Reading Vintage Vogues -- An Accidental Education

Say, 'Y - e - e - s!'

2012-03-04T22:08:00.000-08:00

Very little time these days for eccentric scholarship. Piles of field notes, though: The Chanel boutique, Saks Fur Salon, vintage Chanel No. 5 and Shalimar. Next time. This time: last week's pages, this week's pages and an old, leftover movie.

Let's save time by cutting out the editing. Go! Another handsome spread, really. The white dress, the pale fur, the faces turned to one side. The orange-red dickey or whatever and the red lipstick. . . good job, ad page selecting editor!

Beads. Orange-red beads Orlon - that never sounded very nice to wear. Orlon is the brand name of DuPont's acrylic. In 1959, the company was still referred to as E. I. DuPont de Nemours & Co., Inc. I had assumed it was American. Here is a short article announcing this fabric. From hunting around I learned that no acrylic fabric is now made in America. Why? What is this stuff made out of? I am beginning to recognize its chemical shape, but just can't picture it's original form.

Another in the bewildering series. Emba? Umpa? Mutation mink? Ranch mink? Couldn't a mutation happen on a ranch? This might look better in person; the colors are a bit dead in the photo. Another Virginia Thoren photo. Fur in general - my gut feeling is that I'm going to be as hypocritical about fur as I am about lamb. I can think, "cute little lamb" and "lamb fricassee" at the same time. If that is hypocritical and not just realistic or brutal. Brutal, probably. You feel damned good in a fur coat.

Again, good page mates!

Look at all of those hands! I love this ad. Finally, some life and fun. And I have always liked Martini & Rossi. In fact, that was some more field work. It's really very nice over ice and this was such a warm weekend. I'll have to try the dry vermouth next time.

We have met Prince Matchabelli and Colonel Schick - did you know there was a Count Martini? Several, in fact. Here is Count Martini Rossi in New York in 1930: "When asked if he believed in prohibition, Count Rossi replied: "Yes, for America if Americans want it. But for Italy - no. You see we Italians are not blessed with the great sense of humor the Americans possess."

I picture him as a round little line drawing. No good photos!

What's with all the linen dresses? I think this is our fourth, very similar sheath. This seems like a very uncomfortable dress to wear at a resort unless your idea if a good time is not moving.

Well, that was the unedited, vermouth-fueled speed blog. No time for a movie. Here or in real life.

But we have to have some kind of video - and we did see Angie Dickinson in Rio Bravo.

IMMACULATELY Clean! COMPLETELY Feminine!

2012-02-19T00:04:00.000-08:00

This Week: 40 Degrees Below Zero, But a Good, Clean Shave; Fundamental Errors of Personal Finance; and I Never Thought I'd Say 'Thank Goodness For Pernell Roberts.'

Immaculately clean, completely feminine armpits, brought to you by Schick, the inventor of the original dry shaver, born in a filthy dirty, completely masculine Alaskan hut.

Jacob Schick, career army officer and inventor, had his a-ha! moment while camping in Alaska. Quoting from the 1937 obituary: "With the weather hovering at 40 degrees below zero, Mr. Schick found it difficult to shave. One day he sprained his ankle, and had to remain alone in camp for several months. He killed a moose and lived on its meat during his forced imprisonment. For weeks, he worked on his problem, and finally evolved a razor that could do the job without lather or the other traditional concomitants of shaving."

Several months and one moose? And his problem was shaving? Here's the patent. No moose bones.

Jacob Schick

Last week, we started here with a cashmere sweater made by the Bernhard Altmann company, which produced mid-range cashmere from factories around the country, including San Antonio, of all places.

We ended up here

because Mr. Altmann's sister-in-law's aunt was the lady in the picture. In 2000, Maria Altmann sued the Austrian government in the U.S. Supreme Court. She won, got back the painting (and others), and sold them at auction. The Klimt sold for $135,000,000.00.

And I pushed the Post Button. But I knew I had just seen that Klimt. . . on a bookshelf. I had saved the first section of the New York Times from November 27, 2011. "But Nobody Pays That" was one of those articles I was really going to sit down and understand for once and for all. I would learn a tax tip from Mr. Lauder.

Ronald Lauder and His $135,000,000.00 Purchase (AP Photo)

Mr. Lauder and I have something in common. We like to go to auctions. In fact, this very Vogue was bought at auction, one of several lots I bought in Oakland. They had belonged to a lady who lived in Martinez and who worked at an insurance company. That's all I know. She had saved every issue from the late 1930's to 1970. Boxes and boxes. And, like the Klimt, the magazines went for way more than the estimates.

I came away with 25 or so issues from the 1950s, and 35 or so from the 1960s. I bought them to sell, and I sold all of the really good ones, all of the issues with the William Klein spreads . . . and when I broke even I stopped. I think they should be seen, and I go to some trouble to show them to the public. Just like Mr. Lauder and his German and Austrian paintings.

William Klein, Vogue, 1957

But unlike Mr. Lauder, I was an idiot. What I should have done was to create a private foundation: The Voguerie. I should have donated the Vogues to The Voguerie. Then I could have taken a charitable donation. That would have been a far larger charitable donation than I have ever made before. That way I could have given myself a good discount on the Vogues.

And The Voguerie could be quite close by. Probably even in my living room. Then I would still have them. I could charge money for people to see them. But I don't. This is an ad-free blog. The Klimt is at the Neu Galerie, Mr. Lauder's private foundation. Admission is not free.

Not only can Mr. Lauder have his cake and eat it, too; the cake keeps on making its own frosting.

Don't you wish you could donate your eBay finds to yourself and get a tax break?

Let's Go to the Movies!

* Another in the series of full-employment for aging male stars. A comatose Randolph Scott leads a ragtag group to a hanging tree.

* Thank goodness for Pernell Roberts! James Coburn in his first role; also Lee Van Cleef and a very good James Best, who just completed Return of the Killer Shrews; a quite remarkable coincidence since The Killer Shrews is from 1959 - unavailable!

* Why does Karen Steele have 1950's hair and bodices? Who wrote the original Indians-Appear-in-Distance music? How much more would I have liked this movie if I had seen it in the theater in Cinemascope, and not on a Mac? A lot. The horses are so small.

Next: Chanel No. 5 vs. Shalimar - for real.

Goats, Justice and Polymers

2012-02-11T22:39:00.000-08:00

A remarkable story lurks behind one of these pages. And - Richard Burton behaves very badly.

At last, humanity has reached The Dawn of the Important Sweater and we have before us our first cashmere sweater. My mother still mentions a rich girl in her dorm at the University of Iowa in 1953: "She had a drawer full of cashmere sweaters, but she was so nice you'd never know it." And in Fifteen, the nice girl has one cashmere cardigan and the snooty girl has many.

I have often wondered about the explosion of cashmere in recent years. And how disappointing it often is. In 1956, (here for an explanation of the economics of cashmere in the 1950s) a cashmere sweater cost about $200.00 in today's dollars. And it is probably in better shape than the one I got online last year.

Bernhard Altmann - not B. Altman, which confused me at first - was an importer and manufacturer of cashmere clothes who died a year after this sweater appeared. He founded the company in 1914 in Vienna, and expanded to New York in 1938. (Or, given the date, perhaps fled Vienna in 1938.)

A good, but easy guess, that date. I'm barely getting to this post this week; too much work, and the pages seemed of slight interest. But then I find this:

This is 1) the Klimt that Ronald Lauder paid $135 million dollars for; and 2) one of the paintings returned to Bernhard Altmann's sister-in-law, Maria, after she sued Austria in a U.S. Supreme Court case. Here is Mrs. Altmann's obituary from last year. The brother-in-law who bought Maria's husband out of Dachau was Bernhard Altmann.

And what was Mrs. Altmann's claim to the paintings? She inherited them from her aunt, the lady in the painting.

Whenever I come to a page on unnatural fibers, I am reminded of how little progress I have made in understanding what this actually means. I have to wikicheat every time. Here we have American Cyanamid again, and its Creslan division, which is the brand name for Cyanamid's acrylic, which boils down to a cloth made from petroleum, or perhaps coal. Creslan contains nylon, which is made of nitrogen, carbon, hydrogen and oxygen. But, aren't we all?

