“By the mid-1940s, Jacqueline was arguably the most influential designer of surface pattern in Britain.”
–Book review by Lisa Santandrea
An opening spread in Jacqueline Groag: Textile & Pattern Design: Wiener Werkst,tte to American Modern pictures the designer. White-haired with bangs and a pixie cut, an aquiline face, one graceful hand rests on her chin; the other holds a smoldering cigarette. She looks into the camera; her gaze is direct, yet not quite serious. Although she is in her 50s, her skin is lineless, glowing. The image does not reflect the hardship of her experiences—WWII displacement; a beloved husband later described as a “bad tempered old man.” Instead, what shines through is the pert curiosity of one who claimed her “inner age” to be eight years old. It is the face of a woman you’d hope to sit next to at a dinner party.
Jacqueline Groag, by John Garner, 1957. Design Council archive, University of Brighton Design Archives.
Born in 1903 to Jewish parents in Prague, Jacqueline Groag—born Hilde Pilke —traveled to cosmopolitan Vienna to study textile design at the influential Kunstgerbeschule. At 23 and already a widow, a career in art and design was one of the few avenues acceptable for women at the time. A self-described ‘sophisticated naïf,’ Groag apparently flowered under the tutelage of instructor Franz Cizek, who gave his students colored chalk and drawing pads, and asked them to draw while inspirational music played in the background. Impressed by her progress, Cizek convinced architect Joseph Hoffman, head of the Werkstätte, to waive admission requirements, and she spent the next two years as the architect’s pupil. By 1930, she was already being described in print as a “front runner of the Hoffman school,” and was designing textiles for couturiers including Chanel, Lanvin, Worth and Schiaparelli.
Further accolades followed quickly. In 1931, she won an award for lace design at the Paris Exposition Coloniale International. This was followed by a gold medal for textile design at the Milan Triennial in 1933. Personally life was blossoming as well. At a Werkstätte masked ball in 1930, she met the respected Modernist architect Jacques Groag, who was also a Jew from Czechoslovakia. In 1931, they were engaged, and married in 1937—when she changed her first name from Hilde to Jacqueline. “His wonderful, never aging, youthful enthusiasm took me to spheres so high and unearthly as no man ever did and no man can imagine,” she later wrote. The couple—both shining stars in Vienna’s intellectual circles—is thought to have collaborated on many projects during this time.
But the Nazi threat was looming. When Austria and Germany united in 1938, the couple was forced to relocate to Prague. Just one year later, as Germany occupied their native land, they fled to Britain.
As the home of the Arts and Crafts movement, Britain was considered hallowed refuge for artists. However, by 1939, the reality was different. “On arrival in London they found themselves members of an uprooted group of disoriented and anxious patriots in a country shaken to its roots and preparing to fight for its life.” Nonetheless, Jacqueline soon found work designing textiles for export, as war restrictions resulted in very limited textile printing for the home market. Jacqueline’s designs had a playful eclecticism, often incorporating a “rational underlying grid associated with Joseph Hoffman.” Flipping through the book’s abundant full-page color plates, the essence of the “eternal eight-year-old” is clear. Vivid colors, strong lines, even a certain fearlessness is evident in her work. It provides insight into her personality—insight that is much valued. As much as this book has to offer, the text left me wondering. Just what was the personality behind that face that so compelled me?
The authors, Geoffrey Rayner, Richard Chamberlain and Annamarie Stapleton, clearly know their subject. Yet much of the book reads like an extended resume. The reader learns that Jacqueline received important commissions by the Design Research Unit (DRU) as well as industrial designer Gaby Schrieber. We find that her tulip design for Edward Molyneux made it onto a dress for Princess Elizabeth. We read that she designed interiors for the airline BOAC, greeting cards for Hallmark, textiles for the Associated American Artists, and, eventually, plastic laminates. We note that she became a Royal Designer for Industry, “the ultimate accolade for any designer in Britain,” in 1984.
But her professional achievements seemed in stark contrast to struggles at home. Jacques , whose career floundered in England, had a nervous breakdown, and Jacqueline became the primary breadwinner…how did she feel about that, I wonder.
