This week, in the fourth week of the term, with two weeks’ notice, I took over teaching the basic clothing construction course at my school. To say that I am excited to have this addition to my schedule would be an understatement. I am beyond thrilled.
A few years ago, earlier in my teaching career, taking on a class partially underway, and teaching that class without much advance preparation, would have had me in a panic. This month, however, it is a project I have excitedly taken on as an addition to my other courses in progress.
When I say “without much advance preparation,” I mean that, before last week, I had not sat down and prepared a detailed lesson plan for this course, having not had the opportunity to teach it up until now (oddly enough, though, the week before I was offered the course, I had begun thinking about how there was no reason not to prepare a syllabus and lesson plans for this most basic of courses, and how I should probably do so in my spare time). Other forms of preparation I have had for teaching this course are the sewing courses I have taken, other courses I have taught, years of apparel construction experience, and past employment experiences, so fear not for my students, they are in capable hands!
Taking over this course presents more than a few challenges, and one of the more significant ones is being the experience of being a replacement instructor. I have been a replacement before, but stepping into the classroom after the class has already started is new for me. With this new class of mine, the students have already had time to get to know the previous instructor, and were working with that instructor’s syllabus and assignments, and course schedule. The good part, however, is that this course only meets once a week, therefore the students have actually only had three class meetings with my predecessor, meaning they have had little time to become settled in to one instructor’s routine before switching to another’s.
This week, I started off by introducing my syllabus with my course policies, classroom expectations, assignments, suggested supplies, and course topic outline. Following that, we did some “getting to know you” exercises, and then came the task of figuring out what everybody’s skill level was. One of the special elements of teaching at community college is the diversity of the students’ educational backgrounds, abilities, and life experiences.
Teaching at universities, I generally had students who were in the late teens and early twenties, with very few exceptions. At my current location, I have all ages in my classes, from 15 on up. What this means in a clothing construction course is that some students arrive with no skills to speak of and others arrive with decades of experience. That might sound like a logistical nightmare, in terms of planning assignments and making them appropriately challenging for each student, however, it is actually quite enjoyable to teach students with a range of abilities, as there will probably be no moment in the rest of the term at which I will have 27 students all doing the exact same assignment.
Giving students of varied skill levels the option to select projects (pending instructor approval) to complete in order to achieve the course’s objectives gives each of them the opportunity to do something they are highly interested in (good for the learning experience), and a variety of projects being created in the sewing lab presents further learning opportunities for the class as a whole, as the students will be able to see what each other’s projects are, and draw inspiration from each other. Additionally, at the completion of their projects, the students will informally present their work to the class and discuss the techniques involved, challenges encountered, and skills learned, furthering the opportunity for them to learn from each other.
My institution, has, fortunately, pre-determined objectives for the course, detailing specific topics for me to cover in class (darts, seams, pockets, et cetera). Here is a question I have for those of you who are not in school, teaching or otherwise. Think back to your first construction courses when you were in school. Which, of the skills that you were taught, have turned out to be indispensible in your career? Leave me a comment and let me know.
On Mondays WT tries to always post a call for papers regarding something in the academic world, but sometimes something else fun comes up that isn’t exactly research-y, but that I really want to let you know about.
They are looking to you to submit entries of your best ideas. Here is what they say:
“As with 101 One-Yard Wonders, we’re focusing on projects that take no more than one yard of fabric to complete. Ideally your project would use nearly the full yard of fabric (no quarter yard projects please, unless they are part of a group project which takes up a full yard).
By all means, please feel free to add trims, zippers, Velcro, buttons, interfacing — whatever additional stash stuff & notions might be necessary to complete the project. We only ask that your project uses one– and only one–yard of a single fabric.
We invite you to contribute your original designs for home decorating items, baby items, personal accessories, toys, garments (for men, women, and children), outdoors, pets, seasonal projects … whatever! The categories are open ended, and the possibilities are limitless! We can’t wait to see how you want to use your different fabrics!