Cashmere comes from cute little goats.

Let's go to the movies!

* The invisible charms of an Angry Young Man. Or, a bully runs amok.

* To be fair, the movie isn't quite as bad as the American trailer makes it seem. (Couldn't find a British version.) I had no desire to tear apart Claire Bloom. But I did find myself rooting for Richard Burton to get run over. Oddly, a revival of Look Back in Anger opened in New York the day I saw this. Room at the Top, similar in many ways, was much, much better.

* Happier days in that marriage were the worst: cover your eyes when Squirrel-y and Bear-y disport themselves.

Chanel vs. Shalimar - Preliminary Bout

2012-02-04T23:23:00.000-08:00

This week: House of fur, ghost scents, and Ben Gazzara, who died this week.

But first -- Chanel No. 5 vs. Shalimar, Round Two.

Nothing can beat the Chanel No. 5 ad. But what does my Resident Perfume Expert say, now that he's finished with his chemistry mid-term and can get around to what's really important? (Honestly - his mother and I certainly didn't study that hard. Kids today!)

Christopher Bickel:

In response to your concern that you have "mediocre taste" in perfume-- once you have actively smelled and investigated around 50 perfumes you might begin to see a change in your tastes.

The best way to truly appreciate a perfume is if you treat it like a book. You can't ignore it for even a few minutes, or else you lose the story (or lack thereof).

While I appreciate Chanel No. 5 (parfum) I don't particularly like it. You're not alone. Personally, It's more important as an artistic landmark than an enjoyable fragrance. The eau de toilette version (a 1950's take on No. 5 with more violet and peach), is the only incarnation i genuinely like.

Shalimar > No. 5, in my opinion. Artistically Shalimar and No. 5 are masterpieces, but the complexity of Shalimar makes me like it more. The same woman could wear both, definitely. I am all for people wearing whatever they like whenever they like on principle.

But I also instinctively feel that the kind of woman who wears No. 5 is simple but chic, whereas the woman who wears Shalimar is over the top and glamorous. No. 5 would wear a silk blazer while Shalimar would wear a mink coat. As a final thought, I don't really think that anyone should wear No. 5 or Shalimar whenever they feel like it. Perfumes like those are like fancy jewelry-- you don't wear an opal pendant when you're gardening (at least I'd hope not). You need to be able to play the part, because those kinds of perfumes can end up wearing you instead.

If you're smelling the parfum version of Shalimar you are smelling what Guerlain claims to be the original formula. That is a dirty lie.

Any perfume made before the 50's in its current incarnation does not smell exactly like it should because it is missing synthetic musks that were found to cause brain cancer. Luckily, musks don't have much of a smell of themselves, they act more like a filter on a perfume to make whatever you're smelling seem richer, smoother, or like something else, so replacing the musks changed the actual structure of the fragrance very little.

Additionally, as of 2010, everything smells wrong because the IFRA decided that they were going to restrict the use of oakmoss, jasmine, vanilla, rose, etc.

I have never smelled the original No. 5 or Shalimar and do not intend to because I would end up spending all my money on vintage perfume. If you're interested, the "The Perfumed Court" (a sample selling website) for samples of vintage ones.

Given that I've never smelled the originals, I cannot say exactly how the incarnations across the years have differed from one another. All I know is that many people have noticed an undesirable change in Shalimar and No. 5, along with the other older classics.

(Next question: why restrict the use of natural products? Scarcity? Do roses also cause brain cancer? How much perfume would you have to drench yourself in anyway to develop brain cancer? For some reason, the only person I could picture this happening to is the Duchess of Windsor. )

Thank you, Chris. That was excellent. I didn't know that you could buy perfume samples. Certainly more dignified than trying to talk the Sephora salesladies into giving me what I want and not what's new this week! I bought minute amounts of vintage Chanel No. 5 and the Shalimar. I have a feeling that they'll both end up wearing me instead.

Would a fur coat help?

We've seen Revillon's perfume, Carnet de Bal, in this issue. Here are the furs. Above, more Southwest African (Namibian) Persian Lamb, this time "Paris-propelled young design sorcery in the modern Persian Lamb . . . blacker, brighter, lighter!" It looks like a bathrobe.

Below, "Fouke-Dyed 'Matara' (Trademark) Alaska Fur Seal. It's too plush.

The House of Revillon was (is? was until last year? Can't really tell, from the scant research I had time for this week - sorry.) an interesting company. Founded in the 1700's, it had a network in Canada and a fabulous cold storage building in New York, in addition to its showrooms. But most intriguing, Revillon underwrote the first ever documentary, Nanook of the North, chronicling a year in the life of the "lovable, happy-go-lucky" people of northern Canada.

Let's go to the movies!

And see Anatomy of a Murder again, in honor of Ben Gazzara.

* Small-town lawyer with a refrigerator full of fish lands case of a lifetime.

* James Stewart, Ben Gazzara, Eve Arden, Lee Remick, George C. Scott all terrific.

* Also: Duke Ellington, the attorney who asked McCarthy 'Have you no shame?,' cute dog, lurid story, great titles. . . well worth it.

Continuity

2012-01-28T23:56:00.000-08:00

Shalimar - and Chanel No. 5 -- in 1959, already from another era. The distance from the early 1920s to 1959 seems longer than the time from 1959 to now. And here I sit, in 2012, pleasantly steeped in Shalimar. And, in a way, Mr. Mort endures as well.

Very nice page mates.

I just took the very silly Guerlain Fragrance Consultation (Favorite odors, yes; but dream bedroom? Please.) and discovered I am a Mitsuoko person. Perhaps. I am having trouble with the perfume categories. Shalimar is "Oriental," but it smells flowery and powdery to me. Chanel No. 5 is "floral," but it just smells like perfume. I can't pick out "oak" or "blackberry" in wine, either. I find Shalimar quite pleasant; rather non-threatening for a French perfume. This is good, because I have a lot of it, thanks to a generous saleswoman at Sephora. This is, of course, the less expensive stuff. I look forward to trying the real thing. In 1959, the price range for the perfume was: $6, $10, $18, $30 and $50. Today, an ounce of perfume is $327.00 at Bloomingdales; that's almost the same as $50.00 in 1959.

You can also get Shalimar deodorant. This doesn't seem like a good idea.

The most recent perfume reference I came across happens to be Shalimar:

"She stubbed out her cigarette, freshened her lipstick, sprayed a little shot of Shalimar on the delicate, veiny skin on the inside of her wrists. The faintest scars, thready bracelets like white cotton where she had tried to slice through them, a long time ago now." From Started Early, Took My Dog.

Mr. Mort! Doffing your hat like that! And this model could actually be a Mr. I don't know who Mr. Mort was in 1959, but soon he became Stan Herman, a mainstay of Seventh Avenue in the 1960s. (And now a star of QVC leisure wear!) I look forward to more of Stan Herman as Vogue marches on. But for now, we're going to cheat just the tiniest bit and jump ahead to 1960.

"Mr. Mort" invaded England in early 1960, bringing the "snappy Madison Avenue secretary" look to dreary London town. And not a minute too soon: "London Kitty Foyles continue to go about in their regrettable 'sloppy Joe' sweaters, adorned with ropes of beads, and worn with tight, short skirts, darkish stockings and pale, skinny-heeled, pointed-toe shoes."

England had the last laugh. Carnaby Street already had its first "Carnaby Street" boutique. And that Mr. Mort dress looks awful square.

Let's go to the movies!

* A meditation on Crime and Punishment with interludes of instruction in an interesting art.

* I saw this just now in the theatre. (Robert Bresson retrospective at Pacific Film Archive). Drawn like a moth to the flame of mediocrity and philistinism, I liked all the parts that were not part of the greatness of Robert Bresson. That would be scenes of Paris in 1959 and all the pickpocketing. I understand that it's a great movie - great as in academically great -- but I was slightly bored.

* Except when this guy was on screen:

Well, you couldn't really see him. Here he is again: Henri Kassagi.

A Bowl of Pho

2012-01-21T22:28:00.000-08:00

Sometimes this blog is like a bowl of pho -- goodness knows what will end up on your spoon. I like pho - but is all of it identifiable? Digestible? No. Thus: this week in Reading Vintage Vogues.

