Irving Penn, a powerhouse of photography, passed away yesterday at the age of 92. Not only known for his portraits of famous writers, artists and celebrities, he was also well-recognized for his fashion photography. He had a 70-year long successful career. The New York Times obituary noted yesterday, that Penn was “one of the 20th century’s most prolific and influential photographers of fashion and the famous.”
In my opinion, he was the last of the great iconic photographers from the golden age of the fashion magazine. Penn’s contemporary and sometime rival was the great, Richard Avedon. They were both hired and mentored by Alexey Brodovitch of Harper’s Bazaar’s and inspired by the likes of Martin Munkacsi (Later, both Avedon and Penn would move to Vogue).
But his work was always on the cutting edge. In the 1980s and 1990s he began collaborating with innovative Japanese designer Issey Miyake. In July 2007, Vogue focused their issue on his contribution to fashion photography and helped to celebrate his 90th birthday with an interview and portfolio of his new and previously unpublished work. A forthcoming article from the Journal of Middle East Studies notes Penn’s contribution to Afghanistan’s representation in the fashion press.
Annie Leibovitz noted recently (on occasion of receiving a lifetime achievement award) that, ‘”The word lifetime seems pretty final, and there’s still a lot of work to do.” Irving Penn turns 92 next month and he’s still at it, she noted, before concluding, “Photography is not something you retire from.”‘
Photographs by Irving Penn:
(from his work with Issey Miyake)
(Veruschka, 1964)
The images below are some of my favorites from a 1999 Vogue feature on Star Wars Couture by Irving Penn:
For more information on the amazing work of Irving Penn, see the following resources:
Today’s post is really just a bit of historical eye-candy. I have been “out” for about three weeks, and am not yet caught up with my life, so here’s a bit of loveliness to hold you over:
Continued from last week, here is the second half of my list of favorite films to use in the classroom when teaching history of western dress. This week, the focus is on the twentieth century.
1920s: Enchanted April This is just recently out on DVD. Some trivia: it was filmed in the Italian villa in which the author of the book, which the film is based on, wrote the book and set her story.
1970s: Saturday Night Fever I like the above clip, the introduction to the film, because it shows a male character engaging in appearance management and consumption behaviour.
1980s:Working Girl I like this film because I like the styles I can show in class through the main character’s transformation from humble big-haired secretary to sleek, shoulder-padded boss-in-a-power-suit.
1990s:Unzipped I have made a small crusade out of making sure that my students know Isaac Mizrahi as more than simply “that guy from Target.”
Now that we have come through the twentieth century and the early years of the twenty-first, what are your favorite films for illustrating dress of this period in history? I clearly need something for the 1950s, and I am certain that the 1970s warrants something more than “Saturday Night Fever”…perhaps ”Annie Hall”?
Claire McCardelll is one of my favorite designers and this peice from the Costume Institute at the Met is one that I was able to examine thoroughly while I was a student at NYU. This gown is one of my favorites because of her interest in creating formal garments from informal materials (much like Chanel and the jersey revolution). McCardell believed that skiwear and evening gowns alike should be created with comfort and practicality in mind. She appreciated the usefulness of deep pockets, and generous armholes afforded in men’s clothing. She had a preference for emphasizing the waste, with either a cubmer bund or belt. Her favorite sleeve was cut on the bias and all in one with the bodice. Her favorite fabrics were of the heavy-duty kind, such as denim, chambray, mattress ticking, cotton seersucker, gingham and jersey. She is best remembered for her functional clean lines and helping to establish the “American look.”
Ensemble, Evening, late 1940s
Claire McCardell (American, 1905-1958), Designer; Townley Frocks (American), Manufacturer
American
wool; Length at CB (a): 16 1/4 in. (41.3 cm) Length at CF (c): 13 1/4 in. (33.7 cm)
Gift of Ms. Ann Campion, 1973 (1973.222a-c)
What may not be immediately evident is that jacket and skirt are of quilted wool in a daisy design with a bandeau top of black jersey.As was popular with McCardell, the sleeve is cut in one with the front piece/back piece at the top and bottom seams. The jacket also features piping at the sleeve edging, front closure, lower hem and collar and is lined with black jersey.
The closure is utilitarian, consisting of 8 gold hook and eye closures at the center front. This emphasis on the closure is typical of McCardell – she also emphasized closures in her well known pop over dresses and swimwear. One of the smallest details, is the slight mistake on the rounded collar where a seam goes off of the rolled hem. The bandeau top of black silk jersey is extremely precise in fit. In addition to bust darts, it is also rushed at the sides (and the rushing is less pronounced in the back). Interestingly there is also boning at the sides,along with a side zipper closure.
The skirt includes two very deep side pockets and is reminiscent of her interest in mensware. It is unlined and at the side seam you can see where the two peices of fabric were quilted together with batting sewn over some mesh fabric. The side zipper is black, and again shows McCardell’s interesting in emphasizing the metal parts of her clothing.
Many museums around the globe have examples of McCardell’s work in their collections. One example is the sketch collection held by Parson’s New School. Explore more of their collection here. In 1998, McCardell was the focus of an exhibition put on by the Museum at FIT. A review of that exhibit by the New York Times can be read here.
