fashion history

“I like fashion to go down into the street, but I can’t accept that it should originate there.”
-Gabrielle (Coco) Chanel (1883-1971)

The Chanel brand is one of the most famous of all couturier names. Reams have been written about why Coco Chanel’s designs are so classic and immortal. There’s more to this story, however, than simple tribute to an amazing talent. The truth is that Chanel herself achieved a larger-than-life standing exactly because of her life. The person behind the label captivated the public’s imagination, as seen in the recent Showtime dramatization of her life with, of all people, Shirley MacLaine, depicting the designer.

After a youth spent in an orphanage, the young Chanel worked as a dressmaker and then a café singer, where she got the nickname “Coco.” She became the mistress of a wealthy man who bred racehorses and ran with a fashionable set; he set Coco up with a millinery business. Another lover, who raced motorcycles, bankrolled her first dressmaking business in 1910. She was a success by 1912. Chanel bobbed her hair before it was the vogue and was rather shockingly known for speaking her mind. In 1919, when her designs suddenly took off world-wide, she reported “I woke up famous.” Her couture house blossomed, producing everything from masculine-styled casual togs, to the jersey suit, and her vaunted little black dress. She was also known as a tough boss who worked her seamstresses hard. She closed her business for the duration of World War II, scandalizing Paris by going off with her German officer lover. In later years, she never lost her saltiness.

She’s one of the most written about designers in our Library’s collection, with over 37 entries in CATNYP. Looking at the literature on her, I see that the most interesting works capitalize on her notoriety. A French author says it all in his book’s lengthy title: Chanel: her life, her world, and the woman behind the legend she herself created. To balance such titles out, there is the worthy exhibition on her couture mounted by the Metropolitan Museum’s Costume Institute in 2005. And her life has been the fodder for more than nonfiction. Our Performing Arts Library holds a typescript of Coco: a musical play. An almost 400 page novel was published in 1990, and given the current state of the industry, more are sure to follow.

Back in August, I had the opportunity to do a little background research for a magazine writer who was investigating the origins of the white shirt and black tie. While the tuxedo’s beginnings date to around 1885 and the assistance of England’s then Prince of Wales, the future King Edward VII, it took the twentieth century for masculine formal wear to really take off. The black bow tie was an innovation of the 1920s and jacket lapels grew progressively sleeker into the 1930s.

In preparing my curatorial lecture on “Fashions of the Art Deco Era,” I reinvestigated the effect of Hollywood on fancy dress for men. “Black Tie” costume is still considered a variation of the tuxedo. The white shirt achieved its authority in 30s versions with the aid of pearl buttons or studs and an obligatory wing collar. Historian Alan Flusser still possesses the definitive word on the principles behind formal dress, in his Clothes and the man and Style and the man.

Mark van de Walle was kind enough to give me a fabulous link to a website called London Lounge. Check it out! And then he alerted me to another great site, The Black Tie Guide.

And, by the way, my predictions about the presidential candidates have proved true. They are too busy slugging it out in their rather dull suits and neckties; given the financial roller coaster ride of recent weeks, there is no room in this campaign for fashion to rear its head. There are other social forces of a much more serious nature at stake. And please don’t get me started on the so-called “Palin Chic…” Talk about desperate journalism!

The French word ‘couture’ represents needlework or sewing. The couture designer uses a toile, made in muslin or fine linen, from which the made-to-measure proportions were devised. France has a union called the Chambre Syndicale de la Couture with rules and regulations for how couture houses are to be staffed and when they exhibit their lines.

I recall reading in The Fashion Conspiracy that the absolute “prize” element of a couture garment was that it would be made from scratch for a client, require fittings so that her measurements were exactly determined, and would usually have an entire under-body created to support the exterior design in fabric. A couture client often has to endure numerous fittings in the shop, or in her hotel room, should she have flown to Paris for her shopping.

