Grecian Draping

Two notions come to my mind on hearing the word ‘goddess’: Ancient Greek deities, and screen sirens of the Hollywood’s golden era. Both are evocative of unearthly or extraordinary beauty, creatures with the power to utterly charm and bewitch ordinary mortals.

Thus the ‘goddess gown’ is associated with the garments of the Ancient Greeks – chiton, peplos, and tunic – as well as the sweeping 1930s gowns worn by the likes of Jean Harlow, Carole Lombard, Norma Shearer, and Rita Hayworth.

Greek clothing was very simply cut. The loose-fitting and free-flowing chiton, worn by both men and women, was basically two rectangles of fabric joined at the shoulders and sides. Lengths and additional shapes – such as circles or triangles – varied, while different looks were achieved through arrangements that created elegant draping. The most common fabrics were linen and wool. Additional decoration came in the form of pleating, embroidery, belts and jewellery. The result was a style of dress that both revealed and concealed the human figure.

Jean Harlow, in a gown by costumier Adrian; designed for the film Dinner at EightBy contrast, the goddess gowns of the stars of Hollywood’s golden years were slender and form fitting, especially in the bodice, and were often backless. Cuts were more sophisticated; linen and wool had been replaced with silk and lamé. But they still had the yards of fabric, the columnar fluidity, complex pleating, and asymmetric draping in common with the Ancient Greeks who inspired them. Where before Paris had lead fashion, now Hollywood began to take over in the popular imagination; many of these fantasy gowns were designed by the famous costumier, Adrian.

In short, these were sexier gowns really meant for goddesses, not the hoi polloi.

In short, these were sexier gowns really meant for goddesses, not the hoi polloi. It’s no wonder these silver screen stars were named for the sirens of Greek mythology, who lured sailors to death with their seductive singing.

Madame Grès (1903–1993) and Madeleine Vionnet (1876–1975) were both French fashion designers who were proponents of Grecian dress.

Grès’s minimalist gowns were wrapped and draped in the most masterful way – that she was trained in sculpture is obvious when one looks at her designs. One of her gowns could take up to 300 hours to create, with pleats sewn by hand, and the cloth draped so that the body shaped the dress – far longer than the Ancient Greeks one imagines.

Gown by Madame Grès, 1940; ph George Platt LynesGown by Madeleine Vionnet, 1933; ph George Hoyningen-HueneVionnet is known for popularising, if not inventing, the bias cut to create sleek and flattering dresses that skimmed the body languidly. Her gowns were soft, floating freely, and did not distort the natural curves of a woman’s body. She used more unusual fabrics for women’s clothing in the 20s and 30s, such as crepe de chine, gabardine and satin, and always ordered two yards extra for each dress to accommodate the draping.

Both Grès and Vionnet have continued to inspire fashion designers to the present day.

Today, we still see the classic goddess gown on our screen stars, but it is also a favourite style of wedding dress (one of the few occasions when ordinary mortals don floor-length gowns), as an alternative to the classic 50s-style princess gown of strapless-boned-bodice-and-big-skirt ilk. … And above all other days, one should feel like a goddess on one’s own wedding day.

Key Characteristics

•  columnar, bias-but
•  fluid draping
•  pleating
•  asymmetry
•  floor-length

Fashion Note

My very simple grey jersey goddess gown is by English label Karen Millen, and features characteristic asymmetry, draping, and an interesting cut to the back.

Photos: January 2014

Scroll down for more images. Links have been provided where available.

Bette DavisCarole LombardGowns by Madeleine VionnetGown by Madame GrèsNorma ShearerRita Hayworth

The Little Black Dress of Yore

I don’t need to much go into the history or origin of the famous ‘Little Black Dress’ as except to mention that it was Coco Chanel who brought it in fashion, rescuing it from its relegation to traditional mourning wear. (The irony of my lamenting the incessant donning of ‘widow’s weeds’ prevalent today is not lost on me.)

