Fashion designer and co-founder of New Zealand Bride, Vinka Lucas, MNZM died in August, aged 88. Her funeral was last Saturday. Writer, former model and muse, Judith Baragwanath remembers a glamorous woman with a spine of steel.
So, farewell then, Vinka Lucas, last of the legends in the glamorous world of brides and After Five. For decades – starting in the 60s – anyone who was anyone knew her name and they knew where to find her: Maree de Maru, her magnificent emporium on dreary old Queen St. Whether a customer or just an intrigued passer-by walking in off the street, they would equally find themselves instantly swept up and captivated – transported even - by the sheer flamboyance of her salon. It was like stepping into an Aladdin's cave.
On the ground floor (when After Five was a "thing") bolts of glittering fabric cascaded from ceiling to floor alongside endless long, glass cabinets of bright, shiny things: crystals, beads, buttons, tiaras and every geegaw imaginable imported from all the great fashion houses of Europe: you name it and it was on display, begging to be bought. The price tags were eye-watering. Vinka was selling a dream and we were happy to oblige. Her true love, of course, was bridal wear and up the staircase was where the bride-to-be might peruse and pick her lace, pore over picture books or point to a gown on a mannequin and then Vinka would get to work with a tape measure around her neck and a pin cushion strapped to her wrist. The magic had begun.
Back in those days, weddings were big business. Besides the all-important bride, there were the bridesmaids – A. Lot. Of. Bridesmaids – and I remember a certain doyen of fashion today teetering down the aisle engulfed in acres of virtuous Chantilly lace trailed by her six bridesmaids, neck-to-toe in lilac tulle. On their heads they wore demure boa-trimmed Bo-Peep bonnets and each girl carried a huge basket of fresh flowers. It was an extravaganza. Your actual fairy tale wedding. The cost must have been prohibitive. The marriage didn't last.
Vinka, inexplicably, took a shine to me. I was fond of her in return and we used to "do" lunch. I'd flounce into her bridal suite, all big hair, bigger hat, dripping lip gloss and trowel-applied industrial-strength face paint to meet her – a Vinka Vision in, oh, I don't know, a full-length chiffon number perhaps (sometimes After Five started early) and with her waist-length red hair stacked high on her head, we'd hit the pavement wandering up the hill to the dining room of a long gone and forgotten hotel.
