A Tale of Two Museums (Redux)

So when we last met I escorted you through the Jacqueline de Ribes Exhibition at the Metropolitan Museum. It was lovely…ish. Maybe I would have been more enthusiastic had I not just come from The Museum at FIT. One of the few museums in the world devoted strictly to fashion, MFIT is a division of the Fashion Institute of Technology, itself a division of the New York State university system (SUNY). It is logical, therefore, that the mission of the museum is to teach, and…mission accomplished each and every time they open a show. Whenever I see their latest offering I can’t wait to see what they’re going to come up with next. Maybe it just wasn’t fair to see anything after going here; MFIT is a tough act to follow.

 

The museum is tucked away in one of the college’s main buildings, and because of the limited space they can’t compete with the grand size of the exhibitions of the more famous costume and fashion shows at museums like Metropolitan or the Victoria and Albert. It is, however, comparable to a Fabergé egg: exquisitely crafted, always the finest of materials used, with a hidden surprise inside.

So let’s start with their current amuse-bouche before going on to the main event, shall we? Yes, it’s hard to believe that a museum this tiny could warrant two entries all its own – and one on a fabric, no less! – but MFIT really does it right. It’s also a great way to demonstrate what makes a fashion exhibit outstanding, rather than a merely a mass of gorgeous clothes.

The textile in question this time is….drumroll…denim!

 

It’s quite possible that you might find something in your closet under a spotlight. In fact, it might be the first thing you see when you walk in.

 

That’s right – the good ol’ 501 button fly. They look kind of different on display in a museum than when they’re all wadded up in a corner of your bedroom, don’t they?

 

The show covers denim from the 1800s until practically tomorrow, and here’s the thing about MFIT: you don’t find the same old/same old there. You’ll get to see historic garments you’ve only seen in textbooks or recreated in movies. These are work pants from the 1840s, and I have to say I find the cut of the waistband very intriguing.

 

 

Here’s the poster and the garment that helped win WWII! Some of us are still rocking Rosie the Riveter’s jumpsuit and bandana today. (Check out my own picture to the right of this essay.)

 

I really have to applaud a curator who’s able to demonstrate the connection between a prison uniform and haute couture by Elsa Schiaparelli, and make a stop in between for the first ready-to-wear denim dress; Claire McCardell’s “Pop Over.” (I love that the pockets look like pot holders; at least they do to me.)

I loved how they peppered the aisles with monitors showing old television commercials, huge mock-ups of past newspaper and magazine ads, and interspersed different designers and eras when it helped to illustrate a point, rather than keep everything in chronological order. 

At one point the television channel was turned to high end designer jeans…you know, I thought back then I never wanted to hear this ad again, and it turns out I was right. No nostalgia for this at all.

 

On the flip side, though, I found myself hypnotized by this iconic ad from the late 70s - early 80s. That was the time it seemed to be played every commercial break, and people of a certain generation (meaning mine) can still sing that jingle. Who was that girl? I really did want to know her better! As far as I know she was never identified and hasn’t stepped forward, although ‘Real Housewife of New York’ Princess (no joke) Carole Radziwell recently claimed to have been the Jordache fit model. (Ummmm…okay. If you say so.)

 

Sure, the jeans were nice, but I’m still waiting for the commercial telling me where I can buy her hair. Spectacular.

Of particular interest to me was how inventive trendsetters and artists used a ubiquitous garment like jeans and made theirs unique, and then how fashion houses took the style back by outright stealing ideas from the trendsetters, then branding it as their own to make a fortune. Witness the following:

 

Ahhhhh….these brought back memories. I spent one entire summer embroidering a pair of my boyfriend’s jeans – and denim is not easy, people – with a Hobbit theme, no less (his favorite book; great foreboding I did not recognize as I was not then nor am I now into Hobbits). What can I say other than I was young and there wasn’t much else to do that summer except listen to Carol King’s Tapestry. We broke up within days of my finishing those jeans. I promise you I am not the only one telling that sad tale.

These jeans …well…these are a different story.

 

Those are Tom Ford jeans from 1999, and I’m betting every former Brownie, Girl Scout and Campfire Girl that walked through that exhibit stopped dead in her tracks when she saw the description card for those beauties. “When they reached stores they cost up to $3,800, which stunned the press.” Are you kidding? The press wasn’t the only one stunned. Maybe I didn’t strain my eyes and prick my fingers all those years ago just for some long lost Arts & Crafts patch; with winter keeping me inside more it may be time to break out the loom and beads and bedazzle the bejesus out of some pair of jeans stuffed at the bottom of our hamper. (I’d leave off the feathers; among many other reasons that’s a dry cleaning nightmare.)

