Exhibition Catalogue | Silver Screen to Mainstream by Chicago History Museum

Virginia HeaVen

The exhibition Silver Screen to Mainstream: American Fashion in the 1930s and ’40s was on display at the Chicago History Museum from April 8, 2019, to January 21, 2021.

Published in the United States of America by the Chicago Historical Society. Copyright © 2019 by the Chicago Historical Society. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any manner whatsoever without the written permission of the Chicago Historical Society.

ISBN: 978-0-913820-42-1

Images in this book are from the Chicago History Museum unless otherwise noted.

Editor: Esther D. Wang

Director of Publications: Rosemary K. Adams

Designed and typeset by Eileen Wagner Design Garment photography by Timothy Paton Jr. and Ashley Gillanders

Printed by M&G Graphics, Inc.

iv Sponsors of Style

v Preface

vii Acknowledgments

1 Silver Screen to Mainstream

71 Select Bibliography

Sponsors of Style

Liz Stiffel

PRESIDENT’S

CIRCLE

Joan Clifford and Tracy Clifford Esbrook

Richard and Diane Weinberg

BENEFACTOR

Deborah B. Braxton

David and Nancy Connelly

Courtney and Tobin Hopkins

Mr. and Mrs. Gregory Shearson

FRIEND

Van Cleef & Arpels

Sally Schwartz Brody

Carol Prins and John Hart

Gary T. and Susan M. Johnson

Neiman Marcus

Erica C. Meyer

D. Elizabeth Price

Paula Borg and Tom Stemwedel

Karen Zupko

PATRON

Heritage Auctions

Mrs. Peyton J. Barkley

Alfredo and Pamella Capitanini

Gabriela and Dwight Cleveland

Bruce and Heather Ingram

Annette Findling

David A. Mordini and Jerome F. Fitzgerald

David D. Hiller

Marci and Ron Holzer

Bonnie G. Lipe

Judy and Dave Lockhart

Dr. Charles Frank and Karen Peters

Elaine Cohen Rubin

Pauline Kurtides Sheehan

Maggie Morgan and Thomas Shure

Leslie and Robert Zentner

“American designers took the Depression as a call to arms.” — KRISTINA WILSON, PHD

America has always been a work in progress, exploring and adopting new ideas to form an increasingly complex and nuanced identity. Beginning in the early nineteenth century, the young nation emerged from the shadow of its colonial past to develop its own character, informed perhaps most visibly by advances in technology, art, and culture. Shedding the yoke of European traditions, styles, and forms in favor of new, uniquely American expressions in architecture, music, fine art, literature, and fashion, the nation experienced its cultural birth, which in turn influenced the world as the twentieth century, the American Century, took shape.

In fashion, the country established its own style during the economic calamity of the 1930s. When we reflect on the Great Depression, we typically focus on the nation struggling with the harsh realities of social and economic inequity, reflecting on the aspirational nature of democracy, coming to terms with the ruthless realities of capitalism, preparing for a possible second world war. While that story is reflected in Silver Screen to Mainstream: American Fashion in the 1930s and ’40s, it is the rise of perhaps the country’s most influential industry—Hollywood filmmaking—that is behind America’s emergence as an international fashion powerhouse as Parisian couture houses fall victim to economic depression and looming war. This story is little-known and has never been explored through the Museum’s costume collection.

The costume collection is a remarkable and effective tool for tracing history. Perhaps more vividly than any other collecting area, it provides a vehicle for understanding the human experience. In part because

we live our lives in clothes, but also because style is so clearly connected to the economic realities, social relationships, and the nature of domestic and professional life at any given time. This exhibition takes great advantage of the depth of this world-renowned collection to show how chapters in the American story are reflected in the way we dress. More specifically, by highlighting the influence of Hollywood, an industry built on the creative and effective use of façades, fiction, and role-playing, the exhibition demonstrates how fashion is a tool for adopting and sharing one’s identity to suit the moment.

The Museum and the Board of Trustees are indebted to the Costume Council for their tireless support of the collection and our exhibition, public programs, and publication efforts to make the collection more accessible to increasing numbers of people for the past forty-five years. Special thanks go to the president of the Costume Council, Courtney Hopkins, who believed in the appeal of this narrative from the start, and to the Presenting Sponsor, Liz Stiffel, who has been a passionate and enthusiastic supporter of the costume collection for decades. Of course, no costume exhibition would be complete without an opening night gala to honor the achievement and to recognize the leadership team that pulled the project together. Co-chairs Pamella Capitanini, Karen Peters, and Richard and Diane Weinberg have planned a remarkable and important event for the Museum.

