Currently Reading: Slacks and Calluses

Slacks and Calluses was the result of two high school teachers who decided to spend their summer vacation in 1943 helping out the war effort by working in an aircraft factory.   Constance Bowman Reid was an English teacher, and her friend Clara Maris Allen taught art, and in their spare time that summer they worked together to produce this delightful little book.

When I found this book, I assumed it was a  memoir, written by the pair many years later, but instead they  put the finishing touches on their work after they returned to school that fall, and they were lucky enough to get the book published the next year.  As a result, the book has a freshness and humor that goes with the very recent retelling of a story.

Along with the amazing descriptions of how a giant airplane assembly line actually worked, Slacks and Calluses has a lot of insights as to the fashions of the day.  Most interesting are the attitudes toward women wearing what was still considered in most situations, men’s clothing.

It was bad enough being tired all the time and dirty most of the time, but worst of all the first week was having to go to work in slacks – down Fourth Street where people who knew us acted as if they didn’t, or down Third Street where people who didn’t know us whistled as if they did.

The two friends found that clerks in stores ignored them, other women on the street scorned them  and men on buses would not surrender their seats to them like they did to women wearing skirts.

It was a great shock to C.M. and me to find that being a lady depended more on our clothes than upon ourselves… This summer we found out that it was not out innate dignity that protected us from unwelcome attentions, but our trim suits, big hats, white gloves, and spectator shoes.  Clothes, we reflected sadly, make the woman – and some clothes make the man think he can make the woman.

Some women in the factories, the “women’s counselors” and nurses, were allowed to wear skirts. Constance and C.M. “hated” those women.

On the positive side, the two did not have to worry about their figures that year, as all the walking just getting to their spot on the assembly line was sufficient exercise, and then the job itself was quite physical.

Slacks and Calluses is a light, fun read that gives a view of WWII that is rather hard to come by.  In the updated version, Reid wrote an epilogue, in which she says she was a bit embarrassed by the book.  That is because she went on to write books about math and number theory and became quite renowned for this work.  She died in 2010 at the age of 92.

Currently Reading – Boutique by Marnie Fogg

Boutique explores the boutique phenomenon of the 1960s and 70s, with an emphasis on the boutiques of London.  It’s a book I’d been meaning to buy for a while now, so I was pretty delighted when Mod Betty of Retro Roadmap emailed saying she’d found a copy and did I want it.  Well, yes, I’d be happy to take it off MB’s hands.

Most people who know a bit of fashion history know the big names of the London boutique movement:  Mary Quant, Biba, Ossie Clark.  What makes a book like Boutique valuable is that it also fills us in on some lesser known people who played a big role in the movement –  people like Gerald McCann, Bernard Neville, and Georgina Linhart.

Boutique starts the story where most historians start this tale – with Mary Quant.  Quant is so associated with the look of the mid 1960s that one tends to forget that she and partners Alexander Plunket Greene and Archie McNair opened Bazaar, their King’s Road boutique, in 1955.   The above photo shows a Bazaar shop window, from the late 1950s or early 1960s.  Unfortunately, and this is a real weakness of the book, so many of the photos are not dated.  But it does clearly show that the Mod look did not spring forth with the birth of Quant’s design career.

Fogg even addresses the age-old question:  Who invented the mini-skirt, Quant or Courreges?  According to her it was neither.  It was John Bates who designed as Jean Varon and who was responsible for the look of Mrs. Peel in the 1960s television series, The Avengers.

But there is no denying Quant’s influence on the fashions of the 1960s.  Because of her success many other young designers, like Marion Foale and Sally Tuffin were inspired to “do their own thing” in fashion.  Fashion for the young, by the young, was here to stay.

By 1967 Mod was mainstream, and so the fashionable London set was off to the next thing.  A softer, more androgynous look began appearing – a look that began to reference historical dress.

This photo is of The Fool, a group of hippie designers from Holland, who were somehow put in charge of the Beatles’ Apple Boutique in 1967.  You can see the historical references and the beginnings of psychedelic design.  In the book, Fogg mistakenly refers to the boutique as The Fool.

And that leads me to something that has to be said; this book was in need of a good editor, one that knew the subject and could help fact check.  It wasn’t until I was over half way through the book, in a chapter about Youthquake in the US that I began noticing problems.  I’m not sure if that is where the problems begin, or if it is just that I’m so much more familiar with the history of American fashion.