And that, I realize, says more about me than I should admit to. I wanted a page-turner, a behind-the-scenes US magazine look at a woman working and thriving in WWII and beyond. This was not the authors’ intent. Instead, they provide an excellently researched, beautifully illustrated and clearly written reference, one that honors Jacqueline’s illustrious career by the purity of its focus on her work. Indeed, the straightforward tone of the text drove me to more closely examine her designs for clues. And it is, after all, this work that is being celebrated here. Job well done.
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’m please to bring you a book review by Laura McLaws Helms, a photographer, blogger and fashion history graduate student at F.I.T.
“For me, Foale and Tuffin represented the revolution that was happening in London. They were all about all that was new. They were before Ossie Clark, before everyone.”
As two of the key players in the creation of the groundbreaking Swinging Sixties look, Foale and Tuffin were long overdue for a book based on their legacy. Iain R. Webb, a well respected British fashion journalist and author of Bill Gibb: Fashion and Fantasy, has taken on their rather remarkable story and put together a well-edited look at their designs and partnership in Foale and Tuffin: The Sixties. A Decade in Fashion (ACC Editions, January 16, 2010). An eleven-page foreword succinctly tells their story, while the rest of the book is rather cleverly organized around three interviews Webb had with Marion Foale and Sally Tuffin. Interspersed between these interviews are short one or two page interviews with thirty-seven characters connected with their company and the period.
Marion Foale and Sally Tuffin met at Walthamstow Art School in London in 1955, studying art and design. From there they were accepted into the exclusive Royal College of Art’s fashion design program, led by the legendary Janey Ironside. While in school they were taught to look to the great Parisian couturiers for inspiration, but they also sought to design simple and wearable clothes for themselves, the kind of clothes they couldn’t find anywhere. Graduating in 1961 Foale and Tuffin decided to set up a company out of their flats, and approached several stores with a lookbook of youthful designs. Fashion had not yet moved on from the full-skirted silhouettes of the fifties and only one buyer, the 22-year-old Vanessa Denza from the 21 Shop in Woodlands department store, took them on.
The 21 Shop was a completely new style of store-within-a-store geared toward young people and carrying designs that were “simple, zany, not for squares (in any sense).”[2] She chose three dresses from their collection, buying three of each and placed one, a simple gray a-line flannel dress with frill front, in the window. Spied by an editor from Vogue, it was quickly photographed for the magazine by David Bailey and subsequently ushered in the new Dolly Bird look. Soon orders were coming in from stores all over the globe as everyone became enchanted with the London Look. Caroline Charles, the British designer, says, “Foale and Tuffin’s clothes were absolutely delicious, very pretty in a girly way. It was a joyous and innocent time and Foale and Tuffin reflected that brilliantly.”[3]
Foale and Tuffin were always seen to be at the forefront of fashion in London, constantly coming up with new styles that would have young women running to their little store off of Carnaby Street, one of the first boutiques to open following Mary Quant’s Bazaar, and would have other designers and manufacturers scrambling to copy them. As the decade went on their style evolved from a-line minis into more feminine bohemian maxi dresses, foreshadowing the rise of hippie culture. Webb writes that “their narrative… perfectly traces the decade from its groovy, optimistic beginnings… to its demise, as sixties sanguinity melted away into a hangover of seventies cynicism, masked as it was by fancy-dress escapism.”[4] They closed the company in 1972 after a few seasons of more exotic, Japanese inspired looks even though they were still highly successful and still widely used in magazine editorials.
Webb’s decision to structure this book around interviews is very interesting and at times very compelling. The interviews with both women are wonderfully engaging, as their still close relationship is palpable and inspiring. The short interviews with others are also of interest as he took great pains to speak to everyone from their machinists to several fashion editors, celebrities, other designers and friends. These interviews are quite illuminating about the incredible creative energy in London during that era and capture the “anything goes” attitude that helped these young girls with no business training become successes.
