature years! You would never guess this ordinarily, buoyed up as i am by regular remodelling work and seasonal style makeovers.

I tell you this oh trusted reader to prepare the way for asking - who remembers Stanley Green?

No?...... Strikes no memory?

Then if i then ask - who remembers Protein Man? the mists must surely part a little? 

Stanley Green - god bless him, plodded diligently up and down the street of the fleshpots (Oxford Street) from the late 60's until his sad demise in the 90's. He was the stoically bespectacled one, a sinister-looking capped man in a mac bizarrely parading his banner campaigning for eating less of ..... well, most things it would seem! 

He was such a regular on the shopping streets of W1 that he was barely noticed and became part of the scenery. Always severe looking and considered to be a bit oddball - but prone to the odd smile when photographed. 

Little more is known about him, but I discovered his love-worn (and much sellotaped) banner on my recent visit to the newly refitted Museum of London. This image shows the late 70's version of his message (the sixties version included lentils!). 

What i cannot help but notice .... is the odd similarily in form of Stanley's pre punk graphic style to the New York punk fabric designs of designer Stephen Sprouse. Bold and strong, edge to edge, they both fill the space with handcrafted letters on a black background, each with a no nonsense message to impart and a lifelong compulsion to follow it through!

What Miss mannequin ponders is this.... Was there any connection? 

Did Stanley hang out with Stephen, Debbie Harry and Warhol?? Did Stephen get inspiration from Stanley on his many trips to London? The mind boggles ..... Miss Mannequin WILL get to the bottom of this mystery.

The curious tale of Lester and Cynthia - a model love affair

I have a strange and most wonderful anecdote to share with you about a long distant great aunt of mine, Cynthia.

Living in New York during the 1930s, she was the muse to an avant-garde sculptor, Lester Gaba. Lester was by profession a soap sculptor! What a marvellously eccentric occupation in itself. Super talented and mixing in all the right circles, he was commissioned to sculpt a set of mannequins for a store window. These stylish debutante type figures became an instant hit. A marked departure from their predecessors (heavy, lumpen grande-dames from a bygone era), they became known as The Gaba Girls and every hip store wanted one.

Lester (feeling the Victor Frankenstein urge I suppose) was compelled to create his ultimate dream-girl, my auntie Cynthia, a beautiful socialite mannequin, beguiling yet detached, she was always posed to model perfection with a cigarette constantly held aloft.

Lester and Cynthia were the toast of New York society. So much so that Lester could not bear to be separated from this gorgeous creature. Ever the romantic, she became his constant companion and was transported with him wherever he went........Dates to the opera, The Stork Club, rides around the city on open top buses, nothing was too good for Aunt Cynthia. He and all of New York were truly besotted. Cartier and Tiffany lent her jewels to wear on their outings. Couturiers rushed to clothe her for their various jaunts. They were like the Posh and Becks of their day, feted wherever they went.

What’s wrong with all that you may think? Well, Aunt Cynthia may have appeared a modern girl on the outside (all light, fluffy and vivacious), but the terrible truth be told.....she was infact made of plaster! 3 men had to be constantly on hand to shift her from venue to venue. Running repairs were a constant nightmare, to say nothing of the fear of damp weakening her joints! Her health began to deteriorate. The tale takes a downward turn here, along with her health. The love affair ended in disaster, when Cynthia visited a beauty salon with Lester and dramatically slipped off a chair to be shattered into a hundred pieces. Poor Lester, he was never the same again!

A cautionary tale I think. Let me advise you……..be very careful about your fittings and more importantly, the company you keep.

Good day.

This is a museum ..... not a snoozeum!

After my recent jaunt out to take in the sites of the town last week, Miss Mannequin is thrilled to report on what is happening over at The Museum of London, where five gloriously informative galleries have recently been relaunched. Not even a mile from my Barbican showgirl's home, this magnificent institution charts life in our fair capital. From the Great Fire of London onwards, the lower galleries tell the tale of the developments and grand schemes of London and more importantly perhaps, the everyday lives of its citizens. Miss Mannequin was most especially fascinated by the costumes and paraphernalia of London society (high and low brow) and came across many of my old mannequin mates.

A particular highlight was the beautifully engineered Pleasure Gardens gallery (of which i showed you a sneak preview last week), where Miss Mannequin imagined how much more interesting life was during the 18th and 19th Centuries when pleasure gardens were the height of novelty and fashion. Privately owned and often sited on the outskirts of great cities, pleasure gardens could be accessed (at a small fee) for the public to take a turn in, enjoying tree lined avenues, fountains, orchestras amongst the greenery and the like. Imagine taking refreshment in a night-time walled garden with fireworks popping overheard as you admire the fashion parade passing by you. Quite delightful. Miss Mannequin wholly approves and thinks we should resurrect such amusement immediately .... on the other hand, is that not what shopping malls and high streets have become these days? Not quite the same me-thinks!

The other high-point i want to tell you about from the galleries, is the exquisite mantua style Fanshawe dress on display. Named after it's owner (former Mayoress Anne Fanshawe), this beautifully preserved garment is exhibited on a cutaway mannequin (it takes all kinds - invisibility was never my thing though!). This wide, but narrow style of dress was popular around 1750 and held it shape with the aid of a panniered underskirt constructed from whalebone. Taking up to six months to weave the fabric alone, the expanse of material could be grandly displayed to show not only its beauty, but also the wealth of its owner! A bit of a problem for getting into carriages however!

Miss mannequin admired many other exhibits and will divulge more soon. In the meantime, you really should visit and .... don't forget to let me know what you think.

The Museum of London is at London Wall, London EC2Y 5HN