Virginia Heaven served as the guest curator for this project. A talented professor of fashion history at Columbia College Chicago, Ms. Heaven returned to

the Chicago History Museum after expertly serving as costume curator for Inspiring Beauty: 50 Years of Ebony Fashion Fair in 2014, a project on which she collaborated with former director of curatorial affairs Joy L. Bivins. Ms. Heaven mined the costume collection for a story with broad appeal that would draw visitors into a rich and powerful tale of Chicago and American history. On this project, her chief Museum collaborator was the incomparable Jessica Pushor, costume collection manager. Ms. Pushor made sure that Ms. Heaven had access to the wide range of collection material and worked diligently to discover each garment’s role in the narrative. She also shepherded the garments through the process of preparation for photography, conservation, mounting, and display. This project could not have been realized without her extraordinary talents.

Gary T. Johnson, president of CHM, and Russell Lewis, executive vice president and chief historian, embraced the idea of an exhibition that would demonstrate the national scope of the collection. This would be achieved not by focusing exclusively on Chicago, but rather highlighting the costume collection’s international significance, featuring works designed and produced by Parisian and Hollywood designers.

Director of curatorial affairs Charles E. Bethea and director of exhibitions Tamara Biggs led an amazing team on this project. Together they married this wellresearched content and these remarkable garments with an engaging design to generate something truly wonderful for our audiences.

Our collections staff expertly examined and prepared the garments for display. Holly Lundberg, Julie Benner, and Julie Katz worked closely together to ensure that the garments were conserved, and Timothy Paton Jr. and Ashley Gillanders handled the complex and exacting task of lighting and preparing the collection items for photography. Mountmakers Michael Hall and Kat Anderson made certain that the garments were fitted precisely to well-designed mannequin mounts before being installed in the gallery.

Daniel Oliver and Mark Ramirez embraced the complexities of this narrative and developed a dynamic space in which to tell this story of American fashion. Their partners in that effort, the exhibition production team of William Stafford, Esau McGhee, Betty Heredia, H. Kennedy Jones, Elain O’Sullivan, Tim Porter, Yihan Xuan, and Kate Sheehy worked together to manage and construct this complex and exciting exhibition. Marne Bariso served as the representative from the education department to make sure the experience fit the needs of our many audiences.

Rosemary K. Adams, Esther D. Wang, and Julius L. Jones collaborated with the team to edit label copy, prepare this wonderful catalog with the design expertise of Eileen Wagner, and document the behindthe-scenes work to build interest and excitement about the project on social media.

The team was further aided by wig maker Kraig Pieper and William Mäkelä, who produced the reproduction dress and millinery for the exhibition.

The Chicago History Museum also wants to thank Dr. Colbey Emmerson Reid and Columbia College Chicago for supporting our request for Ms. Heaven to serve as curator for this project while she retained her position at the school.

Finally, a special thanks goes out to the entire staff of the Chicago History Museum. From the front desk to the president’s office, the staff is committed to supporting the Museum’s mission to share Chicago’s stories and make certain that everyone feels welcome to come to CHM and discover something about themselves, the Museum, and this remarkable city.

John Russick Vice President for Interpretation and Education

Established in part by The Elizabeth Morse Charitable Trust and The Elizabeth Morse Genius Charitable Trust, the Exhibition Innovation Fund has provided additional funding for Silver Screen to Mainstream

Acknowledgments

An exhibition is created by a series of interwoven teams. Curatorial, collections, conservation, photography, design, interpretation, and publications—each plays a vital role in the production of an experience that is both educational and aesthetic. In addition, life at the Chicago History Museum is supported by the efforts of the custodial and security teams, and the staff at the North & Clark Café who make everyday working life more efficient, friendly, and comfortable.

I do have some people I want to call out specifically—the interns and volunteers who donated their time to help with the colossal amount of research it takes to put together an exhibition of this size: Madeleine Byrne, Mariah Echevarria, Hannah Kruse, Samuel Edmond Snodgrass, and Ginger Stanciel. Special thanks to Skye Murie and Julia Arredondo, graduate students at Columbia College Chicago who winnowed and sifted through period magazines for juicy tidbits hidden in acres of text. Tanner Chap Branson, a recent graduate of Columbia College Chicago who volunteered to research and assist as needed and immersed himself wholeheartedly like the curator he will no doubt become.

I thank John Russick, vice president for interpretation and education, who hired me as the curator and was a source of guidance, knowledge, and advice. Charles Bethea, director of curatorial affairs, who was a tremendous support, a great problem solver, and is truly committed to the importance of the story. I also thank Brittany Hutchinson for her extensive photo research contribution. The majority of my sincere gratitude and thanks goes to Jessica Pushor, costume collection manager, who tirelessly contributed research and ideas, who found wonderful items packed away in the deepest recesses, and kept me on the reality track when I fell in love with gowns that would take months to conserve. None of this would have been possible without her help, humor, and expertise.

Finally, I thank my husband, Jerrold Marlin Bosak, my beacon through life’s stormy seas.

