Fashion Exhibitionism

One of the on-going themes here at The Vintage Traveler is fashion exhibition, and what works (for me, at least) and what does not. I come to this conversation purely as a consumer of exhibitions, not as a scholar of the subject, nor as a maker of exhibitions. So I was pretty excited when the theme of this year’s Museum at FIT symposium was Exhibiting Fashion.  Because the symposiums are live-streamed, I had planned to take it all in last Friday.

If you missed it, then you are in luck, because you can still view all the talks and discussions. There are six hours of content, so you may not want to watch it all. Some of the talks are more relevant than others. You’ll know within a few minutes of watching one if viewing it is of interest to you.

I’m not going to attempt to go into all the topics that were discussed, as that would take an entire book. But there were so many things said that really resonated with me, and there were a few things that I wish had been said that were not.

If you know Valerie Steele (curator at the museum) from her writings and interviews, you know that she has a few opinions about what makes a great exhibition. I’ve heard her say on numerous occasions (including in the symposium) that an exhibition has to be more than just a display of pretty dresses.  And while I have no problem at all in spending a few hours looking at pretty dresses, fashion display has certainly moved past that mindset.

Much was said about how to translate the behind the scenes research into a visual display. While it is always possible to just lay it all out in the display notes, once an exhibition designer gets too wordy, then I’ve noticed that people stop reading. What is more effective is for the exhibition designer to evoke a context to which the viewer can relate. The use of everything from props, hair and makeup, Mise-en-scène , and juxtapositions can add meaning without a word being written.

But to paraphrase Lou Taylor, it really all comes down to the garment itself. The exhibition rises or falls on the selection of what is shown.

Several of the speakers touched on the point that I always try to make, and that is an exhibition does not need to be a huge production designed to pull in massive crowds (that is, to generate a lot of income for the museum) in order to be a fantastic experience. The small and more intimate exhibition can lead to insights not possible when you are jostling for position with hundreds of other viewers.

I was hoping someone would mention the huge walls of mannequins, three and four tiers high, with dresses that are impossible to see past the basic silhouette and a bit of sparkle. Unfortunately, that practice is left to me to say just how much I hate this trend in fashion exhibition. As Lou Taylor said, it all comes down to the garment, so what’s the point if the garment can’t be properly seen.

A lot was said about museum exhibitions as entertainment, as opposed to the museum as a place of education. As a former educator, I can tell you that the two are not mutually exclusive, and several presenters made the same point. Yes, fashion exhibitions are entertainment, at least they are to me. At the same time, I love leaving an exhibition with a new insight or bit of knowledge.

Another point that was briefly hinted at was the fine line between getting a point across and beating the museum goers over the head with the point. The best example I’ve seen of going too far was the Met’s 2013 exhibition on Punk. I’ll not rehash it here, as I wrote a review. Still, I hate leaving an exhibition feeling battered.

If you only have time for some quick viewing, I suggest you look at Julia Petrov’s talk on the history of fashion display. It’s fascinating. It starts at 55 minutes into the symposium.

Uniformity at the Museum at FIT

I’ve just returned from a whirlwind trip to New York, the purpose of which was to play guide to my friend Jill and a pair of twenty-four year olds who wanted to experience the big city. As such, fashion things were not number one on our list, but Jill and I managed to fit in two exhibitions.  First up is Uniformity, the latest at the Museum at FIT.

Uniforms are not fashion (though they can be fashionable) but they do influence fashion and designers.  The museum chose to show this influence though four categories of uniforms: sports, school, work, and the military.  Above, the curator, Emma McClendon, set the stage by giving us an example from each category, with an extra military uniform thrown in for good measure.

Perhaps that is because there are so many military influences in fashion that the category deserved extra representation.

Here we have on the left, a US colonel’s dress blue uniform from the 1950s.  It does not take a lot of imagination to see how designer Mainbocher took the men’s original to develop the US Navy WAVE uniform of WWII, center.  It does take a bit more of an imaginative stretch to see how Coco Chanel was inspired by blue military uniforms, but there it is in the brass buttons and navy wool of her suit from around 1960, right.