According to the fashion editor Meriel McCooey, “Everything was going on in London at that time. It was like a big club really, and you had to be talented to become a member. You had to be producing something amazing; you had to have a credential, a form. Everybody knew everybody, and we all had enormous respect for each other.”[5] Their associations with the other great creative minds of the period, from the Beatles to pop artists like Peter Blake, helped their business and also kept them at the forefront of popular culture. Webb makes their importance to the London scene clearly visible and illustrates it with hundreds of snapshots, fashion photographs and sketches.
The one failure of this book is that at times it can be rather repetitive- whereas normally a historian will take the best quotes from all their interviews, Webb has included quite long sections from each one and many of the participants have many of the same things to say about Foale and Tuffin and about the 60s. There is also a lack of real depth as all of the interviews are short and more general in subject. While I would have enjoyed a more detailed analysis of their clothes and business Webb’s book is still a highly enjoyable and worthwhile look at these very influential designers.
In conjunction with this book a retrospective is on view at the Fashion & Textile Museum in London. Titled Foale and Tuffin: Made in England and curated by Dennis Nothdruft, I was lucky enough to see this exhibition while in England over Christmas. Cleverly designed, in the main hall of the gallery a replica of their famously tiny shop has been recreated down to the metal pipes for hanging clothes, their innovative hangers with long necks, records and their sign made out of red and blue light bulbs. The main gallery showcases all of their mod designs with supplementary sketches and photographs, and a large video projection of girls zipping around London in their trendy frocks. The upstairs gallery is given over to their later designs, the floaty hippie pieces made from Liberty fabrics. Rather remarkably both women’s worktables have been maintained in their original condition and are on view heaped with original fabrics and notions. At the end of the show is a small display of the work they have been doing since they closed the company- Foale has found great success with her company of handknit garments, and Tuffin as a ceramics designer. The show is on until the 24th of February and is well worth a visit if you are in London.
There are a vast number of other books that came out recently that are a little less academic, but still might be of interest to the WT community – especially if you’re looking for something a little more fun, rather than scholarly. I’ve not had the opportunity to look at these in depth (though I’m fairly sure I’d enjoy them):
And now, my continued look at new fashion books for your Holiday enjoyment:
The Culture of Knitting (Berg) by Joanne Turney has been a joy to read. Turney, a professor at the Bath School of Art and Design, presents a thoughtful and insightful study on knitting in all its forms and socio-cultural impacts. The study is extremely engaging, though academic, and I easily became engrossed in its pages. The book aims to investigate “the cultural impact and meaning(s) of knitting and its development since 1970.” That’s a pretty large task, and Turney does well by covering the topic from a wide array of perspectives, including: Gender/Feminist, design history, postmodern, historical/nostalgia, political, aesthetics, psychological and social, with a view to uncovering the secret of knitting’s success (that is, the reason for its longevity).
Marianne Jørgensen: 'Pink M.24 Chaffee', 2007
For those academics who are also avid knitters (such as myself), it is something of a treat to think critically about an activity that you enjoy so much. Don’t misunderstand me, it is a deeply academic text, with few illustrations and no patterns. Turney’s intention with this book is to discuss and contemplate something that is so commonplace that it tends to be ignored. She uses case studies, and heavy doses of theory to do this. Moving beyond the ‘old-lady’ aspects of knitting, some of the most interesting parts of this book occur when the author discusses how knitting since the 1970s has become associated with art, politics, as well as with high fashion and design. My only issue with the book is it’s focus on the UK, especially with regards to popular culture. I’m sure I missed a number of very good points because her reference was so UK-specific. That said, it is still an important and valuable contribution to the study of dress, fashion and textile arts.
The Great Fashion Designers (Berg) by Brenda Poland and Roger Tredre was released yesterday (December 8 ) just in time for the holiday season. Grouped by time period, it provides brief (3-4 page) discussions of each major designer along with a black and white photograph representative of their work. An introduction to each section provides historical context for readers encountering these designers for the first time. The end of each designer bio includes a paragraph with ‘further reading’ resources. Though the photographs are not always the best representative of the designers work, they are images not often seen in publication and the ‘newness’ is appreciated. Overall, it is a great reference for teachers, students, researchers and academics.