   Mary S. McWilliams - who are you? A woman of a certain age, a fair and humorous temperament and two grown daughters, both pregnant. Probably based in Chicago. That's it. I know nothing else about her.

   After a stormy romance, one daughter married a Spaniard and moved to Madrid. To her absolute shock, Mrs. McWilliams is invited to remain with her daughter and her husband during the birth.

   "You will be with me at the confinement?" he asked.
   "Right through? Oh! No, it is not usual with us. You will be there?"
   "Of course. Who should be there if not me?"
   I hesitated and hinted at an absence of protective hygiene. My main reason I did not mention, but Pedro guessed it. I should be less prepared mentally than physically. My English mother had referred to my expectations as little craft to be launched. Now, with the dashing Dr. Alvedo and the romantic Pedro I was to face the naked fact of birth right through."

   A very shocking prospect for Americans for many years to come.

   In Spain, Mrs. McWilliams was part of the family - the grandmother, honored and needed. Not so much in Chicago: "It was as antiseptic as a refrigerator and as instructive as an university. . . After disinfecting myself, I occasionally viewed my grandson from a safe distance . . ."

   What happened to Marian and Pedro and their little daughter? And to Jane in Chicago with her antiseptic baby? I haven't a clue. Was this fake? I don't put it past Vogue of that era.

   This essay appears in the spot in Vogue that seems to exist to cut the ads - an early form of "content." In today's Vogue, a personal essay, "Up Front," appears in roughly the same spot - between the masthead and the main editorial pages. "Up Front" is a lot more personal, often controversial - an embedded war correspondent hides her pregnancy. (Not this month: a rich woman remembers she liked to play tennis; takes it up again.) The architecture of Vogue remains roughly the same from at least the 1950's.

What is going on in this picture? Not Alice in Wonderland. Maybe Little Red Riding Hood and a double? No: "In the enchanted forest, you, in Alison's Shiffli embroidered floral sprays. Sheath and scoop-neck dress with bolero, designed by Lucel. Both by fine, exclusive, imported Belgian Linen, imported by Sichel." No prices. A couple of pages back, if you remember, we had Irish Linen:

A much better ad - you can at least see the dresses. Irish linen does not appear to be trademarked. Belgian Linen is. Here is the blog of the Linen & Hemp Community of Europe; unfortunately (for me), most of it is in French, but there are a lot of interesting pillows, totes and curtains and links to whole worlds of textile trade fairs. I am not sure that this is in the best of taste, but I want it anyway:

It's linen! And 268 Euros. Which is, I assure you, even more in dollars. Goodness, anything to avoid those dresses. Can't you just see Callista Gingrich in these? I'm afraid we will. (That would be the indigestible bit.)

Let's Go to the Movies! Warlock. No trailer, clip courtesy of a DeForest Kelley fan on YouTube:

* A town besieged by a biker gang on horses hires a private security consultant.

* That clip had it all, including Anthony Quinn's weirdly lingering hand on the guy with the gun, which goes well with earlier mentions of his strong interest in decorating Henry Fonda's rooms. We have the corpselike Henry Fonda, the always reliably sociopathic Richard Widmark, Anthony Quinn in the Dean Martin role and bonus performances by DeForest Kelley and Frank Gorshin. Actually, it's missing Dorothy Malone as an ex-prostitute who was married to either Anthony Quinn or Henry Fonda, or both or something. I have about 20 minutes left, but I've had enough.

* Based on book by the late Oakley Hall, whose name leapt out because he's still mentioned a lot around here as a writing guru. Protege of Wallace Stegner (bored senseless by Angle of Repose and loathed Crossing to Safety) and mentor of Michael Chabon, a fellow Berkeleyite who wrote a very good essay on Berkeley. And we'll leave it at that. Not inclined to track down the book. But, did the NYT like it? Mostly, yes. BTW, Jane Fonda will be showing up one of these pages. Stay tuned.

Thank God for Bones.

Next week: Shalimar and a different Mr. Mort.

Private Equity and A Very Private Party

2012-01-14T22:55:00.000-08:00

In the left corner - An Unprecedented Event! In the right corner - Rarely Such A Luxurious Fragrance!

Well done, ad placement department!

Well, they were having a sale. Prices starting at about $15,500.00 in 2011 dollars. They were moving from wherever to 718 5th Avenue, where the company still resides in what is called a "Harry Winston Salon." Nothing so common as a jewelry store!

I always thought Harry Winston was a Beverly Hills outfit with a New York branch. The phrase "jeweler to the stars" did pop into mind. Harry Winston is to the Academy Awards as Broyhill was to Let's Make a Deal.

I did not know that Harry Winston bought the Hope Diamond and donated it to the Smithsonian. I have a vague recollection of either seeing it or not seeing it there.

Thanks to the candidacy of Mitt Romney, I am able to actually understand this article from NYT in 2000. (After a nasty family fight, in 2000, one of the sons of Harry Winston acquired the company along with a private equity firm that also owned a stake in Aunt Jemima.)

Do you remember the year 2000? "At a time when more Americans than ever are able to indulge themselves in jewelry costing $10,000 or more, limiting access this way (not building a lot of stores) is a flawed strategy, said Russell Shor, a jewelry industry consultant. ''People are time-pressed,'' he said, ''They want convenience, they want service.''

Yet on the other hand, twenty per cent of revenue for Harry Winston came from cheap crap they sold at Penney's under an undisclosed name.

Here is Harry Winston in 1960. Apparently, for security reasons, his face was never photographed.

harrywinston.com

Another Van Cleef and Revlon pairing. The "even stronger than toilet water" kind of takes away from "Luxurious Fragrance Gift." And you get 1,000 hits of this stuff for five bucks! ($39)

I don't remember this at all. Created in 1955, it was apparently meant to be frankly sexual in an "American" way - musky and floral. Not sure when Intimate was discontinued, but it remained very frankly sexual in 1987:

Let's go to the movies!

* A man walks into a bar and ends up dangling from Abe Lincoln's nose.

* Notice the preview doesn't give away the crop duster. Lucky 1959 audience! I've seen this twice in the theater, and still I enjoyed it on the laptop. I had forgotten entirely the bit toward the end in the fascist Frank Lloyd Wright-style villa. Even the odd console television/wet bar plays its own part. And Martin Landau as the spurned lover - never noticed that before.

* Cary Grant. Kept reminding myself that it was Cary Grant and not George Clooney, who must watch this movie every single day. Very refreshing break from James Stewart and all his agonizing anxiety. Cary Grant has no inner landscape. It always struck me that the whole story hinges on Roger's exaggerated concern that he will miss meeting his mother at the theater that night.

The Baader-Meinhoff Phenomenon

2012-01-07T22:22:00.000-08:00

This week - back to the regular schedule: surprise appearances by Nixon and the Baader-Meinhoff gang.

There are many reasons I'm glad I don't live in 1959 and the leisure wear on the left page is one of them.

Blech! Very much like the Avondale ad of a few pages back. Also - blech! Feh.

Back to the Loungees: Either this is the name of the company or the kind of thing these things are. If you look up Loungees now, you get muu-muus. But left to right, we have a "Cabin Coat, Riviera Roamers, the Sun Deck Cooler." I recognize the sun dress. But a cabin coat? Instead of a house coat when you are on a cruise, I suppose. The whole "house coat" thing always mystified me. Also the "house dress," which still existed as such in 1974 in the La Puente Sears. I know because I spent hours straightening two racks of them - over and over, passively, aggressively in a seldom-visited corner of Women's Wear. Deserted my post to wander into the television department to watch Nixon's resignation. Forgot about that.

Ah - Loungees, Inc. was a lounge wear company in Brooklyn from at least 1951 to 1968, owned by the Farah brothers - Albert, Richard, Henry and George. Now you know.

These dresses are lovely.

"Ombre - a new expression in Irish linen." Ombre? Ombre for the third time this week! First - last week's New York Times dismissing the whole ombre hair thing - long hair that's a natural color at the top and something else toward the bottom. (I saw this once in the Paris Metro: a woman with hip-length hair dyed like flames. That was ombre.) The next day I read in an old Martha Stewart a piece on color. Your new ombre sofa! A few packets of Rits Dye . . . It means "to shade." Thanks, Martha. I think. And now, ombre Irish linen.