One of the few advantages of working in midtown was that I was just a couple minutes jaunt away from the MoMA, and every once in awhile, I actually took my full hour lunch break to soak up some visual culture. Earlier this year, I fought my way through the rainy day museum-attending mob (it was also free admission day) and attended a walking tour delivered by the stunningly beautiful and articulate Galia Fischer on one of my favorite artists, Ernst Ludwig Kirchner and his series of 11 Berlin street scene paintings, created 1913 – 1915 (a period I particularly love in fashion history, especially as it relates to chaotic pre-war times). Kirchner is known for his harsh, sweeping vertical lines, violent brushstrokes and dismal color schemes (I say “dismal” adoringly), not to mention his frequent subject of prostitutes (which in the scheme of art history is far from uncommon, but I’ll just throw it out there). To begin at the beginning:
“Five Women in the Street” (1913) was the first in Kirchner’s street series, and depicts the ladies of the night as birds of paradise (or perhaps a more domestic parrot), posing in their green habitat with green-tinged millinery plumage and greenish skin. The bird comparison is further emphasized by the bulky fur lapels that puff the chest area up, and the hobble skirts — both of which were popular fashions in the 19-teens — that coincidentally create bird-like, tapered legs and emphasize pointy feet.
Jeanne Paquin - hobble skirt
The women peer into what can be assumed to be a storefront on our right (the dark hash marks presumably the glass reflection) window shopping, while it may be inferred that the car sidling close on the left contains a man cruising through his own glass at the bodily merchandise they are displaying and hocking.
I really love the complex relationship between Voyeur and The Observed that windows and glass bring up. There are several great essays that deal with this topic in Sexuality & Space, published by the Princeton Press, specifically Beatriz Colomina’s “The Split Wall: Domestic Voyeurism” that discusses how architecture and constructed spaces can create nooks, for example, that feel cozy and safe but are actually framed like a stage, displaying rather than concealing. Additionally, there is the layer of interior/domestic spaces being considered inherently feminine. Though I’m delighted that “Five Women,” with its plein air ladies and automobile-hidden man, contradicts that convention in one sense, the way Kirchner has framed them hints at a more complex relationship. The women are sandwiched tightly between the car and the window, and they touch the very edges of each side of his painting, suggesting that they’re boxed in (within their profession, within their greater role as women, etc.), even within their literal outdoor setting.
“Berlin Street Scene” (1913) has a wider array of colors than many other of Kirchner’s street scenes. There are actually visible men in this one, but they are all made rather anonymous by their unvarying blue-black coats and high bowlers. By contrast, the two women become the focus by color alone; though they are half hidden by the two men, the woman in scarlet and her companion in bright blue pop out. The woman-as-bird theme continues with the feathered hats, but this is a male perspective, I think. What’s more telling about the closeness of the women’s relationship is that their hats match their companion’s coats and not their own. This unifies them chromatically and implies their connection within the sea of dusky men, though they look away from each other. As I went through the show, I realized that this was a favorite visual trick of Kirchner’s.
Galia pointed out that the face of the man we can actually see appears to be almost as grotesquely made up as the women’s: he has those smudgy kohl eyes and lips that match the woman in blue’s. I like to imagine a little narrative: that those are two johns approaching the prostitutes but as they near, the one on the right turns away in disgust, twisting his body in a most awkward way so you almost can’t tell which way his body is facing. But is he repulsed by the hookers (you must admit the one on the left, with mascara actually dribbling down her face, is not looking so appetizing), or himself? Remember this is pre-WWI era, when gender roles — specifically in Berlin — were slowly being muddled as men went off to war and women took over their jobs, and by extension their social roles. Though Berlin had (and has) a notoriously gender-experimental population, there seems always to be an underlying fear of feminization (and by extension, castration) fear held by men when ancient gender roles are blurred. This particular man seems to be holding onto the last shreds of his masculinity with the sickly yellow, phallic cigarette dangling from his displeased mouth.
“Potsdamer Platz” (Square) (1914) has a color scheme I love (the photo doesn’t do it justice): the chili pepper-red train station dominates the upper register while avacado/lime green streets slice through the lower half of the painting, somehow making even the round island the prostitutes stand on appear pointed. The green seems to be literally reflected in the faces of the women as they stand on their perch (anther bird illusion?), with a healthy smattering of murky beige to soften the total effect of the scene… slightly.
Rosalind Russell in 1940s hat
The woman on the left is ensconced in severe black, with a flat black hat that was not a popular style (fashion historians, correct me if I’m wrong) at the time; in fact, it more closely resembles hats of the 1940s, another war period. The broad hat becomes a platform from which to drape the oddly straight veil, whose evenly spaced vertical folds create quite a birdcage (that old theme again!) around her head, an effect punctuated by the white plumage atop it all. This ensemble approximates mourning clothes — the white of the hat feathers and the collar would have been inappropriate for true mourning-wear, but I liked Galia’s hypothesis that the prostitute was possibly attempting to elicit sympathy (and clients?!) from this odd costume choice. This, after all, was the first year of WWI and there were increasing numbers of pitiable widows on the streets as husbands, brothers and fathers were killed.
The two elongated streetwalkers appear (ironically) stationary as they are surrounded by briskly striding men in black. As with other Kirchner street scenes, the women fill the the frame from top to bottom, this time literally dwarfing the insignificant men portrayed in distorted perspective, 1/3 their size. Interesting that the monumental women seem to be stagnating in a world of men with places to go, trains to catch, etc. Social commentary, hmmm?
“Street, Berlin” (1913) has a very different color scheme from the others. The purple dress, flamingo pink street and turquoise background are oddly fresh, if still slightly unnatural, shades. The women’s smirking bubblegum pink faces are turned in conspiratorially toward each other’s again. A man is in the foreground with and the same size as the hookers for once, and though he leans away with his whole body, looking down and away, his sneaky cane projects from his general crotch area and practically touches the woman on the right. The fleshy path they all stand on parts in a cleft between the two figures and is emphasized with an outline of deeper red. The prostitute in purple’s plunging plum coat with the fur lining, not to mention her hand which simultaneously conceals and draws attention to her own groin further drives the sexual context of this painting home.
