PUCCI COLLECTION / CATALOG

PUCCI

Private Collection 1960’s - 2000’s

Fiona Spear Interview

Caught in the swirl

Emilio Pucci’s designs defined the 60s. His brilliant waves of colour swooped and dived across everything from silk jersey frocks to umbrellas. His biggest fan lives in New York, has a huge collection of Pucci paraphernalia and can’t wait to get her hands on more.

“I’m a Pucciholic, Fiona Spear declares in a breathless voice, as if in thrall to, but trying to kick, an unsavoury habit. Not likely. The only 12 steps this Adelaide-born, New York resident is inclined to take are those necessary to walk across her immaculate SoHo apartment to a credenza filled with all manner of Pucci paraphernalia. Inside it are vintage scarves, handbags, swimsuits, sunglasses and stationery all bearing the distinctive colourful swirls of the Italian fashion house. Welcome to PA: Pucciholics Anonymous.

At a time when fashion can seem increasingly homogeneous. with identical garments available in identical stores the world over, and a global saturation of trends, it’s intriguing to come across an individual who triumphantly flies her own flag. For more than a decade Spear has been an insatiable hunter and gatherer of everything to do with Pucci, the idiosyncratic label that, along with pop art and the Beatles, is unmistakably wrapped up in the iconography of the 60s.

Despite the giddy object of her affection, Spear is far from being a wacked-out flower child. On the contrary, the day Vogue scoots by her apartment she is the very picture of a modern careerist, garbed in the customary New York uniform of blackon- black, her chestnut hair scraped back into a neat ponytail, her flawless skin free of any make-up. She is wearing neither lurid leggings nor Mary Quant nail polish. It immediately transpires.

that Spear is a part-time Pucciholic, electing to wear the label in her down time from being an in-demand freelance art director. “When I put on a piece of Pucci,” she says, “it means I’m going to have some fun.

Fun is the only way to describe a nearby rack groaning under the weight of jersey dresses, silk shirts, velvet skirts and scarves swirled with exuberant colours and patterns. Viewed in its entirety, Spear’s collection recalls the clothes 60s author Jacqueline Susann might have packed for a racy worldwide book tour. Her apartment is a repository of more than 100 Pucci pieces, plucked from flea markets (especially New York’s 26th Street Markets). vintage-clothing stores such as Resurrection in New York’s East Village and via clothing agents, some of whom recognise the avid collector on sight. Prior to our meeting, Spear had been accosted in the street by an agent with earth-shattering news. “He was chasing me yelling, ‘Oh! Oh! Oh! I’ve got Pucci towels! I have been looking for Pucci towels forever. They were in production for just two years in the 60s. I have the handtowels, but I really want the beach towels.”

For Spear, Pucci has a talismanic power. She carries at least a single piece with her wherever she goes - a key ring, a handbag or a pair of brilliant, fly’s-eye sunglasses. (She owns a pair Elton John could well have called his own at some point in his flamboyant career.) With such sartorial distractions as these, it’s little wonder Spear is content to watch fashion styles ebb and flow. “My collection will always be in for me,” she says, smiling broadly. Paradoxically, this is a Pucci moment in fashion. The last European collections were all about Pucci-inspired prints at Versace, Gucci and Fendi, while the LVMH juggernaut recently acquired the original fashion house, evidently believing the time is ripe for a comeback. Although Spear is a regular at the Pucci boutique on East 64th Street, snaffling such pieces as the striking mini-cushions on her sofa, it’s the original stuff she really lives for.

The fashion house Emilio Pucci built peaked in the swinging 60s when the aristocratic Florentine designer - a former World War II pilot-dropped a colour bomb on the American fashion scene. The so-called Prince of Prints spawned the perfect jet-set wardrobe, using fluid silk jerseys stamped with psychedelic, kaleidoscopic designs that appealed to the new generation of liberated American women. That the label was also adopted by the likes of Lauren Bacall, Ingrid Bergman, Elizabeth Taylor, Audrey Hepburn and Marilyn Monroe (who was said to have been buried in Pucci) guaranteed it a place in the style hall of fame. Puccimania spread to everything from sundresses to Vespas, from ski wear to a logo for the Apollo 15 space flight. The Italian designer even dreamt up the wacky uniforms for US airline Braniff, including clear space helmets, and modern carriers take note-bookings shot up as a result.

One of Spear’s most treasured pieces is a Braniff umbrella, a riot of colour that feasibly could be used to land a plane. She also values the ceramics Pucci designed for Rosenthal, delicate but intensely coloured bowls and plates that take pride of place atop the George Nelson credenza.

Not surprisingly, the cumulative effect of all these brilliant Pucci treasures is a wholly positive one. As Emilio Pucci once observed: “Colour is a language by itself; it excites you or soothes you.” Spear agrees, “When you’re wearing Pucci you can’t help but be in a good mood. It’s hard to wear it sometimes in

Manhattan because it’s such a full-on city. But if we’re having a cocktail party or a dinner party, or if I’m going away somewhere, I always pull out the Pucci”

Spear was first turned on to Pucci by her twin sister, Trudi Scrymgour, one-half of hip Sydney design firm, Form Follows Function. By the time Spear decamped to New York 10 years ago, to pursue a career as a graphic designer with clients including Volvo, EMI, Iridium and the Museum of Modern Art, she discovered she was in vintage heaven.

Located on funky Mott Street, Resurrection is Spear’s favourite haunt, where she has picked up originals by Halston, Yves Saint Laurent and Courrèges; she owns a zinging orange vinyl coat Heather Graham could have worn as Felicity Shagwell in Austin Powers: The Spy Who Shagged Me. No doubt her affinity with these labels has much to do with her appreciation for standout design.

Asked what he makes of his wife’s Pucci fascination, Spear’s husband, Geoff, chuckles. “It’s pretty dangerous.” he says wryly. “It brings colour into our lives.” Geoff is a still-life photographer, and the pair work from home in a coolly minimalist downtown loft that divides neatly into apartment and studio. The space was designed by Trudi Scrymgour and awarded the 21st Best Residence plaudit from New York’s Interiors magazine earlier this year. One of the walls in the bedroom is painted a blazing shade of orange, suggesting the Pucci collection stored behind it. Riffling through the sideboard before leaving, we even find a Pucci perfume. Does Spear wear it?

She lets out a piercing giggle. “No! It stinks”