The deadline for submissions is April 1, 2010. Projects will be considered as we receive them, so try to get them in sooner rather than later. The only stipulation is that your original designs may not have been previously published in a book or anthology. Email notifications will be sent May 1, 2010 with detailed next steps.”
As some may recall, I attended a special conference given by Seb Chan of the Powerhouse museum in September of 2009. While writing the post for that issue of Worn Through, I came across “The Australian Dress Register” that the Powerhouse was developing, which aims to “assist museums and private collectors to recognize and research their dress collections and support better care and management.” Fascinated by this idea, I kept it in the back of my head. Several months later, while trolling Twitter, I came to know Rebecca Evans, an assistant registrar for the Powerhouse and a new scholar in dress. After some discussion, I asked her if she might be able to give readers of WT some insider information on the Australian Dress Register – and she agreed!
I’m pleased to present this ‘sneak peak’ into the future of museum collections and their uses:
The Australian Dress Register is an inventive new project from the Powerhouse Museum, Sydney which aims to document provenanced historical dress. It is an online database that records information including:
measurements,
cut,
fabric,
photographs,
condition,
history and
provenance.
The project has two main aims;
to document men, women and children’s costume and
to assist museums and private collectors in recognizing the importance of dress in communicating history.
This is a comprehensive approach to recording and documenting some of the outstanding examples of costume in collections in the state of News South Wales. The project also provides many help notes focused on supporting the conservation of these examples of dress. We hope that the Dress Register will encourage collectors to consider their collections very broadly and preserve and share what they know about people, their dress and life in the past.
[Examples of the helpful information the project hopes to help provide is detailed instruction on this resources page, it also includes a series of instructional video how-to's including storage and measuring techniques, such as this one below]
I’ve been working on the project for about a year now and one of my favorite aspects of the register is its documentation of garment measurements. From a scientific point of view it is insightful to see how the shape of people’s bodies has changed over time, especially the circumference of women’s waists and peoples height. Silhouettes have dramatically altered over time, whether the width between shoulder seams, different lengths between the back and front of skirts or the length of a trouser – this information is useful for researchers, practitioners and industry leaders. One of the garments on the register from the 1840s, worn by a woman who had had four children, has a waist circumference of only 60 cm! This suggests the wearer was tightly corseted.
The project allows for the possibility to link similar examples of dress together, even though they are hundreds of kilometers away from one another. One of the best finds so far is linking a dress from the Powerhouse Museums’s collection and a skirt from the Tongarra Museum, both from the mid-1840s. The skirts in both of these examples have virtually the same construction with five, bias-cut strips down the centre front and distinctive plaid silk taffeta fabrics. These examples were made on opposite sides of Australia, one in Tasmania and other in New South Wales, one probably by a professional and the other by the owner. This tells us a lot about dressmaking practices of this period as well as generally what was in fashion.
Detail of check skirt, c.1845, The Tongarra Museum, Photography by Rebecca Evans
The Australian Dress Register will be officially launched as a public website in mid-2010. We have much to work to do till then but I am sure that it will prove to be a fantastic resource. I hope that it will be useful to people in the museum industry, academics, designers, scientists, home sewers, students and many more. I am constantly surprised and awed by historic dress and its ability to reveal history and describe its wearer.
I want to extend a very warm thank you to Rebecca for this insightful post. Be sure to check out the resources page for a selection of instructional videos and pdfs available from the powerhouse/dress register. Are there other institutions out there working on similar initiatives or projects? How is your institution making use of new technology, making collections more useful and accessible to its patrons? As a museum visitor, do you have suggestions or ideas for ways museums might better promote/utilize/connect collections across borders? Comments welcome below!
Picking up from where I left off last week, I’m going to address mannequins’ evolution in the second half of the 20th century.