American Vogue dubbed it in 1926, ‘The Chanel “Ford” – the frock that all the world will wear.’ How right they were!

In 1960, less than 40 years later, E. Merriam, a writer on the fashion industry said: ‘Functional: a simple black dress that costs more than $100. Understated: A simple black dress that costs more than $200. Nothing: A black dress that costs more than $300, as in “a little Nettie Rosenstein nothing.”’

I’ve never heard of Nettie Rosenstein (1890–1980). She was in fact renowned for her little black dresses, running the gamut from day dress to evening, and also for costume jewellery. She was born in Austria, and her family migrated to America in the 1890s. Her fashion label was based in New York City between c.1913–1975, beginning with a home dressmaking business. In 1919, she was approached by the I. Magnin department store, and she began wholesaling; two years later she opened her own establishment. [Wikipedia]

Divine 1930s dresses by Nettie Rosenstein (original links of images broken)Unsurprisingly, I own only one LBD, this late 1950s or early 60s dress above – ‘Baker of Melbourne’ – which I bought in a vintage store many years ago. It dips into a vee at the back, and originally had a small white floral lace appliqué on the right shoulder – a tasteful one – but one day I removed it. It’s a pity I don’t know what became of it. I wear this dress very rarely.

I do have a casual black jersey dress as well, which is designed on Grecian lines that I wear on hot days as it is loose and comfortable, and also a Large Black Dress of black silk satin, with a lace insert on the bodice. I call it my ‘summer Gothic’ dress, as while the top is comfortably light for hot weather, the floor-length skirt is divided into three tiers that billow out dramatically.

‘The little black dress always looks better in white.’ — Bill Blass

I am a proponent of the Little White Dress however, and own many. I wholeheartedly agree with Bill Blass, the New York fashion designer who quipped in 2002, ‘The little black dress always looks better in white.’

Below are some tearsheets that are admittedly quite old (May 2001), but they show some seminal moments in the history of the LBD. (Doris Day’s 1959 dress is cut on similar lines to my own.) Click the images for larger versions.

Fashion quotations from: A to Z of Style, Amy de la Haye, V & A Publishing 2011.

Photo: April 2016

From Australian In Style magazine, May 2001From Australian In Style magazine, May 2001

A Real Pill

Along with other iconic Sixties fashions (baby-doll dresses, Peter Pan collars), pillbox hats have been one of my most hated clothing items. I hated everything about this hat style: the straight up-and-down sides, the flat crown, the sometimes bulbous shapes, the stiffness, the way it traditionally sat straight on the head; even the name is unappealing … I could not name a single redeeming feature, and I certainly never imagined I would ever not only own one, but wear it with pleasure.

Then along came this natural straw hat by Mr Individual of Melbourne, which is trimmed with caramel coloured braid and a jaunty, angled bow. I found it in a Salvos op shop (thrift store) and picked it up – in spite of the fact it was clearly a dreaded pillbox – because of the bow, the fineness of the straw, and because it looked in such pristine condition. At $25 it was not the cheapest hat I’ve ever bought in an op shop (never mind the price tag on new designer hats), but it was obviously a quality piece of millinery.

It looks more like an insouciant cap than a formal pillbox.

Luckily it fit well enough so that I could wear it on the back of my head, a more modern styling than the traditional straight on. It looks more like an insouciant cap than a formal pillbox.

Origin of an Icon

The precursor to the pillbox hat was military headgear. It was redesigned by milliners in the 1930s, and is in fact named after actual pillboxes that pills were once packaged in. It is of course most associated with Jackie Kennedy: a style icon in her own right, but this hat became synonymous with her look in the 1960s.

Jackie KennedyAudrey HepburnWhen Jackie was looking for a hat to wear to her husband’s presidential inauguration in January 1961, the American designer Halston decided with her to make a plain pillbox hat that would suit the style of her dress.