“Women in the Street” (1915) has startling chartreuse background with dark forest green dress and deep blue dress worn by the familiar prostitutes, framed centrally again. A rather effeminate man stands to the right, almost blending with the women, but his trousers peeking from beneath his coat and his bowler hat reveals his true sex. He looks demurely down in the direction of the woman in green’s feet while she and her companion stare boldly at us, upsetting traditional viewing gender rules, while calling attention to the viewer’s own participation in the voyeuristic game.
“Two Women in the Street” (1914) distinguishes itself from the rest of the series in several ways. First, it’s a close up, showing only the torsos of the women (who again, dominate the frame). Second, their faces are abstracted and flattened with unnatural striations resembling wood grain in an (uncredited — apparently Kirchner rejected any suggestion that his work was influenced by anything!) homage to the African art that was flooding Europe at that time; Picasso was similarly inspired in the early stages of his career. Even with this truncated view, the women are unified by their identical postures. And again, the woman in the tangerine coat wears a hat the color of her companion’s peacock turquoise coat; their matching lemon yellow collars unify them with pose and color.
“Street Scene” (1914) was the final painting in the exhibition. It too contains the now familiar motif of two women wearing hats matching each others’ outfits (a little hard to make out in this picture, I think): in this instance, the dusty turquoise with royal blue hat paired with her companion’s royal blue coat with turquoise cap. And again, they stand so close, belly to belly, with one elegant leg apiece stretched out in front, one tucked behind, so that they might even be mistaken for one person. I don’t have a clear reading on their smirks: do they imply power, or act as protective element?
The men behind them line up so neatly that they resemble a female chorus line, especially with the expertly pointed toes. This is also an obvious reference to chronophotography, the Victorian precursor to moving film recording as we know it, where photographs were taken in quick succession in an effort to capture a subject’s movements. These early photos inspired the Futurist art movement and one of my favorite Duchamp paintings, “Nude Descending a Staircase, No. 2,” and I can see similarity with Busby Berkley’s large scale musical numbers from the 1930s involving identically (scantily clad) dancers moving in near synchronization so as to give the illusion they are all connected. Though he is more famous for his dancing girl numbers, there were also large male chorus lines. As with Kirchner’s street series, Berkley’s dance numbers were highly sexually charged, with scantily clad women opening and closing their arms and legs suggestively; the irony is that Kirchner has once again feminized the men by posturing them thus.
Continuing the sexual theme here are the phallic, creamy pink car wheels in the lower right hand corner that touch the actual bottom– complete with red slit– of an identically colored pink dog. Lastly, there is a mostly hidden, murky man who I like to imagine is the pimp of these women. He wears a gray suit as opposed to the chorus mens’ black attire, and his dusty turquoise hat ties him to the women with color, as they are tied to each other.
Recently I went to the store Context Clothing in Madison, Wisconsin and was blown away. It was a destination location for Harlo, who actively searches the web for stylish, quality menswear and Context is a leader in the movement to bring back classic styles. So when en route to Chicago we put a few quarters a street meter figuring we’d stop in so Harlo could try on a Woolrich coat he liked on their site. Well the quarters kept flowing as we ended up staying a couple of hours! The store is not large, but it filled with carefully hand picked pieces, and many items are designed as exclusive collaborations between Context’s owners and fashion companies (the boots pictured are a collaboration with Alden).
We spent a long time chatting with co-owner Ryan about the history of particular styles of denim, manufacturers of bags and shoes, the intricacies of apparel factories and warehouses found in northern Minnesota and Wisconsin, and the images in Japanese magazines that revere 100-year-old American style. I regretted not taping our discussion, and so Ryan graciously agreed to reply to an email interview afterward.
Woolrich Woolen Mills Coat
In the interview I wanted to discuss the exploding menswear market, the renewed interest in classic American sportswear and workwear, and success in retailing. While I didn’t ask him specifically about tips for students, I do feel his answers can be insightful for those entering the retail world. The main reason I wanted to talk more with Ryan though was because of his obvious passion for historic American menswear and his interest in reviving that aesthetic pushing it to the forefront of contemporary design. When Harlo and I were chatting with Ryan his knowledge on his subject was parallel to any professor or curator I know who gets a twinkle in their eye if you ask them about their research.
Selvage Denim by Jean Shop
Below is the interview:
Please tell me about the philosophy of Context?
Our shop presents a unique mix of hand selected quality menswear; heritage craftsmanship and wear-ability top top the list of criteria. We see service as an art form. We do much more than simply present beautiful clothing.
How did you develop your interest and expertise in classic menswear?
My interest in menswear stems directly from my interest in vintage, which is quite similar to the design process for most of today’s successful men’s lines. There is a thrill to finding a hidden vintage shop or garage sale. I educated myself on how to spot pre-WWII denim, American Made workboots and shoes, as well as vintage military garments. My taste in contemporary is directly related to the gems of the past.
Can you discuss the historic and/or contemporary impact of the Midwest, U.S. on fashion, and some of your experiences checking out local designers, factories and warehouses doing research?
I can say that American heritage production has made its way into virtually every mens collection today. Whether it is well done or not determines the success of the line. There is a long list of Japanese and British designers using old American mills for production. Authenticity is a selling point. I recently found an amazing denim line called Amoskeag XX. Amoskeag was the New Hampshire mill that produced denim for Levis until the great depression. XX denotes selvage fabric (or shuttle loomed) fabric. We tell the story of the designer’s inspiration and production– what I call transparency in manufacturing.