This is a perfect example of the Baader-Meinhoff Phenonemon, which you will be seeing again very soon. You're welcome.

Late Christmas presents: Not having as easy a time in finding the 14 classical albums as the 16 "popular" albums. But I did find this, intact and for sale on iTunes and available on Spotify:

Mahler: Lieder Eines Fahrenden Gesellen. Kindertoten Lieder. Christa Ludwig, Adrian Boult, Andre Vandernoot.

I liked this. Very good music to make lasagne by.

Now, let's go to the movies!

* A French boy has problems in school and at home.

* Well, it wasn't about an orphan constantly getting beaten up. Whew! I have a hard time in seeing what all the self-congratulatory fuss was about. An average, slightly unpleasant boy and his almost good-enough parents - film seemed to keep pointing things out in an accusatory manner, but I don't see the big indictment of society.

* Beautiful film, beautiful music, drags in the final quarter. I don't know if this is the first movie with the sudden, pointless ending, but after having seen plenty of them, a time came when I just waited for the sudden, pointless ending. Still - gorgeous movie.

Next week: a lot more glamour.

On the Seventh Day of Christmas . . . an Old Friend

2012-01-01T20:56:00.000-08:00

The second half of " the problem: MEN; solution: COLOGNES."

". . . and breathes there a MAN who wouldn't be glad to breathe in one of these? 8 more MAN-sized presents here." Please don't trip over the rugs or break anything.

I love this layout!

Upper left square: "New on the men's cologne team: citrus-tanged scent called For Men, in a tenpin-shaped bottle by Raphael; 8 oz. $9.00." Expensive for a bowling-themed scent. New on the market - don't recognize the name or the maker. Let's see what we find: zilch.

Upper right: "For the man who treasures a valued label -- a cologne that's the essence of urbanity: Extra Dry with a twist of lemon." And a Napoleonic insignia. Guerlain Imperiale. Snob appeal.

The "Extra Dry" appears to have disappeared; Imperiale seems to be in limbo. It's not on the Guerlain website and it is on discount perfume sites, at a discount ($9 then equals $70 now). Imperiale dates from 1893, during the Third Republic, so I am not sure what the Napoleonic bees have to do with it.

Bottom right: "Don't promise him anything just give him Eau De Lanvin for men." Perhaps an obvious, but clever, take on the "Promise her anything, but give her Arpege" slogan, Arpege being a stablemate of Eau De Lanvin.

Alas, also no more. Lanvin has a lovely, informative website; perhaps they are a bit too frank when they describe "Lanvin L'Homme Sport" (the modern version of Eau de Lanvin) as for "The suburban man with places to go."

Bottom left: What are those neon blue blobs for? "If the clink of glasses had a scent, this would be it ." Comes in a cocktail shaker-shaped bottle. Here's How, by Gourielli. Never heard of either the cologne or the house. Was mentioned that it exists as a possible gift for men in the December 15, 1960 Coaticook Observer of Ontario.

Upper left: somebody wanted to make a typeface man smoking a cigarette. Makes no sense. Thing mentioned is Eau de Toilette, by Nina Ricci. Or His Eau de Toilette. No more.

Bottom left: "JUST A PINCH" of Snuff. Stylish little item. Old bottle sold for almost 300 pounds at Christies. Here's an ad I pinched from someone on Tumblr.

For the man with ideas. This stuff has real possibilities. Defunct.

Bottom right: Arden for Men, "as blue chip as an aftershave can get." Now, at Elizabeth Arden, it's as blue collar as an aftershave can get. Hummer, Usher VIP. Who wears Hummer cologne?

Upper right: Jockey Club! From 1840, and still available. I fell in love with the idea of Jockey Club in one of my favorite childhood books.

From Betsy In Spite of Herself: (Betsy and her friend Tib are sophomores at Deep Valley High, class of 1910. New Year's Eve Resolutions: Be Dramatic and Mysterious.

"Stunning!" cried Betsy. She stalked about the room acting Dramatic and Mysterious. "A darned shame, " she remarked, "that I'm too young to wear earrings. But I'm going to drench myself in perfume. And I'm always going to use the same kind, so that when anybody smells that odor they will know it's me. . .like Mama with violet perfume, only I want something more exotic."

"I have some Jockey Club," said Tib. "Would that be exotic enough? Somebody gave it to Aunt Dolly, but she said it didn't smell a bit like her, so she gave it to me."

"Jockey Club is perfect!" Betsy doused her flannel nightgown rapturously.

As it turned out, Betsy wasn't the Jockey Club type after all. And neither am I. Although President-Elect Kennedy was.

Next week, back to regularly scheduled program, with a few more Christmas records to unwrap. Coming up: more fur, and digging deeper into the masthead. Who were these people?

On the Sixth Day of Christmas . . . Bach and Memories of an Important Person

2011-12-30T21:14:00.000-08:00

What to get a little girl for Christmas?

First, thank goodness for the pink ad on the left. But we're sticking with the editorial Christmas suggestions until New Year's Day.

Buy her a slip, a nightie and some bath things and call it a day. Can't it be that simple? No. The little drawing of the slip pushes the fabric (Dacron), the brand (Style Undies), the owner of the brand (Burlington - we've seen their ad already) and two department stores (Julius Garfinckel and Altman's. It's just a little slip and it has the weight of industrial America behind it. You could step through this page and come out in Fortune magazine. Somehow more brutally evident here. Or my shoes are pinching and need a break from shopping.

How about Tub o' Fun? Just a dollar! O.K. - Restored! On to the record store.

What to get the classical music fiend on your list?

Bach: St. Matthew Passion; Ernst Haefliger, Keith Engen, Max Proebstl, Irmgaard Seefried, Munich Boys Choir, Bach Orchestra, conducted by Karl Richter.

One of the important recordings, I read on a Bach site, and still available. I am just as ignorant of classical music as I am of jazz. Appallingly, I never realized how huge and varied are the gaps in my glossy, expensive, 100-per-cent-liberal arts education!

Although, if I haven't heard the St. Matthew passion, I have heard something similar on an organ with a choir around Easter in Flensburg, in Germany. I think it was this organ, at the St. Nikolaikirche.

I went with "Tante" Hannchen, the village woman who saved my mother-in-law, an orphan, from typhus and the Russians at the end of the war. She lived in an ancient house with no indoor plumbing in a village near the Polish border and came West twice a year to stay with the family. She stocked up on good tweeds and woolens from the most expensive place in town. Liked to watch Columbo -- "Ach, kluge!" (Clever). When I knew her, she was in her nineties and kicked a soccer ball around the yard with my son, more than 90 years younger. Had worked in a beauty salon in Berlin in the 1920s, never saw a bit of decadence.

Never know what you'll get here.

Here is Karl Richter and the Passion of St. Matthew from 1971:

Beethoven: Concertos No. 1 and 2, Emil Gilels and the Orchestre de la de Societe des Concerts du Conservetoire.

This particular set of concertos appears not to have survived. After the Bach, which I have been listening to off and on for the past few days, these seem thin and showy. Piano Concerto No. 3 seems to have been the big hit; can't find a video of 1 or 2.

So we will pass on to:

Beethoven: The Nine Symphonies, Bruno Walter, conducting, and the Columbia Symphony Orchestra. This didn't survive either in its original form. How could it? The unsigned Vogue writer, who seems to be a different person that picked the jazz records: "A four-sheet drawing of Bruno Walter, suitable for mounting on a billboard, is the first of the tidbits that jump out of this handsome box. The second is "A Beethoven Reader," a 48 page booklet full of steel engravings, epigrams and themes of the symphonies, by all sorts of people -- Debussy, Schumann, Berlioz, Edna St. Vincent Millay. Finally there come the recordings, solid, authoritative, a series of brilliant meditations. They justify all the fuss." Goes on to say not all of them are the best or most interesting examples, but a stunning effort. "No false elegance."