And that is how great designers work.  A garment is not so much copied as it is re-interpreted.

On the right you see the famous “Ike Jacket”, named for General Eisenhower, who favored the style.  During the war, and even afterward, the style became a favorite of both men and women as returning GIs found the jacket to be functional for civilian wear ( My father-in-law’s well-worn Ike jacket still hangs in the coat closet of his home.)  Designers like Claire McCardell adapted the look, as in her shorts ensemble shown above.  Note the bit of red plaid halter top, with was definitely not a part of the uniform.

On the left is a 1998 jacket and skirt from Comme des Garcons designer, Rei Kawakubo.  It is a pretty faithful copy of an olive drab men’s army jacket, but the sleeves have been ripped away.  Literally. You can’t really tell from the photo but the armholes are rough and a bit frayed.  On the right is Marc Jacob’s 2010 “army” jacket, which he paired with a long, romantic skirt.

Probably my favorite grouping of the exhibition was this one featuring the influence of the sailor’s uniform.  In the middle you see the typical summer and winter uniforms of a midshipman.  Though they seem timeless, the white suit is from 1912 and the navy is from 1915.

With their middy collars, the midshipman influence in these two very different dresses is unmistakable.  On the left is an 1890s dress made of red and white cotton, and intended for casual summer day wear.  One might even attempt a round of tennis in such a dress.  In an interpretation from the late 1950s, designer Norman Norell turned the dress into a luxury look, using silk instead of the expected cotton.  This dress was definitely not for playing tennis.

You might have mistakenly thought that the center look is a typical French sailor uniform, but instead, this is one of designer Jean Paul Gaultier’s many adaptations of the mariniere, or Breton shirt.  In 1984 Oscar de la Renta did a sequined version for evening.  The lace and striped look on the right is from designer Chitose Abe for her label, Sacai, 2015.

Work uniforms also influence fashion.  The flight suit of aviators has been adapted into fashionable looks many times.  The suit on the right could be a uniform if not for the bright pink color.  Made in 1976 by Elio Fiorucci, this jumpsuit came to the museum from Lauren Bacall.

Another work uniform that has been much adapted is the typical French waiter’s costume.  This ensemble is from Karl Lagerfeld for Chanel in 2015, so you may remember the Chanel show that was staged like a Parisian Brasserie.  All I can see that that perfect cardigan.

Though designed for children and very young adults, the school uniform also has been an influence on fashion.  The blazer dates to 1825 when members of a rowing team at Cambridge University wore “blazing red” jackets.  The garment became associated with college men’s uniforms.  On the left is what is thought to be a Princeton blazer from the 1920s.  The one on the right is a 1944 Princeton blazer.  Today the blazer is more associated with office attire, but it still has preppy connotations.

Here we see an influence of an influence.  The 1927 girl’s school uniform of the left clearly mimics the sailor’s uniform with the navy color and tied collar.  Unfortunately, you can’t tell that the uniform also reflects fashion in the dropped waist and pleated skirt.  On the right is designer Rudi Gernreich’s 1967 version of the schoolgirl’s uniform.  The sailor influences are still present.

Also go back to the very first photo.  What looks to be an additional school uniform is one, though it is from Japan and dates from a much more recent era.

And finally, you can see the influence that sports uniforms have on fashion.  In 1967 designer Geoffrey Beene made fashion news with his sequined football jersey dress.  It was featured in all the best fashion magazines.  In the middle is the real thing, a 1920s football uniform.  The craziness on the right is from Stella Jean.

The outfit on the right is very interesting.  It really could be mistaken for a uniform for an active sport, but it is actually from French designer, Ungaro, 1969.  It’s like he was inviting the wearer to join  Team Ungaro.  The set on the left is a cycling ensemble fro the 1980s, and the Swiss jersey on the wall is from 1972.

It’s interesting how sports teams have capitalized on their uniforms by marketing hats and jerseys to the general public.  Is that fashion?