In talking about J.C. Penney, she referred to him as making decisions about developing a more modern image in 1963, when in fact at that time he was 88 years old and was merely an honorary member of the board of directors of the company that bore his name.  Then she explained that the Puritan Fashion Corporation was not, in fact in the fashion business, but was a maker of overalls.   But Puritan was a fashion company which had been making dresses since 1909, and was known for its low cost adaptations of European couture.  The New York store, Henri Bendel was misspelled as Bendell two times in the text.  I could go on, but you get the picture.

And it is a real shame, because these types of small errors cast doubt on the entire text.  I’m assuming that Fogg, being British, is more familiar with the London part of the story, but unless one actually knows that story, how are you to know whether or not the inaccuracies extend to that part of the book?  I’ve learned that “facts” on the internet ought to always be double-checked, and this is a good reminder that books have errors as well.

I guess this is why I’ve been so reluctant to write a book.  Here on the blog I can make an error, get pretty swift feedback and correction, and it’s no big deal.  But somehow a book is so permanent, and unless there are additional editions, errors go uncorrected. And often books have honest mistakes which subsequent research reveals.  These types of errors are simply unavoidable.

Just one more, and then I’ll cut Fogg some slack.  She refers to this skirt by Yves Saint Laurent as a maxi skirt.  Actually, I’d call this a midi.

But even with all the little problems, this is a good book to have, especially if you are really interested in the clothes of the 1960s and the early 70s.  There are lots of photos that I’ve never before seen, not even on the internet.  And as the icing, there are several pages of designer sketches that are just marvelous.

From Celia Birtwell

From Bob Manning

I’d be interested to hear what British readers think of this book.  Have you noticed little errors in the text in reference to the UK boutique scene, or does Fogg get it right?

 

Currently Reading: Schiaparelli & Prada: Impossible Conversations

One of my souvenirs of my NYC trip was this book from the Metropolitan Museum of Art.  The book is the companion to the exhibition of the same name that was held last summer at the Met’s Costume Institute.  Impossible Conversations was about the similarities and the differences of the two Italian designers, and by most accounts, the show was not a roaring success.   There were a series of themes, and for each a film was shown. An actress portraying Schiaparelli and Miuccia Prada herself sat on opposite ends of a table “discussing” each topic.  I did not see the show, but many reviewers found it to be a bit weird, and definitely contrived.  I have watched Youtube bits, and they do come off as a bit awkward.

At any rate, after the Alexander McQueen blockbuster of 2011, it must have been a great disappointment for the Costume Institute.  The attendance was much less than expected, with hardly a line at most times, which was great for people who love to go and think about what is being presented.  When I was there last week, the museum store had huge stacks of the companion book which had been reduced to $10.   Oddly enough, the book is priced at $40.50 on the Met website, so if you are in the New York City area, I suggest you drop in to pick up a copy.

The book is also divided into the themes of the show, but instead of the impossible conversations, there are appropriate passages from Schiaparelli’s Shocking Life and from interviews with Miuccia Prada.  You really don’t get the feel of an actual conversation, which eliminates some of the criticism of the exhibition.  The book is well laid out, with the words of the designers being printed on little inserted pages.  The photographs are stunning, especially of the Prada clothing.  One thing that bothered me is that most of the Schiaparelli garments are shown in vintage black and white photos.  I would have preferred more colored modern photos of the clothes, but I can see that the purpose was to let the reader see the garments as they were actually worn.

You were often shown a detail in color, along with a vintage photo of the same garment.

It was the detail shots that really brought the clothes to life.  I’ve seen dozens of photos of the Prada dress on the left, but a close up shot shows the richness of the fabric and the embroidery.

To me, one the most interesting parts of the book was a discussion about Surrealism.  Schiaparelli, of course, embraced the label, but Prada insisted that she was not influenced by it, nor by Schiaparelli’s work.  Even her 2000 spring collection which included prints of lips and hearts was, she said, referencing Yves Saint Laurent.  The print on the cover of the book was actually from that collection, but it sure looks Schiap-inspired to me.

So, who says you can’t find a bargain in the city?

I also want to say a few words about the Met and the Costume Institute.  Am I the only person who thinks it is ridiculous that they have only one fashion exhibition a year, and that it is on display for a few short months?  The website says that it is due to the sensitive nature of textiles that items from the collection are rarely on view, but with over 35,000 objects, each could be on display only once every 50 years or so!  And now that the Costume Institute has possession of the fashion collection from the Brooklyn Museum, most of it will never again be on view.

