Toni Frissell

click to embiggen

I've been thinking a lot about Toni Frissell this week, since I have one of her stunning underwater fashion shots as my Facebook banner. She's remembered today, principally for her high-fashion photography for Vogue and Harper's Bazaar, but she also volunteered her photographic services to the American Red Cross, Women's Army Corps, and Eighth Army Air Force during WWII. On their behalf, she produced thousands of images of nurses, front-line soldiers, WACs, African-American airmen, and orphaned children.

Frissell's leap from fashion photography into war reportage echoed the desires of earlier generations of newswomen to move from "soft news" of fashion and society pages into the "hard news" of the front page. On volunteering for the American Red Cross in 1941, Frissell said: "I became so frustrated with fashions that I wanted to prove to myself that I could do a real reporting job." 

Frissell's work usually involved creating images to support the publicity objectives of her subjects. Her photographs of WACs in training and under review by President Franklin Roosevelt fit into a media campaign devised to counter negative public perception of women in uniform. Likewise, Frissell's images of the African American fighter pilots of the elite 332nd Fighter Group were intended to encourage positive public attitudes about the fitness of blacks to handle demanding military jobs.

Here are faces that I have found memorable. If they are not all as happy as kings, it is because in this imperfect world and these hazardous times, the camera's eye, like the eye of a child, often sees true.   ―Toni Frissell

source: The Library of Congress

BVDs

In hot weather, all tight fitting underwear 

is sticky and disagreeable.

--BVD ad, 1906

1906 ad--click to embiggen

I'm not looking forward to summer in the Midwest and having to give up my woolly socks. Last week on a Turner Classic Movies flick, there was mention of BVDs, referring to men's underwear, which sparked a conversation about the origins of the term.

After a trip down Google lane, I found BVD stands for the New York firm, Bradley, Voorhees & Day that initially manufactured underwear for both men and women beginning in 1876. The term "BVDs" has become, over time, a genericized trademark in reference to underwear of any brand.

Wondering about skivvies?  It's 1932, nautical slang, meaning underwear, of unknown origin. An earlier skivvy/skivey was London slang for "female domestic servant", 1902.

When we were raising a family, girls were in the minority at the manor, outnumbered by guys three to two, so men's underwear dominated the laundry. Somewhere along the line, in the late 80s, the boys switched from their G.I. Joe print "whitey tighties" to boxers. The youngest, still in college, has a truck load of boxers, enough to last six to eight weeks, until he comes home for a weekend and the manor is transformed into a Chinese laundry.

vintage corset and my 1950s mod vase

Speaking of tight fitting, BVD was the first to manufacture bustles for women. Dom mentioned yesterday that my mod vase looked like a feminine waistline in a 1950s basque or corset. Lovely?  Yes, but also a bit sticky and disagreeable. Thank goodness girdles and pantyhose are also things of the past. What are your undies of choice? Tighties? Thongs?

morris minor gray

Naming nail polish would be a delightful occupation. I've never actually met anyone with a career in polish, but I can imagine them, deep in thought, scribbling notes on dinner napkins, much like a poet. Mine would be a bit on the odd side, like "Burnt Toast" or "Old Penny".  I got a fun new nail color this week called "Gray by Gray". Now, if I was naming this color, it would be "Morris Minor Gray".

I can easily see myself buzzing around Central Ohio in a life-sized Morris Minor just like this one.  It's so very English, so very quirky, so perfectly me. The Morris Minor was a British economy car that debuted at the Earls Court Motor Show, London, on 20 September 1948. Designed under the leadership of Alec Issigonis, more than 1.3 million were manufactured between 1948 and 1971.

Years ago, I had a 1967 red VW bug convertible. Gosh, I adored that car. It was partially converted to an automatic. The floor clutch was removed, but I still had to use the gear shift; the best of both driving worlds. I wish I still had it. They say the Morris Minor is the Volkswagen Beetle of Britain.  Anybody have an old dusty one laying around in their garage they might want to give me?

Alan, is that you in the back?

does my butt look big in this?

Tailgate Party



We are clearly

my distant cousins in bustles
Hattie Blanche Hanna and Ida Ellen Hanna
Carroll County, Indiana
circa 1880s

at a disadvantage

without them;

parts of our personage

set loose in butt-sprung

spandex. Nothing disguises

our plussed derrieres.

Our foremothers

wore add-on cabooses,

cushions well served

in the art of subterfuge,

not to mention

ice skate protection,

and padded tushes

for stumblebum trippers.

Why not rustle them

back with a few snaps

and zippers? A great way

to hide a large rump,

don’t you think, since all

will attribute its shape

to the bustle.