Sincerely,

Virginia Heaven Costume Curator

viii Silverscreen to Mainscreen

Virginia HeaVen

For decades, fashion was generally underestimated as a key component in tracking important cultural shifts. While scholars performed fashion postmortems, the lingua franca often reduced fashion to decade-related buzzwords—vamps, flappers, bobbysoxers, hippies, glamazons, fashionistas— umbrella terms that invoke instant mental depictions of style tribes. As Bill Cunningham aptly stated in Bill Cunningham New York (2010): “Fashion is the armor to survive the reality of everyday life.” Daily we don our sartorial shields to display or disguise and go about our business. Each era embraces a series of elaborate class-related fashion semiotics.

The 1930s was one of the most tumultuous eras of the twentieth century, bookended by the Great Depression and World War II. The early 1940s— defined by rationing, the war effort, and postwar boom—brought about an austerity that eventually led to the backlash of the lush New Look in 1947. During those two decades, fashion was designed to reinforce and safeguard valued lifeways. Keeping up the appearance of being in control communicated stability. In sync with the era’s geopolitics, attire became both the defense and expression of a rapidly changing social landscape. Aided and abetted by Hollywood, the birthplace of unabashed glamour and an instigator of hope, women cast themselves as characters in their own aspirational scripts.

The 1920s delivered hard-won emancipations for American women. The vote, the demystification of family planning, and an increased presence in the workforce whetted an appetite for personal freedoms that were previously inaccessible. The fashion of the 1920s was revolutionary and liberating; the favored boyish silhouette suited the blur of action that defined the decade. Shorter hair and skirts were simple and practical styles for day, while in the evening, bedecked in bead-encrusted shifts, women danced enthusiastically in nightclubs fueled by the frisson of illegal cocktails. If “apparel oft proclaims the man” to quote the Bard, then the lack of it proclaimed the New Woman.

Predictably, fashion changed. In the last years of the twenties, the silhouette became sleeker and more sophisticated. Hemlines dropped, and the waistline returned to its natural position. Off-the-rack clothing was readily available for all classes and keeping up with fashion was considered a sign of success. The financial boom increased; vast fortunes were made in the rapidly expanding stock market. But just like the hemlines, the stock market

plummeted. In a few days at the end of October 1929, the Wall Street financial crash cut like a scythe through the merry making. A new era of sartorial sobriety dawned almost overnight.

The crash precipitated the Great Depression. There were those who lost everything, both rich and poor, while others’ fortunes were miraculously preserved. The middle and lower classes suffered most profoundly. Unemployment reached twenty-five percent in 1933, and many ordinary Americans struggled to maintain a mantle of regularity by making over and mending their attire. The desire to ensure the impression of life as usual was palpable. The dawn of the thirties brought new realities and responsibilities, and fashion reflected the changes in economy and attitude. It wasn’t long before innovation, ingenuity, and thrift became fulfilling qualities; there was pride in economy.

The fashions people tend to associate with the thirties are derived from Hollywood movies of the era: incisively tailored daywear with strategic draping; coquettish hats; matching accessories; flowing, ankle-length evening wear; discreet, shimmering fabrics exquisitely adorned. Each ensemble designed to dramatically enhance an aspect of the script. The thirties was when Hollywood movies catapulted America into the forefront of fashion and celebrity culture. Hollywood seized the moment to capitalize; there was a dire need for optimistic entertainment during the worst economic disaster in history.

By the 1930s, Paris had been the center of style for centuries. The French court had inspired fashions that defined eras, ranging from the blatantly ornate Court of Versailles in the eighteenth century to the Incroyables and Merveilleuses who sported outrageous post-French Revolution anti-fashions. By the mid-nineteenth century, it was the center of haute couture, where the customer service manifested equally luxurious as the apparel. The wives of international nobility and wealthy entrepreneurs flocked to Paris for the newest fashions. Consultations on suitable styles and the multiple fittings required for perfection created a profound confidence that affluence purchased influence through the most recognizable design.

Before Parisian fashion was dominated by the global brands of large corporate-owned fashion houses, it was steered by artists and artisans who conjured miracles from meters of luxurious tissu. During the 1930s, couturiers continued to experiment with new silhouettes, materials, and cunning fabric manipulation. The most notable designers in the Paris Pantheon were women: Madeleine Vionnet, creator of voluptuous bias cut; Madame Grès,

the authority on Grecian-inspired drape; Gabrielle “Coco” Chanel, celebrated for understated modernist chic; and her archrival Elsa Schiaparelli, who leveraged her connections with surrealist fine artists to provoke, amuse, and amaze. They generated a balance between sensual, sensational, and restraint; theirs was obliquely seductive fashion.