I really enjoyed this thoughtful and well-presented exhibition.  We went late, an hour or so before the 8 pm closing, and we pretty much had the place to ourselves.  I really loved having Jill with me, as although she does love pretty clothes, she is a professional educator, not a fashion-obsessed crazy like me.  She was seeing some of these concepts for the first time, and I loved the way the museum made the crossover between uniforms and fashion so clear to her.

Now through September 16, 2016.

Exhibition Journal – Yves Saint Laurent + Halston

Back in February I was lucky to see this exhibition at FIT, Yves Saint Laurent + Halston: Fashioning the ’70s.  I usually like to take my exhibition journal and do drawings on site, but in some cases that is just not possible.  For this trip I didn’t even take the journal with me, as baggage was tight.  Also, I knew that I could depend on FIT to provide excellent brochures about each exhibition.

I was glad that I had decided not to try and sketch.  I had two friends with me, and sketching takes time.  And there is so much to do in New York and we had so much to see.  But the big reason I decided not to try sketching on site was because the Museum at FIT is always very busy.  People are constantly moving around the exhibits and it is hard for me to concentrate with so much activity.  One gallery has seats which are nice for drawers, but others do not, and I can’t draw standing.

So instead I took lots of photos of the details, planning to do my sketches later.  That didn’t happen though, as I just had so much going on in my head with all the other excitement from the trip.  So I decided to rely on the materials provided by FIT.  Because of that, this journal entry focuses more on what the curators wanted me to take from the exhibition rather than my own observations.  That’s not ideal, but sometimes it just has to be that way.

Probably the biggest takeaway from this exhibition is how time gives a clearer vision as to the zeitgeist of an era.   In the 1970s I don’t think many people would have been able to look at the work of Saint Laurent and of Halston and see how they were both pulling from similar influences.  At the time the differences overshadowed the similarities.

But using that marvelous tool called hindsight, we can step out of the era to see where both designers were influenced by the same things.  It was their approach that was different.

I’ve heard the 1970s referred to as “the decade that taste forgot.”  I think this exhibition can put that line to rest.

Faking It: Originals, Copies, and Counterfeits, at the Museum at FIT

Faking It: Originals, Copies, and Counterfeits, a current exhibition at the Museum at FIT, tells the long history of fashion fakes.  Interestingly, faking started as soon as designer names became known in the 19th century.  Over the past 150 years many attempts have been made to stop fashion fakes, but few of them have been effective.

I did a double-take when I came to the Paul Poiret brown cloak above, sure that I’d seen it before.  Then I remembered; LivedInVintage had posted photos of it on Instagram after finding it.  After people went crazy over it on Instagram, she was able to be in touch with the people at FIT, who purchased and restored it.

You can’t tell from my photo, but the words, “Authorized Reproduction” are on the label at the very top.  In an effort to eliminate the faking of his clothes, Poiret had his label copyrighted.  The rights to legally reproduce designs were sold, but that did not stop the practice of copying.

One thing I loved about this exhibition was how the labels were reproduced for visitors to see.  I’m always wanting to see the labels of things, so this was a real treat.

The dress on the left is an adapted copy of a Madeleine Vionnet dress called the Little Horses.  Vionnet tried to stop counterfeiting by putting her thumbprint on every label, but that was only partially effective.  You can see a photo of the original dress on the screen.  Note how only the top of the dress has the fancy horse design.

The two dresses on the right are by Jeanne Lanvin.  The complicated design of the petaled and scalloped tiers made the dresses hard to copy.

The black evening dress in the center has a Fashion Originator’s Guild of America label.  The guild was formed to fight fakes by registering each member’s designs.  If a design was found that copied a registered design, the guild members would no longer do business with a firm found dealing in the fake.  Unfortunately, the guild had to be disbanded in 1941 when it was found by the FTC to be in violation of trade laws.

And here is what makes an exhibition like this one so great.  They also had the original registration sketch of the black dress on display.

The red dress on the right is a reproduction of a Claire McCardell “Nada” dress.  According to an ad for the original dress, it was “the dress that created a fashion.”  That means that everyone was copying it.