Tess Kincaid

January, 2011

my great aunt Winnie Hanna with friends and skates (right)
Ervin Township, Howard County, Indiana, 1905


Would you like me to read this poem to you?

wear the old coat 2010

Wear the old coat, buy the new book.

Austin Phelps

It's a refreshing, breezy 50 degrees in Central Ohio. I am welcoming the season of not only woolly socks, but of tweed, tartan and all things snuggly, with much flourish. Plus, fall and winter clothes are much more interesting than warm weather fare, don't you think? If you remember, last year, I found a wonderful cobalt blue Peruvian wool coat from the 70s tucked away in a storage closet at the manor.

In the spirit of last year's mantra "wear the old coat, buy the new book", I dug out WT's old Barbour wax coat from the 80s. I paired it with a pair of boots, also from the 80s and pronounced them "tres cool". (Surprising, since I could have sworn nothing from the 80s was cool.) There are a few places on the coat where the wax has worn, so I ordered a can of wax dressing for $12. It seems simple enough to do, just heat the wax, apply it in small amounts with a rag, then hang the coat and blow with a hair dryer. Easy peasy. Cheaper than sending it off to Barbour to re-wax. They wanted $50. Forget it.

Now, since I've saved a bit of money in the fashion department, I can justify a little trip to my favorite second hand bookshop. You know, the one with the creaky hardwood floors.

PS~If you haven't seen me much around the bloggyhood, it's because I overdid it, just a tad, at the Manor Ball. I'm suffering from a bit of carpal tunnel syndrome in my right hand, so I've laid off the computer this weekend. I'll be slowly making my way back to your street in the 'hood soon! xx

queen of oscars

At the manor, we like to call out the name of a favorite actor,
director, or designer we might happen to see in the opening credits
of a film. The name I end up calling out most often, is Edith Head!
Did you know this powerhouse American costume designer's long
career in Hollywood garnered her more Academy Awards than any
other woman in history? She was nominated a whopping 35 times
and actually won a total of eight Oscars.

I adore that stunning off white cashmere coat she designed for Kim
Novak in Vertigo. And what about that classy wardrobe of Patricia
Neal's in Breakfast at Tiffany's? All those gorgeous dresses for Grace
Kelly in the Hitchcock films were also designed by Head.

She is one of those people I would love to have for dinner. Fascinating
conversation would take place, and there would be a paper table cloth
and lots of pencils near her place setting for sketching, during that
after dinner coffee. It would be fun to hear all the inside scoop on all
the iconic stars of old Hollywood. I would like it almost as much as
stopping in for a chat with Pop Leibel in the Argosy Book Shop.

Here's a list of Ms. Head's fashion commandments, listed in her book
The Dress Doctor, Prescriptions for Style, from A to Z. Amazingly
enough, her rules for dressing are still applicable today, only she
doesn't mention anything about woolly socks.

Don't let your clothes be fitted too tightly.
Even a perfect figure looks better if it doesn't
resemble a sausage. Only bathing suits
should be tight.

Don't wear a date dress when you're arriving
for a day's work at the office. The dressy
dress, the low-necked lacy blouse, the glitter
sweater, all of the glitter category belong to
after dark.

Don't be too different. You don't want to dress
like the heard, but you don't want to look like a
peacock in a yard full of ducks. Being too
much an individualist is not being well dressed.

Don't feel that when you're going to a party
you must look "dressed up" a simple dress is
safer if there’s a question of what to wear, and
you will be much more comfortable simply
dressed than over dressed.

Don't be afraid to wear a becoming costume many, many times. It's
an old fashioned idea that you have to have a new dress for every
occasion or party. Even if you have the money to do so, it isn't
necessary. The modern approach is to change accessories.
.

Life is competitive;
clothes gird us for the competition.

.

Edith Head

.

.

the j

My favorite J. Peterman travel case, just like the one Kay Francis

carried in One Way Passage, 1932. So romantic.

I was a huge fan of the
J. Peterman Company
way before he was
parodied on Seinfeld as
Jacopo Peterman by
John O'Hurley, who
played Elaine Benes' boss.
Even though Seinfeld
brought the company moderate success, it filed for bankruptcy in 1999. Certainly not because of me, one of their bestest customers. Funny thing, John O'Hurley, became a major investor and helped resurrect the J. Peterman Company in 2001. Is this a case of life imitating art, or what?

The real J. Peterman is a retail
and catalog entrepreneur from
Lexington, Kentucky. (Not New
York, like Seinfeld lead you to
believe.) He has written a book
about his company's trials, the
influence of Seinfeld, and more
called Peterman Rides Again.