In the early 1930s, travel to Europe remained easy, but as the Nazi threat grew, some couturiers began to export their designs to the United States to exclusive boutiques in department stores, such as Saks Fifth Avenue’s Salon Moderne. When the Nazis marched into Paris on June 14, 1940, most of the couture houses were already closed and remained so until after the city was liberated on August 25, 1944. Even before the occupation, the void had largely already been filled by homegrown designers. The new contender for fashion influence was a city in the New World: Los Angeles.

As the center of the motion picture industry, Hollywood was the birthplace of an unmistakable larger-than-life glamour. Throughout the darkest days of the thirties, one purpose of movies was to provide hope to Americans nationwide. Hollywood engineered the impression that life would return to a new and improved normal, that the good life would once again be within reach. With that theme in mind, costume designers created screen goddesses. The distinctive silhouettes—broad shoulders and flowing skirts; glittering, ruffled, and spangled gowns, and sharply tailored suits—evoked a new kind of unparalleled desirability. Movie costumers influenced and then created a distinctive American style.

Thanks to the garment industry in America, well-established since the early twentieth century, tens of thousands of garments were churned out for stores and catalogs, making affordable off-the-rack clothing readily available. For the wealthy, there were exclusive specialty stores that created custom designs in their own workshops. American manufacturers and buyers made biannual trips to the Parisian fashion shows, where they purchased garments to replicate and adapt to the American market. Although this practice had been the standard, by 1930, sixty-five percent of the population went to the movies weekly; Hollywood’s reach was clearly identifiable as the newest and most exciting fashion influencer.

It is almost incomprehensible to imagine the tremendous impact that movies had on audiences at the time. The opulent spectacle of Hollywood was delivered via elaborate sets and extravagant costumes. Since people did

not travel as they do now, movies also transported them to exotic locations and even through time. Familiar stories were miraculously brought to life— biblical characters were handsome and courageous while famous historical figures were charming, witty raconteurs. Everything was grander, glossier, and more exaggerated, as much to support the script and characterization of the cast as to compensate for a medium that was black and white. Dramatic silhouettes, rich scintillating textures, and high contrasts were artfully used to emphasize beauty, and as foils to compensate for physical flaws. In the thirties, as public expectations grew with the technology, movies became expensive to produce, and costumes were a significant portion of the budgets. Studios invested heavily in costuming because it was a way to engineer greater box office success, promote major stars, and influence fashion on the big screen and beyond.

Technicolor was first used in a feature film in 1938, but many movies were still made in black and white into the 1960s. Movies were all spunk and sparkle; thrilling, enticing, and addictive.

Costume designers who were tasked with transforming pretty girls into luminous screen sirens were assisted by workrooms full of cutters, fitters, and stitchers on the studio lot. This factory-style methodology would prove to be excellent preparation for designers who migrated from silver screen to mainstream. Howard Greer, one of the first designers to cross over from fiction to fashion, opened his own custom fashion design house in 1927, but still designed costumes periodically until the 1950s. He began his career in Chicago working for Lucille and then, like Adrian and Norman Norell, trained in Europe. They applied their knowledge of European finish and sensibility and transformed it into uniquely American Hollywood glamour.

Despite the Great Depression, business was brisk in the luxury sector.

Chicagoans shopped in Europe in the twenties and early thirties, drawn to exclusive fashion ateliers. But as fascism tightened its grip, New York and Chicago designers filled the void. In addition, Hollywood’s fashion influence was expressed more keenly in the country of its birth; there were plentiful purveyors of customized allure from coast to coast for the discerning client.

Marshall Field’s, Saks Fifth Avenue, Blum’s Vogue, Stanley Korshak, Marion Dwyer, Jacques, Paul du Pont, and others were vendors of exquisite gowns in Chicago. Fashion was influenced by key Hollywood-inspired elements in evening dress: plunging V necklines, exposed backs, shimmering fabrics, feathers and fur, ruching and ruffles, spangles, and sparkling belt buckles. Hollywood was as much an attitude as a style, in the movies heroines often exercised unusual influence over their fate; evidently glamour was power.

Business-like daywear conferred a masculine authority. Beautifully tailored suits, coats, and simple dresses were cleverly embellished with unusual buttons, appliques, gathers, and draping. Town-and-country–style apparel served several functions: shopping, junkets to the hinterland, lunch with friends. In the thirties there was a sense of practicality and function, which became good practice for the impending war and the cloth restrictions imposed in 1942 by Limitation Order L-85, which rationed natural fibers, prohibited drastic style and color changes, and limited length and fullness.