What have you found regarding the increase of interest in men’s fashion (media, consumers, more productions, more stores, etc)?
Our most successful products are made in the US. I have a tendency to fiercely promote those products, but they do receive the best response. For example, our Alden Roy Boot sold out in 12 hours and all deliveries through January of 2010 are spoken for via preorder. The major selling point is that the boot is hand made by Alden (est. 1884) in Massachusetts using leather processed by Horween (est. 1905) in Chicago. We see these type of products as truly luxury. There are very few things that are completely made by hand in one country. This is one example.
When I was in the shop you discussed many exclusive collaborations Context does with designers. Please discuss some of them and how you’re merging old and new ideas to develop an innovative product that appeals to the modern male consumer.
The Alden shoe collaborations have been the most well received. We recognize the added value in hand crafted in America. You can have the boot resoled for $100, or completely refurbished for $125. These are lifetime boots, not garbage from China sold for $25. We choose only the best manufacturers for collaborations. I don’t want our name on anything but the best. My business partner Sam feels exactly the same way. No bullshit allowed.
What are some of the items you carry that have the oldest lineage? Why do you think they stand up and even sell for top dollar in today’s market that is often geared toward fast fashion?
Denim began roughly in the 1850’s and the first pair of rivet Levis was produced in 1873. I’d say that is about as far back as it goes for us. The shirt came in the 1880s, and we do sell shirts. Fans of fast fashion have a different set of criteria than our guys. Our guys don’t want to look like everyone else, but even more important they don’t want the item they bought to fall apart. If you shop on price alone, it is wise to invest something more, as the thing you bought quite often does perform (I just butchered an old quote from John Ruskin, but you get the point).
Discuss the impact of Japan on the re-interest in classic menswear. Especially with denim.
The Japanese indigo masters have a deep appreciation for American denim weaving. They have combined their dyeing techniques with antiquated American shuttle loom weaving to create beautifully irregular denim fabric. No one even questions where the best denim is produced today, and the Japanese will tell you the best denim ever produced was done so in the US before WWII. The Japanese also have a fascination with American vintage. They have an eye for detail and present some of the best interpretations of vintage that I have seen. It isn’t all Japan, but there is a list of Japanese men’s designers that rate high.
As a retailer with a specialized market, do you find the brick and mortar store or the web achieves your goals more successfully?
They are one in the same. The store has received international press for the design, and the web shop has been recognized as a leader in e-retail. Service and presentation are top priority.
The website indicates your prioritizing of fit, old world service for the store, and online being able to make customers feel they can reach out and touch the objects. How do you facilitate these goals?
Research. I do not attempt to style the models, choose shoot locations, or decide where the product is positioned physically in the shop until I fully understand the intent of the designer. Service begins with a hello, and ends with extensive product knowledge (passion). We are not selling, we are cultivating a fascination with fabric and design.
Since you have become an expert is classic American men’s clothing, have you ever worked with museums, costume designers, or other consulting projects?
I have a lot to learn. Speaking with designers is a thrill for me; there are hundreds of options to consider for a simple white oxford shit. I have not worked with museums, or costuming designers. If the right project presented itself, I am confident I would excel. My friends roll their eyes when we are watching a movie and I point out the brand, year, and model number of a pair of vintage jeans visible for 2 seconds. I’m a dork.
Where do you go for ideas for the store? What media and research outlets do you find helpful?
I approach the store like an installation. Nothing is permanent. I love Wisconsin selvege yards and antique malls. Recently I’ve been moving in the opposite direction. I read about a cutting edge bathhouse in Japan. I pulled some ideas from the article.
Who would you say are contemporary icons of men’s style?
Everyone loves Ralph Lauren. I can not tell you how many people I’ve met who worked for Polo at some time in their life. Ralph reaches deep. People love the classic American look. I look back for inspiration. Everyone today wants to look like a young Steve McQueen, Paul Newman, Robert Redford, Andy Warhol, etc. Back to the source.
Would you say the styles in Context are inspired by history, are exact duplications of historic garments, are mergers of historic and new ideas, or something else?
Interpretations of vintage. Sugar Cane denim attempts to reproduce some pieces, but thats the only exception.
Discuss the details and lengths people go to care for their denim. Washing, soaking, wearing for a year without washing, etc. What are some of the helpful tricks of the trade you’ve learned regarding fit, style, and care?
I give advice on fit to ensure the customer is happy with their jeans after they stretch. I tell them not to wash the jeans for at least 6 months and cold soak or give them a delicate hand wash when the time comes. Its good to leave some length on a jean and selvage denim looks great with a small cuff. Each person is different, and I feed off of their vibe. I want the person to be comfortable. The clothes should not wear you.
In 2008 DNR named Context one of America’s most influential men’s stores. What do you feel your team is doing that earned you this title? What are you most proud of about the store?
Our service level is a major distinguishing factor and our product mix is the best.
On your website you have a quote from Eames, who rank in my absolute favorite designers and thinkers. The quote is “art resides in the quality of doing, the process is not magic.” Can you talk about what this quote means to you and your business?
By recognizing the restraints that apply to each situation you can set yourself up for success. We are not simply putting pants in bags.
Again I want to thank Ryan and Context for taking the time to respond to my questions. Check them out online or in Madison, WI. By the way…Harlo ended up getting a pair of jeans by The Stronghold which is a historic denim brand recently resurrected. They’re very cool and look like they were found in your great-grandfather’s attic-but in perfect condition.