The revolutionary ’60s came as a shock to the world, the American youth rebelling against the traditions of their conservative parents who desired normalcy and stability after the chaos of WWII. The FDA’s approval of birth control pills in 1960 beckoned the sexual revolution; free love challenged the marriage-monogamy favored in the ’50s, women took charge of their bodies and their careers outside the home. After the post-war homemaking scenes enacted in ’50s storefronts, the next generation of mannequins aimed to capture real women rather than idealized versions of them… to a greater extent, anyway. Adel Rootstein’s company produced mannequins based on living, iconic people such as Twiggy (seen below), Patty Boyd, and Sandy Shaw, creating a secondary kind of functional pop art:
These mannequins were designed with increasingly kinetic stances, reflecting the growing obsession with youthfulness and freedom of movement (this could include freedom of professional sphere as well as freedom from more restrictive garments).
The 1970s saw more ethnic diversity in mannequins; Decter of Los Angeles presented it’s Reflections VII collection with Asian and Black mannequins “walking” arm in arm. There was greater attention to anatomical accuracy too, specifically nipples. As short and mod ’60s fashions evolved to the long, flowing, backless or see-through styles of the ’70s, structured bras were worn less by live women and mannequin nipples more realistically displayed these braless styles. Capitalizing on the “natural” look, VIVA Lingerie even had a nipple bra that had padded nipples with the “support you want” (hilarious!):
In the same vein of growing skin exposure, as the fashionable waist was lowered from the natural waistline to the hipline, the torso joint of mannequins’ upper and lower halves was likewise lowered, to display bikinis without the distracting visible split line.
The recession of the early 1990s led to minimalistic, abstract fashions, and also mannequins that still looked good in simple (cheaper) settings. Headless mannequins had the bonus of being politically correct (no ethnicity = every ethnicity) and era unspecific, with the bonus of eliminating time intensive makeup and hair styling.
Plus-size, juniors and maternity fashion were finally recognized as a significant part of the fashion industry and so mannequins were built with a wider variety of shapes and sizes to cater to these growing markets. Below are mannequins with larger-than-usual butts for those with a Jennifer Lopez shape, commonly seen in my former ‘hood, Spanish Harlem:
Several designers have experimented with mannequins in addition to straightforward fashion design. Alexander McQueen inspired mannequin designers when he utilized clear mannequins lit inside with fiber optics in Givenchy’s Fall 1998 haute couture runway show. The Pucci Mannequin company made a name for themselves by collaborating with different artists to produce unique, unusual mannequins. These guest designers included Kenny Sharf, Ruben Toledo, Maira Kalman,
Pucci mannequin by Maira Kalman, "Tango" series
and Anna Sui.
Pucci mannequin by Anna Sui
And mannequins have inspired fashion designers themselves in an interesting reversal of influence. Aminaka Wilmont created a trompe l’oeil dress that mimics a mannequin on a dress (that I desperately want to own, by the way):
And on that note, I’ll leave you with yet another cliff-hanger (it’s a stretch, I know): next week I’ll look into the relationship between mannequins and fine art, which is my personal favorite part of this story!
(1. Fashion and Textile Design Faculty, Gibbs College
Gibbs College is seeking part-time, adjunct instructors to provide and sustain an effective learning environment for every student through well prepared classes, relevant assignments, fair and holistic assessment of learning, clear documentation of student progress, and support of academic success of at-risk students.
Qualifications: Demonstrated expertise in Fashion; Expertise in interpersonal and oral presentation/written communication skills, as demonstrated by: data sheet, diplomas, degrees, transcripts, certifications, CVs/Resumes, and in personal interview; 2 – 4 years experience; Diploma or associates degree in Fashion or related field is required; candidates with a master’s degree are required. Candidates with a combination of an associates or bachelors degree, certifications and work experience may be considered.
(2. Professor of Fashion Marketing and Management, SCAD Atlanta
SCAD Atlanta seeks candidates for full-time faculty positions in fashion marketing and management. Qualified candidates should have a MBA, MFA or equivalent in fashion or a related field, as well as a broad knowledge of the fashion business. Excellent skills in wholesale, retailing, and fashion marketing and management are required. Professional recognition is essential.
