Shopping spree

Louise writes –  One of the most enjoyable processes for me when making props was sourcing the materials. In the beginning I would go to London to companies that specialised in various products. Novelty Imports in Regent Street (no longer there) sold beautiful flowers. I could purchase anything from full-blown silk roses, perfect primroses, forget-me-nots, violets and cherry blossom, to flower stamens. When we were commissioned to make a replica of a period wedding cake for the newly opened Museum of London in 1976.

Wedding cake for the Museum of London

I bought the most beautiful wax flowers which were ‘old stock’ and probably the last of those types available. I always bought some extras just in case they were needed for some future prop. To visit John’s wonderful showroom was like being in a flower market, only the blooms never faded. I would buy ribbons from H V Caldicott, at that time in Berners Street W1. The West End showroom was comprised of brown card boxes full of ribbons, stacked to almost ceiling height. Narrow corridors between the boxes led to the office where I would find Barry surrounded by sample cards and paperwork. It did not matter how small the purchase, he was always helpful and when I no longer went to see him in person, he would send samples, then rolls of ribbon, by post. In 1995 I purchased four rolls of silver voile ribbon, which was made is Switzerland, for Evita’s coffin dais, this was sown onto a black velvet drape. Forty metres at £4.00 per metre plus VAT!

Evita’s coffin with Marocain silk flag, tassels and silver voile ribbon – just visible on the right as is Madonna.

The tassels which hung from Evita’s coffin came from Henry Newbery of Mortimer Street, who sold the most beautiful cords, braids, tassels and gold metallic trimmings, which came in three different widths and were used to embellish so many props throughout our forty-one years. I still have some precious pieces at home in a glass-fronted drawer cabinet. Gold cords and metallic braids I purchased from Hand and Co (now Hand & Lock) who were embroiderers of decorations for uniforms and flags etc.  It was unusual to be able to purchase from them, but the lady manageress always sold me wired gold trim which looked like miniature springs. I used these for my decorations to wind around cinnamon sticks. When I was at the Central School of Art in the 1960’s I was sent to Balfours in Shoreditch to purchase feathers from a Miss Rhule. Years later, when she had moved to the attic room of a house behind Regent Street, I would climb the stairs, the conditions getting more and more decrepit with each floor, until I reached a room with a water stained ceiling, full of bags and boxes of myriad feathers. Miss Rhule would sit, curling ostrich feathers for headdresses, in a cloud of steam from the spout of her special kettle. She made all the wonderful feather boas for West End shows, and always lamented the fact that no one was interested in learning her skills, I would have loved to, but never had the time. It always amused me that she would feed the pigeons, who would march around her room amongst the feathers of their near and faraway cousins. Miss Rhule would always go on an exotic holiday in January after the Christmas Pantomime rush. She certainly deserved it. Another favourite supplier was A E Ward in Clerkenwell (now in Hatton Garden). I had to make a Faberge style egg for a Sony commercial and needed ‘diamonds’ and ‘rubies’. The stones were no problem, marquis or navette cut garnets were perfect, as were the small ‘diamonds’ mounted in strips with which I hid the joins in the hologram fabric that covered the basic egg shape. I asked Len if by any chance he had any small pink blossom flowers? Off he went into the depth of his stock room and returned with the perfect quartz flowers.

Faberge style egg for Sony Commercial

‘How many do you need?’ ‘About three dozen.’ The box contained exactly the right number.  Phew. On another occasion we had to make a replica of the Imperial State Crown for the film ‘King Ralph’. Yet again Len was able to supply all the synthetic stones we required, and over the years, many others. Nothing was ever too much trouble and often he would post me items on approval. Where did I buy the hologram fabric for the egg? In Berwick Street, Soho, at a wondrous shop called Borovicks. Yards of fabric spilled out of the door onto the market stall in the road, a preview of what could be found inside. Plain and striped cottons, satins, silks, velvets, jersey, suiting, PVC, stretch Lycra, reptile prints, gold, silver and coloured lame, hologram prints and so much more – a joy to behold. Although I always relished the hunt for different materials, there came a time when I had to rely on others to do the buying for me. Initially Karin, Keir’s sister

Karin with enhanced boobs!

– who carried on working for us for twenty-one years as workshop manager – then Fay, a bubbly redhead, as tenacious as anyone could wish for in a buyer, followed by Jill, who could charm anything out of anyone. Her daughter,

Sarah and Dean wearing headdresses for Black Adder. One of Baldrick’s cunning plans.