The dress on the left was by American designer Carrie Munn.  While not a fake or a pure copy, Munn’s work was derivative of that of Dior and Balenciaga.

Couturiers often licensed designs to American manufacturers, which created lower cost clothes with designer cache.  I suppose they figured that Americans would buy the fakes anyway, and so they ought to compete with them.  The green and rust gown is by French designer Jean Desses for Raymodes Negligees, circa 1950.

The dress on the right is a Charles James for Samuel Winston dress.  In the early 1950s James licensed designs to Samuel Winston, but he ended up suing the company for using his work and not putting his label in the dresses.

In the late 1940s and early 1950s French designer Jacques Fath did special designs for American manufacturer Joseph Halpert.  The red dress is a beautiful example.  These were not fakes, but were actually designed in the US by Fath.

This Jean Desses coat has an adaptation label.  That means it was inspired by a Desses original, but that changes were made to the design.

The dress on the left is a licensed copy of a Dior dress.  It was made by Mignon, an American company that often made legal copies.  The red coat is a line-for-line copy of a Balenciaga coat.  It was made for Macy’s Little Shops, using the actual Balenciaga as a pattern.

In 1965 Yves Saint Laurent designed his famous Mondrian dresses, which shows that designers not only copy from each other, they also “borrow” from art.  So, which is the Saint Laurent, and which two are copies?

(The one in the center is the Yves Saint Laurent.)

You might think that this Lilly Dache Sally Victor hat was “inspired” by the Yves Saint Laurent dress, but it was actually made in 1962, three years prior to the famous dress.

Today, copying often takes the form of a company “copying”  itself.   Companies like Missoni do this by collaborating with cheaper retailers like Target.  It might be a bit difficult to tell that the “real” Missoni is the one on the left, but seeing these two in person leaves no doubt that there is a huge difference in quality.

There were quite a few Chanel suits, and Chanel-inspired suits in the exhibition, but the most informative display was this authentic Chanel along side an authorized copy.  The Chanel is on the left, and the suit on the right was made by Ohrbach’s Department Store.  The suits seem to be almost identical, with the exception of the extra set of pockets on the Chanel.

Behind the two suit was a slide show that examined the two suits very closely, and then pointed out the differences in construction.  In fifteen slides, one gets an excellent Chanel education.

Of course I loved this exhibition.  The research at FIT is so through, and the presentation is always beautiful.  I do wish that the lighting in this gallery was more like that of the one downstairs.  It is so dark that details cannot be seen in many cases, especially in black and dark garments.  And it would be great to see the backs of the clothes.  The arrangement of the gallery is linear, so there is more of a flat view.  Perhaps mirrors could be employed.

At The Museum at FIT in New York, through April 25, 2015

Yves Saint Laurent + Halston: Fashioning the ’70s at the Museum at FIT

One of the highlights of any visit to New York is a visit to the Museum at FIT.  This past trip was no exception with the two shows they had going being not only beautiful, but thought-provoking.

Yves Saint Laurent + Halston: Fashioning the ’70s is the first exhibition that has ever focused just on these two giants of the 1970s.  I came of age in the 1970s, and I’ve been well-acquainted with the work of both designers for over 45 years.    But it was a revelation seeing their work side by side.  It seems that the clean modernist (Halston) and the romantic historian (YSL) had a lot more in common than is at first apparent.

Because the museum’s holding of both designers is extensive, there was a lot of material for the curators to work with.  They were able to look at the clothes with an eye for how each interpreted a certain theme.  This approach reveals not only how the two designers were different, it also points out some startling likenesses.

One of the games that people are playing with this exhibition is “Guess Who?”  Instead of immediately reading the notes on each garment, people were trying to guess which was the YSL and which the Halston.  It was a fun exercise, though in most cases there were little details that gave the answer away if one was fairly familiar with both designers’ work.  In the top photo, the ensemble on the left is by Halston, and the one on the right is Saint Laurent.

