The Green Wedding

 In July 1932, the Leeds Mercury reported on a wedding that had a definite green theme. Most 1930s reports of "green weddings" concern the shocking departure from old superstitions that considered the colour to be unlucky. Brides began to dress their bridesmaids in eau-de-nil or apple blossom with a modern disregard for the fear of impeding calamity that this might have instilled in their grandmothers. However, this particular wedding went all out to be as green as possible.

The betrothed were both members of the Woodcraft Folk - an outdoors youth group which had been established in 1925, advocating a return to a more simple life. The two members took part in a woodland ceremony with 200 other Woodcraft Folk before legalising their marriage at a register office the day after. The outdoor ceremony took place in Cordwell Valley near Dronfield, Derbyshire. All gathered around a camp fire and wore "Lincoln green jerkins". It was also reported that many of those present had bare knees, and some wore green bathing costumes. The group all squatted on the floor, and after the beating of tom-toms and the raising of the torch "Redwing" and "Heather" went  forward to have their hands joined together by the head man. 

The pair wore their green jerkins again as the marriage was formalised in Sheffield, and then left for a hiking honeymoon in the Derbyshire hills.

One can hear the tutting of Yorkshire matrons as they read this sensational article over their bacon and cup of tea in smog filled Sheffield and Leeds. "What a load of daft beggers" might have been uttered. But wasn't it just a foretaste of what is becoming popular now, as much as it would have been a throwback to simpler times for the Woodcraft Folk. Each year one hears more about "Handfasting Ceremonies" while outdoor weddings now seem more popular than the church.

A vintage map of the location of the wedding. Cordwell is to the south west of Holmesfield.

Green Grow the Budgies-oh

 A look at the popular gardening magazines of the 1930s confirms the popularity of bird fancying of all types - a garden aviary was de-rigueur among those with a big enough garden. The hobby of both keeping and breeding budgies was popular enough for the formation of the Budgerigar Society.

As most of us know, you can get budgies with markings in a variety of colours - blue, white, yellow, green. And the most common colour as the 1930s progressed was green. Search for the phrase "Green budgerigar" in the 1930s section of the British Newspaper Archive and the number of hits steadily increases as the decade goes on. There is a notable high peak in 1939. Most of these hits are sales adverts - or appeals for missing budgies.

Fife Free Press, 8 June 1935:

Lost, green budgerigar, blue tail, finder rewarded at Evanton, Dysart Road

Lost on Wednesday 5th June, green budgerigar, reward, Hendry Road

Breeders worked hard to get that perfect shade of green for their budgies. W. Watmough of the Budgerigar Society wrote for the Yorkshire Observer in July 1936:

"Light green is the colour of the ancestors of all domesticated budgerigars. I do not think that for beauty of colour, markings and form they have ever been excelled by any other [colour]" The Budgerigar Society's standard was a "rich, bright, grass green."

It seems that though the urge to control nature was strong, those breeding budgies wanted that control to look as natural as possible.

The British Colour Council

 On Wednesday 9th October 1929, Lord Ebury presided over a meeting in the Connaught Rooms at the Park Lane Hotel, London. The proposal under discussion was the formation of an organisation that would determine "colour tendencies for the fashion and allied trades."

The reasoning behind this effort to control fashions in colour dyes was economic. The new fashions for spring and autumn collections were made from textiles that had been dyed to individual company requirements. Often they looked to Continental fashion houses for colour trends, ending up picking up on these quite late on. This led to waste as trends waned before all the the new products had been sold. It was felt that the proposed organisation could both reduce waste and improve colour matching. 

The British Colour Council was officially launched in April 1931 - it was non-profit making and had a board of representatives from throughout the industry. It operated by releasing two colour cards per year - one in spring for autumn collections and one in autumn for the spring collections of the following year.  In order to receive these cards, manufacturers had to become members and pay a subscription. The first colour card for autumn 1931 listed 60 shades. Examples of some of the early members include the Wholesale Textile Association, the London and Luton Bleachers and Dyers Association and a number of Irish linen firms. But it was not an entirely smooth launch, with many companies holding back from membership to see if it was going to work.

However, the resources were enough to release a second colour card in September 1931, and over time the Council's reputation grew - by 1949 membership stood at 2,554 companies. As the council progressed it branched out into more specialist activities, for example, the naming of new colours for Nottingham Lace products in 1939 (Rufford Rose, Portland Blue, Clumber Beige, Belvoir Blue). The Council also advised on colour schemes for the major state occasions of the 1930s such as the jubilee and coronation. On the death of King George V in 1936, the Council shared the correct colours for the mourning period - Regal Purple, Silver Grey. The Council's pronouncements became a regular reference in newspaper fashion pages and would take into account trends and events in their decisions. 

The relevance of this to Thirties Green is that the Council would have, to a certain extent, dictated what shades of the colour were in use, and how much of it. They may have been responsible for naming it, as each shade on the colour chart was given a specific name. In addition to the Nottingham Lace names given above, a range of colours was brought out to mark the 1937 coronation including the Sylko cotton favourite, Buckingham Lilac. Another of the new shades was called Holyrood Green.