‘The simple but stylish hat caused a fashion sensation across the Western world, when many people watched the inauguration ceremony on television. The dent that Jackie accidentally put in the hat as she climbed out of the presidential limousine was interpreted as a special design feature, and the dented pillbox hat was immediately copied around the world.’ (The Century of Hats by Susie Hopkins, Chartwell Books, 1999).

The pillbox hat subsequently became Jackie’s trademark, and she wore them in fabrics and colours matching her outfit. Worth noting: she too usually wore these hats on the back of her head.

Glaser pillbox by Christian Dior, 1960Flamingo velvet pillbox 'Florentine' by Christian Dior, 1961At Tanith Rowan Designs there is an excellent article on the pillbox and how to wear it now in a modern way – this Australian milliner advocates wearing them tilted on an angle. That may not work with mine as it has such a deep crown, but even I am almost convinced!

Photos: October 2016

Hold Onto Your Hats

It’s coming up to Spring Racing Season! For hat-lovers such as myself, this season can be a real joy, seeing women everywhere accessorising their heads, a sadly unusual practice these days.

The only real pity is that so many of them are common and cheap fascinators, excuses for real hats: bits of sinnamay with a fake gerbera or hibiscus attached willy-nilly, quills bobbing about like so many antenna, netting, and possibly sequins or glitter thrown in for good measure. Don’t overdo it like that! A little goes a long way.

Definition of a Fascinator

You may be wondering, what is the difference between a hat and a fascinator?

‘A fascinator hat is a small ornamental headpiece that fits on the head using an Alice-band-type base or headband or even a small comb. It is always lightweight and usually features feathers, beads or flowers. [V is for Vintage]

These pink straw headpieces are from 2013, and it was those dashing Schiaparelli pink stripes that caught my eye when I passed them in a department store. But are these fascinators? While they are attached to the head with Alice bands, in my mind their sculptural quality helps steer them away from bogan territory.

Potentially only the 1862 headdress on the left fits the description of a Victorian fascinator.This certainly fits the description of a Victorian fascinator: a lace shawl attached to the head

True Origin of the Fascinator

The original fascinator refers to an item worn in the last decades of the 19th century: ‘a lace or crocheted head shawl secured to the crown or hairline that drapes down over the back of the head as far – or even farther – than the shoulders. These fascinators added a bit of seductive mystery to decorous Victorian fashion.

'By the 1930s, the term applied to a lacy hood – rather like a fussy balaclava – and soon after the term disappeared from use.’ [Encyclopædia Britannica]

Isn’t that fascinating? I must say though, a shawl attached to my head is even more unappealing to me than today’s ubiquitous sinnamay creations. I think I’ll just stick to my vintage hats!

A black lace 1930s fascinatorCrocheted fascinator from 1944 (you too can knit one if you click the image link).

Barrette or Hairclip?

I’ve always been a bit confused about exactly what a barrette was. Was it like a small hair slide, similar to a bobby pin? Or was it something bigger, like a hair clip used to clasp a substantial amount of hair? I’ve never, before now, been so befuddled that I was actually prompted to investigate this mysterious lingo. However, investigative journalism lead me to do some research, and I discovered something amazing …

A barrette and a hairclip are the same thing! Revolutionary. It is a completely generic term. It is, of course, an American word, while hairclip, hair slide or hair clasp are British English. I own many hair clips and slides and clasps, including this cobalt velvet number that features a knot design in the centre of the oval.

I’ve always been a bit confused about exactly what a barrette was.

Years ago, when I was in China, I went on a frenzy of buying, and trawled every market and shopping centre in search of interesting clips. I’ve also invested in some higher-quality French-made clips by Paris Mode; the French stainless steel is much stronger than that of more inexpensive brands. (Check them out online – the prices are waaay cheaper than in retail stores. I think the website is new, for last time I looked it didn’t exist.)

Since I am seriously thinking about chopping off my hair again, it behoves me to get lots of wear out of them while my hair is still long. It’s the only thing I lament about cutting off my locks – not being able to put them up!

Photo: August 2016