What a present! Seven records, a booklet, a poster, all of the record sleeves, the sturdy box, that smell of vinyl and the kind of electric aura it gave off, when fresh. A new record was a beautiful thing.

No video. And no movie!

On the Fifth Day of Christmas . . . a Nose

2011-12-26T20:52:00.000-08:00

This week - more scent for men, but first, Knize 10, in the flesh.

While in L.A. just before Christmas, I discovered that the son of one of my oldest friends has an intense and well-informed interest in perfume. I told him I had just written a post on men's fragrance in 1959. 1959? Then that must have been . . . and in short order a bottle of genuine Knize Ten appeared on the table. Along with several original formula members of the Dior family and the Mitsuoko. Was there a Chanel? It was all a blur.

An original Tabu reminded me strongly of my mother getting dressed to go out, circa 1967, a pioneer in computer dating. Either the black chiffon floral with a yellow coat - or the perfectly shocking white mini with the black see-through drop-waist top. So hard to imagine my mother in a dress!

But what serendipity! I had been wondering where I would ever find Knize Ten. It's not something I'm going to look for again, though. A small drop on my forearm lasted through the day, the night, a sweaty cardio ballet class and a shower, only fading away finally the next night. I didn't really get the leather -- there seemed to be a blanket of something sweet and strong; something that reminded me more of the boardroom than the stables. I couldn't really imagine it on the one man I know who has played polo - Ten refers to a polo score. It did remind me of one of those pink Oxford shirts that only very confident men can wear. That would be my polo-playing friend.

Unfortunately, there was no time for a field trip to the Scent Bar in West Hollywood. Next time. But Chris was kind enough to give me a copy of Perfumes, The Guide and, best, volunteered to answer my questions as they arise. As in: How much Chanel No. 5 exists? How much can there be? Enough for every woman in America? Because no woman - or man - in America could escape this year's ad campaign.

(In the there-is-no-justice-in-this-world dept.: I had confided I didn't seem to be woman enough for Chanel No. 5. Within a few minutes Chris had found me old Diorella, based solely on my inability to wear anything stronger than Fresh's Citrus de Vigne coupled with my forlorn desire to become a femme fatale. And this is the kid who couldn't get an interview this year for a part-time perfume sales job at a department store. No experience. He's 18.)

Skipping part two of the nice spread on men's cologne and jumping to back-of-the-book:

Just do what I did just now -- give up! Just go and get some Yardley and call it a day. Good enough. The blurbage describes the packaging and says you can get them at Bloomingdale's. Not that would have worked this year.

But over at Sephora, you've got 27 sets to choose from. Seems rather quaint.

Holiday + family + job = no movie again. In real life, too!

Next -- classical music of 1959.

On the Fourth Day of Christmas . . . Vinyl Dreams

2011-12-20T23:17:00.000-08:00

This week: New Music of 1959, Pop Division - a long, long post. And, thanks to Google, YouTube, iTunes and Spotify, much, much better than the original. Surprise appearance by Hugh Hefner and Lenny Bruce!

But first, a message from the Pervertosphere. Ben Hur plus Pillow Talk equals judean first time defloration movies. Someone certainly had his hopes dashed when his Brazilian Google search led him to my 1959 movies page. He must have been further disappointed with the second hit: a comic YouTube video called First Black Pilgrim. And why Judean, anyway?

Let's go Christmas shopping!

Clearly, no record companies advertised in Vogue. Hence, this:

And this:

Which make up he back half of What To Get the Music Lover on Your List - Sixteen Suggestions for Popular Music. (First came 14 classical albums - didn't feel up to it.)

How did this list happen? A pile of press releases and a bored editorial assistant with a kibitzing jazz-loving boyfriend? Only explanation possible.

1. Theodore Bikel -- Bravo Bikel.

One, he's still alive! (And this is still in print! )Two, not an obvious choice, surely? But - in December 1959, he had just opened on Broadway in The Sound of Music, playing Captain von Trapp. Eidelweiss. Also, in 1959, he had just founded the Newport Folk Festival with Pete Seeger. In 1958, he won an Oscar (Supporting Actor) for The Defiant Ones.

Bravo Bikel is a recording of a live performance in New York of folk songs and stories. A lot of people probably did get this for Christmas. This is as close as I can come on YouTube (one of those picture pastiches) :

2. Cuadro Flamenco - The Soul of Flamenco

As far as I can tell, cuadro flamenco is a form of flamenco, here consisting of a singer, a guitarist and two dancers. (Yes, that would be four, which is almost cuatro.) I really liked it up to the point I could't stand another minute. Best seen live, I imagine. A modern example:

3. Mahalia Jackson: Great Gettin' Up Morning

Hard to find a clip from her this early. She did perform in the 1959 Imitation of Life. You see her for a bit in the trailer. Very worthy, but not my taste. Again - live or nothing.

4. Vienna Boys Choir -- Children's Songs

I'm quite taken with this album cover. And it has Hoppa Hoppa Reiter! I had forgotten this song - my mother-in-law sang it to my son. It's an "all fall down" song. Here are die Knaben are from 1959 -- pretty amazing what you can find.

5. Dave Brubeck Quartet - Gone With the Wind

Jazz and I don's see eye to eye. For one reason, here is an entire record devoted to the state of Georgia -- why?? All of the songs are recognizable except the title. I just don't get it. Bored senseless. Still in print.

6. Benny Carter Quartet - Swinging the '20s

I have heard of Benny Carter - barely. But this is the first album on the list I actually like. "Sweet Lorraine," below, was supposedly recorded in 1958 and is on the album.

7. Cy Coleman Trio: Why Try to Change Me Now?

Can the same person have chosen the Vienna Choir Boys and all this jazz? Right about here I suspected the educating boyfriend. And I, for one, resent it.

And so ignorant am I that I didn't realize that this isn't actually jazz. Jazz-ish. Cy Coleman co-wrote "Witchcraft" and went on to Broadway after 1960. Could not find any track listed on this album on iTunes on Amazon. Pure cocktail bar music. Or Playboy Mansion music. Amazing clip from 1959 with Hugh Hefner, Lenny Bruce and Cy Coleman. Holy crap.

8. Miles Davis -- Kind of Blue

Yes, I know - jazz. Apparently, this is the Miles Davis album even people like me should own. What does Vogue say? ". . a joy to hear . . ." Well, I don't know about that. I tried.

After watching this clip, I actually feel pretty stupid. But the truth is, I had never heard of this album until now.

9. Duke Ellington - Ellington Jazz Party.

Also still in print at iTunes! I liked it. Not from this album, but from 1959:

10. Duke Ellington and Johnny Hodges - Back to Back.

Also still in print, and an Amazon essential. It all sounds the same to me.

Duke Ellington and Johnny Hodges in 1959, also not from the album.

11. Ella Fitzgerald -- The George and Ira Gershwin Songbook.

Five albums, plus a 7-inch record, and covers by Bernard Buffet, this had to be a big deal in 1959. And it was. Yes, available on iTunes, but so much is missing if you can't take the album out of the cover - mind you, you whippersnappers, every disc had its own cover and liner notes. You held it all in your hands. The records had their own smell. Like a book. Well, anyway. Any idiot can figure this one out, even me. This would have been a terrific present. Unfortunately, for the video, we have to go with the montage.

12. Billie Holiday - The Billy Holiday Story

Billie Holiday died in July of this (1959) year and the liner notes are by William Duffy, her collaborator on her autobiography, so I suspect this was rushed into print to capitalize on her death. The album in this format hasn't survived, so let's just use "I've Got My Love to Keep Me Warm" from 1937, because the 1958 version is too heartbreaking.

13. Stan Kenton - The Stage Door Swings

Stan Kenton - another jazz figure I am vaguely aware of. It's all the same! It comes in hard and head-ache inducing and easy and sleep inducing. Except jazz with vocals, which I'm usually able to follow and like. Except for scat singing -- that I really don't get.

Now I'll go and have a listen because this is still in print.

O.K. It just seems to encapsulate a certain stratum of the late 1950's - a progressive jazz take on show tunes. I can see that if you liked this in 1959, you'd feel great about yourself. You'd drive a Prius! I would like to have heard and seen this live - coming into town, of course, in my brocade cocktail ensemble. Worrying about my little hat. This seems like very clean jazz.

