The Knirps Umbrella, Edwin and Juggernaut:
My memoir of the day features the Knirps Umbrella from my days as a Law student. In the year above me, there was a bloke named Edward who represented the epitome of the conservative nature of the general perception of what a barrister should be. One of my best friends ( chiefly because she had the room next to mine at Chamberlain) had aggressive social ambitions. She discovered that Edward's hone address was a 'stately home's in the country. He dressed very smartly and was top in his class. As a first year student, he won the top prize for being the best in his year. (I won the same prize a year later.) As part of his turnout, he always carried a leather case, a sterling fountain pen, and this unique folding umbrella made by Knirps.
My friend was so impressed that, thinking he had to be connected to the aristocracy, she promptly captured him as her boyfriend. I gently mocked all the pretensions by calling him Edwin. At the same time, I coveted a Knirps umbrella as it was the most alien, cool shape I ever had seen. As you can see, apart from the convenience of being a folding umbrella that could be stasged in a bag or briefcase, it was rectangular rather than round.
When I next took the train to London to shop, I bought a Knirps umbrella of my own. I believe they sold them at Harrods. It was exorbitantly priced, but those were the days when a University education cost next to nothing before the next Tory government applied American profit based standards to everything, so I had a bit of pocket money for frivolous expenses.
The virtues of the Knirps, like Edward, proved to be an illusion in terms of its visual promise. It had an extremely complicated folding system and had to be dried thoroughly after any use or it is essentially would be ruined. It was a nightmare in practical terms. Yes, it looked fabulous when it was folded into its slim rectangular case, but I first began to carry another 'real' umbrella for actual use while dangling the Knirps units strap simply as an accessory to the 'well-dressed law student' and it looked fabulous with my Jaeger suits and Bally boots. (Those were my pre-punk days.)
Edward proved to be an illusion as well at least in terms of the fanciful aristocratic character my friend had perceived. I stopped mocking him and stopped calling him Edwin when she discovered he was the son of the housekeeper at the stately home and instantly terminated the relationship. He was brilliant. That was no illusion, but that was not as important to her as finding a lawyer to marry as her personal stairway to social advancement. I felt sorry for him after that, but I daresay he did well for himself on his own merits and possibly even has ascended to the judicial branch of the House of Lords. God only knows what became of the Knirps.
A little postscript to all of this: My friend did marry 'well' to the point where her daughter ultimately was able to represent the rich girl in an episode of a rather horrible British reality series called 'Poor Little Rich Girls'. As for fashionable 'well-dressed students' at my University, another friend and I were chosen to act in a film called 'Juggernaut' after we responded to a call for 'well-dressed students' on the University announcement boards. The students who showed up for the 'cattle call' at the docks were ALL students from the Law Faculty.
We had no lines. We portrayed friends or relations of the first class passengers waving them off on their ill-fated voyage in the freezing rain. (No Knirps allowed. It had to be portrayed as a merry event and we had to hold and then release balloons into the sky.) There were at least two dozen takes of this minor scene before they let us go. We spent most of the day on it, with a short break for lunch that was supplied as a small portion of soup in a plastic cup. We were paid five quid each for our services. (I recall we had to sign a rather substantial contract at the start of the day, which certainly cost them as much in paper as the actual pay they doled out )
The end of this tale is that Amelia and I both caught severe colds front long exposure to the cold and rain and spent more than five pounds on cold remedies. As for our acting performances, we were featured live on television that evening on the local news, which made us the talk of the town for 24 hours, bug the entire scene was cut from the cinema version of the film. If you can find a version on tape, you can see me in my favourite Jaeger suit waving blithely to some random person on deck.
Although I portray this adventure as a grim proletarian tale, Omar Sharif was Amelia's mother's tenant at her flat in Paris, so we were able to demand admittance to him, and he ordered a very good tea for us. He was handsome and very charming, although I sensed he entertained us a little reluctantly. Her mum was declared one of the seven most beautiful women in the world by Vogue. Safia Tarzi held the world record for the highest ascension in a hot air balloon, and was killed a few years later when her balloon exploded in the skya few miles from Paris. Another amaxing woman and influence in my life. I will devote more to her later. Meanwhile, with refernce to Omar Sharif, she complained often and bitterly that he and his friends had broken some valuable porcelain pieces while in resepidence at the flat at the Avenue Henri-Martin. I seem to recall he played cards a lot, had a passion for bridge perhaps.
This is a photograph of Safia Tarzi I found online. She had quite a connection with Vogue back in the day. She was Afghani royalty, and the family fled with immense riches when the monarchy was abolished. She was married very young to a doctor and they lived in Paris. Amelia was the only child of that union. The couple divorced almost immediatel snd Safia never remarried, although she created a very toxic situation by stealing one of Amelia’s boyfriends and creating a rather long relationship with the guy, who was at least a decade younger than she was.
Safia was daring, intelligent and creative. She was an afdent feminist at a time when women, despite their support of the banner of women’s rights, held back personally. Safia was rich enough not to care, having jettisoned the husband who might have held her to a more traditional role. She drove a black and white Corniche with her matching balloon to meets across Europe. She designed and modelled her own unique creations. She bragged about being the only woman allowed to play the very physically demanding Afghani game known as Buzkashi that is similar to polo. It originally featured an enemy’s head instead of a ball, but that was changed to an animal’s head by the time she saddled her horse to play on an otherwise male team.
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