Nicol & Ford
In the wake of their Australian Fashion Week sophomore collection, VAULT considers the exceptional beauty – and exceptional tomorrows – envisioned by designers Nicol & Ford.
Image credit: Nicol & Ford's Comet, AAFW 2023. Photo: Aisha Hume
Courtesy Nicol & Ford
I had been here often.
Newtown in the summertime. “A rosé summer,” she called it. Exclusively French, pistachio-husk-dry. So: station exit, liquor store, the torpid pedestrian signal, the tepid bottle. Enfeebling strides crossing the turnpike where the bitumen mirage surprises – it has heft here, real body – smouldering asphalt, barren and sere. King Street, then Australia Street.
A police station. A fire station. A (once) courthouse now pub. But importantly, a little dog with prideful mien sat in a window on a cushion, forepaws bras bas, set-jawed, Rembrandt-eyed. Very desirable. A dusty blonde kennel cut you want to brush with gentle hands, turning it now silver, now dun. On his account at 247 Australia Street many stop to tap on the steaming glass, to coo and take pictures. Maestro is either nonplussed or saturnine, so they lose focus, stepping back with expanding gaze, appreciating the window’s totalising vignette––
A pair of mannequins, languorous in the manner of an outdated Butterick pattern envelope, bewigged – alternately choppy black Joan Jett jellyfish or towering Barbara Windsor peroxide piles – and besuited, silks on the bias.
Always on the bias.
An invitation to linger. Ogle, even. No blame – such a conspiracy of seductive details, much to take in. Beside the mannequins there I am too, now cross-legged and bobbined, tacking upholstery jacquard ruffles to a pair of corset-laced tapestry clam diggers. My friends are everywhere, each with threaded needle dutifully wrestling their own lapful of ruffles. One has her arse out (decorously, for a fitting). Katie-Louise Nicol-Ford and Lillian (Lil) Nicol-Ford preside, toiling and beaming, splashing ever ... Subscribe to read this article in full