Can you guess which is the Halston and which is the YSL?  It probably would help to know that Halston worked mainly in solid colors, so the dress on the right is his.

Can you see the tiny hems on these layers of chiffon?  The workmanship that came out of Halston’s workrooms really astounded me.  Someone described Halston’s designs as simple clothes that were expensive.  Add to that description that they were made from top quality fabrics by highly skilled sewers.

One of the themes that the exhibition explored was how each designer was influenced by menswear.  Much has been written of Yves Saint Laurent’s appropriation of menswear, especially in the famous Le Smoking, or tuxedo suit for women.  He also did tailored suits in the style of 1930s or 40s men’s suits, seen above in blue pinstripes.

Halston’s use of menswear was much more subtle, but no less influential.  In his hands the man’s shirt was elongated and narrowed into a flattering shirtdress.

Another theme of the exhibition was how each designer used the “exotic” in their designs.  This was quite easy to see in the work of YSL, as he was known for using all kinds of cultural influences in his work.  Whole collections were designed around Russia or China.  In his hands the word “peasant” took on a whole new meaning.

Halston’s use of the exotic often was expressed in the form of caftans and pajama set with capes.  These great tie-dyed pajamas date from 1970, and the red caftan is from 1972.  The set on the left and the caftan are from the wardrobe of Lauren Bacall, who donated 700 items to FIT while she was still alive.

And finally, the exhibition looked at how both designers used historical references in their work.  Again, Saint Laurent was much more literal in his use of historic fashion.  His clothes often contain references to the work of Chanel, and he was especially fond of paying homage to the 1930s and early 40s.

Halston paid his respects to the past in his use of the bias cut in the manner of Vionnet.

And in his hands the cashmere twin set of the 1950s became luxurious (and warm) evening wear.

In taking in this exhibition, and I had to see it twice, I was struck at how my own sense of style was shaped by these two designers.  I was fifteen in 1970, and so these were the years that I was really into fashion.  Many of the shapes and designs in the exhibition have been in my own closet through the years, and I still love a fitted sweater over slacks and a good bomber jacket.

In the late 1970s I made a dress that was very similar to the Halston on the left (are those Warhol flowers?) to wear to work, and I would have worn the YSL on the right as well, given the chance.  I still have a shirtdress in my closet, and I’m seriously thinking of making one in gingham.  Hey, if it was good enough for Lauren Bacall, why not?

This exhibition is in the basement gallery, which I love.  The display space is large and is arranged in a non-linear way so that rambling and contemplation is encouraged.  The clothes are arranged so that most of them can be seen from more than one angle.  In the hallway there is a timeline of the careers of both designers.  It is very helpful in tying it all together, and as a special treat, it’s online.

And I want to say a special thanks to the museum for allowing photos.  This is the first time I’ve ever been to an exhibition there where photos were allowed.  I hope it leads to a loosening of the no-photo policy.

Yves Saint Laurent + Halston: Fashioning the 70s was organized and curated by Patricia Mears and Emma McClendon.  It is open until April 18, 2015.

Museum at FIT – RetroSpective

One of the great treasures of the fashion history world is the Museum at the Fashion Institute of Technology.   At any time there is at least one exhibition, and often there are more.  And quite incredibly for a city where everything is expensive, the museum is free of charge.

The exhibition this summer has been RetroSpective, in which the relationship that fashion has with past fashion is explored.  This is a topic of special interest to vintage clothing lovers like me.  It seems like we are always discussing the past influences that show up on the runway or in more recent fashion.  As this exhibition shows us, fashion has long looked to the past for inspiration.

The top photo is from a 1999 gown by Alexander McQueen for Givenchy, in which you can see references to the fashion of 16th century England.

On the left is a man’s embroidered coat and vest from around 1790.  The ensemble on the right, featuring a raffia coat with embroidery, is by designer Walter Van Beirendonck.  It is from his 2006 Relics of the Future collection.

Don’t forget to click!