The video is as close as I could get to the time - early 1960s -- and it's live. The musicians look like they could work for IBM.

14. Charles Mingus -- Mingus Au Um.

Well, you can get the 50th anniversary edition of this album on iTunes, so this was another big one. I know who this was - worse than Miles Davis: by this I seem to mean artier, more cerebral, people only pretend to like it, etc., etc. Not that I have ever sat down and listened to it until now.

I really like it! I am so surprised. I like "Goodbye, Pork Pie Hat." I liked it all much better than Miles Davis, who really does seem off-putting and pretentious.

Almost impossible to find good videos of early Charles Mingus. Here's a very bad clip from 1960.

15. Bud Powell -- The Scene Changes

Who? I would guess jazz.

It must seem like I am insisting on flaunting my ignorance. Still in print. Very nice, very pretty piano pieces, but utterly nothing after the Mingus.

Clip is from December 1959! I like him better after watching this.

16. Jimmy Smith - The Sounds of Jimmy Smith

Jimmy Smith? My favorite album cover of all of these. But the music? Organ jazz standards that just remind me of someone's (mine) old chord organ sitting in a back room. Kind of depressing, kind of hilarious. And a little funky for Vogue. And a little sloppy: this was released in 1957. Home Cookin' - totally not top drawer title - was out in 1959. Oh, well. Great cover! Here, live at the BBC in 1964.

So, what was really popular in 1959? I want this for Christmas:

On the Third Day of Christmas . . . A Minor Work of Art (Updated)

2011-12-10T22:25:00.000-08:00

Some slack shopping, a nice little movie and a nice little present under the tree for me.

Well, we'll see about that. Shopping is never easy. In 1959, you could have had heavenly shopping in downtown Oakland. I. Magnin, the shops in the Rotunda Building, another department store my boss remembers his mother going to that was just as nice. . .

Image from Department Store Museum.

And here's a Flickr set from Thomas Hawk of the Rotunda Building today.

But I digress. That's because that's what I do when I shop.

"For the perplexed at heart: a short course, here, in quick, easy present buying. Most of these suggestions are main-floor dwellers in shops . . . any one would be a charming way for man-woman-child-or-dog to deal with all the feminine names on a present list."

First up: a six-pack of silk chiffon scarves with hand-rolled hems. $9 then, $70 now. That's a very nice present. Thank you! Next?

Three purse-sized perfume sprays: Five O'Clock by Helena Rubinstein (defunct); Intoxication, by D'Orsay (I'm surprised we haven't seen them sooner. Ancient French house, but not widely distributed here. Intoxication, in any event, is defunct.) Or, Tweed, which you can still find at the twilight-zonish Vermont Country Store, along with all of the other products that have been dead everywhere else for decades. ($5.50 for the small spray then; $30.00 for twice as much in a bottle, now.)

Or, for a change of pace, what about four more purse-sized flacons?

Ecusson, by D'Albret, apparently first marketed in U.S. in 1947, but supposedly first appeared in France in the 1500s. And now it has been revived by Long Lost Perfumes. The perfume that wouldn't die - but I've never heard of it. $8.50 for 1/4 ounce.

Primitif, "a sultry, jungle-lady kind of fragrance" by Max Factor. $3.50 for 1/4 ounce. And how would you like to get this in your Christmas stocking? I don't think it had the desired affect. Max Factor is now owned by Proctor & Gamble, and when I read this (principals of Hanes hosiery and Proctor & Gamble instrumental in program of forced sterilization of the "unfit") this morning, I knew that somewhere in Vogue tonight, I'd come across the company. But I didn't think it would be so drenched in irony.

Update: December 11, 2011. Within four hours of this post, Proctor & Gamble visited my blog. I've never had that happen. Always thought the Proctor-&-Gamble-is-the-devil belief one of the best markers of the complete moron, but could they be on to something?

Oh La La, by Ciro. Introduced 1959. Defunct.

And finally, the "warm, remote" Antilope by Weil. You mean it got away? Supposedly still around, couldn't confirm.

And, yet more perfume: Fame, Fireworks, Bal de Carnet - we've seen that ad. And Bond Street, late of Yardley's now resurrected at Long Lost Perfumes. This is the only one I'm curious about. Nice women wore it with their tweeds. Very Brief Encounter.

Well, we've thoroughly toured the perfume counter. What next?

Jackpot. Eureka. Thank you, Santa Baby. Finally. You won't believe it. Just have to wait for it.

But first - not out of the perfume aisle, yet. Or ever! Just a list (even Miss Editorial Assistant can't be bothered with prices.)

By now we have thoroughly exasperated the perfume saleslady. But we spritz on.

Directoire by Charles of the Ritz. Defunct.

Eve-Reve, by Rigaud. Defunct.

L'Aimant, by Coty. Kind of around on Amazon, but disavowed on the Coty website.

Stradivari, by Prince Matchabelli. Defunct.

Private Label, by Bonwit Teller. Doubly defunct.

Seven Winds, by DuBarry. Defunct.

Not picking them so well. Can we move on? Nope - now we have purse-sized bottles that can be refilled from bigger bottles:

Joya, "from Spain." Defunct.

Tabu, by Dana. Still sort of around, but not as a perfume you'd find at Nordstrom.

Finally - not perfume, but perfumable: that peignoir I'm sure you've forgotten about. Black-over-pink DuPont nylon. By Vanity Fair. So, how much? Mind you: nylon, Vanity Fair (sold at Penney's). $90.00. How is that even possible? In today's money that would be: $700.00. What a change in fortune for Vanity Fair.

Now we circle back to the cosmetics counter for an Elizabeth Arden lipstick with fancy case at $5.00 ($38.90). Today you can get a very nice Elizabeth Arden lipstick for $22.50, without the fancy case. Nice little present, if you get the right color, which you won't, so it's kind of a strange present.

Now, for my present.

At last -- my own Warhol! And I had it all the time.

Let's go to the movies!

* Very British version of The 39 Steps: Ordinary man rescues baby, gets mixed up in international spy ring, meets girl.

* Kenneth More the epitome of the ordinary man; Taina Elg rather dull. Still - a good movie for a bad day.

* The Ford Zephyr is very cute.

On the Second Day of Christmas . . . Eau de Petroleum

2011-12-03T23:45:00.000-08:00

the problem: MEN

the solution: COLOGNE

So simple?

Let's shop!

Trying to go easy on Mad Men references, but this art direction just screams Sal.

Sorry for the blur. Annoying. The typeface was fun, though. And this is our first look at Vogue blurbage for this issue.

Upper Left:

One of the pleasanter aspects of the jet age, and as popular

now as the propless plane: a black-tie kind of

lotion called Jet for Jentlemen --

crisp, suave-mannered

(unforjettable?). The packaging,

crisp too: black and white, wrapping

a flask-shaped bottle. By Corday, eight ounces for $6.50.

They weren't kidding about that "J" in "Jentlemen." This has sunk without a trace.

Upper Right:

Scent that, like
a pipe, could be a man's constant.
Pour Un Homme
(lavender concen-
trate), by Caron.
8 1/2 oz. $10.

I am glad for the hint about the lavender, but I don't think I know anyone who smokes a pipe.

Goodness, this stuff is still around. From a British website:

That is one sexy Neanderthal!

Pour Un Homme is the crown jewel of the High Perfume of the House of Caron; thus it refuses to "succumb to the dictates of fashion and the show of pretense." Thus, only a Neanderthal model will do.

Ten dollars then for 8 oz.; about $48 for 200 ml on Amazon. Don't think you can get this at Saks any more. We had Caron last issue: Muguet, which I always thought was terribly classy, although I think you could buy it at Rexall. Pour Un Homme reminds me of Bain de Soleil.

Lower Left:

Chivlary, not dead at all -- it's present here in a cologne of that

name, with the fragrance of forest greens (Sherwood Forest,

perhaps, with Robin Hood reffed up for a rescue). The bottle,

crested with the Black Knight's shield. By Chessman: 8 oz., $5.

Too easy -- Chivalry may not be dead, but this cologne sure is. So is the company. Next.

someone dashing

has just passed by, with

a devilish-good scent -

it's Moustache, cologne

for a man with a high

debonaireness-rating.