Fashion history most often focuses on the grand and glorious. Though the fashion silhouette scarcely changed over the decade, the thirties are glorified as a time of exceptional grace and elegance. Parisian haute couture made subtle inroads into construction techniques and expanded art as fashion. Ordinary folk had little contact with the rarified nuance of high fashion. Hollywood’s influence, however, was felt across the social spectrum. The working and middle classes could buy respectable and well-made clothing through stores and catalogs such as Chicago’s Sears, Roebuck & Co. and Montgomery Ward. There were also many dress pattern manufacturers that supplied style for the home dressmaker. But for the masses, indicators of glamour, and high fashion came through the movies. As a result, when a dress worn by an actress captured the popular imagination, manufacturers raced to make it in bulk. Perhaps the most well-known example is the Letty Lynton dress from a 1932 movie starring Joan Crawford with costumes designed by Adrian. Letty’s deceptively innocent white dress with enormous ruffled, puffed sleeves created a sensation. Macy’s is said to have sold fifty thousand copies, and the Sears, Roebuck & Co. catalog offered several versions of the style starting at $2.98. The resulting influence of Crawford’s impressive padded shoulder was evident for well over a decade. Adrian was to repeat this remarkable success in mainstream. In his 1941/42 fall/ winter fashion collection, when Marshall Field’s in Chicago sold more than a thousand of his “Black Dress” in a season.

For the average woman, the deeper the Great Depression bit into her pocketbook, the more creativity she mustered to stay in style. Makeovers to outdated looks were hardly a new phenomenon, as poorer people had traditionally used thrift and craft to extend the life of a garment. A talented seamstress could easily cut and refashion an out-of-style dress, and dress patterns were available for the less skilled. Patterns purchased for five to fifteen cents were often shared with family and neighbors, which gave a community access to a variety of styles. If new fabric could be purchased,

then it was ordered via mail order or obtained from dry goods stores. The less fortunate used and reused what they had. In 1931, the Hollywood Pattern Company was established to manufacture patterns that alluded to movie fashion as the source for the designs. Since movie costumes were often complex and made by experts, the patterns were inspired by costumes rather than exact copies, but the connection to glamour was convincingly established by featuring a well-known actress on the pattern envelope. For those with more money, stores dedicated to movie fashions, such as Cinema Fashion shops which capitalized on fan culture by providing advance copies of apparel worn in movies. This achieved several objectives: increased publicity, control over merchandise production, and trend-setting. Combined with publications such as Photoplay: The News Magazine of the Screen, a monthly fan periodical founded in Chicago, celebrity style was ubiquitous. A vast network of money-making businesses established Hollywood as both a fashion center and the arbiter of American style.

As the Depression began to recede due in large part to President Roosevelt’s groundbreaking two-part New Deal that brought Relief, Reform, and Recovery programs, it became increasingly evident that another type of catastrophe was on the horizon. But far from further impoverishing the United States, the war effort created work stability and the post–World War II boom. As the thirties closed, movies were no longer the only form of diversion. People began pursuing other leisure interests, signaling a return to a semblance of normality and balance. The Golden Age of Hollywood had drawn to a close. Now movies more often focused on war stories and building morale; glamour gradually vaporized into a grimmer reality. Many costume designers saw this as their cue to exit Hollywood. It was their prompt to fill the void left by the shutdown of Paris and cultivate the American style they had been nurturing for the last decade.

Adrian was still designing movie costumes in 1940, but realized that times had changed, and he shifted his focus from the silver screen to mainstream. Although fashion design was and continues to be a notoriously complicated and vicarious profession, based on the whims of trend, taste, and personal vanity, it is also very profitable when successful. It was time for a new challenge and the potential of stability with regular income. In Adrian’s case, his name was closely associated with fastidious detail, independent style, and excellent proportion. His screen heroines were indominable, and it was the same with his custom label clients. Adrian, Howard Greer, Irene, Omar Kiam, Norman Norell, and others began successful fashion careers where they plied the skills they had learned in the movies. Costume designers accentuated strengths and concealed flaws; they were experts at drawing

and keeping the eye on the leading lady. If the costume overpowered the actress, then the character failed. As a fashion designer Greer scripted his designs, assigning specific roles to the types of frock he developed. In addition, he focused on pretty, flattering necklines because it was the focal point when a woman was seated at a table in a restaurant or nightclub.

Hollywood created a distinctive American style in fashion, evocative of spirited glamour and well-groomed, timeless sophistication. In the thirties and forties, it suggested smoky voices, cocktails, late nights, dancing, and nightclubs. Rustling taffetas, bugle beads, ostrich plumes, and acres of lamé were coaxed into glorious submission.

America grew up in the baptism by fire that was the Great Depression. Witnessed first-hand, the precipitous plunge into nightmarish poverty left the country gasping for breath. Movies soothed the terrifying reality into sumptuous daydreams, and costumes provided both a sense of being in control and a visual feast for hungry sensibilities. Later, as American fashion born out of Hollywood defined a new era, it provided the stylish armor to face the everyday.

“Well, now Paris has come to it—with modification. I definitely believe that Paris has been influenced by Hollywood.”

