The dress that stopped the nation

On Derby Day in 1965, British supermodel Jean Shrimpton stepped out at Flemington Racecourse in a sleeveless white minidress, its hemline a daring four inches above the knee. She wore no hat, no gloves, no stockings – just low-heeled slingbacks and a man’s watch. In a sea of prim and proper racewear, her fresh-faced look and minimalist style were a bolt from the blue.

The image of Shrimpton standing in front of the Members’ Stand captured a seismic shift in Australian fashion.

At a time when the country still looked to London and Paris for cues, it had never seen a skirt quite so short – especially not at the races.

With her doll-like beauty, Shrimpton had already been dubbed “the most beautiful girl in the world” and was the highest-paid model on the planet. Her visit to Australia was organised to bring international glamour to Flemington, where she would judge Fashions on the Field. But what was meant to be a two-week promotional appearance turned into a full-blown scandal.

Sponsored by DuPont to showcase its new fabric, Orlon, Shrimpton was sent several lengths of material to have custom racewear made. But there wasn’t quite enough. The model, famously unfussed, told local dressmaker Colin Rolfe to simply make the dresses shorter.

It was a sweltering 34°C on Derby Day, and Shrimpton, already tanned from a European summer, saw no need for hosiery. “As the dress was short, it was hardly formal,” she recalled in her 1990 biography. “I had no hat or gloves with me, for the very good reason that I owned neither. I went downstairs cheerfully from my hotel room, all regardless of what was to come.”

The response was immediate. Photographers swarmed, eager to capture the hemline from every angle. “I was surrounded by cameramen, all on their knees like proposing Victorian swains, shooting upwards to make my skirt look even shorter,” she wrote. “This was publicity I certainly had not planned.”

Her outfit sparked outrage. The racing press was eclipsed by headlines about Shrimpton’s dress. Light Fingers’ Melbourne Cup win was bumped from the front pages, and even the British tabloids weighed in – amused by Australia’s pearl-clutching over a miniskirt.

Melbourne’s social elite were scandalised. Lady Nathan, the former Lady Mayoress, publicly declared, “We do know so much better than Miss Shrimpton… we all dress correctly here.” But there were admirers too, including a young Bart Cummings, who reportedly said, “She looked all right to me. The missus said don’t look any more.”

Model Maggi Eckardt, recently returned from Europe, vividly recalled the moment.

“Jean looked like a breath of fresh air.” 

“We were used to that look in Paris and London, but Australia was still catching up. I’ll never forget seeing her there, smiling while all these conservative women looked down their noses at her.”

By Cup Day, under pressure from sponsors, Shrimpton had adjusted. She wore a demure blue-and-beige three-piece suit, complete with hat, heels, and handbag – though she left the hat behind again for Oaks and Stakes Day, a quiet nod to her own instincts.

Her Derby Day appearance, once considered a faux pas, helped ignite a style revolution. While Mary Quant is credited with inventing the mini skirt in 1964, Shrimpton’s Flemington moment took the trend global – and brought it crashing into the Australian mainstream.

Jean Shrimpton didn’t just wear a dress. She wore a symbol.

On that hot spring day, she split Australia in two – the old and the new, the conservative and the modern – and ushered in a bold new chapter of racewear and self-expression.

By 1967, as fashion moved rapidly forward, The Herald’s Isabelle Carter described that year’s Cup as the “uncovered Cup,” writing, “Granny would have gone into deep shock. All the mini dresses at Flemington placed end to end wouldn’t have kept her knees warm.”

Shrimpton, reflecting years later, put it best: “I split Australia in two.” And in doing so, she forever changed how we dress for the races.