In this respect, the couture wearer is clad in a one-off; no one else will have a garment quite like hers, and she earns its uniqueness by enduring the labor-intensive work that allows her to become the item’s possessor. No wonder, then, that fashion designers of the later twentieth century needed to launch ready-to-wear labels or “brands” in order to make their fortunes. Therefore, haute couture is the idealization, the bespoke aspect of fashion culture. The entire fashion industry is built around delivering the (delusional) dream of a unique garment for its wearers. Only real, existing haute couture provides that dream, however.

And for my favorite way to peek in at Parisian fashion, especially the recent shows, go to www.pretparis.com.

Jacques Doucet, grandson of the founder of the House of Doucet in Paris, was a spirited champion of the new Art Deco style. Doucet was a remarkable art connoisseur and collector of eighteenth century and contemporary French arts. By the time he became active in the firm, around 1874, his encyclopedic knowledge of historic dress expressed itself in fashion references in couture garments. Although in the 1920s he was aging and his couture house merged with another lesser firm, and eventually closed, he never lost touch with foreseeing the needs of the French luxury goods market.

Doucet’s championing of the emerging Art Deco style was manifested in his support for artists working in that mode, like the bookbinder Pierre Legraine. Yet he remains better known as an exponent of the “opulent era.” In 1984, he finally received the weighty biography he deserved. As a teacher and mentor, however, he was unparalleled. Doucet also understood that France needed to rise above the devastation of the first World War. His patronage of the arts meant a great deal to struggling painters attempting to get back on their feet.

Tomorrow, a most intriguing exhibition opens at The Museum of the City of New York. Entitled “Paris/New York Design, Fashion, Culture 1925-1940,” is housed in the museum’s new pavilion gallery for temporary exhibitions. There are sure to be stunning objects on display, so plan like me to head up there very soon. I’ll just put on those armorial gladiator ankle boots and go…

Check out the new NYPL exhibition, Art Deco Design: Rhythm and Verve, on view at the Humanities and Social Sciences Library (5th Ave. and 42nd St.) until January 11, 2009.

Art Deco's Couturier Patrons, Part 1 »

The first World War was truly traumatic for France, and its great designers were among the first to attempt to rally the nation’s arts in the war’s aftermath. The luxury goods trade had all but disappeared during these years. One of these designers, Madeleine Vionnet (1876-1975), closed her couture house at the onset of the war in 1914 and went to Rome for the duration.

Upon her return, she pressed forward with the revolutionary, often avant-garde direction of her clothes-making. She had apprenticed with lingerie makers, spurring a life-long fascination with the interplay of body and fabric. She introduced the bias cut for whole garments, in which the fabric was cut diagonally across the grain to make a springy type of drape. Vionnet’s clothes were considered very moderne, and many of her clients were celebrities and theater folk. The Art Deco style owes much to her vivid interpretations of the body in motion, especial the control and manipulation of fabric for Cubist and other modernist effects.

Take a look, too, at her official website. Items like the cowl neck, halter top, and handkerchief dress owe their inspiration to this designer. Read about her in the classic study by Sophie Dalloz-Ramaux. Interestingly, Vionnet’s skill in sewing seams and making bias cuts created huge problems for copyists and pirates, always a problem for couturiers then and now.

p.s. As a break from daily tasks, I’ve been revisiting a grand site with a fine blog, www.dandyism.net. I did a blog interview with them a few years ago while “A Rakish History of Men’s Wear” was on exhibition.

Check out the new NYPL exhibition, Art Deco Design: Rhythm and Verve, on view at the Humanities and Social Sciences Library (5th Ave. and 42nd St.) until January 11, 2009.

“There is no excellent beauty that hath not some strangeness in the proportion.”
-Francis Bacon (1561-1626)

What about the impact of the great modern art movements on fashions of the times? Perhaps the most influential of those movements was Cubism. Fortunately, a long-sighted costume historian addressed this topic in a small but influential exhibition at the Metropolitan Museum’s Costume Institute back in 1998. Richard Martin organized “Cubism and Fashion” to contrast the striking similarities between clothing silhouettes from 1908 to 1925 and the artistic revolutions of that period. Marshalling the formidable resources of the Costume Institute, his exhibition permits viewers to see the direct and subtle transformations in modern dress. High and low (popular) culture contributed to these changes, but the designers involved were powerfully impacted by the artistry of their times.