Finally, we have Chinese Fashion: From Mao to Now (Dress, Body, Culture) (Berg) by Juanjuan Wu, Assistant Professor in the Department of Design, Housing, & Apparel at the University of Minnesota. Focused on post-Mao Chinese fashion (1978-Present), Wu examines “the ways fashion has both mirrored and shaped social and cultural change in modern China.” She notes that it is the first study to look at the interplay between western and Chinese fashion during this time to be published in English but from a Chinese perspective. It is organized thematically, as a series of essays covering the history from different perspectives. These in-depth essays include discussions of the interplay between the media and fashion in China, the concepts of asexual and unisex clothing; the re-appropriation of ‘traditional’ styles such as the Qipoa and Tang Jacket, the rise of the fashion industry and models in China, and the impact of Western brands. It is a comprehensive study, and includes a good deal of illustrative black and white photographs, advertisements and magazine covers. It should be useful to scholars, professors and students and would be a wonderful addition to university libraries.
Chinese super model Lv Ya during Chinese Fashion Week (2009 Spring/Summer Series) in Beijing on November 9.
As an aside, the Portland Art Museum is currently featuring China Design Now (exported from the V & A Museum) through January 17, 2010. Their blog about the exhibition can be found at www.cdnpdx.org and the conversation about the exhibition can be followed on Twitter by searching for #CDNPDX.
As promised, over the next month or so I intend to review many of the new fashion related books that have been published recently (and not so recently). Call it an extended holiday round-up, if you will.
First up is what equates to an autobiography by former Rudi Gernrich model (and now writer), Mary Léon Bing. The book, Swans and Pistols: Modeling, Motherhood, and Making It in the Me Generation is a wonderful read, and is – I daresay – something of a guilty treat for me. In fashion history, Bing is primarily known as a model for designer Rudi Gernreich (though Peggy Moffit is more often remembered). Both women can be seen in this video, titled Basic Black. Bings’ experience in the making of this short film is mentioned, but no great insights provided, on pgs 99-100.
Those doing research on the 1960s and 1970s world of fashion will find Swans and Pistols helpful in setting the scene and providing a cultural snapshot. Though fashion is not the focus of the book, there are some insightful sections. (Though maddeningly, and often true of autobiographies, dates are not regularly included). True to its name, the book is very clearly written by someone of the “me” generation. It’s introspective, personal and feels real – while at the same time reminiscent of fiction. Bing is a wonderful story teller.
Photograph by Dennis Hopper, Gernreich design modeled by Mary Léon Bing.
The Great Event was (and remains) the annual Metropolitan Museum of Art Costume Institute’s Spring Gala, in which costumes from the museum’s archives are shown by popular models to an audience. . . . This was usually a one-change-only show because the antique clothes were so fragile they had to be handled with extraordinary care. The dressers, who worked in the archives, wore white cotton gloves to extract eac article from its nest of tissue and the models knew they must stand as still as mannequins and allow themselves to be dressed entirely by others, like sixteenth-century royalty. No smoking, no food, no drinks in the dressing area. . . . My single change, for which I had fittings at the museum the week before the show, was a floor-sweeping dress from the period following the American Civil War. . . . One of the girls from my agency, a tall, blade-thin blond with whom I’d worked several shows, was wearing a bias-cut slither designed by Vionnet in the twenties. She gave me a fast once-over and told me I looked like Scarlett O’Hara at the end of the movie. Then she leaned in as close as she could get to all those furbelow’s and whispered something that would change the course of my modeling career: ‘Rudi Gernreich wants a model who looks like a spy.’ (79)
While an intern I the Met, I saw photographs of live models at their ‘fittings’ in historic clothes from the 1960s and remember being appalled by the idea of people wearing the clothes. Reading this passage made me no less concerned about the state of the clothes after they had been worn.
In another instance, Bing describes wearing a dress for the cover of Time Magazine. “Now years later, disparate memories pop up like spikes on a fever chart: . . . Getting into the same hot-pink knit dress with its clear vinyl inset from throat to bikini line I’d worn on the cover of Time (at the newsstands that week) and going with Rudi to a performance of Hair, where we were invited to come up onstage during curtain calls.” (99)
Time magazine, December 1967 with Bing, Gernreich and Moffit; Image from the Metropolitan Museum of Art Costume Institute of two dresses donated by Bing and Gernreich’s longtime companion Oreste Pucciani.