It is great that so much of the collection of the Costume Institute is available to view online, but it just is not the same as seeing the object in person.  It really makes me appreciate the efforts of Kent State, The Mint Museum in Charlotte, and The Charleston Museum, who always have fashions and textiles on view.

Currently Reading : In My Own Fashion by Oleg Cassini

I’m a real fan of autobiographies.  It’s almost like the joy of knowing that one has the opportunity to tell history their way comes out in the reading of the storyteller’s words.  This book by Oleg Cassini is no different.  It’s a fun read, even if the self-proclaimed jetsetter gets a little over-confident in the telling.

Today, Cassini is pretty much remembered for two things:  the wardrobe he made for Jackie Kennedy, and the myriad of licensed products that carried his name starting in the 1960s.  His story is so much richer than those two aspects, which made for some pretty entertaining hours curled up with this one.

Cassini was, more than anything, a Hollywood designer.  He made clothes for the movies, and he dressed stars including his wife, Gene Tierney.  He eventually ended up owning his own design firm in New York, where he continued to make dresses that would have been right at home in Hollywood.  In other words, he believed that a woman needed to dress in a slightly sexy manner.  During his time in New York, Cassini became involved with Grace Kelly, whom he pursued, and he eventually convinced her to marry him.  It never happened, due partly to the strong objections of her family and to her growing fame in Hollywood.  And then before he knew it, she was swept off her feet by another.

In the 1950s, Oleg and his brother, Igor Cassini, became friends with Joe Kennedy.  According to the book, Oleg and Igor spent evenings on the town with Joe in the company of young women they brought along.  By the time John Kennedy was elected president, there were years of history between the Cassinis and the Kennedys.

By all accounts, the selection of Oleg Cassini to be the new First Lady’s unofficial fashion designer was an odd one.  His own vision of how a woman should look was very much at odds at how Jackie herself liked to dress.  According to Cassini, he began to think of the new First Lady as a character, with her clothing accentuating the role she would be playing.  Into this vision he wisely incorporated the clean Parisian couture look that so appealed to Jackie.  He then took his plans for her wardrobe to her hospital room in December 1960, as she had just given birth to John Junior.   All around her were sketches from other designers such as Norell and Sarmi.  But it was he who won out, having created a look just for her, totally unrelated to his regular design work.

As he put it,  ”The clothes I designed for her – simple, elegant, classic – fit perfectly into her program.  From my knowledge of her taste, I had been able to predict her intentions.”

Unfortunately, Jackie had already put in an order at Bergdorf Goodman for her inaugural wardrobe, and according to most sources I’ve read, had asked them to provide the bulk of her wardrobe for the next four years.  The dress for the Inaugural Ball was already completed.  In the end she wore it, but Cassini insisted in his book that she always favored the dress he provided to her for the gala that was put on the night before the Inauguration.   This is probably true, as the dress he designed is one of the most famous of her time in the White House, and is pictured on the cover of Jacqueline Kennedy: The White House Years, the companion volume to the 2001 Met exhibition of the same name.

For the next almost three years, Oleg continued to make the bulk of the First Lady’s wardrobe.  Jackie, a dedicated reader of fashion magazines, would tear out photos of dresses she loved, and Oleg would  work up a version, using the ideas she favored.  His studio had three fitting mannequins with the same figure as Jackie along with a live model who was Jackie’s size, so most of the fitting was done in New York.  Then the almost finished garments were taken to Washington by Oleg’s assistant, Kay McGowan, for the final fitting and the approval of Jackie.

One of  the biggest question marks of In My Own Fashion is the strange insistence by Cassini that the pillbox hat worn by Mrs. Kennedy for the Inauguration was not made by Halston.  He insisted that the idea was his, and that he and Diana Vreeland discussed how the hat would have to sit on the back of her head in order to not interfere with her hair style.

“Eventually we agreed that a pillbox would work; the actual execution of the hat was done by Marita at Bergdorf Goodman, Mrs. Kennedy’s preferred hatmaker.  And so it was rather surprising, many years later, to read in the New York Times that Halston had created the pillbox.  An outright lie, and an attempted revision of fashion history.”

So I turned to my fashion library to see what was written about it at the time.   According to John Fairchild, writing in his Fashionable Savages in 1965,  ”Her (Mrs. Kennedy) inauguration pillbox from Bergdorf Goodman’s Halston is still selling.”