In January 1932, the following paragraph appeared in the Yorkshire Post with reference to the Council's pronouncements:

"Acid greens of last year have been eclipsed by deep rich greens such as 'Lincoln' and 'Billiard' and attractive pale ones with a strong dash of yellow. One, the colour of very young leaves, is called 'Forester' and a fresh, very delicate version of 'Chartreuse'.

If a colour name begins with a geographical reference, it seems to be a fair guess that the British Colour Council will have come up with it going on the examples collected for this summary. Many seem to have aristocratic ties. I would be willing to wager that the Council came up with the Sylko colour 'Hunter's Green'.

Click here to go to Amazon and purchase "Sewing with Sylko - A Treasury"

Click here to go to Amazon and purchase my short history of Village Halls in England

Coming Up For Air

 

The above is an extract from the Penguin edition of George Orwell's "Coming Up For Air" - Part 1. This book was published in 1939 and written over 1938 and early 1939. There is a disdainful mention of the green front door - seemingly ubiquitous. Only someone anti-social paints in a different colour. It is notable how many of the house names have a green connection - laurel, myrtle, hawthorn.

One of the book's central themes is the desire to return to a lost England, an Edwardian idyll of country lanes, deep pools and small farming communities. Orwell shows that this England is no longer - when the main character returns to the town of his youth, it has been obliterated by factories and rows of horrible houses and it is teeming with strangers. In one scene in the closing chapters of the book, Orwell seems to poke fun at people such as the Woodcraft Folk, who think that they are living in harmony with the land...but it is too late for all that. Even they have had to drain a deep fishpool to use as a rubbish dump. The assertion is that try as we might, we are now living in a universal rubbish tip from which there is no escape.

For Orwell, the 1930s green obsession was a nostalgia epidemic, which took hold when it was too late to go back.

Marina Green

 In November 1934, Princess Marina of Greece married the Duke of Kent. It was reported in newspapers throughout the UK just before the wedding that she was to have a colour named after her to mark the occasion.  At the behest of The Colour Council, she consented to let her name be used for a new shade of green. Marina Green was a bluish green, apparently very subtle and suitable for evening dresses. Interesting that green was used and not the more predictable blue - it was still the fashionable colour. 

By December, boxes of Christmas bonbons were being packaged in boxes of a Marina Green shade. 

Something is Happening in England

 On the 26th April 1932, two days after the Mass Trespass of Kinder Scout, the Yorkshire Post published an article by Winifred Holtby. It was entitled "A Green Revolution?" and subtitled "The Urban Country Lover and England's Future".

Holtby began the article by describing her initial disdain for all the weekend countryfolk - the urban dwellers who arrived en-masse with their unnecessarily bulky knap sacks and bicycles. And particularly those who bought weekend cottages, pushing up prices for locals - a problem that we have still failed to tackle today. But then one day, she overheard a discussion among some young city folk about the work of the shepherd, and this changed her mind. She investigated further and concluded:

"Something is happening in England. This newly-found passion of townsmen for the country does not end in scattered paper bags, trampled crops and wild flowers torn up by the roots...Townsmen are becomeing aware of the country. That is not just a trusim, it is a fact of political, economic and social importance."

She went on to describe how many European countries suffered from rural uprisings after the war, but not here - despite the grievances held by many country folk and the entrenched view of urban and rural being at odds with each other. However, this green mania gave her hope for the future. She points out that those youngsters currently filling the countryside, going about looking at things and asking questions, were the legislators of the future.

Holtby concludes:

"I am beginning to think that our green revolution may come, not through the revolt of the village against the city, but through a new understanding of the city for the farm." 

This was agriculture's big chance to become top of the agenda.

Holtby's title - a green revolution - shows how the colour green was firmly connected to the countryside and to rural living. And also, coming so soon after Kinder Scout, the article illustrates a connection with the push to get outdoors and find, if only for a day, a slower pace of life. Was the fashion for green connected to a deep desire among the British to slow down, to stop and smell the flowers, in a world that was increasingly moving too fast? 

Leisure on the Green

 A search for the word "Green" in the newspapers of the early 1930s brings up a surprising amount of articles about bowling greens and putting greens. The rise of the cult of leisure in this period benefited those who partook in these sedate pursuits. Countless new smooth green places for rolling balls around were opened - particularly in those towns who wished to promote themselves as resorts. Seaside towns and spa towns were the places to go with their brand new facilities, or newly extended existing play areas for the elderly and retiring. Leamington Spa was the centre of an argument about a putting green - should the council grub up a park to provide a new one or shouldn't they? According to the local newspaper letters page, the town was divided between those who wanted the flowers to remain, and those who wanted to play games and attract more visitors.

There were also moves to permit ladies to play bowls - until this period it was primarily seen as a good way to get a retired man out of the house and out from under his wife's feet. One female member of the local gentry, when attending a celebratory dinner, called bowls a "creche for husbands". But they were increasingly wanting a bit of the action themselves, and forming ladies teams and clubs.

These are sedate pursuits, suitable for all classes and access to a bit of green in increasingly built up and busy towns. It is a connection to a bygone time - Francis Drake playing bowls - aristocratic fads for the game - and as the player gently rolls their ball across the soft green carpet they might have had a little feeling that this was their birthright. It is also perhaps a symbol of better life expectancy, and of more people of retirement age still having the health to get out and find a gentle, social exercise.