The successful candidate will be joining a highly creative, motivated and exciting team that is creating the next generation of fashion buyers, product developers, retail and wholesale merchandisers, and marketers. Strong skills in the areas of retailing, fashion marketing and management, design, concept, innovation, illustration, sketching and CAD are highly desirable. College-level teaching experience is preferred. The fashion marketing and management program combines the study of design, business, communication and cultural studies. Students are prepared to address consumers’ needs and lifestyle aspirations in order to deliver directional styles that can build or stretch brands to new levels. For complete submission requirements and to apply online, please submit curriculum vitae and an unofficial copy of the transcript showing your highest degree here.
The Textile Society of America is pleased to solicit nominations for the R. L. Shep Ethnic Textile Book Award for books published in 2009.
Given annually, the award is meant to encourage the study and understanding of ethnic textile traditions by recognizing exceptional scholarship in the field. The award consists of a cash prize, funded by an endowment established by R. L. Shep in 2000. The Textile Society of America administers the endowment through a committee appointed by the Board of Directors.
Nominations are open to English-language books (including bilingual publications in which all essential information appears in English). For the purpose of the award, “ethnic” textiles are defined as the non-industrial textiles of Asia, Africa, Oceania, and Native and Latin America, as well as those in identifiable cultural groups in Europe and North America. Books of a variety of formats, including monographs, anthologies, and exhibition catalogs may be nominated. High-quality research and scholarship are the principal criteria for the prize-winning book. The book must also be presented in an accessible, engaging manner. Books must contain a printed publication date of 2009.
The award will be presented at the Textile Society of America’s Biennial Symposium this fall in Lincoln, Nebraska (October 6 – 9, 2010). Visit the Textile Society online for further details.
Please send the full bibliographic citation of each book nominated to award committee chair Barbara Belle Sloan, Associate Director, Center for the Study of Regional Dress, Fowler Museum at UCLA, Los Angeles, CA 90095-1549; bsloan@arts.ucla.edu.
The 2010 International Conference in Textile Composites
October 26-28, 2010, LILLE, FRANCE
Participate in the 10th International Conference on Textile Composites, TEXCOMP10, to be held at the Lille Grand Palais conference center, from October 26 through 28, 2010. By bringing together scientists and engineers active in a variety of disciplines, the conference provides a dedicated forum for discussions and reports on recent advances in textiles and their composites.
Scope of the Conference
The TEXCOMP10 conference accepts papers which make an original contribution to the field of science and engineering of textile composites and related topics. The non-exclusive list of conference topics includes:
Mechanical design and modelling
Advanced manufacturing processes
Net-shape 3D textile preforms
Nano-fibres and composites
Mechanical and thermal behaviors
Textile composites in ballistics
Process simulation and control
Textile modeling
Mechanical design
Numerical methods and simulation
Industrial applications and case studies
Natural fibers
Abstracts, with a maximum of 500 words, including one or two graphs/figures and references, should be sent electronically to Prof. Christophe Binetruy at binetruy@ensm-douai.fr and Dr. François Bossu at francois.boussu@ensait.fr.
Deadline for abstract submissions: February 28, 2010.
Notification of acceptance sent to authors: April 1, 2010
Deadline for submission of 6-page papers: June 30, 2010
Deadline for conference registration early bird: June 30, 2010
The complete conference program has not been posted yet, however there are three plenary sessions listed, hosted by Dr Florent Bouillon of Aircelle, Dr. A Blanton Godfrey, Dean of the College of Textiles and Professor at North Carolina State University, and Yiping Qiu, Professor at Donghua University, respectively.
The legendary ride of Lady Godiva, in which she took a promenade through town naked on horseback, has sparked the imagination of many. Various interpretations and multiple retellings of her story testify to the compelling nature and irresistible appeal of this tale.