What is remarkable is how designers did not stay satisfied with the status quo, but were willing to take risks. Being avant-garde in those days meant finding a clientele that would be open to changes in apparel, often well before the mainstream could acknowledge that those changes were appropriately modern. My research on modernity in clothing shows that the avant-garde stance of the early twentieth century was very important in developing those freedoms we appreciate today. Brave, too, were those designers and clients who adopted other movements, such as Surrealism, and purchased garments that were wearable art.

If everything old is truly new again, this means we need to keep our eye on today’s avant-garde clothing designs for a hint to the future…

p.s. Want some good current exhibitions on fashion? Go over to The Museum at FIT and view “Arbiters of Style: Women at the Forefront of Fashion,” and the special exhibition “Gothic: Dark Glamour.” I’d love some reactions to the latter.

“Is not the most erotic part of the body wherever the clothing affords a glimpse?”
-Roland Barthes (1915-1980)

Social morality and how women dress has greatly affected fashion. Therefore, the modern era has been revolutionary for changes in feminine dress. The most critical development of all—the gradual revealing of the body. A feature story from the website at the University of Texas at Austin sets up this scenario. The Victorian era was deeply invested in preserving feminine morality and wearing clothing that covered the body. A glimpse of a lady’s ankle was shocking in itself in this period.  read more »

A lot of the stories in The Fashion Conspiracy describe the means whereby the various designers and companies establish their brand. Product branding is extremely important these days, as more and more consumers—especially young ones—pledge allegiance to specific brands. Sneakers are a famous example. Linking fashion and beauty products with famous faces is another time-honored device. If you want to get a good idea of the business process involved in all this, the SIBL Library has a great work: Packaging design: successful product branding from concept to shelf. While researching brands as a subject, I discovered to my surprise that this topic has not been greatly written about. I wonder why?

There is also something online that proves to be great fun. The Origins of Brands Blog makes a lot of connections with the same wryness that Nicholas Coleridge displayed in The Fashion Conspiracy. I’m bemused myself over my predilection for national brands. For example, I remain loyal to English perfume (Penhaligan) and French purses (Longchamps), and always, always wear only authentic American Indian-made jewelry.

Do any of you who might be reading this post have these kinds of loyalties? And do you think they’re an inherited or acquired trait?

Reading The Fashion Conspiracy reminded me how the fashion industry has produced its own versions of the Cinderella story. Moving from conspiracies to happy-ever-after stories, I was struck again by the career beginnings of a young guy from the Bronx named Ralph Lifshitz, son of an Orthodox Jewish immigrant from Minsk. He lived in the Mosholu Parkway section and attended DeWitt Clinton High School in New York City. By this time, he’d changed his last name to Lauren. From the very beginning of his modest start in the clothing trade, he preferred the preppie style.

His rise to fashion designer stardom is straight out of the best fiction, and was undoubtedly based on hard work. Ralph Lauren had a persistent dream that became reality. “We sell a way of life” was his mantra, and in this he has been wildly successful. What I like about his brand is the consistency of its visualization, down to selling a fantasy lifestyle (how many polo players do you know?). The Art Reading Room has two biographies on his life and work, but the more recent title says it all - Ralph Lauren: the man, the vision, the style. Perhaps I also have a bit of a bias towards a designer who uses Southwestern Native American textile themes in his leisure clothes. I still remember the Fashion Week in the late 1990s when his models all wore exquisite turquoise squash blossom necklaces and heavy silver concho belts...

“Things are entirely what they appear to be and behind them...there is nothing.”
-Jean-Paul Sartre (1905-1980)

One weekend this summer, I bought a paperback copy of an amusing book in our collection, The Fashion Conspiracy by Nicholas Coleridge. Published in 1988, the book is still relevant today in the portraits it draws of fashion wealth, 80s excess, and the striking contrasts between high-end designer showrooms and Asian sweatshops. Coleridge, a British journalist and novelist, uses a form of the then-developing creative nonfiction to make his profiles and encounters more interesting. I find him a bit too credulous as a reporter, however; he recounts the story of Oscar de la Renta as the inventor of the “fashion victim” term without any demur, and repeats similar questionable anecdotes as a matter of course.