As it turns out, the Marita to whom Cassini was referring was Marita O’Connor, who was not even a milliner.  She was Jackie Kennedy’s millinery salesperson at Bergdorf Goodman.  She was well aware that Jackie favored the pillbox shape, as she had been wearing it all through the presidential campaign. It just seems natural that she would wear a pillbox, and since it was ordered from Bergdorf Goodman, that it would be made by Halston.

At any rate, it seems such a shame that Cassini seemed to have his nose so firmly out of joint in regards to the hat.  I can remember that soon before his death in 2005, he again reasserted his claim that he designed the pillbox.  It just seems to me that the accomplishment of helping create the fashion icon that is Jackie Kennedy would be enough to satisfy anyone’s ego.

Tomorrow, more on Cassini’s ready-to-wear business and his licensing empire.

Currently Reading: Harriet Love’s Guide to Vintage Chic

In 1982, I’d been buying vintage clothing for five years or so, haunting the old Salvation Army store on Lexington Avenue in downtown Asheville, and spending hours in a delightful little hole-in-the-wall shop on Broadway called Rags.  The owner, Ann, was a true original.  She knew clothes, and she was generous with her knowledge.  Her enthusiasm for old clothes was infectious, and I’d caught the bug from her.

I had also found a book called Cheap Chic, by Caterine Milinaire and Carol Troy.  It had a section called “Antiques: Shopping the Thrift Stores” and it was enough to really fuel the vintage fire. Then in 1982, something momentous happened:  Harriet Love published her book, Vintage Chic.

As far as I know, it was the very first book written about the buying and collecting of vintage clothing.  I was browsing the “fashion” section of my local B. Dalton Books when I spotted it.  The $12.50 price tag was not a deterrent to my having that book.  I bought it and devoured every word.

It’s really hard for me to grasp the fact that 1982 was 30 years ago!  And yet, so much has changed.  In the book, Love had to explain what vintage clothing was, and why anyone might be interested in wearing other people’s old clothing.  She had opened a shop in New York in 1966, and was by 1982 trying to move beyond the store’s roots as a supplier to hippies and oddballs.

Today, the book is more valuable to me as a look back  at the emerging vintage fashion scene than as a book about how to buy old clothes.  And yet, some of the advice in the book is still valid.  She wrote sections on vintage shopping that still have relevance.  For example, she warns people who are traveling to a new market to keep an open mind and to double-check dates before a long trip.  She explains how sizing has changed over the years and she gives good advice about how to judge the size of a garment without trying it on.  And she explains some of the different places where one might actually find vintage clothing.

There are a lot of photos in the book of models (including Geena Davis and Madonna before they were famous) wearing vintage clothing styled by Love.  It really points out how trends happen, even with vintage clothing.  She shows a dozen ways to wear Victorian white petticoats and nightgowns.  They were very popular at the time, echoing the gathered skirts and romantic looks of designers like Ralph Lauren.  And the book is full of 1940s blouses and jackets, showing the emerging 1980s broad shouldered styles.  In this way, the book is as much about 1980s fashion as it is about vintage.

It is interesting to see the types of things that Love saw as important – men’s deco print rayon scarves from the 1930s, 1950s beaded sweaters, Hawaiian and cowboy shirts.  And looking at it now, I can see how this influenced my buying preferences both during the 1980s and later.  I still have a hard time passing up a good 1930s fringed rayon scarf.

Because Love’s store was in New York, at the time I first read the book I thought the prices she mentioned were ridiculously high.  Even today, some of them are exactly what I might expect to pay for certain items, but then others are what makes us all want to climb into a time machine and go shopping.  A sampling:

White Edwardian blouse:  $40 – 175

Edwardian petticoat – $50 – $250

Victorian camisole: $55 – $150

1940s blouse, plain:  $50, with beads or sequins:  $100 plus

Printed cotton dirndl skirt:  $35 – $50

1940s print day dress: $40 – $60

Dior 1950s ball gown:  $75 – $100

1920s beaded dress:  $200 – $800

Today, it would have to be a very special camisole (or corset cover) in order to justify a $150 price tag, but I’ll take a dozen of those $100 Diors.

About a year ago I found that I had misplaced some of my clothing books, and this one was among the missing.  After a through search, I concluded that they must have gotten mixed up with some books I’d boxed up for charity, and that I’d given them away.  I missed my old copy of Vintage Chic, so I found one online and ordered it.  Several months later, I found my original, in the basement where *someone* had stored some of our books.

So today, in honor of my new status of having 300 blog subscribers, I’m giving the extra copy away.  This is open to all readers, worldwide.  All you have to do is leave a comment letting me know that you are in.  You might tell us how YOU first became interested in vintage clothing or fashion history.  I’d love some good stories.