In an effort to convince her husband to lower taxes, Lady Godiva is rumored to have stripped herself of all her clothes to ride through the town’s square. The townspeople are said to have shut their windows out of respect for this gallant, although shocking, gesture on the part of the Lady (but alas there was Peeping Tom notoriously watching her risque ride!). Whether or not this event really happened in the dramatic fashion in which it is most often retold is up for debate, but Lady Godiva serves as a significant springboard for discussing issues of nakedness, dress, and the gaze — all of which converge in themes of masochism and exhibitionism.
Although Lady Godiva was notoriously nude for her famous ride, there are some points to be made here regarding showing or revealing the body through clothing. Under the cover of dress we are obviously not revealing the body completely, but there is a sense in which clothing itself – while literally concealing the body – is precisely intended to show off the body. In fact, it’s been said that the history of fashion is nothing but the constant shifting focus of attention to various parts of the female form.
But what is behind this dual revealing and concealing in clothing? Does this close connection with the body allow for a sort of subtle or un-spoken exhibitionism? And if so, where does that exhibitionism leave us?
In his philosophical work Being and Nothingness, Jean Paul Sartre details the behaviors of the masochist — the person who sees him or herself most essentially as an object — a thing to be gazed upon. The masochist is too overwhelmed by freedom to encounter his/her responsibility as a subjective individual, so s/he relinquishes freedom to become an object in the eyes of others.
A person dressing with an over-emphasis on the body qua body may be revealing a masochistic/exhibitionistic inclination. Various styles which emphasize the body include anything highlighting specific body parts – the bust, the back, the legs – any article of clothing which intentionally reveals or conceals various body parts in an effort to highlight the body as something to be viewed as an object. (What is even more startling about clothing that highlights specific body parts is that it in a sense dissects the body into an amalgam of various parts – all of which are equally objectified.)
As we approach the close of New York Fashion Week and move into continued conversations revolving around the “future of fashion,” I think it’s important to keep in mind why we are interested in dress in the first place. What is purpose of dressing the way we do? I hope that through adopting a consistently self-reflective stance, we may become less and less likely to just see ourselves as objects simply wearing more objects.
Paradoxically, in the compulsive laying on of layer and layer of clothing which often characterizes fashion, we actually become naked. We have covered ourselves with so much fashionable material that we are nothing but our body — which is to say — another object.
This week, I am pleased to bring you a book review from Clare M. Sauro, an assistant teaching professor and the curator for the historic costume collectionat Drexel University. Prior to her work with Drexel, Ms. Suaro worked for the Fashion Institute of Technology, in a variety of museum related positions (including assistant curator of accessories and of costume). She holds a Masters degree in Museum Studies: Costume and Textiles from F.I.T. and a Bachelors in English from the State University of New York College at Oswego. Among many other publications, Sauro contributed the chapter, “The Artful Accessory,” in Ralph Rucci: The Art of Weightlessness(Yale 2007).
Edith Wharton and the Making of Fashion (University of New Hampshire Press) by Katherine Joslin is a recent publication in the exciting series Becoming Modern: New Nineteenth-Century Studies by University of New Hampshire Press. Joslin is a professor of English at Western Michigan University who has published biographies of Edith Wharton and Jane Addams. The publication of this book and the accompanying title, Emily Dickinson and the Labor of Clothing (by Daneen Wardrop) represents the growing recognition of clothing by scholars outside the historic costume community. This interdisciplinary approach is appreciated and long-overdue. Joslin’s analysis of Wharton’s work is fascinating and has inspired me to dust off my old paperbacks and head to the library for the rest. Organized into thematic chapters, such as “The Underside of Fashion” which deals with the harsh realities of the nineteenth century garment industry and “Desire in the Marketplace”, which documents the rise of couture and the department store, the book attempts to trace the history of costume through the writings of Edith Wharton. Her assertion that Wharton deliberately depicted her protagonists in clothing that would resonate with the readers at the time of publication is a strong one and worthy of further discussion .