Equal time is given in Bing’s descriptions of her celebrity friends, lovers, family members, as well as the role drugs played in her life (the amount of cocaine, pot and other drugs should come as a surprise to no one, given the time period). It is the story of her life – told from the inside out. I would highly recommend it, not just to those whose interests lie in the world of fashion and fame, but to anyone interested in a good story. For some other ideas about the book, venture over to this article bySheila Lennon, which summarizes a number of reviews that have thus far appeared for Swans and Pistols: Modeling, Motherhood, and Making It in the Me Generation. .
Shame on you fashionistas if you don’t know who is captured in the photo above (if you don’t, worry not, for I will reveal their names by the end of this post).
Two months ago, I wrote about a class project I developed to introduce my Introduction to Fashion students to a wide variety of designers. I had initially planned that each student would receive copies of their classmates’ research papers. However, that plan has been revised, and I will now be drawing information for them from a variety of other sources, which brings me to the topic of today’s post: who’s who in fashion, and how do you find out who’s who?
My students, without exception, went directly to the internet for biographical information on their designers. While this is not my preference, there are two sites which I find to be credible and worthwhile, and those are Style.com and New York Magazine.
Style.com has a designer directory, with bios of designers, photos of collections, and links to Style.com articles featuring the designers. For example, click here to read the page on Karl Lagerfeld.
New York Magazine also has a designer directory, with similar content to Style.com. To see Jean-Paul Gaultier’s page, click here.
If there’s only one print source my students turn to, I would prefer it be Anne Stegemeyer’s Who’s Who in Fashion. I have the fourth edition (2003), and it is missing some of the latest designers, which is where Style.com and NyMag come in. The fifth edition is due in 2010. The fourth edition contains entries for Mariano Fortuny and Charles Worth, Tom Ford and Vera Wang, and everyone in between. I’m considering making it required reading in the future, even if only as a means of separating students from google and wikipedia for a few hours’ time (or however long it takes them to read the book).
For you professionals out there, where do you turn for information on a designer you want to know more about?
For my fellow professors, what are your preferred resources?
The people in the photo at top are Gabrielle “Coco” Chanel and Sir Cecil Beaton.
This is the second post on my list of special books that I enjoy using in my classroom and recommend to fashionistas and fashion professors. Click here to read last week’s post.
Historical Fashion in Detail, as the title suggests, focuses on the details of construction and embellishment: stitching, seams, gathers, collars, trimmings, applied decoration, and more. Both women’s and men’s clothing are covered and the photographs are clear and very close up. I use this book in my fashion history course and others, to illustrate how men’s and women’s clothing were equally ornate, and how embroidery and lace were not gendered signs of femininity in the 17th and 18th centuries in the way that they are today.
Four Hundred Years covers items of women’s and men’s dress, including accessories, in the V&A’s collection. The book was first published in 1984, and covers the 1600s through the early 1980s. This book describes in detail the museum’s dress collection, including the provenance of many artifacts, plus information on what items the collection lacks. Apparently, at the time the book was written, the collection was in need of 1950s ultra-sheer nylon stockings. If the V&A is still in need today, I’d be happy to supply them a pair from my personal collection and deliver them personally. Of course, the book also says that the museum lacks examples from Sonia Rykiel, Karl Lagerfeld, and Thierry Mugler. I think we can safely assume that the collection has been rounded out since 1984.
lesson plans, reading assignments, lecturing, and discussions
testing, cheating, motivation, and cultural diversity; and
large classes, laboratory classes and distance education.
This book is one of my recommendations because of its wide array of ideas and methods, and I heartily recommend it for new instructors looking for coverage of the essentials of college teaching in one text.
Lastly, a fairly recent text, The Men’s Fashion Reader, edited by Andrew Reilly and Sarah Cosbey, is a book that I was delighted to find when it came out last year. The text consists of 33 readings on themes such as men’s dress history, masculinity, culture, identity, body image, and more. These scholarly works fill in many of the gaps that my fashion textbooks often contain, as some of them have a subtle (or sometimes entirely overt) neglect of the male consumer of fashion. Each year, although I regularly have more women enrolled in my classes than men, I continue to have increasing numbers of men in my classes. This text helps my lessons contain a wider range of history and cultural and consumer experiences.
