I always did what I wanted and never cared what anyone thought. Women’s lib? I was a liberated
woman long before there was a word for it.
It’s not hard to understand why Peter Jensen fell in love with Peggy Guggenheim. For one thing,
there’s the rumour of a thousand lovers. There’s the family: the millionaire father who died on the
Titanic, with a glass of brandy in one hand and a cigar in the other. And there’s the bohemian
lifestyle: after inheriting what today would be 34 million dollars, at age 22 Guggenheim moved to
Montmartre and befriended Brancusi, Duchamp and Man Ray. Later she amassed one of the most
beloved collections of art in the world; to do this, in little more than eight years, she set herself the
goal of buying a painting a day – and lived up to it.
All this is pretty muse-worthy. But for Jensen, the lasting image is the much older Guggenheim, the
one sitting in her garden in Venice (now the second most visited museum in the city), crazy eyewear
in place, her cherished Lhasa Apsos on her lap. ‘I bet,’ says Jensen, ‘she wore Chanel no. 5, a lot of
it.’
It’s a vision of eccentric chic mired to a no-nonsense attitude, and it’s this mix that informs
Jensen’s collection. Shapes called ‘Anorak’ and ‘Smock’ are given a jolt with frilled pockets and
spandex lace. T-shirts, sweatshirts and wool-crêpe dresses are given Alexander Calder-like
appliqués and prints, or else embroidered with a ‘fish-rabbit’ motif, inspired by the bed-head that
Calder designed for Guggenheim, interbred with the iconic Jensen logo.
Calder also inspires a spiral cut technique that gives a jersey top its extraordinary frill; gold and silver
earrings custom made by Becca Hulbert; and a print that imagines just how the artist might have
drawn his patron, in one continuous line. Other motifs play off the exuberant patterns that Guggenheim
sported in her old age, and the real loves of her life – the dogs she is buried next to in the
palazzo – are referenced in a bold graphic print, on cotton voile shirts, viscose jersey pants, and
piqué polos.
Other wardrobe staples also get the Peggy treatment: the humble cable knit has a front-ful of
sequins, and a simple shift dress in wool-crêpe is covered with laser-cut petals. An otherwise prim
colour-blocked dress has a V-neck dropped almost to the navel, and a leather ‘supermarket’ bag
has a glamorous frilled pocket on the front. Why sacrifice zest for practicality? Don your Jensen
leopard-print faux-fur, and a pair of his rubber overshoes, and the flood in St. Mark’s isn’t worth a
second thought.