Friday, March 26, 2010
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
The Italian born French couturier saw clothing as objects of art, using the body as a canvas to project her ideas. She tapped into the long association between disguise and fashion, drawing on the principles of Surrealism to explore this idea in her collections between 1936 and 1939. Schiaparelli worked alongside several of the movement’s leading artists. Surrealist artists inspired and collaborated with her in her designs, resulting in the shocking juxtaposition of artefacts, patterns and colours she became famed for. Making them just the style that I love, though am probably not brave enough to wear.
Elsa Schiaparelli, Monkey Fur Shoes, black suede and monkey fur, 1938.
Schiaparelli's couture designs drew on the advancements of the modern world, seeking to bring a sense of escapism, humour and bohemian liberty to the uncertain world of Parisian high society of the late 1930’s. She was not a trained couturier, instead relying on aesthetic instincts and originality to challenge the norms of the fashion industry. The freedom of Surrealism was Schiaparelli’s rationale to let her imagination run wild in her designs, designs that she envisaged to go “beyond the crude and boring reality of merely making a dress to sell.” The boutique featured interior decorations by many in the group, including the quirky Spanish artist Salvador Dali. One can only imagine what a room designed by Dali would look like!
Elsa Schiaparelli, Evening dress and head scarf with tear design (collaboration with Salvador Dalí), summer/fall 1938. Light blue, magenta, and black silk crepe.
Philadelphia Museum of Art.
Dali worked with Schiaparelli on her Autumn/Winter 1937 collection, producing several bizarre and intriguing couture pieces. One of these is the famous Tear-Illusion Dress of 1937. The deceptive design reflects the concerns of the Surrealist movement, in attempting to provide a new perception on traditional forms, such as the evening dress. The piece is created from the luxurious fabric of silk crêpe, complimented with an appliqué voile headscarf. While appearing simply a beautiful ladies gown, in true Schiaparelli style, closer examination reveals a much more unsettling undertone. The flowing cream voile is interspersed by a printed purple pattern, appearing as ‘rips’ in the fabric, representing bruised flesh. Now that would make for some interesting conversation at a cocktail party!
Elsa Schiaparelli, Shoe Hat, (collaboration with Salvador Dalí), winter 1937-38. Black wool felt. The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York. Gift of Rose Messing, 1974 (1974.139).
Photograph copyright 2002 The Metropolitan Museum of Art.
Elsa Schiaparelli, Evening dress with lobster print (collaboration with Salvador Dalí), summer/fall 1937. White and red silk organza. Philadelphia Museum of Art.
Schiaparelli’s collaborations with the Surrealists aimed to encourage new interpretations for familiar objects and clothing. This ambiguity is seen throughout the Dali/Schiaparelli creations, such as their Lobster Dress and Shoe Hat. Each of these again combined the conventions of dress with the peculiar. What could be more appropriate on a luxury evening gown than the image of a lobster? I can't help but think of Lady Ga Ga's outrageous and wonderful ensembles when I see Schiaparelli's Monkey Fur Shoes and Shoe Hat. Divine!
Elsa Schiaparelli, Dinner Jacket, spring 1947. Black crepe and 'shocking' pink silk taffeta with paillette and seed-pearl embroidery and jet buttons.
Philadelphia Museum of Art.
Elsa Schiaparelli, Blouse, ca. 1937, rayon, length at CB: 21 1/2 in. (54.6 cm), the Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York.
Schaparelli continued this contemporary, playful approach to the fashion industry in her invention of garment titles and fabric names, still used today. These include royal and ice blue, wheat yellow, and most famously, shocking pink. I wouldn't mind a bit of shocking pink in my wardrobe.
Elsa Schiaparelli, Trompe l'Oeil Jumper, November 1927, Black and white wool.
Philadelphia Museum of Art.
Trompe l’Oeil jumper of 1927. The piece, as the name suggests, fools the viewer into believing it features an attached bow beneath it’s characteristic 1920’s jabot collar, when in fact the bow design is knitted into the fabric. Deceptive or not, this is one cute jumper and certainly more interesting than your average knit. You don't even have to worry about the bow getting crushed out of shape.
The Surrealist emphasis on distortion and masquerade can be seen in many of Schiaparelli’s designs. This interest is evident from her early design years, with her famous
Elsa Schiaparelli, Evening Dresses, 1951, silk, Length at CB: 51 in. (129.5 cm)
The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York.
