The Celebrity Pitch

Readers, many volumes have been written about advertising and its role as lubricant in our (rapidly rusting) consumer culture.  But after reading the many excellent comments to yesterday's post about models, I wanted to talk more about it. 

Reader Some Girl made a great point, that the message behind much of today's fashion advertising is "People who are this perfect wear our brand" as opposed to, by wearing such-and-such a brand (or label) you will look more whatever -- beautiful, alluring, sophisticated, etc.

I mean, how sophisticated can anybody look in their underwear?

The celebrity ad seems to operate in both realms.  We want to buy Lux soap flakes (up top) because Jane Wyman uses them, and because by using them we'll end up looking more like Jane Wyman.  (Wait -- am I the only one who still wants to look more like Jane Wyman?)

Consider this contemporary Louis Vuitton ad campaign, which I'm guessing most of you are familiar with.

That's Mikhail Gorbachev, the last head of state of the former USSR, and -- ahem -- not exactly a fashion plate.  Why on earth would anyone care what kind of luggage he uses?  Well, apparently whoever designed the ad campaign believes someone in their target market does care.

Here's another in the series.  Obviously, women without shoes are serious women, who have more important things to worry about.  Which is not to take anything away from Angelina Jolie -- a UN Goodwill Ambassador after all -- and what should she be carrying, a recycled burlap tote?

In the highly competitive luxury goods market, who knows what works and what won't?  When I was growing up, this Blackglama mink ad campaign was in full swing and I loved following them to see which old-time star would show up next. 

I wonder how many coats Joan Crawford really moved...but I digress.

Readers, are you seduced by celebrities in ads?  Are you able to see beyond the movie star and focus on what is being advertised?

On a somewhat related note, do ads featuring scantily clad, dissipated teenagers make you want to head off to the mall to buy jeans, gulp down a few Excedrin -- or both?

As in so many areas of life today, we seem to be throwing everything at the wall in hope that something will stick.  Nobody seems to know what works.

I had a sort of epiphany yesterday while tut-tutting over that Banana Republic "Inspired by Mad Men" photo: It doesn't matter what I think.  Those clothes are not supposed to work for me.



Their target market is likely decades younger, someone with no living memory of the styles, to whom this stuff looks fresh and edgy, not stale and derivative.

As so many have mentioned, the Sixties revisited the Twenties, the Seventies the Forties, and so on.  A lot of those styles were lifted piecemeal, without much reinterpretation.  Remember these record albums?

So what's wrong with a little early Sixties in the -- what are we in again, the teens?

Friends, I could talk about advertising all day, but I really must get a move on.

If you were advertising something like, say, Louis Vuitton luggage how would you sell it?

Is associating a bag with a former head of state a cynical ploy, a brilliant strategy, or both?

Why do we still fall for this stuff?  (Note to self: shower, change underwear, smile.)

Models Then and Models Now

Friends, I'm back and ready to take on the world.  Of modeling.

Suzy Parker.  Dovima.  Jean Patchett.  Lisa Fonssagrives.

These are just a few of the most famous models of the 1950s and early 60s.  Like today's models, they were beautiful.  They were young.  And they were ballerina-skinny.





In those days, models modeled and that's about it.  They didn't star in reality shows (though Suzy Parker did have a role in The Best of Everything and a few other films) and they weren't seen much outside of magazine layouts and ads.  But they were recognizable and certainly embodied a standard of beauty and glamour (maybe more the latter than the former) few non-models could ever match.

Readers, what's different about models then and now?  Why do so many people focus on models today and critique their (genetically) tall, thin bodies? 



Haven't models always merely represented a highly art-directed ideal, human clothes hangers that showed off a dress to its best effect?



When I was looking at photos of models then and models now, the greatest difference I noticed was the amount of skin models are expected to display today.  Skimpy underwear, bikinis, nude shots -- almost nothing is left to the imagination.

Though Fifties models appeared in swimsuits, these tended to be modest one-piece numbers, as was the style back then, and the images were never sexually provocative, but rather, wholesome.

Direct sexuality was the stuff of pin-ups and other "adult" material (think Betty Page).  Today there's very little difference, aesthetically.  And this isn't just true of female models -- men are also expected to pose provocatively in underwear or nothing at all.

In the Fifties, women's clothes may have been restrictive and demanded corsets and cinchers, but the models bodies were covered.  Nudity was rare.



It's as if today, when so much of fashion is standardized, we're more interested in the hanger than the clothes.