By Marcel Rochas;

7 1/2 oz., $8.50.

Interesting history of this at Perfume Shrine. Quoting a review of a presumably modern-day batch:

After the citrusy opening, the characteristic faintly floral and hay-ish powdery heart slowly gives way to the funk of the base notes with their sweaty, urinous and pungent leather impression which lingers quietly, intimately for a long time. Despite it being ,marketed as a masculine scent, women who find citrusy or "hazy" suede compositions to their taste should definitely give it a try.

I realize they have ruined Chanel No. 5 by taking the filth out of it, but I am still startled by the frankness of the true perfume fanatic. Moustache was apparently available in 2009; I think it is now defunct.

Upper Left:

The pinch bottle

A Eau de Vetiver,

amed after a

flowering grass.

The fragrance is

outdoorsy, tweedy,meant for a man

on the same terms.

This after-shaves,

too. By Carven;

four ounces, $7.50.

A memorable line of verbiage in the last issue: He drives, she umbrellas. It after-shaves.

It appears that versions of Vetiver is still around. Carven is or was a French firm acquired by a conglomerate in 2003. Meh.

Upper Right:

I can't stand any more verbatim Vogue blurbage. One gets the picture. Just the highlights for a while.

Dana Canoe. First, it's supposed to be "can - u - ay." Did you know that? Second, the price has plummeted. In 1959, 8 something ounces for $8.50. Adjusted for inflation, this should be about $66.00. Found online for about $15.

Lower Left:

Knize Ten - the ten is "the handicap of a crack polo player." Pretty pitiful if you have to explain that to a reader of Vogue.

I know someone who can play polo. Finally some VoguePoints. I belong.

Knize -- wow. (Go here for the company site that for some reason alludes to Knize Ten, but doesn't sell it.) Still here and holding up. I know nothing of men's scents. I've never even considered buying scent for a man. I have vaguely heard of this, but was expecting it to have slid down the scale to Target or oblivion along with the others. No. It inspires passion in the manly bosoms of online reviewers: one says it smells like a car repair shop -- for Ferraris. Another says it smells like a high quality tire. Someone else: old petroleum. And men love it.

A small bottle sells now for $70.00, which is about what it sold for then (adjusted).

Knize Ten was inspired or helped along in some fashion I am not sure of by Ernst Deutsch-Dryden- artist, exile, costume designer (?) -- of Paris, Vienna, Los Angeles.

This Bugatti poster - or postage stamp - is from a year after the birth of Knize Ten. I suppose this is why it doesn't smell like horses.

Bottom Right: Aphrodisia by Faberge. Launched in 1938. Gone. Doesn't seem like a cologne for men.

Well, that ends Part One. Let's take a break.

Let's go to the movies!

* Mothers, daughters. Black, white. Rich, poor. Tragedy, triumph, tragedy.

* One big, blowsy movie! Sandra Dee was quite decent; thus the disappointment in Gidget.

Juanita Moore -- ah. Every scene excruciating. How did she make herself do it? She was an actual human being in Suddenly Last Summer - nympho bitch cat-fighting with drunken bitch in madhouse -- small role. Lana Turner was Lana Turner.

* Half this movie was a reasonably enjoyable Sirk extravaganza. The other half was The Help of its day -- although unfair to The Help. But similar jerking around of audience emotion. Similar self-congratulatory tone. Why couldn't they make Juanita Moore a real human being? But -- watchable in an avert-your-eyes way. If that makes sense.

On the First Day of Christmas . . . One Vogue Subscription

2011-11-26T23:36:00.000-08:00

Just a lick and a promise this week - how strange that phrase looks in print!

It's Christmas! The orbits of 1959 and 2011 intersect this month, so let's just break the rules and skip around the issue, hitting as many Christmas pages as possible. Will be posting randomly and often until Christmas. First up - Vogue itself.

It doesn't look any better in real life. An eye lurking behind a dried-up bit of Christmas tree. Why not a half-eaten cookie as well?

Verbiage: Vigilant. Exacting. With the sure touch of authority, Vogue reports the important fashion news in its 20 issues a year . . .
Within each Vogue -- complete reports of fashion in all its phases . . . clothes, accessories and personal beauty . . . decor, entertainment and travel . . .news in names, scenes and events . . . provocative contributions of acclaimed authors. . .

I wonder if anyone has ever described herself as "vigilant and exacting." Does sound like the typical Vogue editor, though.

"Excitement" is missing.

Twenty issues a year? Six-fifty sounds like a deal, but in today's dollars that would be: $50.58. You can get 36 issues for $40.00 now - either way you look at it (years or issues), it's a steal. Either that, or Vogue was a very expensive magazine in 1959. On purpose.

The post card is still attached! The address: Vogue, Greenwich, Connecticut. All spelled out - no ZIP. No possibility to pay by credit card. How did it ever work?

Let's go to the movies!

* Aliens attack. Led by Japan, the Earth fights back.

* Like the other space movies this year (so far), no attempt whatsoever of nuanced, or even recognizably human types. But I soon began to notice that scene after scene was a living Analog cover. I couldn't wait for what came next -- an Oscar-Meyer weiner space vehicle! Attack of the Teletubbies! And the music was great. (By the ridiculously prolific Akira Ifukube, best known for Godzilla. Can't resist: Go here and read the list of movies and their English translations.

* A lot of fun. Here's the American trailer, also very choice itself.

Lesser of Two Evils - But Which?

2011-11-23T21:34:00.000-08:00

This week: fur, chemicals and my own personal Jesus.

This woman does not look like 1959. Maybe it's her makeup, but she looks unmodern. Rather late 1940's. Her expression is tense. She reminds me of the few European women I knew in Orange County in the 1960s - out of place, old fashioned.

The fur is another EMBA Autumn Haze, once more photographed by Virginia Thoren. See my earlier post for the EMBA/UMPA thing. Coming soon: a fur cheat sheet and a field trip to the Saks fur salon - if there is one in San Francisco.

Maybe it is because I am doing this, but I have never before noticed so much fur in present-day Vogue editorials. So much unapologetic fur. (And once more -- how bad is it, really? It is repugnant. But so are a lot of things that don't trigger the moral outrage that fur does.)

Fur and me:

I had a mouton jacket that my mother wore in the 1950s. I wore it in college and could not possibly have looked fat, but always felt roly-poly. Don't know what happened to it. It had that nice, satin lining you see in fur coats - but not the embroidered initials.

Tried on a fur coat at the fancy Salvation Army Store in Pasadena once. Either mink or raccoon. It did not suit me.

In the mid-1960s we lived in an apartment complex in Fullerton, California. It was said of a woman from "back east" whom nobody liked: She's the kind of woman who wears a fur coat to empty the garbage. That was because she did wear her fur to empty the garbage. She did not look elegant emptying the garbage.

Jack Winter pants, the premium denim of their day ($15.00 converted to $113.00) They don't look too comfortable. Ur- mom-pants.

Quick facts on Jack Winter: manufacturer of ladies' pants from 1953 through the seventies. Not slacks - pants. Based in Wisconsin. Engineered for a tight fit. Although I don't think that worked out so well on the model in plaid.

These pants were half wool and half acrylic. I am still not able to explain what acrylic is. Oddly enough, when I first started this blog, I was very curious about the physics of various fabrics, why they were stretchy or shiny. Despite staring at numerous scientific websites, I still haven't a clue. But I do understand this: Creslan was made by American Cyanamid, a company that upon its demise in 1994, left a foul chemical corpse.

Which reminds me that I have come across fur one other time: there was a small mink farm in the woods next to the small town in Germany where my husband grew up. You could smell it for quite a ways. One year we went back and the mink were gone. I don't know how badly the woods were contaminated, but it wasn't as bad as a Superfund site.

I'm coming down once more cautiously on the side of cruelty: there is something in-your-face loathsome about killing a mink to make a coat. The impersonal poisoning of a chemical dump is also loathsome. I'm beginning to accept mink farms. Can't countenance seal fur. Which turned up this month in Vogue.