Schiaparelli's collections demonstrated that fashion need not adhere to convention. Her fabulous designs incorporated bright colours, unusual embellishments and patterns to otherwise standard items of clothing. Despite ending her career in bankruptcy in the 1950’s and being largely forgotten by the art world, one can see in her creations a vision of the Surrealist psyche. Fashion for Schiaparellis was a means of escaping, if only temporarily, from the boring and the everyday. One only has to look at designers like Alannah Hill to see how fashion designers continue to use fashion as a means of visual experimentation. Very fun and quirky experimentation at that!
The message from Ms Schiaparelli, when in doubt, never, never buy the grey suit!
Thursday, March 18, 2010
Friday, March 12, 2010
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
C1, just being cool
Like most of my favourite cafes, C1 does an excellent long black, the décor is funky and alternative (they fill the holes in their brick walls with lego, people!) and there’s a large range of fresh counter food options (I tend to be too impatient to order off the menu – but their menu options do look great). Although I had a brief Oh Noes! moment when I realised they didn't serve date scones, their tasty, baked-on-the-premises sweet or savoury muffins are more than adequate replacements (the spinach, feta and tomato relish one is especially good) (so good in fact that I ate it all before I remembered to take photos).
Lego-filled brick wall. For the win.
When I went to C1 in the afternoon for a hot Lemon, Honey and Ginger drink, I brought along an issue of a very charming zine, Story To…Pod People (Issue Two) which I bought earlier that morning at a groovy handmade, design-y shop (I’ve completely forgotten the name of it… fail), just off Litchfield Lane.
Story To’s collection of public-transport themed musings range in tone and in style from the amusing to the grotesque to the quaint to the grim. It’s interesting really worth trying to find a copy. Story To… is produced in Melbourne, and though it’s currently on hold, its creators are working on other interesting projects, so hopefully we should again receive more interesting compilations of words and pictures from them.
Tuesday, March 2, 2010
Right. So far on this blog, other’s media commentary has (more or less) been left alone. But no more.
On Sunday, in New Zealand’s Sunday Star Times, I read this article about how teenage girls should dress, which, to put it mildly, seriously pissed me off. Honestly, after spending my morning shifting a herd of cattle and a bunch of horses off a very low-lying (ie. sea level) property on the Banks Peninsula so that the tsunami wouldn’t scare them (the surge did end up flooding the property!), one of the last things I wanted to read was a snarky opinion piece that spent its entire word-length indoctrinating young girls into a world of low-self esteem and insecurity about their bodies.
Now, I know that Sunday Star Times is a trash-bag paper, so I wasn’t expecting in-depth intellectually rigorous journalism. But neither was I expecting such preachy, prudish, conservative ranting that uses phrases like “preserve modesty” and says that for teenage girls it’s best to “keep things hidden” – here they mean breasts/cleavage but by using “things” all they do is to encourage girls to be super-aware and extremely uncomfortable with their changing bodies. Why not call breasts breasts people?
Author Lois Cairns does address those tacky semi-sexual slogan t-shirts teenagers have a preference for (though one of the examples cites – “Miss Bitch” doesn’t seem that sexual to me). I agree that it’s creepy when say, a seven-year-old wears a t-shirt emblazoned with “Porn Star!” or asks for a g-string, but she's talking about teen dressing - a majority of teenagers are nothing if not ludicrously horny – if they want to advertise this across their chests, well, it’s a bit trashy, but let them.
However, the worst part of this article for me was the way it encourages young girls experimenting with fashion to only think about how they look in negative, restrictive terms. Cairns quotes a “leading stylish” (she's been on breakfast television) (and who the fuck is actually a “stylist” anyway), Stephanie Rumble, who lays down a number of key “rules” girls have to abide by. She draws attention to “heavy thighs” and says that girls who have these terrible legs must wear longer-length tops in order to “hide” the heavier part of the thigh. Because, you know, shock horror, society isn’t prepared to accept that people and their bodies come in different shapes and sizes. Can you imagine what this article could (and probably has) done to some girls’ esteem? Because you’re “heavier” you’re told you’re not allowed to wear the latest fashions and instead have to hide away? This is not only discriminatory but just so very damaging to girls who are already insecure.
All Cairns achieves here is a perpetuation of the incredibly limited range of socially acceptable body shapes. Moreover, she also highlights how women are lectured to, made to be aware of their appearances, and told to follow "rules" (ie. “Don’t be a slut! Hide those breasts!” and “If you’re a fatty, hide under a mu-mu!”) from a very young age. This is not about dressing “appropriately”. This is about setting women up for a life-time of insecurity about bodies, clothes and the world of dressing in general. And this pisses me off.