— HOWARD GREER, PHOTOPLAY, 1929

The 1930s hold sway over the popular imagination as an era of stylish elegance and sophistication. It was a time of modernity, new technology, and synthetic materials. However, for many Americans it was also a time of profound hardship. After the financial crash of 1929, people and industries suffered and unemployment rates rose significantly.

As a departure from the challenges of daily existence, Americans sought affordable relief at the cinema. Hollywood movies evoked the tantalizing potential for a better life where the costumes provided a key component of the fantasy. Celebrity style images were used to promote the purchase of chic high-end fashion for the affluent and encourage catalog and dressmaking pattern sales for the middle and working classes. Hollywood costume designers became the fashion influencers of the era and many made the switch from silver screen to mainstream, creating a distinctive American style.

The Allure of Paris

“Americans

would someday make excellent designers. They had energy and originality, but they lacked background and experience.”

— PAUL POIRET, c. 1919

In Paris, the birthplace of haute couture, designers created the most authoritative and recognizable high-end apparel in Western fashion. Several important American costume designers worked in France in the early 1920s; their experiences later influenced their designs for Hollywood.

Travel to Europe remained relatively easy in the early thirties, but as the specter of war grew, some French couturiers exported their designs to the United States to exclusive boutiques within department stores, such as Saks Fifth Avenue’s Salon Moderne. In 1940, the Nazis marched into Paris, essentially closing the couture industry until the city was liberated.

Ordinary Americans lacked access to images of Parisian couture. For them, style was defined by the movies and celebrities. The fashion void in Europe opened a perfect opportunity for American designers to capitalize on the transition from silver screen to mainstream.

Evening dress, 1936, France

Silk, metal Gift of Mrs. Stephen L. Ingersoll, 1983.622.5 a-c

Created by Schiaparelli, an Italian fashion designer who worked out of Paris during the 1930s, this deceptively simple red and gold dress is startlingly contemporary with a dynamic use of contrasting textures and layering. The designer was renowned for her collaborations with fine artists such as Salvador Dalí and Jean Cocteau. Provocative and amusing, her creations were timeless “cocktails” of art and fashion.

Hollywood’sReach

“Thus, we also find that Paris and New York, even against their wills, are very much aware of this very alive and slightly unmanageable child, which is Hollywood.”

— ADRIAN, WOMEN’S WEAR DAILY, 1937

Movie fans embraced Hollywood glamour beginning in the silent era. In 1920, a line of retail cosmetics called Max Factor’s Society Make-Up instantly enabled women to emulate their favorite movie stars. As the 1930s progressed and Hollywood design grew more influential, designers and department stores in America began to produce gowns evocative of the hothousesensuality of movie costumes. Backless evening dresses created of shimmering silk featured dramatic shoulder lines, plunging V necklines, and sparkling belts were unabashedly glamorous. Despite the Depression, some Americans could still afford the indulgence of expensive gowns from some of the best purveyors of luxury attire.

Chicagoan Robert Ten Eyck Stevenson, a theater costume designer and former member of the diplomatic corps, established a couture dressmaking business in New York City in the early thirties. Providing French-style service, he customized his designs for American women. The simple silhouette of this black dress with embroidered cotton insets and “lacquered” satin ribbon trim evokes the textural interest often found in Hollywood designs of the era.

Hollywood in Chicago

“In view of the fact millions of women see and are influenced by cinema fashions, Hollywood designers have definite responsibilities in guiding this great crosssection of the buying public correctly.”

— TRAVIS BANTON, LECTURE IN CHICAGO, WOMEN’S WEAR DAILY, 1936

Chicago served as the industrial center of America for most of the late nineteenth and twentieth centuries. In the 1930s, it was home to hugely successful catalog businesses such as Sears and Montgomery Ward, which offered apparel in a wide price range for customers across the country.

Chicago’s elite purchased their clothes in Paris and New York, but also took advantage of high-quality local shopping in department stores, such as Marshall Field’s and Saks Fifth Avenue, and specialty shops such as Blum’s Vogue, Marion Dwyer, and Martha Weathered. In addition, dressmakers catered to the prosperous middle-classes. Bernice Mottz, for example, who owned a custom dress shop in the northwestern suburb of Park Ridge, made exquisitely-finished clothing.

Miss Louise de Marigny Dewey debuted on December 26, 1932, wearing this white silk satin evening gown at The Casino Club in Chicago. Marion Dwyer’s dress shop maintained an exclusive array of high-end apparel, imports from Paris, and luxurious furs for wealthy Chicagoans. Hollywood’s influence is suggested by the “flipped” cowl neckline, smooth bias drape over the hips, and glittering belt buckle.