Moving on…

I went with a friend who started frothing at the mouth when she saw the slung-below-the-undies jeans, but I pushed past so I could drool over the circle skirt that was a veritable salute to vegetables, a food group that I love even more when it’s done in applique. 

 

This was part of a 50s grouping, which brought to light the fact The Denim Council was formed in 1955 to turn around an image that was being formed about the fabric; that the main consumers were biker gangs and juvenile delinquents. So much for all those cowboy shows that were on TV at the time; I guess Marlon Brando’s The Wild One and Mamie Van Doren’s juvenile delinquent exploitation films trumped TV’s Gunsmoke. Compare the outfit on the left to this:

Prepare to be corrupted….ladies and gents, Gene Vincent singing Blue Jean Bop!

After The Denim Council was created we got movies like April Love, which starred Pat Boone as the juvenile delinquent. Yes, really.

Be sure to send The Council a thank you note. They must have loved this next hit. (Actually, I do, too.) Eddie Fisher and his Dungaree Doll.

 

Anyhow…

The Museum at FIT manages with every exhibit, no matter how large or small, fanciful or mundane, to make my experience there memorable. This small exhibit on denim made something that could have been pedestrian come alive. Push it to the top of your Must See list.

Next time I’ll give you my impression of MFIT’s Fairytale Fashion, the current show in the Special Exhibitions Gallery.

Here's a hint of my reaction: Fairytales can come true....

Also…

My sincere congratulations to Malan Breton for winning The Fashion Group International's Rising Star award this year for his menswear line Malan Breton Homme. I’m a fan of all of his fashion lines, but his line for men this year made this recognition inevitable. Only Malan was surprised.

How Marlo Thomas Ruined My Life (and Other Tales of Misplaced Blame)

Many women of a certain age (well, mine) and a few men (you know who you are), cite the TV show That Girl as an early fashion influence – and not in a good way. There is a special tone in their voices when a certain topic comes up – always early in the conversation – that is a mixture of admiration, envy…. and contempt. Oh no, not at the show, but at our ­­­­­­­gullibility. “She (meaning Ann Marie, the character played by Marlo Thomas) always had a coat to match her outfit.”

Oooh – those clothes!

The perfect (and endless) wardrobe, the impeccable hair flip, the kooky first apartment, the doting and successful boyfriend – we were mesmerized by impossibly high standards every week. Most of us were either hitting or had just hit puberty so the sad fact that our hair was never, ever going to hold that set was just hitting home; though some of us are still clinging to the hope that a Don Hollinger-perfect boyfriend lurks in our future. The fantasy of that New York apartment on a struggling actress’s salary…well, the hilarity of that punchline really doesn’t hit you until you look for your first apartment here on a struggling any-career’s salary, and then the laughter is more slap-happy after seeing too many apartments the size of your closet in your parents’ home, climbing too many staircases to count, and being greeted in each by a cockroach as big as the doorman you won’t have.

The fantasy of that wardrobe…giving that up is a bitter pill to swallow, and some of us have a harder time than others letting it go. I am in a sewing class with a woman who has informed her sister she will not be joining her in a Florida retirement because she has too many plans to sew too many coats, and wool coats aren’t needed in Florida.

The reason I’m bringing all this up is because last night Mr. Smarty Pants and I hauled my lighter weight clothes down to our storage unit to exchange for some warmer clothes, and I was confronted by the fact that…Wow. I have really got a lot of clothes. And there’s more coming.

Some people get rid of their clothes because they go out of style, or because they wear them out, or whatever, but those people would not be me. I cling to my clothes like a life raft, and take care of them like Anna Wintour is going to call to borrow them for her next Met exhibition. This was less of a problem before I got married because a) that was some years ago and the problem hadn’t gotten quite this bad, b) when you live alone you really don’t care if stuff hangs from the bookshelves, and c) all the closet space here was mine. When it finally dawned on me that having a husband meant giving up closet space I specified that the future Mr. Smarty Pants was allowed to bring in his cats and a change of underwear, but in his first (and final) act of defiance he brought a work wardrobe with him and it has been a bone of contention ever since. Our compromise has been what keeps many New York City marriages together: a storage unit.

We pay rent on a room for things like beach chairs because we keep swearing “this year” is the year we’ll get back to the shore, photo albums we swear we’ll scan and share with the family, record albums we’ve already replaced in several formats, a cotton candy machine (yes, really), and my off-season clothes. Last night I came to the realization that – Yikes.