So today I leave for two weeks in Hawaii (yeah for the standard American Honeymoon!) and in that vein, I thought I would highlight the collection of the University of Hawaii.
Yes, the Hawaiian shirt has come to be the cliche’d attire of ‘men of a certain age’ but there is more to the fashion of Hawaii. Recently, the University at Manoa had a small exhibition covering 50 years of Fashion in Hawaii and now present the exhibition online via Flickr.
Here are just a few of my favorites:
1900s Holoku with Lace Trim on Collar & Cuffs
Accession #: W.98.1.17
Fabrication: White cotton
Manufacturer:: Unknown
Donor: Unknown
1960s Holoku with train
Accession #: 74.7.3 S.D.
Fabrication: white matelasse
Designer: Joan Izutsu
Donor: Univ. of Hawaii Senior Design purchase,: Joan Izutsu, designer
1940s Sailor Moku Swimsuit
Accession #: H. 1995.6.36
Fabrication: Cotton
Manufacturer: Royal Hawaiian Manufacturing Co.
Donor: Unknown
1930s Black Lace, Floor-length Gown With Sheer Nylon Yoke
Accession #: W.2007.2.10
Fabrication: Nylon with Cotton Lace
Designer: Ethel de Saussure
Donor: Diane Okubo
1980s 2 Piece Pants Suit
Acc. W. 1998.11.6 a & b
Fabric: Brocade
Manufacturer: Elenore Simmons for Malcom Starr for Carol & Mary
Donor: Unknown
Disappointingly, the online version of the exhibitoin provides no descriptive text or context for the peices chosen. Information on designers, makers or socio-cultural significance are non-existant leaving the virtual viewers with nothing but pretty photos. No explanation is provided for what a Holoku is. Interested readers can refer to these two articles in Clothing and Textiles Research Journal and Fashion Theory by Linda B Arthur of the Unviersity of Hawaii at Manoa for more information on the Holoku. An overview of the physical exhibiton is available here.
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)
The vamp image, incorporating the requisite sex and death themes.
Occasionally fancying myself an exotic woman of mystery too, I have a special place in my heart for that early 20th century icon, The Vamp. When my friend (whose intelligent and fun horror blog And Now the Screaming Starts this is cross-posted on) suggested I write about them, I welcomed the opportunity to revisit some silent films when this aesthetic was solidified in concept and look.
THEDA BARA & THE LURE OF THE EXOTIC
Though Theda Bara (1890 – 1955) enshrouded her adult life in mystery, she was born plain old Theodosia Goodman in Cincinnati, OH. Hollywood producers gave her the anagram of “Arab death,” on the one hand cultivating her image of smoky, exotic sensualism — claiming she lit incense on her sets and swathed herself in tiger pelts — and on the other hand, hyping the macabre and frightening side of her.
Most recognize the term “vamp” to mean a femme fatale — an irresistible woman who leads to the destruction of those who surround her, typically men. But the term was initially coined only after the success of Theda Bara’s single surviving film, A Fool There Was (1915), in which her gleefully man-destroying character is listed in the credits simply as “The Vampire.” Based on Rudyard Kipling’s poem “The Vampire” (1897) and Sir Edward Burne-Jones’ painting of the same name (1897); the visual inspiration is obvious:
Sir Edward Burne-Jones' "The Vampire"
In A Fool There Was, The Vampire is seen in her nightgown several times, casting a spectral quality over her. Opaque and voluminous, they are not lingerie we are accustomed to today, but were risqué for the time, obviously derived from Burne-Jones’ sex-laden picture.
The Vampire grinning over her dead lover.
When wearing outerwear, The Vampire wore the amusingly impractical (and thankfully short-lived) hobble skirt, topped with exotic turbans and heavily kohled eyes. To seduce her victim she drops a flower and lifts her skirt to reveal her ankle — she is unashamed to show blatantly erotic skin.
What differentiated Theda from other actresses of her time was her other-worldliness, which she cultivated with her Oriental aesthetics. The horror genre is filled with tales of distant or remote lands; the audience’s presumed unfamiliarity with the locale makes the fantastic tales slightly more plausible; the storyteller prays on the public’s inherent mistrust and simultaneous attraction to the exotic, The Other. Though the most exotic location in A Fool There Was was Italy (puzzlingly portrayed as a palm tree paradise more suggestive of the Far East), The Vampire produces a non-specific and highly erotic exoticism. Not a tremendous actor, it was largely Theda’s unusual costumes and makeup on and off-screen that enshrouded her in Oriental mystique and secured her notoriety.
Theda Bara in hobble skirt and turban ensemble
Promises of harem girls with all the connotations of master / slave dynamics and orgies have been irrevocably linked to soft, sheer, feminine fabrics that simultaneously cover and reveal forbidden flesh (see my post onInnerwear as Outerwearfor more on this subject). Seemingly anticipating the Egyptian madness that occurred after the 1922 discovery of King Tutankhamun’s tomb, the Far East captivated the imagination of the Western world. Designer Paul Poiret (1879 – 1944) made his mark on the fashion world by morphing the 19th century S-shape silhouette into un-corseted, athletic figures, and he incorporated many lose-fitting, Oriental-inspired designs to this end including harem pants, “formal” silk pajamas, and turbans. Poiret designed extravagant costumes for stage productions, hosted legendary Arabian-themed costume parties, his fondness for theatrical-scale dress-up evident in the fashions he produced for general consumption.