Have you read any of this week’s titles? What are your favorite fashion titles that you return to again and again? Leave me a comment and let me know.
This week’s post on teaching fashion takes you behind the scenes, into what inspired me to become a professor, by way of looking at some of the books that I have found indispensable over the years and how they have encouraged and enhanced my work in the classroom. There are, in fact, so many titles that you will have to wait until next week for the second half of my list.
To select only one favourite from my library of fashion classics would be near impossible, as would be ranking them by quality or preference, hardly my aim in assembling this list today. In the interest of fairness and objectivity, I will share them with you in the order in which I was introduced to them, creating a chronological account of how each entered my library.
First was the now classic text, The Social Psychology of Clothing: Symbolic Appearances in Context, by Susan B. Kaiser. This was the text used in a course I took in my undergraduate work and was the first college textbook ever to hold me rapt, in that I read it from cover to cover, well in advance of the suggested dates on the course schedule (I have yet to have a student of my own admit to doing this with any of the textbooks I have assigned over the years). The Social Psychology of Clothing definitely guided my interest in fashion, in particular a social psychology approach to the field of dress studies.
Second, another text from my undergrad days, and it almost seems pedestrian to mention a so-called humble guide to sewing, as these days dress scholars often prefer to distance themselves from our roots in the discipline of home economics (now known as consumer and family science, human ecology, and others, in various institutions), is the Complete Guide to Sewing : Step-By-Step Techniques for Making Clothes and Home Furnishings.
At the time that I took my first college sewing course, I was admittedly frustrated by the $75 price tag (today, it can be had for only $38), and the fact that, in class meetings and assignments, my instructor referred to only a fraction of the techniques contained within its covers (which, now that I am an instructor, makes a little more sense to me), and initially I thought the book was over-detailed for an introductory clothing construction course, but it is one of very few books that I did not sell back to the university book store at the end of the term, and I have referred to this book countless times when sewing at home (which, I if I recall correctly, was the instructor’s stated purpose in assigning the text).
There may be more up-to-date texts available these days, but regardless of the year of publication, I highly recommend keeping a visual dictionary of sewing techniques on your bookshelf. You never know when you may need a refresher on mitered corners, casings, hems, or pockets, and flipping through the index to find what you need should be quicker than doing a google search.
Also in the fashion history vein is Survey of Historic Costume, by Tortora and Eubank, the standard tome for undergraduate courses covering the history of western dress (in the English language, at any rate; if you were assigned a different text in your studies, please leave a comment and let me know what it was!). This is another one of those rare texts which I did not sell back to the school book store at the end of term. More than one edition has been released since my school days and this text only improves with each successive revision. I have had many students over the years tell me that they, too, will not be selling back their copies at the end of term, either, as it often becomes a well-loved addition to one’s library.
These are only half of my list of special books that have played a role in my own education, and in turn, in my work educating others. Stay tuned for the second half of my list, coming next week.
What are some of your favourites that you recall from your own early days as a fashion scholar or a fashionista? What texts do you turn to again and again? Please leave a comment and let me know.
Excerpt from a Literary Text Analysis: Wonderful Wizard of Oz, by L. Frank Baum with pictures by W.W. Denslow
The high definition version of the 1939 film The Wizard of Oz will be playing in theatre’s nationwide on September 23 in celebration of the films 70th Anniversary.Much discussion has been made over the Adrian designed costumes in the film, but little attention has been paid to the original vision the author had for the characters. This excerpt from a paper I wrote in 2002 provides some analysis of Denslow’s use of clothing to develop a character.