Having just finished the book, I’ve found that his title stretches the point a little. An avid reader of murder mysteries, I like to think of myself as an expert on conspiracy theories. Coleridge’s thesis really denotes a nudge and wink conspiracy, in which market players all work together to make the couture garment an amazing piece of expensive sleight-of-hand. If you want to read about someone ready and willing to link fashion with terrorism, look at this interview with Bret Easton Ellis.

I’ve always believed that diversity makes for a more beautiful world. I also thought that most people felt that way, these days. Imagine my surprise when word began to leak out this past year that the fashion shows were employing more and more white models, and less of those of other colors. Having only skinny white girls on the runways is far from completing fashion’s dreamscape. I know Naomi Campbell is bad-tempered, but honestly—we need black, white, Hispanic, and Asian (and would a Native American hurt, either?) women to represent our global world.

For years now, Saudi, Middle Eastern, and Asian women have been major couture buyers. The big designers have customers in all shades of the rainbow as a result of the global economy. Furthermore, as Cathy Horyn says, who writes for the New York Times blog On the Runway, diversity can be a means for “Beauty and Soul.” I hope the Fall 2008 New York Fashion Week organizers are listening: put more models of different races out there for all to see. Fashionable fantasies shouldn’t be for just one group.

Josephine Baker had to leave 1920s America for France in order to receive the acclaim she deserved for her talent. Do we really wish for a return to those times? This is a clear-cut case of NOT wanting everything old to be new again…

“A large income is the best recipe for happiness I ever heard of.”
-Jane Austen, Mansfield Park

Of course, there’s the little matter of how will we pay for our new fall fashions? You’ll be reassured to know that this question won’t bother that sector of the population that attends fashion shows and buys directly from couturiers. For the rest of us who await the trickle-down of readymade fashion must-haves, the question is a little more acute.

One secret of success is to pick and choose. Picking a new accessory—which the Vogue editors pushed as an idea—has always been a way of getting a modish look without too much financial pain. There are bound to be a lot of inexpensive costume jewelry knock-offs of statement necklaces and faux bijoux. I admire those who can sew and adapt the latest outlines or features, whether they are the new silhouettes or an alluring bias cut. One of my favorite books, available at the reference desk in the Art Reading Room is a wonderful resource, full of pictures and retro chic suggestions, called Collectible fashions of the turbulent 30s. Now, those were the days when your dress dollar had to go a long way! Unless you were Marlene Dietrich.

Those who know how to do canny shopping will benefit this year. If you live in the metro New York area, check out two sites that offer ways to shop frugally: TheElegantTightwad.com and fashionswapandmeet.wordpress.com

Well, the September issue of Vogue has hit the stands. I’ve been scrutinizing it, as I do every year, to see what will be on the runways and in the stores this fall. What I encountered is pretty much what I expected: cautious optimism and a whole lot of conservatism. Economic slumps don’t inspire risk-taking or an emphasis on the extraordinary. Clothes with good, classic lines were shown, and there were less retro looks than expected. The slim line in dressing discounts room for breasts and hips, not unlike the body aesthetics of the 20s and 30s. Colors favored were red and blue (election year, surprise!) followed by black and white. Muted metallic tones appeared plentiful, a hangover from last season. Dries Van Noten and Alexander McQueen provided the necessary alternative avant-garde looks. Armani followed the other established designers in subdued clothes, but utilized a winning bias cut.