Contest will end at noon, December 26, 2012.

Currently Reading: 1950s American Fashion by Jonathan Walford

If you are a collector of books on fashion history, chances are you already own one of Jonathan Walford’s books.  While those books, especially Forties Fashion and The Seductive Shoe, were large and comprehensive, the little book is totally different.

It is published by Shire Books, which is a UK publisher of small guides to historical and collecting subjects.  They have only recently begun publishing books on topics that pertain specifically to America.  Spend some time on their website, looking at all the fashion and textile topics.

For such a small book – there are only 64 pages – Walford packs in a lot of information.  So much of fashion history is written about the famous names, and when the emphasis is on American fashion, that usually means New York designers.  But here Walford gives a clear picture of how so much of the fashions being created in the US in the 1950s came from places like St. Louis and Honolulu.

And while he does profile the big names in New York and California fashion like Norman Norell and Claire McCardell and Adrian, he also tells about the makers of clothes that were more likely to have been bought by the average middle-class fashion consumer.  He tells about companies like Swirl and Jerry Gilden and Koret of California.  The result is a broad view of a vast and varied fashion landscape.

The illustrations are a combination of vintage advertising and modern photos of vintage clothing primarily from the Fashion History Museum of Cambridge, Ontario.  It’s a good mix that keeps the reader engaged in the content.  To me, this type of illustrating is a real strength.  So many fashion history books use vintage photos which are, for the most part, editorial photos from fashion magazines.  After a while, you start to see the same photos duplicated in various publications.  I like fresh content.

Okay, full disclosure, Jonathan is my friend.  That does not mean I’m only saying nice things about the book for that reason.  Jonathan will be the first person to tell you that if I did not like the book I’d have found a left-handed way to subtly get across my message!

No the truth is, you need to add this one to your library, and not just because my name is in it:

Currently Reading – What Shall I Wear by Claire McCardell

You might be interested to know that the 1956 book What Shall I Wear, by designer Claire McCardell, has finally been republished and is now available.  I haven’t actually seen the new reprint, and the page on Amazon does not show any of the interior, but it refers to the “charming illustrations” so I’m thinking the book was printed as it was in the 1950s.  I would not be even questioning this, but I recently learned that the reprint of Elegance, by  Genevieve Antoine Dariaux, is actually abridged.

I’ll be talking about the original, which I’ve been able to read thanks to Michelle Braverman, whom I want to thank again.  I will probably pick up a copy of the reprint, but what I really want is a vintage copy.  Perhaps the reprint will drive down the price of the original.   One can hope…

Let me start by saying that I’ve always loved fashion how-to books.  I love lists of must-have clothes, and lists of fashion don’ts.  Growing up in the 1960s and 70s, the rules of fashion were changing rapidly, but in my little corner of America, fashion rules still seemed to be appropriate.  I would have loved McCardell’s book when I was fifteen, in 1970.  But I was born too late, and instead I got my fashion advice from Seventeen and the Simplicity pattern catalog.

While this is a 50s period piece – lots of writing about crinolines and “what will your husband think” – much of the advice is still relevant today.  Quite a bit of the book is centered around the idea that you must know yourself, your body and your lifestyle, in order to made good fashion decisions.  That seems to be complete common sense, but how many people do you know today that need to take a good long look in the mirror, or need to reassess the appropriateness of their attire.

McCardell covers many aspects of fashion in her book, from developing a wardrobe of coats (...long ones, short ones, coats that are capes, warm ones, not so warm ones, and made out of a number of things…) to collecting “little things” (Jewelry, belts, shoes, gloves, bags, hats, scarves…).  But my favorite chapters were, of course, the ones on sportswear and travel clothes.

On sports clothes:  The little things that make sports clothes correct or incorrect are hardly noticable to the newcomer, yet the mistakes made by the novice are glaring ones to the old-timer.

On travel clothes:  Don’t forget that the moment you leave the privacy of your own home, you are in the public eye.  You are instantly subjected to the critical eye of station masters, porters, hotel clerks, stewards, bellboys.  And what a really educated eye they have when it comes to appraising a traveler!

Today, all the travel industry workers surely have a harder time appraising the traveler, but I’m sure they have their ways of predicting the travelers who will be the good tippers!

There seem to be two different covers on the new edition of What Shall I Wear?  The one I’m showing features a 1952 photograph of Lisa  Fonssagrives wearing a McCardell dress.  Photo by Richard Rutledge.