WOULD you read a couple of verses of John Donne more fervently if they came in a sleek little tome with some glitzy yellow-gloved glamazon on the cover? (See Carol Ann Duffy’s new anthology,
Out of Fashion).
Some would. But a librarian — for which, read a stylish and bookish type who would rather have her nose between some pages than in the air at most parties — wouldn’t care about that. She is the anti-fashionista and so very much more appealing for her accidental and quirky allure. Nothing matters as much as the books and the words, but wait — that doesn’t quite mean that it doesn’t matter at all.
Librarian chic, in its most popular use, is a slur — meaning a bit frumpy, a bit dusty, a bit not-exactly-of-this-moment. Oh, but how we disagree. We think it’s great: a little odd, a little pretty, a little kooky.
It’s the most charming end of fashion’s current (and apparently infinite) prim mood, which means that there are many appropriate clothes around now. Much of it is about old-fashioned layers of separates — cardigans and jumpers over blouses or camisoles — and pleated skirts. (NB: the best-looking and most flattering pleats start at the thighs, no higher).
Of course, there is much whirling around which “seeks to break the mean old stereotypes of librarianship”, as a researcher for one American college put it. (We’re not fusty or musty, they cry; just because we’re clever doesn’t mean that we’re dull!) One particularly earnest Chicagoan keeper of the books thinks that “the stereotype of the prissy glasses-and-dress-wearing, hair-in-a-bun librarian has more life than she does”. But we rather like the stereotype — long live the bookworm! Naturally, the stereotype has had a long and vigorous life on film — I refer you to the sweet, doe-eyed older lady (Donna Reed in It’s a Wonderful Life) and the twinkly young blonde (Carole Lombard in No Man of Her Own or Goldie Hawn in Foul Play). Apparently there is even an erotic version of Alice in Wonderland, in which Alice quite wonderfully becomes a “prudish, virginal librarian”, according to Martin Raish of Brigham Young University (Idaho), who adds, helpfully, that one version is X-rated, the other R-rated”.
It is not just about prim propriety, though. It’s a little messy, a little mussed-up, a little suddenly-sparkly. It's almost frumpy but reined back from that with unexpected touches of whimsy — chunky beads strung around and around the neck, or a cameo brooch perched at the end of some fabric-covered shoes (head to Miu Miu), say. With its muted tones (greys, browns, purples and greens), it verges on the dull, but the charm lies in how everything is combined, and the patterns (Thirties-style abstract and floral prints) and points of interest (a bow around the waist) that pull it all together.
From the school-uniform floor of any department store, seek out little jumpers and cardigans and wear over chiffon blouses (Mulberry, Giles or Topshop). Avoid the wool/acrylic mix (rather mean to make children wear something so scratchy, no?) and go for cotton, especially the V-necked jumpers and cardigans in grey, navy or bottle green. Their shrunkenness is their very point and, no, they don’t look odd. (If, comme moi, you went to a wayward West London comprehensive, where the only uniform was denim miniskirts, regulation-issue wear has a certain charm — but I do see that if you were ever required to wear it then it probably does not).
Woolly tights are best; John Lewis’s cotton-rich Supersoft version, also found in the children’s department, in black, navy, pale and dark grey. Ribbed socks — mannish ones, but soft and sleek, please — look great contrasted with patent shoes of any kind.
What about glasses, the stereotype’s staple? Some of us are so blind that they should have ceased to be a fashion choice long ago but thankfully Chanel does wonderful frames — rounded-rectangular and tortoiseshell, with the elongating and emphasising effect of eyeliner.
Bags should be big enough to hold books, a notebook and an A4-sized pad: Mulberry’s Jacquetta gets ten out of ten, and Jimmy Choo’s ladyish Tulita and Hut bags win the Mary Poppins prize for the surprising amount that they can conceal.
Shoes are mostly flat, or have a teeny heel, all the better for negotiating ladders and cobblestones, but sometimes they are elevated and surprisingly swish: in a jolting colour (teal), or with unusual detail (Marc Jacobs’s claret tasselled heels). Hair is slightly awry and skewered up, with either basic chemist-supply kirby grips or a beautifully decorative tortoiseshell comb.
And does our librarian judge people as some might judge books? Probably not. The cover is not much at all. But still, she sees (as should we all) that a little panache to take one from Monday to Tuesday is an excellent thing, even if you’re hidden away from the world between the stacks all day (and how blissful that would be).
CONTRAST COLOURS AND PATTERNS
Silk camisole, £59, by Pink Soda, cardigan, £109, by John Smedley, printed skirt, £179, by Betty Jackson, all at Fenwick (020-7629 9161); jumper, £89, by Jesiré at John Lewis (08456 049049), pleated skirt, £95, by Reiss (020-7225 4900); silk V-neck top, £199, by Paul & Joe at Fenwick, dusty pink cardigan, £246, by BJ Knits (020-7589 7884), woollen pleated skirt, £95, by Reiss; printed blouse, £79, by Jesiré (020-7420 4450), school cardigan, £15, by John Lewis (08456 049049), bouclé tweed skirt, £390, by Moschino (020-7318 0500); tea dress, £35 by Per Una Due at Marks & Spencer (0845 3021234); silk dress, £775, by Joseph (020-7590 6200)
KOOKY BUT CUTE ACCESSORIES
Gloves, £3.95, by John Lewis (08456 049049); comb, £45, by Collette Malouf at Fenwick (020-7629 9161); beads, from a selection by Les Nereides (020-7376 6270); Notebooks: all from £12 at John Lewis, except red notebook, £155, at Prada (020-7235 0008)
SWEET SHOES
T-bar shoes, £350, by Moschino (020-7318 0500); cameo pumps, £165, by Miu Miu (020-7409 0900); suede shoes, £105, by Poste Mistress (020-7379 4040); tasselled shoes, £310, by Marc Jacobs (020-7235 5000)
BAGS TO HOLD BOOKS
Mock croc, £75, J by Jasper Conran at Debenhams (020-7408 4444). Jacquetta bag, £495, by Mulberry (020- 7491 3900)
