As an art student in the late 1970s, I happened across a paperback book called
Cheap Chic by
Caterine Milinaire and
Carol Troy. I had discovered my style bible, eventually transforming it into a tattered and dog-eared thing with the corners of my favorite pages folded down. A decade later, I let it go during a misguided fit of decluttering. I've regretted it ever since.
Long out of print, it now sells for ridiculous amounts at
Amazon. I wish I could find it again, not because it's worth so much cash, but because the lessons it taught me are still creative and exciting. This book was the real deal.
Cheap Chic was all about the
principles of style. No strict rules (this was the 70s, after all), but full of lessons about embracing individual style (something of a new concept at the time), having fun with clothes, and being frugal about it at the same time.
Thanks to the blogs
Notes to a Mouse and
Mrs. Gorman, I can re-visit this treasure trove. From my favorite chapter on "Classics":
Sometimes Cheap Chic boils down to spending much more than you feel you
can afford on the kind of classic, quality clothes we talk about in this
chapter. We think it saves money in the long run. . . . There are still
certain things you shouldn't fudge on no matter how cheaply you dress:
the very best boots, a sturdy bag, a glorious jacket or shirt. You can't
afford cheap boots that will last a year and then crack across the
sole. If you had loads of money you could; but since you don't, spend
your money where it shows the most.
This defined my fashion philosophy. Looking back, I see that it was exactly in line with what my blue-collar parents taught me:
buy the best you can afford and only buy what you need, then take excellent care of what you have. They also lived by a folk saying (Scandinavian, I think): "Poor people can't afford cheap shoes". I remember my father polishing his sturdy black leather work shoes to a beautiful gloss every Sunday night. I often do the same: on Sunday nights I get the urge to clean and polish my shoes, de-fuzz sweaters, and repair anything that needs a few stitches. It's very satisfying.
My favorite style muse in
Cheap Chic was Ingeborg Day and her "Cost-per-Wear" system. An enthusiastic student, I studied her style carefully and tried to emulate it as best I could:
I also fell madly in love with the look of this traditional French jeweler's smock. When I was living in Italy in my late 20s, I made a trip to Paris and-- miracle of miracles-- found one at
La Samaritaine. I was thrilled, even though the chic sales assistant was utterly puzzled as to why I would want such a thing. I wore it with a long black skirt underneath and a beautiful wool Fair Isle vest on top.
Find the clothes that suit you best, that make you feel comfortable,
confident, sexy, good looking and happy ... and then hang onto them like
old friends ... Nobody knows better than you what you should wear or
how you should look. (quote via
Last-Year Girl, who has another nice post about CC.)
Why some brilliant publisher doesn't re-issue this, I don't know. I can only hope and wait.