This installation shows how fashion has gotten inspiration from the robe à l’anglaise of the 18th century.  On the far left is a silk damask robe à l’anglaise, circa 1765. The look of  wide hips is created through the use of panniers – pads or hoops at the sides.    The gown next to it is from 1951, by French couturier Pierre Balmain.  The fullness of the skirt mimics the effect of panniers, and the bottom of the corseted top reminds one of the stomacher of the robe à l’anglaise.

The black dress is a circa 1923 robe de style, a look associated with couturier Jeanne Lanvin.  Again, note how the side fullness of the skirt is reminiscent of the 1765 panniers.  Finally there is a 2009 dress from Spanish designer Agatha Ruiz de la Prada. Her dress, constructed from bands of ribbons, has panniers shaped by wires.

The dress in front is a circa 1810 Empire style gown of silk.  It is styled after the long gowns of ancient Greece.  The red dress is from American designer, Norman Norell, a 1962 homage to the Empress Josephine.  The Empire waist also was popular in the early 1910s.

This display shows the lasting influence of the crinoline of the 1860s.  On the far left is a circa 1860 dress, the skirt of which would have been supported by crinoline cages like the one hanging beside it.  The look became popular again in the 1950s.  The early 1950s green satin dress is by Anne Fogarty, who was famous for this silhouette.   (I loved seeing this, as I have the same dress, but in a dark red velveteen, in my own collection.)   In the case in front of it is a folding plastic crinoline from the 1950s.

The crinoline influence can also be seen in a 1996 gown by Japanese designer Yoshiki Hishinuma.  Look carefully and you can see the cage beneath the skirt.  On the next ensemble, you can’t miss the cage.  It’s by Thom Browne, 2013.

Here’s a better look at the  Yoshiki Hishinuma dress.

As impracticable as it might seem, the bustle of the late 1880s has been revived numerous times.  Starting on the right you see a circa 1939 silk gown by Elsa Schiaparelli, in which the effect of a bustle is created through the use of gathers and a huge bow.  The bustle also made a comeback in the 1980s.  The black velvet and dotted gown is a 1988 creation of Carolina Herrera.   On the left is a denim and silk creation by Anna Sui, 1999.

Elsa Schiaparelli, evening dress, black and bronze shot silk taffeta, circa 1939, France, courtesy of Mrs. Michael Blankfort.

The dropped waist, fringe, and straight silhouette of the 1920s have been widely copied.  The red dress is from 1925, and is by Lenief of France.    The black dress beside it is from 1961 and is by Marc Bohan for Dior.   Next is a black wool from Norman Norell, 1965.  You can also see the fringe effect in the pink Carolyne Roehm dress from 1988.  Finally, the blue wool jersey dress is from Rifat Ozbek, 1986.

This dress must have been very popular, as I’ve seen quite a few 1960s copies with the same concept of the fringe being made from strips of cloth.

Norman Norell, evening dress, black wool crepe, rhinestones, circa 1965, USA, gift of Lauren Bacall

On the left is a 1960s Harry Gordon  paper dress.  On the right, a Sarah Caplan for MPH,  non-woven Tyvek dress, 1999

In the 1960s designer Paco Rabanne became famous for his dresses made of plastic and metal links, and which were reminiscent of Medieval chain mail.  In 2004 Yohji Yamamoto used a similar technique using triangles of chambray connected by metal links.

And to finish, here is a grouping of clothes, inspired by the 1980 and the 1990s.  Right to left:

 Dries Van Noten plaid cotton, silk,  and stretch satin ensemble,  2013

Anna Sui, Rainbow Grunge, 1993

Stephen Sprouse,  man’s leggings, printed spandex, 1985

Nicolas Ghesquière for Balenciaga printed canvas, striped knit dress, 2004

Mike Bidlo, painted tweed suit, 1982

In all there were over 100 items on display, including quite a few standout items not shown here – a Pola Stout fabric Adrian suit, dresses by Claire McCardell, a 1950s Dior suit, and Thea Porter from 1973.  Over all, it was an afternoon well spent!

All images courtesy and copyright of The Museum at FIT.   RetroSpective is on view until November 16, 2013.