Sponsored by Erica C. Meyer and Neiman Marcus

Marion Dwyer

Evening dress, 1932, United States

Silk, glass

Gift of Mrs. Edward Byron Smith, 1964.15

Evening dress, c. 1935, United States

Silk, glass, plastic

Chicago Historical Society purchase, 1982.35.1 a-b

Sally K. Greenebaum, previously a buyer and stylist in New York City, opened an apparel store in Chicago in 1932. The sleek silhouette of this extraordinary orange halter-neck dress was often seen on sirens of the silver screen. Enhanced by a wide barley-twist belt made of plastic and glass, the gown displays the experimental combinations of materials that many designers favored in an era obsessed with modernity.

Sponsored by Mr. and Mrs. Gregory Shearson

Sally K. Greenebaum

Chicago

Evening dress, c. 1935, United States

Silk, glass, plastic, metal Gift of Mrs. John P. Bent, 1979.120.7

This luxurious, diagonally-pieced, alternating satin and crêpe dress is wheaten in color and sparkling in embellishment. Mary Shedd Reed purchased the gown from Jacques Chicago, an exclusive Michigan Avenue store that supplied ready-to-wear and custom attire. The store’s owner, J. S. Potts, interviewed in October 1930, urged confidence “in the future of the purchasing power of those who have long been accustomed to fine apparel.”

Use what you Have

“I would like to borrow the amt. $28 so I can pay the chg. and get a more healthful place to live. We are American born citizens and have always been self supporting. It is very humiliating for me to have write to you Asking you again to pardon the privilege I am taking. I am hoping I may hear from you without publicity by ret. post.”

— LETTER TO FIRST LADY ELEANOR ROOSEVELT FROM A MIDDLE-CLASS CHICAGO WOMAN REQUESTING MONEY, 1935

The hardships suffered by most Chicagoans during the Great Depression were profound. But despite the adversity, fashion didn’t take a break. Relying on innovation, ingenuity, and thrift many Chicagoans tried to maintain a façade of normality by using—and reusing—what they had to fashion an updated look. Inspiration often came from an excursion to the movies. Hollywood’s uplifting stories, costumes, and sets temporarily suspended the crushing realities of everyday life. Women with a little money to spare purchased inexpensive, Hollywood-inspired dress patterns to make or make over apparel. Celebrityendorsed attire and accessories became available in catalogs, and Cinema Fashion shops distributed studio-sanctioned designs. These varied sources of Hollywood style embodied well-groomed respectability, an essential element of the new American look.

Evocative of the famous Letty Lynton movie costume designed by Adrian, this style was propagated by department stores, catalogs, and dress patterns. It struck a chord in the popular culture consciousness and evolved through many iterations from 1932 through the next few years. This stark gown of white rayon and red cotton velvet forecasts the ongoing effect of silver screen to mainstream for the middle-class customer.

Maker unknown Evening dress, c. 1933, United States

Rayon, cotton

Gift of Mr. John McKinlay, 1964.1043a-b

ICHi-174939

Patterns appealed to dressmakers by featuring a variety of established and up-and-coming movie stars.

Hollywood

Maker unknown

Dinner dress, c. 1936, United States

Silk

Gift of Mrs. John E. Spann, 1975.95.1a-b

Velvet imbues innate luxury to apparel. In this simple tobacco-brown dress, the textile has been rendered interesting by skillful fabric manipulation. The cartridge-pleated sleeve heads, balloon sleeves with fitted forearms, shaped bodice, and softly draped skirt are discreetly stylish. Most likely made by a custom dressmaker, it would add a touch of glamour to special occasions.

Made in Chicago by Lee Garment Company, a large apparel manufacturer, this brown rayon dress was marketed under the company’s budget label Morning Glory Frocks. Despite its simplicity and modest price range, it features pleasing details and was well taken care of to make it last.

Morning Glory Frocks

Dress, c. 1939, United States

Rayon, plastic Gift of Jack Kirkby, 1983.654.1

Chicagoans at leisure.

Housedresses were essential attire for working and lower middle–class women. Covered with an apron to protect from dust and food preparation, the simple styles were loose-fitting and comfortable for chores. The apron would be removed for a visit, a run to the store, and family meals. These simple, floralprinted dresses were attire for multitasking.

ICHi-176214

ICHi-176211

The floral-printed housedress with zipper similarly dates from the same era as its simple, well-worn blue and white floral-patterned companion. Though the former was purchased as a housedress, the latter most likely started life as a summer day dress. Both dresses were well taken care of and no doubt lasted longer than originally intended. During the Great Depression, “use what you have” was a way of life.

Maker unknown

Floral-print housedress, c. 1935, United States

Cotton

Gift of Mrs. Sylvia Rogers, 1993.320.8a-b

Maker unknown

Blue and white floral-print dress, c. 1933, United States

Cotton

Gift of Mrs. Robert H. Drucker, 1979.87.17

c. 1940, United States

Most likely a catalog or off-the-rack purchase, this dress has some delightful features such as the basket-weave rouleaux trim, petal-style sleeves, and the center front zipper. The dress has been shortened and, in keeping with the thriftiness characteristic of the time, the excess has been “saved” as a fold on the inside, perhaps so it could be handed down or lengthened again if the fashion changed.

