1001 prints | Celia Birtwell

Ossie Clarke and Celia Birtwell are synonymous with the spirit of Swinging London in the sixties. The then husband and wife team's floaty diaphanous clothes - the cut designed by Ossie, the whimsical print and pattern by Celia - had Twiggy, Bianca et al banging on their King's Road door demanding to wear them. Although I wasn't around in the sixties, I have a real fondness for Celia Birtwell's romantic prints and her signature colour palette of red, cream, charcoal, soft pink, green and blue - inspired, she says, by the paintings of Matisse and Picasso, the costumes of the Ballets Russes and the gardens of Vita Sackville-West.

Forty years on, the woman sometimes referred to as 'the face that launched a thousand prints' has just created her own website, offering all manner of homewares and accessories all adorned with her designs. I particularly love the vintage clothing section where you can buy and sell Ossie Clark/Celia Birtwell originals - each with a certificate of authentication and sketch of the garment by Celia herself. I also like that you can buy her prints in the form of fabric or wallpaper. All in all, I think the homewares and accessories on offer - ranging from notebooks and greetings cards through to mugs, plates and gardening paraphernalia including a cute pair of gardening gloves - are pretty, sweet and playful.

But although I like the new accessories, it's the frocks which always do it for me. Some of you may remember the great stampede at Topshop a couple of years ago for Celia's gorgeous printed tea dresses and blouses based on her own vintage designs. For those of you like me who did not have the patience or the elbows to see one in the flesh, let alone grab one, you still have a chance. This summer, Celia created a capsule collection of clothes, bags and homewares, exclusively for British high street stalwart John Lewis. The collection includes some lovely billowy sleeved dresses and blouses and I have my eye on this little number (below), a Rock Print Silk Dress and... well I'm going to need a lovely green, tasselled, leather drawstring pouch to go with that.

However, the other day I spied a less successful Birtwell collaboration currently selling in Boots. A bizarre mish-mash of cosmetic purses, socks and make-up brushes - Celia Birtwell eyelash curlers anyone? I can see she is probably trying to appeal to a younger generation in the same way she did when she worked with Millets a couple of years ago by creating a range of festival-chic camping gear. But for me, I think the beauty and timelessness of her prints lend themselves best where she ultimately began - clothing.

Top image: Vintage Ossie Clark for Radley Tea Dress

Middle image: (l-r) Lullaby Notebook Grey; Pretty Woman Mug; Red Candy Flower Blanket; Dandy Garden Gloves; Bird Song Cherry Red on Crisp Linen; Blue Lullaby Bag For Life; Pretty Woman Flask; Candy Girls Greeting Card; Charcoal & Cream Monkey Puzzle Scarf

Bottom images: Celia Birtwell for John Lewis Gathered Front Rock Print Silk Dress; Celia Birtwell for John Lewis Soft Leather Drawstring Pouch, Green

A Stitch In Time

What to write in my first ever blog post? Natalie is of course the seasoned hand at this and can reel off the most wonderful blog posts in the blink of an eye. As for me, it’s been a head-scratcher.

So I’m keeping it simple and starting with a fabric keepsake - my grandmother’s Peranakan blouses from the 1950’s. I should briefly explain that Peranakan refers to the 15th century descendants of Chinese traders who settled and intermarried in what is now known as Malaysia and Singapore - and from whom both my parents’ families are descended. One afternoon, on a visit to Singapore over a decade ago, my maternal grandmother and I were poring over old photo albums while sipping Chinese tea. I was particularly taken with the black and white photos of Nyonya (Peranakan women) elegantly posing in their traditional dress of sarong kebaya – a long sleeved buttonless embroidered blouse (kebaya) tailored to skim over the figure and worn over a colourful batik sarong. “I still have my old nyonya kebaya”, my grandmother told me walking over to an old wooden armoire in the corner of her bedroom. Pulling open a drawer she held up to the light several of the most exquisite blouses I had ever seen. I was smitten.


Made from delicate cotton voile each kebaya varied in colour from pristine white to vibrant turquoise, mossy green to buttercup yellow. The intricate embroidery (known as sulam) on each was of flora, richly detailed around the edges of the seams and sleeves either in contrasting coloured threads or matched to the same hue of the cotton voile.It could take a highly skilled seamstress up to six months to painstakingly stitch just one nyonya kebaya and was an expensive outlay even in the 1950’s. It made me curious about the Peranakan culture I knew little about. Rooted in Chinese tradition and strongly influenced by the Portuguese, Dutch and British. They were known for taking great pride in their appearance and for being skilled artisans in needlecraft, ornate embroidery and intricate beadwork that they used to embellish clothing, shoes and all manner of textiles for the home.

My grandmother’s kebayas had lain forgotten in a drawer for decades. A garment once synonymous with Peranakan heritage and identity had long fallen out of favour with fashion (though I now hear they are enjoying a bit of a revival). Surprised by my admiration for her ‘old blouses’ she gave them to me, and said they needed someone to appreciate them. Even at my slimmest there was never a chance I was ever going to fit into them tailored as they were to my grandmother’s petite frame. Instead I see each kebaya as part of a lost art form and have carefully stored them away for posterity. But on occasion I like to take them out of their tissue paper, run my hand over the embroidery, slide an arm through the sleeve to feel the fineness of the fabric, give a nod to the seamstress who toiled over it, and daydream about the stories hidden in their stitches.