Wise readers, your thoughts.

Just so we're on the same page, I'm operating under the assumptions that 1) models are more visible today, thanks to television and the Internet; 2) modeling itself is much more mainstream and often seen as a springboard to an acting or business career; 3) models -- their weight and how they are represented -- are more a focus of women than they were in generations past.  You may or may not agree with these.

Does the increase in nudity reflect our more body-conscious, sexually liberated times?  Does the constant exposure to models' (photoshopped always) bodies create more self-image problems for women than the more covered-up, highly stylized models of generations ago?

I'll have more to say about this later in the week, but why do these Banana Republic ads look like children playing dress-up...



...compared to the real thing?





Is it the makeup, or is it a life spent wearing corsets, heels, and gloves, that make the original models look mature and comfortable and the 2011 models look synthetic, derivative, and awkward?

Jump in!

The $4.6 Million Dress

Friends, by now you've all probably heard about the Debbie Reynolds Hollywood costume and memorabilia auction that happened last weekend.  The big news: Marilyn Monroe's infamous "subway dress" went for $4.6 million.

For that price it should have sleeves.

(NOTE: you can download a PDF of the auction catalog here, and I highly recommend you do.  It was an amazing collection  and beautifully documented in this catalog.)

Ten years ago I saw the soon-to-be auctioned Marilyn Monroe memorabilia collection on display at Christies and saw the famous Jean Louis "Happy Birthday, Mr. President" barely-there gown.  That one fetched $1,150,000, which seems like a bargain by comparison.  And it was beaded.

As you know, I am a huge old movie fan and melt at the sight of costumes from classic films.  I've blogged about the Diana Vreeland costume exhibit I saw in the Seventies at the Metropolitan Museum of Art as a child, as well as some of my favorite movie gowns.

Debbie amassed her collection over more than forty years, with a dream of founding a Hollywood memorabilia museum that never quite happened.

The whole thing makes me sad, for Debbie and for us Americans.  What larger cultural contribution has America made than "the movies" a.k.a., Hollywood?   As I said to someone yesterday, with all the billionaires we now have in this country, couldn't somebody cough up, say, $100 million to keep Debbie's collection intact and viewable by the public?   The fact that a dress associated with a famous star could fetch millions reflects the huge, lasting interest in Hollywood history.







Wise readers, your thoughts, please.

Why is this (Marilyn) dress so valuable, other than that we've seen that image upteen times till it's embedded in our DNA?  Is it really all that?  Have you ever seen The Seven-Year Itch (the movie the dress is from)?  It has not aged well, to put it mildly.

Also, do you think these costumes belong in one place -- i.e., a museum -- or is it only fair that they go to those who have the most interest in owning them and perhaps chopping them up into quilting squares and throw pillows? 

Is it important, given that the costumes can be seen, as they were intended to be seen, in the films themselves?

I'd love to hear what you think.

I'm going to be gone the rest of this week as I'll be taking care of my mother who gets out of rehab after her hip replacement today.  My mother doesn't have a computer -- she tried to master one about five years ago and failed -- nor does she have DSL or any other type of Internet service.  Her neighborhood, moreover, though just a (long) subway ride from where I live, is a wi-fi black hole.  I will be thoroughly disconnected -- pray for me.  I hope to return to daily blogging next week.

BTW, please feel free to read other blogs during my absence. It's healthy and can only strengthen our relationship, in the long run.

Have a great week, everybody, and see you soon!

Strapless Gowns - yea or nay?

Friends, I need your help.  What do you think of the strapless look?

Strapless gowns became popular in the Postwar Forties, ruled in the bosom-worshiping Fifties, held on through the early Sixties, and have made a major comeback recently with the popularity of the breast implant and vintage red carpet looks.

Back in the day they were considered daring, and initially only the sexiest movie stars would be costumed in them.  Vixen characters went strapless; wives and girls-next-door didn't.  Neglected wives or divorcees could go either way.

Ava Gardner and Rita Hayworth could definitely pull off the strapless look.

So could Dolores Gray (left) and Joan Collins (far right) in the dreadful MGM remake of The Women, retitled The Opposite Sex.  Notice how loyal wife, June Allyson, by contrast, is covered up.

Lena Horne, almost always referred to as sultry, rocked the strapless look.

Judy Garland...not so much.