Maker unknown

Housedress,

Cotton Gift of the estate of Margaret Maria Kruty, 1991.189.28

“You learn, early in the game, that the dress of fur, feathers, and embroidery, which draws the most applause at your fashion shows, isn’t the dress you’ll sell in quantity. It’s the ‘bread-and-butter’ frock, which you almost leave out of the showing, because it packs no excitement, which creeps into a runner and eventually makes you dough.”

— HOWARD GREER, DESIGNING MALE, 1952

In the early 1930s, more than 80 million people attended movies weekly. By the end of the decade, audiences had shrunk by a third. Studios tightened their budgets, and the Golden Age of Hollywood costume drew to a close. The outbreak of World War II abruptly curtailed Europe as a fashion center and prompted several important Hollywood designers to make the switch from silver screen to mainstream fashion, where they enjoyed successful careers as the arbiters of accessible elegance. Hollywood costume designers were among the most prominent architects of the flawless, well-groomed, ready-foranything glamour that defined American style and established the go-to aesthetic for women who wanted to star in their own life story.

Donor Cathleen W. Treacy models her Adrian suit, c.1944.

Cathleen Treacy, a model, television show host, wife, and mother, needed a wardrobe that was both stylish and multifunctional. Evocative of the crisply tailored heroines whom Adrian costumed for MGM in Hollywood, this two-toned gray wool Adrian Original suit demonstrates how the designer moved effortlessly from silver screen to mainstream. The confident authority of this ensemble affirms a distinctly American glamour.

Adrian

Women’s suit, c. 1944, United States

Wool

Gift of Ms. Cathleen W. Treacy, CC.1972.221a-b

dress, c. 1947,

This red and black print Adrian Original summer evening dress from 1947 typifies the restrained glamour that the designer brought to mainstream fashion. Christian Dior launched the New Look the same year, much to Adrian’s disdain. American style epitomized composure, confidence, and comfort, and Adrian was appalled by Dior’s reintroduction of the restrictive corset to the modern American woman.

Adrian Evening

United States Cotton blend Gift of Mrs. J. Rockefeller Prentice, 1962.506

A Marshall Field & Company advertisement from the October 1940 issue of Vogue features a dress and leopard print Omar Kiam jacket. Photograph by George Platt Lynes

Omar Kiam was a fashion designer before and after he created costumes for both Broadway and Hollywood productions. Elegant, memorable, and fun, this blue-gray jersey dress with embroidered sash was purchased at Millie B. Oppenheimer by the donor as part of her going-away ensemble, a tradition where the bride changes into honeymoon travel clothes and leaves the reception with her new husband.

Omar Kiam

Dress, c. 1940, United States Silk, wool Gift of Mrs. James Pope, 1960.27.

Traina-Norell

Evening dress, 1945, United States

Rayon, plastic, gelatin, glass

Gift of Mrs. Gardner H. Stern, 1962.57

Norman Norell’s brief career designing costumes for Paramount Studios ended when they left New York for Hollywood and he stayed put. He also designed for theater, but discovered that mainstream fashion was a better fit for his talents. After a dozen years designing for Hattie Carnegie, he cofounded Traina-Norell; this rust and black dress dates from that era. Norell helped create the discreet luxury that typifies American style.

Sponsored by Paula Borg and Tom Stemwedel and Gary T. and Susan M. Johnson

A model wears the Traina-Norell dress in “The Boned Basque” from the September 1945 issue of Harper’s Bazaar

Women’s suit, 1948, United States Silk Gift of Mrs. Robert Alan Conger, CC.1972.11a-b

Ordered by the donor through Marshall Field’s exclusive 28 Shop, which was established in 1941, this cream and coral suit was featured in Women’s Wear Daily, where it was described as a showcase for the designer’s signature “long lithe line.” Irene created custom clothing for movie stars both on and offscreen. This ensemble is similar to a suit Ginger Rogers wore in The Barkleys of Broadway in 1949.

Irene

In his autobiography Designing Male, Howard Greer described his adventurous journeys that eventually led him to Hollywood. Born in Illinois and raised in Nebraska, he trained as a designer at Lucille in Chicago. He fought in France in World War I, remaining there after the war, where he began his costume design career that finally led him to Hollywood. He started his own custom fashion design business in 1927, and for decades he designed gowns for the rich and famous on and offscreen. This Howard Greer Hollywood evening dress of scarlet and beige crêpe closely resembles a dress he designed in the same year for the actress Irene Dunne in My Favorite Wife, a perfect example of silver screen to mainstream in American style.

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