However, despite my initial enthusiasm, I was sorely disappointed with this book. While Joslin is obviously a confident literary scholar, it is clear she has only recently begun to study costume history. Throughout the book she relies heavily on secondary sources to provide historical context for her assessments . The footnotes for these portions of the text are frustrating and inadequate. For example: when analyzing the attire of Ellen Olenska (who was notoriously allowed to wear black to her coming out ball) in The Age of Innocence Joslin references the designs of Madame Paquin. The couturière is credited with introducing black as a fashion color- an intriguing bit of new information for me but- alas- no footnote !
The mention of Paquin, a couture house founded in the 1890s, while discussing a novel set in the 1870s, is another problematic aspect of the book. Joslin frequently jumps across decades in her analysis of fashion and while this approach works in the context of her assertion that Wharton did not always dress her characters with historical accuracy, Joslin’s intent (with this exploration) is not always clear to the reader. Her approach also excludes the historical and social context of clothing described in the novels. Joslin cites the chaste virginal attire of May Welland in The Age of Innocence as indicative of her sexual allure and rightful place as the future wife of the protagonist, Newland Archer. However, Joslin neglects to point out that this was the “correct” dress for all unmarried women in the 1870s and what Ellen Olenska should have been wearing for her coming out ball .
Edith Wharton and the Making of Fashion is an ambitious book that feels rushed and underdeveloped. Joslin’s analysis would have been enhanced by primary sources such as etiquette books and fashion publications such as Harper’s Bazar. Consulting a fashion historian as a reader in the editing stages would also have helped with the dating and identification of garments in the photographs as well. While Joslin makes some excellent points in her analysis of specific works and characters, she stumbles when she attempts to address the “making of fashion.”
I happened to run across an old issue of Hue, FIT’s alumni magazine, and read a surprisingly interesting article on “The Life and Times of Mannequins” by Alex Joseph. Though I have not previously studied dress forms in depth, I have been mistaken for a mannequin (I spaced out in a flu-induced frozen position while waiting for a friend when another customer hilariously reached out to inspect my garment), and I’m also drawn to the creepiness I think is inherent in mannequins… and so I’ll pretend my recent reading list and newfound interest qualifies me to inform you about the history of stationary models.
The Dutch word manneken literally means “little man,” though most mannequins were and are technically female forms. As the history of dress dates to ancient times, so does the history of dress forms; a wooden torso was found near a clothing chest in King Tut’s tomb, dating to approximately 1350B.C.:
Thousands of years later, European monarchs produced “fashion dolls” as examples of national style — Charles IV of France sent one to Richard II of England in 1396 as part of a peace negotiations. And Henry IV of France (1553 – 1610) dispatched miniature, elegantly attired dolls to his fiancée, Marie de’ Medici of Florence. Caroline Weber goes into amazing detail about the deliberate Frenchification of Austria-born Marie Antoinette in her book, similarly to update her on French trends and therefore facilitate her connection to her stylish adopted land and people. Monarch aside, these miniature models were used to spread the latest trends across countries throughout the 1700s. But it would take technological advancements to move the dress form from private doll to public display item.
English fashion doll, 1755-1760
The mid-19th century inventions of electricity-fueled incandescent light bulbs and plate glass enabled merchants to create window displays to advertise their goods. Add the ease and speed of manufacturing ready-to-wear clothes afforded by the invention of the sewing machine, and it becomes obvious why the mannequin became a standard display prop at this time, surpassing its initial dressmaker’s functionality. The department store established itself in the American way of life by 1910, and these larger businesses had more money to invest in expensive mannequins which would ideally help them move the quantities of merchandise they needed to. Facial expression and body language became increasingly important (ancient and pre-Victorian forms were often headless) as window dressers like L. Frank Baum (known for his masterpiece The Wonderful Wizard of Oz, 1900) used them to create arresting vignettes on their mini stages. “Window gazing” became a popular pastime for potential customers, eventually morphing into the familiar “window shopping.” Dressmaker suppliers like Gems Wax Models (est. 1885) and Siegel and Stockman of Paris experimented with articulated legs, arms and wooden hands with bendable digits in an effort to more closely mimic human activities, if stiffly. The latter company even began to produce sitting figures, bicyclists and representations of celebrated athletes at the end of the 19th century (see my post on Bicycles and Athletic Fashion). Sometimes with glass eyes, realistic teeth and human hair, attempts to make early mannequins more lifelike ultimately resulted in creepiness. Iron feet stabilized their teetering skeletons but contributed to unwieldy heft — they could weigh up to 300 pounds.