There were few remarkable photographic studies, other than a radiant Gwyneth Paltrow hawking Tod’s leather goods. The Vogue editors’ concession to the weak economy was a number of articles on the value of accessories, including faux jewels and a statement necklace. In the area of shoes, things looked frightening. Nothing but wickedly threatening stilettos, which Christian Louboutin calls the “skyscraper pump,” except for one page of handsome flats- which made me want to either applaud or cry. I was informed, however, that the flat jazz lace-up shoe is in fashion now. Much more intriguing was mention of the “armorial gladiator ankle boot” as a must-have. Whatever that is…

Vogue, the magazine, has been the subject of some interestingly speculative publications. Academia has begun examining the magazine’s effect on the American fashion industry. One title, As Seen in Vogue, evaluates the effect of its advertising on consumers. Another viewpoint investigates Beauty Photography in Vogue, while drawing some rather bland conclusions about the social impact of fashion photography. Much more amusing—and revealing—is former editor Grace Mirabella’s take on the magazine in her In and Out of Vogue.

I wonder how many of you saw the small article in The New York Times in early July, titled “Texas Ranch Moves from Raid Toward Runway,” in which the polygamist sect raided for alleged underage brides and child abuse announced that they were selling versions of their old-fashioned clothing online. Yes, the Fundamentalist Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints claims that on the basis of overwhelming interest in their children’s garments, they are now marketing their various conservatively-styled outfits for sale.

In order to raise money, which their spokeswoman admitted was important to them, the sect has established a website, fldsdress.com. The clothes are variations of toddler’s suits, overalls, and dresses with and without bloomers. Colors seem to be “Easter egg” pastels. One thing not on offer, however, will be directions for creating the women’s distinctively retro hairstyles… Look in NYPL’s Digital Gallery under the subject hair dressing to get an idea of the time period these styles came from.

And the demise of the Liz Claiborne Inc. sponsored brand, Sigrid Olsen, leaves many people in the fashion and consumer world unsettled.

Ah, the Dog Days of summer started very early this year, but they’re here now with a vengeance. The city needs daily intervals of icy downpours, or cold rain showers, while The Who’s “Love Reign O’er Me” blasts away in the background.

Well, if we can’t have that, let’s think of something cooling. The ancient Egyptians understood the usefulness of unbleached, durable linen. They wore fine linen garments to counteract the heat and humidity of the Nile Delta. Their production of linen is a remarkable story in itself, going back about three thousand years or so.

People in tropical countries also learned the value of wearing white, lightweight textiles. Our own modern era tropical wear is a variation on combinations of linen and khaki fabrics. The Filipinos devised costumes that merged elegance and utility. The nineteenth century gentleman in the illustration above is wearing a white shirt that is actually intended for formal wear—yet note how this shirt woven from pineapple fiber appears the height of casual dress to our untutored modern-day eyes. The shirt’s whiteness also proclaims the wearer’s affluence, for it would have to be laundered frequently.

My colleague Serena Jimenez often has a nose for a fashion trend. She alerted me to the runaway success of Showtime’s series The Tudors. I’m a pretty poor television viewer, whose idea of great tv is MSNBC’s Lockup series and HBO’s Deadwood (love those expletives). Therefore, I was initially skeptical of a production that featured a hard-bodied, smoldering Henry VIII, and took various other liberties with historical fact. But, over time, listening to her consistently eager reports, I found myself intrigued.

When my husband recently joined Netflix, I had him order the first disc for Season 1. Halfway through the first episode—I was hooked! I have two points to make about this television series. First, the series creators went right after the fact that Henry was a confirmed dandy and fashion leader; diplomats from other European royal courts were ordered to report back regularly on his changes of clothes. Henry’s costumes in the show are staggering, and as the episodes progress, I find myself eagerly waiting for what outfit he’ll appear in next. Second, I love the fact that this is a series in which the male lead is the unabashed attraction and outright sex symbol—along with a spectacular, historically-accurate wardrobe. Jonathan Rhys Meyers is a sheer delight and makes wonderful eye candy. There! I’ve said it. The real Henry VIII got corpulent fairly young, but this Henry is all a susceptible viewer could desire. Turnaround time!

So hurrah for Showtime, and the Irish production company that brings us such a breath of fresh air! If this series gets young people, and others usually bored by history, interested in Tudor doings, it’s all to the good. After all, Henry’s mania for a son and heir had a profound effect on the future. The rise of Protestantism in England, and later in America, would never have happened without this monarch’s “palpable” need.