Paul Poiret, harem ensemble, 1911
Even earlier was Emilienne d’Alençon (1869 – 1946) who performed at the Folies Bergères in the 1890s (with trained rabbits!) and was just as famous a courtesan, who wore an Art Nouveau inspired Salome costumes:
The Ballet Russes’ performance of “Schéhérazade” in 1910 was enormously successful, due in large part to the extravagant costumes of vague Eastern inspiration:
Ida Rubinstein in Ballet Russe "Scheherazade," 1910
Erte, who worked with Poiret and with whom I am obsessed, was yet another costume designer who marketed sensual Oriental decadence for lavish stage productions.
Erte Fashion Sketch with turban and harem pants
Mata Hari (1876 – 1917), the exotic Orientalist dancer of Dutch descent who posed as princess from Java while acting as courtesan and spy, was executed by firing squad just 2 years after A Fool There Was. Rumor has it that she blew a kiss to her executioners.
Mata Hari
Similar to our Theda Bara, non?
Theda Bara publicity shot for Cleopatra (1917)
Theda tapped into a cultural obsession with styles of the Far East, while exploiting the unease and xenophobia that often accompanies our regard of The Other, rolling it all into a destructive, man-eating “vampire” character. The Vamp concept was to evolve, though never to shake the ruinous qualities Theda imbued in her.
LOUISE BROOKS & MODERN ADVANCEMENTS
As Theda’s star waned, a new Vamp talent stepped up: Louise Brooks (1906 – 1985). If Theda was the vaguely ancient, exotic vamp, Louise was her modern flapper vamp successor. As women’s rights gained momentum in America, a powerful new woman emerged, wearing visible makeup as she walked to the voting polls, smoking and drinking and dancing in shift dresses that bared shins! Even as many women embraced this freedom, societal concerns of propriety remained and moralist detractors prophesized hedonistic anarchy. Dress also changed radically in the nineteen-teens, with fewer layers that a woman could slip into (and out of!), exposing more skin than ever. And so Louise Brooks was a very different looking vamp from Theda, even while her characters carried the torch of man destroyer.
More often than not, Louise Brooks smiles, a huge departure from Theda Bara's vamp image. Here she sweetly pours a drink for her stressed out lover.
Pandora’s Box (1929) was adapted from 2 erotic plays written in the 1890s by Frank Wedekind, but updated to modern times. As many young women cut their cumbersome long hair, Brooks as the Lulu character sports her own iconic, modern bob and wears clothes un-constrictive enough that she can do light gymnastics (like swing from a strongman’s biceps), hinting at the newly acceptable athleticism for women (see my post on Athletic Aesthetics). The erotic zones had shifted and multiplied since Theda Bara’s time, moving from the ankle to the shoulders, back, legs, and breasts which were often displayed braless.
Lulu appears practically naked in this Y backstrap dress, with a whiff of rope bondage.
Having become a somewhat accidental murderess, Lulu goes into hiding and curls the famous hair, sweeping it off her forehead. Ridiculous as it sounds, Brooks’ hairstyle was so recognizable that this shoddy disguise actually succeeds in confusing the audience a little, though Lulu is discovered anyway.
Lulu is a dangerous vamp not because she’s controlling and malicious, but because she’s a beautiful young woman whose very power is derived from her lack of pretension and seeming ignorance of her own desirability, her delicious un-self-conciousness. One-upping Bara’s Vampire, Lulu was a double threat desired by both men and women, so potent was her sexual power. The Pandora of the Greek myth was not an inherently evil woman either, just one whose curiosity got the better of her, with unfortunately dire consequences. Lulu is not even interested in money or advancing her social status — she shows equal preference for newspaper moguls and paupers, all of whom are trying to exploit her. However, she shares with other vamps her unrepentantance for acts that inconvenience or even destroy others and herself — they are all animalistic, with no regrets (as a side note, non-moral tales like these was only possible to portray in American cinema pre 1934, before the Hays Code was enacted).
She’s an unusual vamp fatale because she doesn’t have malicious intent. “Money, they all want money!” she complains of her blackmailers and suiters alike. She’s not a gold-digger, she’s simply a careless and carefree pleasure-seeker — exactly what conservatives feared about real-life flappers and, by extension, the women’s movement.
RESURRECTION OF THE VAMP
Since these early 20th century beginnings, the vamp has been resurrected in film and fashion many times. Blood sucking, literal and figurative, has unavoidably sexual connotations, and fetish gear and goth style has both influenced and been influenced by vamp(ire) lore. Fashion photographer Helmut Newton channels the sexy and macabre themes of bondage and female sexual power regularly. Even as women expose themselves in his photos, they seem to retain absolute authority over their settings:
Helmut Newton photo, c. 1990s
And Uma Thurman seemed to channel a bit of Louise Brooks herself with her portrayal of modern-day Mia Wallace, another beautiful, hedonistic woman whose pursuit of carnal pleasures (leading to the infamous drug overdose) jeopardizes all the men around her in Pulp Fiction (1994).
Impulse control is often explored in times of economic or political turmoil. True to point, there has been a rash of vampire productions recently including Twilight and the True Blood HBO series, but truth be told, I much prefer the original vamps!
During the early 1930s, the Hollywood Film Industry feared that the effects that the Great Depression would have on their industry.[1] With advertising by MGM warning theaters: “Buy badly and you’ll have empty seats in these times,”[2] the fear that a film would fail to fill seats was real and substantial. Palmy Days, released in late September of 1931, was one of two listed in Variety as a “smash” just one week after it was released.[3]Palmy Days success was due in part to the massive publicity campaign[4] and the star power of Eddie Cantor. But its real strength, as Cantor noted at the opening, was its appeal to the mass audience.[5] Audiences were drawn to it because of the films strategically placed, climactic, and suggested female nudity. This proved to be appealing to both male and female audience members due to the fashion mode of the time.