Sarah also worked with us from the age of sixteen – a stroppy teenager with pink Mohican hairdo and Lonsdale boxing boots – till she left eighteen years later, an accomplished graphics designer. Finally, David, who initially supplied us with paints and other materials from his shop in Shepperton High Street. Always very efficient, he loved working in a busy film studio and could be relied on to know what films were being made and as a result he was the best person to show visitors around the studio.

David caught in a large zip make for the Kenny Everett Show.

He worked with us until, much to his disappointment, we were forced to close in 2011.

Evita’s coffin

A coffin for Madonna

It was August 1995 when Brian Morris and his partner Richard Earl (Production Designer and Art Director respectively) walked into our workshop. We had worked with them before on Wuthering Heights and The Road to Wellville (one of the only films we had ever had a credit for), and he told us that he was probably going to be working on Evita with Alan Parker. It had taken years to bring this musical by Andrew Lloyd Webber and Tim Rice to the screen and he seemed genuinely excited by the prospect of designing it. He had a folder full of photocopies of black and white photographs, some more indistinct than others. His main concern was Evita’s funeral that would require flowers, flags and principally her coffin that was almost impossible to see in the fuzzy photocopies he spread out in front of us on the workbench. He said that Evita was considered almost a god in Argentina and Louise, positive as ever, suggested that maybe there were replica coffins available that he might be able to purchase on his next visit to Buenos Aires. We went on to discuss other things they might need and left it at that. A few weeks later Brian rang and said he discovered that the company that had made the original coffin, had made two and were prepared to sell the second one for £11,000. It was decided to purchase it and it duly arrived in a large crate in the back of a Luton van outside the workshop. Alastair, Barry and I went to lift it out of the van but could hardly manage to push it to the door of the van. There was no tail-lift and it required eight people to get it to the ground. We all assumed that the crate must have been made of something far too heavy as we prised off the lid. It had no weight at all being made from quarter inch ply on a lightweight frame. It became clear that the problem was the coffin itself. It was in the shape of a large lozenge on an oval base and was made from solid wood, shaped and then finished with a high gloss lacquered, almost black but with the subtlest hint of aubergine. There were eight handles in bronze finished in silver, and both the lips and the base were banded with a heavy bronze moulding. We took the sides of the crate off to reveal the coffin in all its glory. I was keen to see what it was like inside and went to lift the lid. It wouldn’t move. It wasn’t locked but was so heavy it took two of us to inch the lid open enough to see the raised copper interior lid. It was made from riveted copper sheets and had a small window for the face and hands of Eva Peron to be viewed through. It looked for all the world like a prop from Twenty Thousand Leagues under the Sea. With some difficulty it was finally inside the workshop and we waited for Brian to visit to give us his opinion. He had quite a few.

The first problem was its weight. During the film the coffin was to be carried by actors and even without its lid it was far too heavy for anyone to carry on their shoulders. We would make one that wouldn’t open and the original one would be used without its lid for the scenes where Evita was lying in state, and for the famous kiss by Antonio Banderas. It would mean making a silicone mould of the whole coffin without its eight bronze handles and heavy bronze trim which we would have to have cast in aluminium and given a finish to look like the original.

The second problem was the copper lining.

‘We want to be able to see Madonna in the coffin lying in state, and we need a totally clear view. This isn’t going to work.’ He asked for us to make a very fine Chromed steel frame to allow for maximum viewing. He asked for glass but Louise pointed out that despite our many millions of public liability insurance it would not cover the costs if the glass broke and injured Madonna. We finally made two covers in Perspex and chrome leaving the end panels open for an air current to be passed through.

The third problem was when we removed the copper cover and Brian saw the lining of the coffin which was nylon lace with a silver lurex thread running though it.

‘I’m not having that,’ he said.

‘But that’s what she had,’ Louise pointed out. ‘This is a duplicate of the one she had.

‘I don’t care, I’m not having Madonna in that.’ It was decided that ivory natural silk, pleated around the edges would be more suitable and Louise went up to Lunn Antiques in the Kings Road Chelsea and purchased a beautiful period lace handkerchief for £85.00 to make into a cushion for Madonna’s head to rest on. Much more tasteful.

The final problem was having to make it.

The original Evita coffin – open  with a perspex lid – and the prop coffin draped in flags, plus three sunbursts for the flags.

Stills from the film showing Evita’s coffin and the raised dias with drapes and prop flowers.

Original footage of Eva Peron’s funeral showing the coffin.  There is a very good close up of it about 9.5 minutes into the film.