I have given away shopping bags of clothes – it seems like hundreds of them – to various thrift shops and loved ones over the past year. A couple of weeks ago I gave away 36 pairs jeans in a rainbow of colors because I realized that even though I can still zip them, the sight of me wearing bright pink or neon yellow skinny jeans is not going to make anyone’s day better. However last night we moved some boxes that hadn’t been moved for a while (unearthing treasures like my box of newspapers and magazines featuring my beloved Diana, Princess of Hearts), and found clothes that I had been looking for or thought were already in my closet at home. It was sobering.

Here’s the problem: I can wear them all again. Anything I would think of getting rid of is coming back in style. RIGHT NOW. Which means the next time I have to purge I will remember this time and dig my kitten heels in even deeper – nothing will go. Ever.

Case in point:  (I have been bludgeoning various people over the head with this for various reasons lately. Today’s it’s my argument in favor of keeping all of my clothes for the rest of my life.)

I bought this skirt in Neiman Marcus circa 1995. It’s a cute cotton six gore circle skirt, and I doubt many people – if any – who bought it still have it. The reason I bring it up now is because the next picture is of Dolce and Gabbana’s Spring/Summer 2016 collection, shown at Milan’s Fashion Week Fall 2015:

The skirt on the right makes my skirt hot again, and you better believe I’ll be running around town feeling superior and looking fetching in it.

Another case in point, and this surprises even me.

Even I doubted I’d wear this again, but…I dunno, maybe I thought I’d wear it as part of a majorette costume some day, or maybe because it was sparkly (I do love sparkly). Anyway, it’s been in my closet a while, and now much to my surprise (and probably their editors’), variations of it are appearing in Vogue and Harper’s Bazaar again.

Now, I am by no means saying that my little red jacket is in the same league as the Gucci beauty. However, I am thinking that an investment in beaded appliqués plus an evening of hand sewing while binge watching TCM, and this little beauty is at the forefront of my closet again.

Just look at the money I’m saving! I mean, if you don’t count the rent I’ve paid over the years on the storage unit. I have tons of examples like this, but that would take the fun out of making an entrance in one of my now vintage wardrobe pieces, to a mixed chorus of oohs, ahhs, and where-the hell-did-you-dig-that-ups.

My husband is surprised that I have decided to let go of my collection of Michael Simon Christmas sweaters. We started dating in 1998, when these sweaters were – were they ever actually popular? Anyhow, that’s when I bought them. I had just spent my first Christmas with my future in-laws, it was the best ever, and in the next few years I got carried away wardrobe-wise (who, me?), resulting in the purchase of a holiday-themed bedazzled sweater collection that when the light hits it just right probably reflects off the Mars Rover. It is a sight to behold, and here’s just a part of it:

My particular favorite is the one that depicts The Nutcracker in every kind of bead, sequin, and variation thereof you can think of; competing with Balanchine’s version in every way but beauty and talent. It’s an eye-popper.

But that’s really not clearing out a lot of room; it’s really just showing good intentions. And when it comes right down to it, will I really let these memories go? Only time will tell, because I sure won’t.

People who have attics and cellars don’t have this problem. People who buy clothes that only last a season or two and then fall apart won’t understand what the problem is. People who can’t leave the dinner table without a stain setting in are longing for this problem. People who can get rid of clutter and old clothes without a backward glance stopped reading this blog several paragraphs ago.

But the people who grew up wanting – expecting – coats to match their outfits know what I’m talking about. We want the coats, the hats, the gloves, the shoes, the purses, the whole Werlé experience*. Years have passed, but each time we approach our closets we’re still Ann Marie.

Oh, and by the way…here’s a picture of me with Marlo Thomas when I was in high school and she was in town drumming up support for the Equal Rights Amendment. My best friend (who had just gotten her drivers license) and I (a few months away from my permit) got the lucky break of driving our idol around town that day. 

No, she wasn’t That Girl, but she was That Great; a wonderful memory that my BFF and I still giggle over. (I know she’s reading this, and I know she’s relieved her face isn’t visible, and that is why we’re BFFs.) 

Yeah…we both still watch That Girl reruns when they’re on, and still have way too much in our closets (well, maybe one of us more than the other). Some things never change…like the contents of those closets. Which brings us back to the beginning…Yikes!

*Werlé was the designer for the first year of Ann Marie’s wardrobe, setting the style standard for the rest of the seasons. Loretta Young – another icon of movie and television wardrobe style – was Marlo Thomas’ godmother, and Werlé was her favored designer at that time. To make sure her goddaughter made the best possible impact on her show’s first season, she gifted Marlo with a complete season of Werlé clothes. That Girl, like most new half hour shows at that time, didn’t have a large wardrobe budget, so this was an incredibly thoughtful and generous gift. The show became a massive hit, the budget got bigger, and the show could afford to pick up the tab for Marlo’s clothing. The Ann Marie wardrobe is iconic, all because of a loving godmother.