In the film industry at this time, women in the chorus were known by various names including “show girls,” “chorus girls,” “choristers” or “chorines” and were often used to “dress the set.”[6] Though clothed and never actually naked on the screen the chorines in Palmy Days are clothed to imply nudity repeatedly. As Anne Hollander discusses at length in her book, Seeing Through Clothes, the half-naked body is far more appealing than complete nudity.[7] In addition to emphasizing and exposing the natural female form, the costumes help create the luxury and spectacle meant to distract its audience from their problems. Appealing to the male audience by promising a cavalcade of curvaceous “girls,”[8] and appealing to women by reinforcing the fashion mode of 1931 helped to pack in audiences.[9] Getting women into the theatres was key and was noted in Film Daily on March 9, 1931, “A Warner Brothers executive has also gone on record in sating [sic] that ‘women bring the men to the theatres, as a rule, therefore pictures for the women must be prevalent.’”[10] The tactics used to get both men and women to go the theatres are related, as the fashionable silhouette of the early 1930s was increasingly focused on the natural form, and a visible body. This key scene in Palmy Days shows the importance of natural shape to the mode of the early 1930s and will specifically emphasize the legs. Both earlier and later films exploited false nudity-some to a greater extent-but Palmy Days provides an average example of nudity in films of the early 1930s. After 1934, the Hayes Department began to enforce standards of “decency” and nudity became less of a feature in film.[11]
Palmy Days was the second film choreographed by Busby Berkeley. Typical of films at the time, it has a simple plot, which provides ample room for visual opulence and luxury. The film stars well-known comedians Eddie Cantor as the assistant named Eddie Simpson and Charlotte Greenwood as a gym instructor named Helen Martin. Simpson, initially working as an assistant to a phony and criminal psychic, ends up as an efficiency expert at an all-female donut factory. At one point, he even cross-dresses to escape the psychic’s henchmen. The all-female donut factory is a device used by the filmmakers to include a large number of women in choreographed dances.
The idea of nakedness on stage was not a new one to the world of the chorine. Stage chorines in the Ziegfeld Follies of the teens and twenties were long familiar with this practice. “The near nudity that Ziegfeld made respectable was an especially potent draw, not only in the theatre proper but also at the popular rooftop night club where his Midnight Frolic featured elaborately costumed chorus girls parading along an elevated glass walk-way so patrons could glimpse – well, they couldn’t glimpse much, but the titillating possibilities acted as a powerful aphrodisiac.” [18] This practice of teasing patrons with glimpses of bare skin is continued in Palmy Days. Veiled nakedness, exposed body parts, and subtle nudity are prevalent throughout the film. The film’s overall effect and the intention of Samuel Goldwyn was to recreate Ziegfeld’s opulence on screen. Critics agreed with him, and one of several reviews noted his success at becoming the new Ziegfeld, “of typical Cantoresque antics, most of which take place in a bakery operated by a chorus of girls who out-Ziegfeld the best set of Follies girls for pulchritude and dancing talent.”[19] It appeared that “Sam Goldwyn was now determined to become the Ziegfeld of Hollywood.” [20]
As mentioned earlier, this key scene illustrates this veiled nudity and its importance to the 1930s audience. In the first scenes of Palmy Days, a chorine appears as a bakery worker. She stands in a room full of other bakery workers and blows on a whistle. Her visible nipples, seen through a low cut top, make reference to the image of a fully naked woman. The shirts of these uniforms are made to look like aprons-coming down low onto the leg-with low necklines. [21] The apron shirt continues around to the back, finishing with a bow and leaving the woman’s shoulders, spine, and lower back entirely exposed. Some variations on these costumes exist elsewhere in the film as well. Some women wear pants, while others wear skirts or shorts with their apron tops. The pants are tight at the top, and there does not appear to be any undergarment between the fabric of the pants and the skin, again hinting at the fact that she is naked beneath her clothes. Sketches of these costumes appear in advertising for the film as well (see below). Five women in the lower left corner appear to be wearing nothing but, heels, aprons and bakers hats, further emphasizing the importance of unclothed women as a sales hook for the film. One of them has her back to us, showing how little she wears. Their legs are long and stretched emphasizing their length and shape.
Pleated skirts and shorts, ruffled and pleated hats, collars and skirts are indicative of the body’s movement. When their bodies move the pleats and ruffles move as well, showing glimpses of skin through the fabric. Some of the bakery workers’ costumes have short pleated skirts, rather than pajama pants, and as the group marches off to gym class the skirts flutter and move along with them emphasizing the movement, their legs, and their exposed skin. Shorts and beachwear were becoming more and more popular during the early 1930s, and the public was growing used to the idea of visible skin. Swimsuits of the time were also very low in the back, and several ads for Jantzen swimwear in the Vogues of 1931 demonstrate this practice.[22] Sunbathing, encouraged by Chanel in the 1920s, is prevalent in this film as well, again focusing on skin and nudity.[23]
During the “Bend Down Sister” routine-where the bakery workers go to gym class with Helen Martin-there are a series of close-ups on the faces and upper torsos of the women as they bend over a railing. Clothed in simple, low cut, gray tank tops, and very short shorts, much of their bodies are indeed naked. The first woman bends over the railing without pulling her shoulders back and the camera-and thereby the audience-glimpses a bit of cleavage. As the camera continues down the line of women, each of them pulls their shoulders back, to keep the tank top taut across the front. This only serves to emphasize the fact that the first close up provided a visual taboo by showing cleavage and that what we almost saw was a woman’s actual body.