For day, strapless looks odd, or maybe it's just this cigarette-girl-on-top, malt-shop-date-on-the-bottom dress modeled here by glamorous Arlene Dahl.  (Do buxom beauties still stroll strapless through nightclubs shouting Cigars, Cigarettes?)

Cousin Cathy loves the strapless look; I'm on the fence, especially for her.  To me they're a little over the (hardly there) top and with Cathy's swimmer's shoulders.... 

Which of these two patterns do you prefer, Simplicity 2815 from 1949, or McCalls 9152 from 1952?

The Simplicity has sat in my Etsy favorites for months.  I don't like the jacket and I loathe dirndl skirts.  The McCall's, on the other hand...I don't know, maybe it's the woman-as-candy-box thing that leaves me cold.  I do love the bolero jacket (View B), and done in lace, it could provide Cathy some necessary coverage.

Regardless of which I choose, I'll need to put boning in the corset, which thanks to Susan Khalje's book, Bridal Couture, shouldn't be too much of a nightmare.  I'm putting Gertie on speed dial. 

Friends, your thoughts.  Are strapless gowns a tired cliché of feminine glamour?  Do they make you think of Merry Widow corsets, road-show productions of Guys and Dolls and all things Jayne Mansfield?

Strapless gowns-- yea or nay?

Sound of Music Style - yea or nay?

Friends, yesterday MPB reader Eli commented on the similarity between dress pattern Butterick 8975 and something Julie Andrews might have worn in The Sound of Music.

Which got me thinking: why do so many of the costumes from this beloved 1965 film look like they were torn out of a mid-Sixties Simplicity pattern book, as opposed to accurately representing the styles of late-Thirties Austria, or the decidedly unglamorous Von Trapp singers themselves? 



First, though, a self test.  There are four levels of Sound of Music obsession.  For example, if I say:

The first three notes just happen to be...

You respond ________________.

This would categorize you as LEVEL 1.  Casual interest, no cause for alarm.

More serious would be if I say...

So long, farewell, auf Wiedersehen, adieu --

And you respond _________________.

We would diagnose this as LEVEL 2.  Serious, but not incurable. 

More worrisome is if I say....

I'd like to say a word in her behalf:

And you respond ______________. 

or ...

Do Mi Mi, Mi So So...

And you respond _____________. 

Definitely LEVEL 3.

Things get scary when we move into post-intermission reprise territory:

If I say... 

You may think this kind of adventure

Never will come to you...

You respond _______________.

In which case you are at LEVEL 4, and I can offer no hope.

But let's get back to fashion! I nearly fell off my zafu cushion when I stumbled upon this Sound of Music pattern original!

I mean, I would make those outfits today -- and for myself.  Wouldn't you?

Cathy and I both love a skin tight princess-seamed bodice over just about anything.  Longtime readers may remember my purchase of this pattern last year:

Even before 1965, similar looking one-piece jumper styles were very popular and perfect for a Do-Re-Mi sing-along.

Remember when Maria returns to the Von Trapps' after her brief retreat back to the abbey?

Isn't that basically View C in this Butterick pattern?

Remember Maria's fetchingly virginal leandler dance dress (the one the baron is so fond of)?

 

So very reminiscent of this...



The most fashionable character in The Sound of Music is Baroness Von Schraeder --  gorgeous in every historically inaccurate outfit she wears.

Lovely, but 1938?  I don't think so!

Her stunning evening gown is essentially a mid-Sixties sheath dress with some tulle.

How about this timeless hostess ensemble?  So cocktails at the club.

And then there's Liesl.  

Except for a little Tyrolean ruching in the bodice, is there anything about her dress that wouldn't work for a mid-Sixties sweet sixteen or Barbie and Ken soda fountain date?

The Von Trapp girls are always boasting little bows, headbands, and kerchiefs that scream early-to-mid Sixties tween.

 

We all remember the navy uniforms they wear early in the film...

Try these:

In closing, friends, what do you think of The Sound of Music style?  Are you eager to sew up a wool jumper, silk-blouse-and-midi-skirt cocktail ensemble, or heavy brocade play clothes?  Do you dream of wearing a poofy pastel dance dress and dancing around a gazebo with a man in uniform -- any uniform?  Are you shocked or charmed at the mid-Sixties-ness of it all?

Finally, if you could wear one outfit from the film, which would it be?  (Are you more Maria or the Baroness or someone else?)

Any Level 4's out there?  

Sound of Music style -- yea or nay?

P.S. - Traveling this weekend.  See you on Monday!