Born in 1856, L. Frank Baum grew up in Syracuse, New York. Married in 1882, his wife (the daughter of a suffragette) influenced his views on feminism. Mother Goose in Prose was his first work of children’s fiction, and was published in 1897.[1]The Wonderful Wizard of Oz was written in Chicago and published in May of 1900.[2] Baum wrote over 70 children’s books before his death in 1919.[3]
Written in a simple and straightforward style, The Wonderful World of Oz is a fantasy adventure for children. With this book, Baum created the first “truly American fairyland, using language and imagery that would be familiar to the ordinary American child.”[4] Eventually, Baum was asked to write the book and lyrics for the stage production of The Wonderful Wizard of Oz (first produced in Chicago in 1902, and in 1903, it moved to New York City). This in turn, spawned two silent films and finally, the MGM classic in 1939.[5]
Thecostumes in the book are not described in great detail, with cut and shape often left out altogether. Emphasis is usually placed on the fabric itself. For example, when Dorothy and the other main characters first enter the Emerald City to meet with Oz, the costume description focuses on only the fabric. The girl who greets them wears “a pretty green silk gown.”[6] And later, when Dorothy is shown to the room she will sleep in that night, she discovers a wardrobe full of, “many green dresses, made of silk and satin and velvet; and all of them fitted Dorothy exactly.”[7] Dorothy eventually chooses a gown to wear, the next day, “made of green brocaded satin.”[8] These fabrics are all easily associated with luxury and wealth.
Emphasis on the materials used aid in illustrating the contrast between the fantasy world, and the dull, real world from which Dorothy comes. An exception to this focus on fabric is the description of the Good Witch of the East, who first helps Dorothy. “. . .the little woman’s hat was white, and she wore a white gown that hung in plaits from her shoulders; over it were sprinkled little stars that glistened in the sun like diamonds.”[9] Here, not only do we get a description of the color and pattern, but we are also given some structural information.
Accessories, especially shoes and hats add to the sense of luxury and wealth in Oz, and aid in furthering the plot. Due to the materials it is created from, the Golden Cap is instantly associated with jewelry and wealth. The cap also has “a circle of diamonds and rubies running around it”[10] which only serves to reinforce the idea of affluence and power. Both the Golden Cap and the Silver Shoes have magical powers. The shoes are made of silver and are shown as a comparison to the faded and old shoes that Dorothy is more familiar with. In Kansas, her uncle wore gray boots[11] to match the gray description of Kansas. In addition, Dorothy’s original shoes (from Kansas) are “old and worn.”[12] This emphasizes the extreme difference between the two worlds.
Additionally, the Silver Shoes and Golden Cap act repeatedly as sources of power and help to further the action of the plot. Without the Golden Cap the characters could never defeat the various obstacles they face. Without the Silver Shoes, Dorothy could never get home. Therefore they act less as fashion, and more as functional objects. Dorothy even notes that the shoes, “. . . would be just the thing to take a long walk in, for they could not wear out.”[13]
More general information is conveyed by the costumes belonging to the fantasy peoples of Oz. While their clothes do not seem to establish time, they do help establish place within the world of the story. For example, when Dorothy and her group are in the Emerald City, everyone’s clothes appear green; the color to match the city. And when Dorothy first arrives in Oz, the munchkins all wear blue and indicates that they are in the last of the East. In addition, the fact that Dorothy is wearing both blue and white, helps to communicate to the Munchkins that she is both good and powerful. When she encounters a Munchkin named Boq, he thinks her a sorceress and tells her it is “because you wear silver shoes and have killed the wicked witch. Besides, you have white in your frock, and only witches and sorceresses wear white.”[14]
In terms of defining character, costumes have only a slight effect. As a children’s book, the characters are simple and so are their clothes. To the child reader, Dorothy’s clothes help establish her innocence. Blue gingham indicates (at least to me) that she is a simple and innocent character, whom children can identify with. The scarecrow’s costume establishes him as an imitation of a Munchkin man, and lets the reader know that he can not think as “real” man. The Good Witch of the East wears stars over her dress, indicating the magical quality of her character.
There have been many interpretations of the symbolic meaning within The Wonderful Wizard of Oz. Some suggest that the book is in fact a political allegory, based on the American Populist Movement at the turn of the century. The silver shoes are used to discuss the value of having a silver, instead of a gold standard.[15] Some criticism has seen it as a heroic myth, as it appears to follow that structure.[16] Other perspectives seen reflected in the story include the feminist, spiritual, mystical, psychotherapeutic, Freudian, political, and social perspectives.[17] It seems that because the story is so basic that it can be found to have any symbolic meaning.