iron-footed mannequin
Skin-mimicking wax had the downside of melting under hot electric lights and cracking in cold winters. Subsequent mannequins constructed of plastic and papier mâché were more durable, lightweight, and flexible, making them easier to imbue with lifelike gestures.
Compare this 1909 storefront…
Auerbach's department store window display with mannequins, 1909
to one from 10 years later. Note the increased interaction between mannequins, the more sophisticated, narrative scene:
1918 window display
The 1929 stock market crash garnered invention in many ways. In the teens and early 1920s mannequin facial expressions became more animated, perhaps a reaction to silent films. Khol-rimmed eyes, bee-stung lips and razor-thin eyebrows that gained acceptance and popularity on the silver screen were transcribed onto new mannequins. Made with papier-mâché, the new material shed off about 100 pounds, coincidentally embracing the more slender female form, often with Mannerist-like elongated necks:
Art Deco mannequin head
In 1925, Siegel & Stockman, Paris startled the display industry with abstract mannequins in 1925 that mimicked the clean lines of Art Deco. Siegel himself said “The old mannequin, too realistic to respond to the abstract form assumed the architecture and decoration, could no longer fit into the window display with its effective and sober luxury as it is now conceived. This basic conviction prompted me to make an appeal to a new form of expression in order to bring about a timely rejuvenation and modernization.”
Siegel-Stockman streamlined mannequin (modern)
Author Nicole Parrot observed the “elegant and snooty” look of the 1920s were replaced with the “pert and gamine” look in mannequins during the Depression of the 1930s. An Austrian dollmaker-turned-mannequin manufacturer, Kathe Kruse, devised a metal skeleton that was covered with a skin-like material, enabling a variety of positions. “Cynthia” was a 100-pound model created by Lester Gaba in 1932 who had realistic imperfections like freckles, pigeon toes, and even different sized feet. Gaba posed with Cynthia around New York City for a Life Magazine shoot that humorously demonstrates how lifelike the mannequins had become:
Lester Gaba and Cynthia mannequin, Broadhurst Theater in NY at Madame Bovary, 1939
at the Stork Club, NY 1937
riding transit in NYC, 1937
Gaba repairs shoulder on Cynthia, NY, 1937. He almost looks like a doctor attending to a patient.
Tragically, Cynthia met her demise when she slipped from a chair in a beauty salon.
The more severe mannequin expressions reflected the unease and hardships of WWII. As a fashion historian I already knew that the dress silhouette in the 1940s became slimmer and less embellished to waste less fabric, due to raw material shortages and wartime rationing. I only recently learned, however, that mannequins themselves were made to be shorter than the 1930s models, with the same goal of conserving precious resources for the war effort. At the war’s conclusion, Mayorga Mannequins introduced “Welcome Home Mannequins” where a man and woman held their hands outstretched towards each other, while a small girl looked expectantly at her father. This narrative was tempered by glamorized Hollywood poses that were also available, but traditional family values (including consumerism) continued to be recreated in storefront vignettes:
1940s Christmas display
This article will be continued shortly in Part II…
was a big hit with crafters everywhere and this second volume promises to be even more robust as this time it covers all types of fabric.
![[021708+reading+quilt+book.jpg]](http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_dWJRDkbpb1s/R7ihTT4oWEI/AAAAAAAAC0o/bNpkqP0eCdg/s1600/021708%2Breading%2Bquilt%2Bbook.jpg)
(Yale 2007). 
