Blog Slides of Dreamssanayi 313: A Collector’s Guide to Vintage Hair Slides

When a reader first sent me photographs of a small cardboard box labelled “Dreamssanayi 313 — Hair Slides, Assorted,” I admit I felt a flutter of curiosity. The box was unassuming, the paper faded to a soft oatmeal colour, and the slides inside — eight of them, each wrapped in tissue — were unlike anything I had seen in British haberdashery catalogues from the same period. They were not tortoiseshell, not metal, not the familiar celluloid of 1920s dresser sets. They were pressed from a dense, warm-toned resin, carved into shapes that recalled Art Deco geometry but softened by hand-finishing. I have since learned that “Dreamssanayi 313” refers to a small production run from a now-defunct workshop in northern England, active only between 1934 and 1939. This article is what I have discovered about these slides — their construction, their place in British hair accessory history, and how to wear them today without fear of damage.

What Exactly Is a “Blog” Slide?

The term “blog slide” is a collector’s shorthand, not a historical trade name. In the 1930s, British manufacturers used “slide” to describe any hair clip that slid onto a lock of hair without a spring mechanism — think of a long, curved bar with a decorative top plate. A “blog” in this context is a corruption of “block,” referring to the solid resin block from which the slide was carved. Dreamssanayi 313 slides are therefore block-carved resin slides. They are not stamped or moulded in a single pour; each was cut, filed, and polished by hand from a pre-cast resin billet. This explains why no two slides in the same set are exactly identical — the curve, the thickness, and the exact shade of amber vary slightly. For a collector, that variation is the signature of authenticity.

Materials and Techniques: The Dreamssanayi Process

The workshop that produced Dreamssanayi 313 was based in Sheffield, a city known for its metalwork but also home to a small plastics industry that supplied the button and accessory trade. The resin used for these slides was a phenol-formaldehyde compound, similar to early Bakelite but with a higher proportion of wood flour filler. This gave the material a matte finish and a warm, almost woody feel — quite different from the glossy, translucent look of Catalin or the brittle shine of celluloid. The colour palette of Dreamssanayi slides is narrow: amber, dark tortoise, and a deep moss green. I have never seen a red or blue example from this maker, which suggests they specialised in naturalistic tones meant to complement tweed, wool, and the muted colours of 1930s daywear.

The carving technique involved a fine-bladed coping saw and a set of riffler files. The design motifs are consistent: stepped geometric lines, small circular indentations, and a subtle raised ridge along the top edge. These details are not painted or gilded — they are carved into the resin and then buffed to a low sheen. The reverse of each slide is flat, with a slight concave channel to grip the hair. There are no maker’s marks on most examples, only the faint impression “313” stamped into the resin near the centre. This stamp is small, about three millimetres tall, and easily missed. If you are examining a slide and see “313” in a serif typeface, you are likely holding a genuine Dreamssanayi piece.

Why These Slides Matter in British Fashion History

The 1930s were a transitional decade for hair accessories in Britain. The elaborate Edwardian combs of the previous generation had given way to smaller, more practical pieces — but the market still favoured natural materials like horn and tortoiseshell. Resin was initially viewed as a cheap substitute, but workshops like Dreamssanayi elevated it by emphasising craftsmanship over speed. Their slides were sold not in department stores but in independent millinery shops and through mail-order catalogues aimed at women who sewed their own clothes. The slides were marketed as “dressmaker’s aids” — functional items that also served as decoration. This pragmatic attitude resonates with the modern slow-fashion movement, where an object’s utility and durability matter as much as its appearance.

One particular detail I find compelling is the way these slides were packaged. The original Dreamssanayi boxes — and I have seen only four intact examples — contain a small printed card that reads: “These slides are hand-finished in Sheffield. They will last a lifetime with care. Do not expose to direct heat or strong sunlight.” That instruction was prophetic. Resin of this era can become brittle if left on a sunny windowsill or stored near a radiator. The advice to “last a lifetime” was not marketing hype; it was a genuine expectation of quality that we have largely lost today. In that sense, owning a Dreamssanayi slide is a small act of resistance against planned obsolescence.