So, all this to say, I am happy to again find the delightful catalog in the manor mailbox. The products are accompanied by entertaining, exotic descriptions, as well as artwork, for each item with quirky names, like the "Victor Lazlo Shirt" or "Flowers for Mrs. Oglethorpe". I'm sure Mr. Peterman won't mind if I share with you a little excerpt from his latest catalog.


1947.
Paris had a new president.
Optimism was in the air.
So was spring.
And there were never enough polka dots to go around. Since you
may have just commandeered the entire city supply. Not just little
dots. Big ones. Paris was still in its coming out party mode. And you
were there, on the grandest boulevard in the world, to make sure
the party continued.
Look, isn't that Le Fouguet's? Wonder if they still serve those
great champagne cocktails?
Found the original at a vintage boutique in the Right Bank. It
looked lived in. And enjoyed. Champs-Elysees Dress (No. 2663)
When the world still needed a hug. And so did you.
.
.
How's that for a description of a polka dot dress?
.
If I happened to be writing for the company, my dream
job, by the way, (do you hear that, Mr. Peterman?) I would have
to call this little polka dot number the "Demendante Dress".

.

wear the old coat and buy the new book

The long awaited tweed, tartan and wool season has finally arrived.

I adore the whole experience of winter clothes. I love the texture,

the color, the snuggliness, and the bug-in-a-ruggliness. They're just

far more interesting and fun to wear, than simple summer fare.

I miss the annual washing up of the kids' winter coats and trying them

on for size. So, in the spirit of the tradition, I was digging in the front

closet at the empty nest manor this week, the one that's under the

front staircase.

I found a fun cobalt blue wool coat, made in Peru, I bought back in the

'70s, completely forgotten, zipped up in a bag in the back. It's blanket

style, trimmed in fabulous floppy, extra long fringe, and the wool has

a wonderful waffle pattern. The collar can be buttoned up, in a scarf-

like fashion, or worn open and drapey.

.

Best of all, amazingly enough, it fits me after all these years. Talk

about doing wonders for my self esteem. And not a moth hole in sight.

No new coat needed for me this year. You know what that means?

More books!

You know what else? The cobalt blue compliments my family tartan

perfectly. My ancestors are smiling. Hey, is it my imagination, or am

I seeing all kinds of tartan everywhere this fall, after I posted on it in

September? I just saw a whole page of tartan products in the

December issue of Elle Decor's "Trend Alert". I told you I was

psychic. Or maybe they just love my sense of style? Keep your eye

out, now, for cobalt blue blanket coats. Don't forget, you saw them

first at Willow Manor.

.

Wear the old coat and buy the new book.

Austen Phelps

(Mr. Phelps certainly got this right.)

Just a Few Thoughts on Hair

Three Women, Belle Johnson, 1900

..

The days of my thick luxurious hair are gone. Why don't we appreciate

our youthful physical beauty while we have it? I realize that not all big

or long hair, is good hair, but I just wish I had my old hair back. Mine

has thinned with age and thyroid problems. If you really want to feel

like your hair is puny, watch Disney's Pocahontas. Her magnificent,

blowing, swirling mane is all over the screen. Then go look in the

mirror at your little nothing head of hair. It's demoralizing.

Maybe I was born in the wrong time period, because I adore the
romantic Edwardian or Gibson Girl hairstyle, piled high with a flourish.
My daughter happens to have fabulous thick curly hair, which she
inherited from WT. She can just flip it up and pierce it with a stick and
it's to die for. I think this photo of her looks just like a Harrison Fisher
or Howard Chandler Christy illustration.

Here's a shot of Kate Beckinsale from Merchant Ivory's adaptation
of Henry James' The Golden Bowl. Now, I realize that she's most
likely wearing a wig, but the style is exactly right for the time period.
Did you know that women would actually wrap their hair around balls
of padding called "rats" for extra volume? Somehow I don't think that
would work for me. I would look like Prince Valiant with a pincushion.



It was fun to see Kirsten Dunst in all the marvelous wigs in Marie
Antoinette. I wonder if she suffered from a stiff neck or headaches
from all that weight on her head during filming? And do you
remember that funny old movie Fancy Pants with Bob Hope and
Lucille Ball? Bob plays the part of an actor pretending to be a valet
and actually embeds a birdcage in Lucy's hair!

Well, I will have to admit that my little bob style is easy to handle.
And no, I don't get headaches from too much hair. And since I can
blow dry it in just a few minutes, I have more time for serious things
like writing posts about random thoughts on hair.

Hair brings one's self-image into focus;
it is vanity's proving ground. Hair is terribly
personal, a tangle of mysterious prejudices.

Shana Alexander