I have to admit to being a little dismayed by the fact that feminism seems to be out of fashion. I’ve noticed this backlash of sorts in the last ten years or so, and realize that some of this may also be generational. Young women who didn’t live through the turbulent 60s and 70s may feel that feminism is either beside the point or irrelevant. Yet they grew up in a period when many battles had already been fought and won for them.

But when searching for the reason why Hilary Clinton’s pantsuits became a flash point of resentment, leading to negatives about her presidential campaign, it seemed like so many people—including big name journalists and pundits—were reliving the same kind of resentment that triggered the women’s rights protests of the 60s and 70s.

Hard-won freedoms should never be taken for granted. Just type the words “feminist backlash” into Google and you will see how the debate still ranges today. Since feminism and fashion are both social forces, the media loves speculating on which force will come out on top. See how academia is beginning to address the issue in Fresh lipstick: redressing fashion and feminism.

p.s. Next week’s posts will be lighthearted and frivolous. Blame it on the continuing heat and humidity…

Trousers suit, pantsuit—where did one leave off, and the other begin? Women wore trousers in the nineteenth century in special circumstances. For one example, the famous animal painter Rosa Bonheur wore pants for outdoor painting expeditions. But such clothing wasn’t acceptable for street wear. The early twentieth century couturiers started a trend for feminine slacks, limiting them for specific leisure occasions, such as beach wear or garden parties. We find illustrations of these outfits by the 1920s, with variations intermittently through the 30s and 40s. Actresses like Hepburn and Dietrich helped, but didn’t cinch the deal for social acceptance.

Which brings us to the 1960s. I think that we can look at pop culture, particularly rock n’ roll, for the genesis of feminine pants acceptance. The long Summer of Love that was the late 60s saw the advent of the unisex look, expressed best in the wearing of denim jeans. This was also the period in which militant feminism was born. The time was one of general disaffection with many things in society, and women were able to don pants as part of this protest. The men and women that led popular music in that period played an essential role in getting everyone accustomed to the sight of women in pants. Designer Tommy Hilfiger thinks so too, and you can see his endorsement of my theory in words and pictures if you peruse his Rock style: how fashion moves to music.

Yes, Marlene Dietrich was our mystery lady. While none of us who pay attention to fashion history are surprised anymore by the furor over women wearing pants, it still remains more than a little surprising how little documentation there is on that specific piece of history. I’d recommend to those teaching costume and fashion studies that they get their most promising grad students to work on this aspect of women’s dress.

As I looked through literature on the subject, I was shocked at how sketchy information is about the true origins of something like the pantsuit. The obituaries for Yves Saint Laurent labeled him as the inventor with his “Le Smoking” pantsuit in 1966, and a full-fledged “pantsuit” in 1970. Yet in a sweep of other books, I saw Andre Courrèges and British designer Tommy Nutter credited with the original invention.

The fact is, that just like searching the origins of the term “fashion victim,” researching the beginnings of the pantsuit calls for a systematic, detailed perusal of published literature, especially newspapers—along with some clever sleuthing. In the meantime, the Europeans have beaten us to basic documentation itself: the only books in our collection on the history of pants are in French and Italian!

Once upon a time, long before Hilary, there lived a woman during the Art Deco era of the 1930s. She was a famous actress like Katherine Hepburn, with a face recognized by people the world over. But this woman was exceptionally notorious. Why? She made a habit of wearing trousers in social situations at a time when women simply didn’t do so—not without causing a scandal. The outrage aroused by her actions might seem remarkable to us today, but—trust me—she generated real hostility.

And her reaction was only to do more. She appeared in a film one time in a man’s tuxedo, and later on kissed a woman on the mouth. Her run-in with French police over her public appearance in a trouser suit (the forerunner of the pantsuit) made newspaper headlines across the globe. By 1939, however, her wearing of pants in a film actually brought a sea-change in her studio executive bosses. They decided that her androgynous look was beneficial after all.

Who was this groundbreaking woman? I’ll provide the answer in the next post. Hint: we have a lot of great pictures of her in our Digital Gallery!