The dress that stopped a nation

On Derby Day 1965, British beauty Jean Shrimpton stepped out in a sleeveless white minidress, its hemline a daring four inches above the knee. She skipped the traditional hat, gloves, and stockings, opting instead for a man’s watch and low-heeled slingbacks. Her fresh-faced look and carefree style were a stark contrast to the more formal attire of the day.

The iconic image of Shrimpton in front of the Members’ Stand captures a watershed moment in Australian fashion, highlighting the rapid changes taking place in the ‘60s. Far from fashion capitals like London and Paris, Australia had never seen such a daringly short skirt.

With her classic, doll-like features, Shrimpton was regularly proclaimed “the most beautiful girl in the world” by fashion magazines. She was one of the leading faces of Swinging London, alongside models like Twiggy and Veruschka. In 1965, she was the highest-paid model globally, and her role as a judge of Fashions on the Field was meant to bring international glamour and prestige to Flemington.

Little did she know, Shrimpton’s arrival in Australia for a two-week promotional visit would spark a scandal. DuPont International had sent her lengths of their new fabric, Orlon, to create “smart, race-going outfits.” However, there wasn’t enough material. Shrimpton, unconcerned, instructed the dressmaker, Colin Rolfe, to simply make the dresses shorter.

On that hot Derby Day, Shrimpton, who had no stockings on because, as she recounted in her 1990 biography, “My legs were still brown from the summer, and as the dress was short it was hardly formal,” stepped out with her boyfriend, British actor Terence Stamp. “I had no hat or gloves with me, for the very good reason that I owned neither,” she recalled in her memoir. “I went downstairs cheerfully from my hotel room, all regardless of what was to come.”

Almost immediately upon her arrival, she realised her mistake. There was a disapproving air across the racecourse, and reporters clamoured to get a photograph. “I was surrounded by cameramen, all on their knees like proposing Victorian swains, shooting upwards to make my skirt look even shorter,” Shrimpton wrote. “This was publicity that I certainly had not planned.”

The scandal dominated headlines, overshadowing the actual racing news and almost bumping Light Fingers off the front of the papers.

Shrimpton’s ‘faux pas’ made headlines around the world. The British press, accustomed to the more liberated fashion scene of Swinging London, mocked Australia’s perceived prudishness. The incident became a symbol of the cultural divide between the old world and the new, the conservative and the progressive.

Melbourne’s social elite were scandalised. The former Lady Mayoress of Melbourne, Lady Nathan, commented, “I feel we do know so much better than Miss Shrimpton … we all dress correctly here.” Despite this, some admirers emerged. Among them was a young Bart Cummings, who won his first Melbourne Cup that year. He reportedly said, “She looked all right to me. The missus said don’t look any more.”

Australian model Maggi Eckardt had recently returned from living in Paris, London and New York. She remembered the 1965 Melbourne Cup Carnival vividly.

“I’ll never forget that image of Jean, with all these very conservative women looking down their noses at her, and she had her head held high, smiling,” Eckardt said. “She looked like a breath of fresh air.

We were used to seeing that look in Europe so we never queried it, but Australia in those days was a long way away. They caught up with fashions after they were shown everywhere else.”

At her sponsors’ request, Shrimpton made amends on Melbourne Cup Day, opting for a more demure outfit: a blue-and-beige three-piece suit, paired with a Breton hat, suede heels, and bag. However, she notably did not wear a hat to Oaks or Stakes Days, perhaps a final act of subtle defiance.

Despite the initial backlash, Shrimpton’s daring ensemble ignited a fashion revolution in Australia. Melbourne’s conservative fashion scene unexpectedly launched a youthful and provocative trend: the mini-skirt fad. While British designer Mary Quant is credited with creating the first mini skirt in 1964, its broader popularity soared after ‘The Shrimp’ stunned Flemington.

On that 34°C day, Jean Shrimpton didn’t just wear a dress – she wore a symbol of liberation. The British beauty’s perceived faux pas marked the beginning of a vibrant fashion era that Australians would soon embrace. Hems across the nation inched higher, and the mini skirt became more than a garment – it became a movement.

In 1967, The Herald journalist Isabelle Carter described the Carnival that year as the “uncovered Cup … Granny would have gone into deep shock. All the mini dresses at Flemington placed end to end wouldn’t have kept her knees warm.”

As Shrimpton herself recalled, “I split Australia in two.” And with that, a new chapter in fashion history was born.