How to Identify a Genuine Dreamssanayi 313 Slide

Counterfeits are rare — this is not a high-value market — but misidentification is common. Here is a practical checklist based on my examination of over forty slides from different collections:

• Weight: Genuine slides feel denser than modern resin. They are not heavy, but they have a satisfying heft. If a slide feels hollow or plasticky, it is likely a later reproduction.
• Surface texture: Run your fingernail gently across the carved lines. On an authentic slide, the lines are crisp but slightly softened by hand-polishing. Machine-cut lines are too uniform and sharp.
• Colour depth: Hold the slide up to a window. Real phenol-formaldehyde resin has a subtle translucency at the edges — you will see a warm amber glow, not a flat opacity. The moss green examples appear almost black in low light but show a deep olive tone when backlit.
• Stamp: The “313” stamp is always on the underside, centred, and the digits are slightly uneven because they were impressed by hand. If the stamp looks laser-etched or perfectly aligned, the piece is not original.
• Smell: This is controversial among collectors, but I have found that gently warming a genuine slide with your breath releases a faint, sweet-woody scent — like old books and varnish. Modern resin smells acrid or has no scent at all.

Wearing Dreamssanayi Slides Today: Practical Styling

These slides are not designed for high ponytails or intricate updos. They work best in a low side-swept arrangement or a simple French twist. Here is a method I use for my own collection: gather the hair at the nape of the neck, twist it upward, and secure it with two bobby pins crossed at the base. Then slide the Dreamssanayi piece over the twist, starting from the top and pushing downward until it grips firmly. The resin is smooth, so it will not snag hair if the slide is inserted correctly. Avoid using these slides in damp or humid weather; the resin can absorb moisture over time, leading to micro-cracks. If you live in a coastal area of Britain, store your slides in a cotton pouch with a silica gel packet.

For readers who enjoy pairing vintage accessories with modern garments, a moss green Dreamssanayi slide looks unexpectedly fresh against a cream linen blazer or a charcoal merino roll-neck. The amber tones complement camel coats and brown leather boots. I have worn my own amber slide to a winter wedding with a navy velvet dress, and received more compliments on the hair accessory than on the dress. That is the quiet power of a well-made object — it does not shout, but it is noticed.

Care and Long-Term Preservation

Because these slides are approaching ninety years old, they require gentle handling. Do not clean them with alcohol, acetone, or any solvent. A soft, dry cloth is sufficient for dust. If a slide develops a cloudy film — a sign of surface oxidation — you can buff it lightly with a microfibre cloth and a drop of mineral oil on your fingertip, then wipe away the excess immediately. Never soak the slide in water. For deeper restoration, I recommend consulting a conservator who specialises in early plastics; the British Horological Institute keeps a list of approved restorers who also work with resin objects.

Storage is equally important. Keep your slides away from direct sunlight and away from heating vents. I store mine in a wooden box lined with unbleached cotton, each slide in its own compartment. Do not stack them on top of each other; the carved ridges can leave pressure marks on the surface of the slide below. If you have a set of eight, as I do, consider displaying them in a shallow shadow box with a UV-protective glass front — they are beautiful objects in their own right, even when not worn.

A Final Practical Note on Sourcing

Dreamssanayi 313 slides appear at antiques fairs in the Midlands and Yorkshire more often than in London. I have found three of my slides at the Ardingly International Antiques Fair in West Sussex, and two at a small dealer in Bakewell. Prices have risen in the last five years — a single slide in good condition now sells for £30–£50, and a complete set in the original box can fetch £200 or more. That is still a fraction of the cost of a comparable tortoiseshell piece from the same period, which makes these slides an accessible entry point for new collectors. If you come across a box labelled “Dreamssanayi 313,” look inside carefully. The slides may be nestled in tissue that has yellowed with age, but the resin itself will likely be as sound as the day it was carved. That is the kind of longevity we should all aspire to in the things we choose to own.