This kind of exposure did not go unnoticed by the women wearing the costumes. Interviews with the women in these and similar chorine films note how uncomfortable they felt in their costumes, when they were offstage and out of the fantasy world of the film. Gwen Seeger, a chorine working on multiple Busby Berkeley films noted, “We wore some scant attire. In our days, we were covered with a few feathers and beads, but we were covered! It was nudity, but it was covered! And it wasn’t vulgar. And yet, when I got off the set I’d always run and cover myself up with a robe! I felt like I was too undressed to be wandering around.”[24]
(This is an excerpt from Exposed Women: Nudity in the chorine costumes of Palmy Days (1931) by Heather Vaughan; presented at Rocky Mountain Interdisciplinary History Conference, Boulder, CO, September 2003.
[1] E.L. Weisner, “What Causes a Slump?” Film Daily, 7 Oct. 1931: 1. “Films Debunk Depression,” Film Daily, 8 Oct. 1931: 1, 15. “Hays Submits program in Campaign to Aid Unemployed” Film Daily, 13 Oct. 1931: 1, 4.
[3] The other film designated as a “Smash” was the Marx Brothers’, Monkey Business “11 Standout Features in Aug-Sept” Variety 6 Oct. 1931: 3.
[4] Palmy Days advertising pages state “life-sized beauties, colossal contours and massive letters gave the Rialto[at the New York City Premier] a front visible for blocks and blocks” and included ‘a gigantic parade of trucks that extended for 2 miles down Broadway.” Variety 29 Sept. 1931: 32, 33. The campaign also included a doughnut dunking promotion at a shop at Broadway and 45th, where “Police reserves had to be called out…to manage the mobs that gathered to watch.” “Eddie Cantor Launches Dunker Drive” Film Daily 27, Sept. 1931: 2.
[5] At the invitation only opening performance, Cantor noted that “it wasn’t made for you; it was made for the masses.” Review of Palmy Days, Film Daily, 29, Sept. 1931. 14.
[6] Interview with Walter Plunket, by John Kobal, Gotta Sing, Gotta Dance: A Pictorial History of Film Musicals. (The Hamlyn Publishing Group Limited: London, 1970) 304.
[7] Anne Hollander, Seeing Through Clothes (Berkeley, University of California Press, 1993) Chapter II: Nudity.
[8] “Patrons in the smaller places would fall over themselves to see the pictures in which these beauties appeared.” “The New Hollywood Dancing Girl,” article quoted by Kobal, (1970 edition) 308.
[9] A special women’s review section of Variety notes that this “lavish production” was a film that was “important on the ladies list.” “The Woman’s Angle,” Variety, 29 Sept. 1931: 14.
[10] “Major Producers Making Efforts to Increase Woman Patronage,” Film Daily, 9 March 1931, 8.
[11] “the Hays Office first list of thou-shalt-nots was published in 1927; in 1930 the list was recast into what came to be known as the Production Code. But the Hays Office did little to enforce its code until in 1934, it was forced to by a public outcry, spearheaded by the newly formed Catholic Legion of Decency, against excessive violence and sex in films.” (Fumento, 11)
[13] Bob Pike and Dave Martin, The Genius of Busby Berkeley, (Reseda, Calif.:CFS Books, 1973) 50 and 59.
[14] Edwin M Bradley, The First Hollywood Musicals: A Critical Filmography of 171 Features, 1927 through 1932. (Jefferson: McFarland, 1996) 150.
[15] American Film Institute Database listing for Palmy Days.
[16]Axel Madsen.Chanel : a woman of her own. (1st ed. New York : H. Holt, 1990). 190
[17] Pettey, Tom. “Actress to Be Only Player in Cast of ‘Alice.’ Chicago Daily Tribune, Jul 26, 1931, pg. C9. (another article, “Watch for these Fall Trends in New Pictures,” Photoplay. September, 1931 pg 44, includes photographs of the designs.
[18] Constance Rosenblum,.Gold Digger: The Outrageous Life and Times of Peggy Hopkins Joyce.(1st ed.New York : Metropolitan Books, 2000) 51.
[20]Herbert G Goldman,Banjo eyes: Eddie Cantor and the Birth of Modern Stardom. (New York: Oxford University Press, 1997) 140.
[21] Similarly, Ann Hollander notes in Seeing Through Clothes, that in the eighteenth century women’s gowns were “. . . very low cut and their kerchiefs tucked rather carelessly into the neckline so as insufficiently to hide the breast” and that “Nipples peeping out of gauzy stuff, as if accidentally, became a standard device…” (210-211)
[23] Elizabeth Ewing,History of Twentieth Century Fashion. (4th ed. Alice Mackrell, ed. London: B.T. Batsford, 2001) 112-113.
[24] John Kobal, A History of Movie Musicals: Gotta Sing, Gotta Dance (Rev. ed. New York: Exeter Books : distributed by Bookthrift, 1983) Interview, 111
, 
I like the above clip, the introduction to the film, because it shows a male character engaging in appearance management and consumption behaviour. 
I like this film because I like the styles I can show in class through the main character’s transformation from humble big-haired secretary to sleek, shoulder-padded boss-in-a-power-suit.
I have made a small crusade out of making sure that my students know Isaac Mizrahi as more than simply “that guy from Target.”