More details on the book and illustrations can be found here and Amazon has a collectors edition available here:
[1]Brooke Allen, “The Man Behind the Curtain,” Review of L. Frank Baum; Creator of Oz by Katharine M. Rogers. The New York Times Book Review, November 17, 2002. 13
[2] Mark Evan Swartz, Oz Before the Rainbow (Johns Hopkins University Press: Baltimore, 2000) 9
[15] David B. Parker, “The Rise and Fall of The Wonderful Wizard of Oz as a ‘Parable on Populism,’” JOURNAL OF THE GEORGIA ASSOCIATION OF HISTORIANS, vol. 15 (1994), pp. 49-63.
[16] “Edward Hudlin maintains that the book follows very closely the structure of the heroic myth as outlined by Joseph Campbell.” (Swartz, 19)
(Yale 2007). 
(ACC Editions, January 16, 2010). An eleven-page foreword succinctly tells their story, while the rest of the book is rather cleverly organized around three interviews Webb had with Marion Foale and Sally Tuffin. Interspersed between these interviews are short one or two page interviews with thirty-seven characters connected with their company and the period.
. London: Mitchell Beazley, 2003.
. London: Michael Joseph, 1973.
. London: Comet Books, 1983.
. New York: Broadway, 2003.
. London: Ballantine, 1967.
. London: Victoria & Albert Museum, 2006.
(releases Dec. 16)
(Berg) by Joanne Turney has been a joy to read. Turney, a professor at the 
(Berg) by Brenda Poland and Roger Tredre was released yesterday (December 8 ) just in time for the holiday season. Grouped by time period, it provides brief (3-4 page) discussions of each major designer along with a black and white photograph representative of their work. An introduction to each section provides historical context for readers encountering these designers for the first time. The end of each designer bio includes a paragraph with ‘further reading’ resources. Though the photographs are not always the best representative of the designers work, they are images not often seen in publication and the ‘newness’ is appreciated. Overall, it is a great reference for teachers, students, researchers and academics.
(Berg) by 
is a wonderful read, and is – I daresay – something of a guilty treat for me. In fashion history, Bing is primarily known as a model for designer Rudi Gernreich (though Peggy Moffit is more often remembered). Both women can be seen in this video, titled Basic Black. Bings’ experience in the making of this short film is mentioned, but no great insights provided, on pgs 99-100.
. I have the fourth edition (2003), and it is missing some of the latest designers, which is where Style.com and NyMag come in. The fifth edition is due in 2010. The fourth edition contains entries for Mariano Fortuny and Charles Worth, Tom Ford and Vera Wang, and everyone in between. I’m considering making it required reading in the future, even if only as a means of separating students from google and wikipedia for a few hours’ time (or however long it takes them to read the book).
by Avril Hart and Susan North, and 
, edited by Natalie Rothstein. Today, they are both classics from the V&A’s library of dress history texts featuring the requisite stunning photographs of clothing and details.
by McKeachie and Svinicki. McKeachie’s Teaching Tips was a book I purchased as a new instructor and I have found its numerous tips to be very useful. It covers the basics, such as
, edited by Andrew Reilly and Sarah Cosbey, is a book that I was delighted to find when it came out last year. The text consists of 33 readings on themes such as men’s dress history, masculinity, culture, identity, body image, and more. These scholarly works fill in many of the gaps that my fashion textbooks often contain, as some of them have a subtle (or sometimes entirely overt) neglect of the male consumer of fashion. Each year, although I regularly have more women enrolled in my classes than men, I continue to have increasing numbers of men in my classes. This text helps my lessons contain a wider range of history and cultural and consumer experiences. 
, by Susan B. Kaiser. This was the text used in a course I took in my undergraduate work and was the first college textbook ever to hold me rapt, in that I read it from cover to cover, well in advance of the suggested dates on the course schedule (I have yet to have a student of my own admit to doing this with any of the textbooks I have assigned over the years). The Social Psychology of Clothing definitely guided my interest in fashion, in particular a social psychology approach to the field of dress studies. 