But is fur necessary at all? No. Thus indefensible. Like fois gras, I suppose. Still, it is beautiful and I'm open to persuasion. How about some gorgeous animal that died a natural death? Why not?

Does anyone actually wear fur? Certainly not in Berkeley and Oakland. Although, I have long had the notion of sweeping into the Tuesday night Berkeley City Council meeting, dripping with mink and Shalimar, demanding first cleaner sidewalks, then foreign policy. I won't do it without the mink.

Let's Go to the Movies!

  * The ups and downs of a Prince of Judea, with mystical interludes and a cast of thousands.

  * Charlton Heston is often acting by himself, especially with Stephen Boyd - a big year for him - who seemed a lot happier in Best of Everything; chariot race and dramatic pacing better in 1925 version; story doesn't even make sense; no dramatic tension; turgid direction gives ample time to ponder holes in plot both big and small: Why do Esther and Ben Hur's mother send him into the leper cave alone only to blunder around the leper tents scaring the poor occupants and causing much distress to his beloved, dying sister? Why does it seem as if only a few hours elapses between the Sermon on the Mount and the crucifixion? If Ben Hur is the Prince of Judea and filthy rich, why does he have no friends to help him find his mother in prison? Aside from the sea battle and chariot race - why doesn't anything really happen?

  * Jesus (Claude Heater) and I were once agents at the same Prudential Real Estate office in San Francisco. He was notable for little selling and much opining.

Hey - it's December 1959! Let's shop A Vogue Christmas from now until the end of the year - our year. Best music, food, gifts of 1959.

Watery Pursuits

2011-11-13T00:08:00.000-08:00

In 1959, it was the best of times (booming California sportswear industry) and the worst of times (the food); and at the movies, Charlton Heston remembers to act.

Let's get the slab o' print over first.

"Mediterranean flavour" -- flavour. American Vogue continues suffering its sad inferiority complex. Did no one see Room at the Top this year? Or Expresso Bongo? Did British Vogue spell it "flavor" out of some weird friendship pact? All right - I won't mention it again.

But British Vogue was far superior in at least one way, and that is flavour.

Here we have Peter Powel, whoever he is, with his gruesome directions to "slowly and painstakingly" crush salt cod in milk, "crushing away like mad" for half an hour to achieve some kind of paste to spread on toast to eat with potatoes and truffles.

They have Elizabeth David and French Regional Cooking. (Or anyway, she's in the one British Vogue I have - August, 1957. A very good issue.)

Why didn't Jessica Daves hire Julia Child?

This is the second issue in which there is an article on food that no one in her right mind would ever cook. The directions are jokey; the ingredients often unattainable, especially in 1950's America. It is all very arm's length - in October, whoever it was gathered recipes from her Portuguese friends, who collected them from their cooks. This time: "Here, four fresh ways to cook fish, the recipes gathered by Peter Powel, whose lot it has been to spend a number of years along the Mediterranean shore." That qualifies him?

Apart from cod butter: deep-fried cod with capers, garnished with walnuts and olives and blanketed by a wine sauce - (actually, it sounds very much like something you'd find in a tapas bar, except for the wine sauce); a fish soup; a description of poached moustelle, one of the "finest and rarest" Mediterranean fish. Find it at your local Piggly Wiggly!

Food in 1959 Vogue is pretentious, unsavory, mysterious, and not at all sensual. This is as far as it gets from the intrepid Jeffrey Steingarten, The Man Who Ate Everything, and one of the reasons I've kept my Vogue subscription no matter what. Not to mention a recent piece in which intrepid - only word for it - Hamish Bowles climbed through the backyards of West Oakland looking for free food -- an article I cannot link to. Hella lame.

*** (denoting an interval of research)

Ah - my ignorance is on full display. And I am unfair. The cod butter is brandade de morue, a real dish, made also by Julia Child. A food processor eliminates the need to "crush away like mad" for half an hour. Here is a picture (and recipe) from a Jacques Pepin version:

I lack intrepidness. I am not going to make this.

This woman's neck is a bit too elongated. But never mind. A rare bit of gush-- I love mille fleur. I like the bodice and the waist of this, the way the bottom of this is cut, your thighs would never look good. Still -- a nice suit and an arresting ad. (The background looks better in real life.)

I will also gush over the "Limited Editions" font. This suit is one of the "Crown Jewels of the Sea." I have seen other Rose Marie Reid ads - many of her swimsuits are mere "Jewels of the Sea." And, anyway, this is a swimsheath named Cambria. First great phrase of the issue: ". . . mere ounces of softness shape you. . ."

I've always liked the Rose Marie Reid ads. But who was Rose Marie Reid?

She was one of the big swimsuit designers and manufacturers, along with Cole of California and Catalina -- all West Coast brands. She was a devout and active Mormon, originally from Canada. Most interesting, for me, in 1960 she opened a $2,000,000.00 "modernistic" model factory in the San Fernando Valley. I have a sneaking feeling that it is located at the bottom of the Sherman Oaks Galleria, or whatever it's called now. She was also remembered (somewhere in the comments of a Mormon blog - lost it now) as an early equal-opportunity employer. More later - I've ordered the biography written by her daughter.

In keeping with aquatic theme - let's see the other Charlton Heston film of 1959 --

* A salvage boat owner finds more than he bargains for on what seems to be an abandoned freighter.

* This turned out to be a pretty good, engrossing thriller about maritime insurance. Really. Gary Cooper is old and sad; I swear there's a moment when Charlton Heston seems to make the decision to help out a fellow actor.

* Richard Harris very good in a supporting bit. Exciting storm at sea. Definitely worth a remake.

Next week: fur vs. chemicals, and Ben Hur.

Tale of Two Factories

2011-11-05T22:31:00.000-07:00

This week: a cotton mill and a perfume factory meet different fates; and, at the movies, an alien octopus threatens mankind.

First, these ladies are standing in front of a gigantico Mexican sugar cookie!

A lot of different companies came together for this, including a slew of defunct department stores listed in the small print at the bottom of the ad (Bullocks!). Avondale Cotton - a company that appears to have been known for both its progressive "corporate welfare" and its exploitation of workers -- no, we're not getting away from this. Briefly - founded in Alabama in 1897, boomed after World War I and into the 1920s, partly because of extensive use of women and children night workers. In early 1930s, labor unions got the work week down to 55 hours for day shifts and 50 hours at night. Still better than being a sharecropper.

The problem in the 1950's for the American cotton industry was cheap imports from Japan. (What happened to the Japanese cotton industry?) Also - makers of unnatural fibers seemed to do to cotton what the oil industry did to the Red Cars and other city trains. We'll see a lot more mention of Dacron, etc. than cotton.

The Avondale company went thoroughly defunct in 2008. In June 2011, its factory in Pell, Alabama burnt:

But, hey - let's party!

"Terrifico! Magnifico Fiesta De Mexico by Sportmasters of California"

"Fiesta fashions -- bellas, inspiradas! En pic 'n' rib cotton de AVONDALE (little-or-no-iron). Con embroidery por Joseph Aarons. Isobella wears: Pant-alons y Mexican wedding shirt. Carmen wears: peasant skirt y Caballero camisole. . ."

Worst gringo Spanish ever. One of the worst ads, so far. But not as strange as this:

When I look at that picture, my first thought is not she is a "woman who wants to be loved;" but that she is a woman casting a spell on David Bowie's older brother - note the one blue eye!

I have a vague awareness of DuBarry, but know nothing about it. Oh, hey! It's British - or was. Good call, that. Many people have fond memories or reveries of the DuBarry factory in Hove, which has been turned into flats.

The factory is lovely:

From "Hove Daily Photo" at blogspot

The DuBarry motto: For Loveliness That Lasts. And it has.

Let's Go to the Movies!

* Something is wreaking havoc under the North Pole!
* Atomic submarine warfare, a UFO, an octopus from outer space - none of it adds up to anything. Good poster, though.
* I had a little plastic submarine that you put baking soda in and it cruised around the bottom of the bathroom sink. And it starred in this film!

Occupy This Vogue

2011-10-29T12:49:00.000-07:00

On the left, the Donald Trump Plutocracy - Rich and Wrong

On the right, Luxury for Everyone

Kind of odd to advertise a private plane in a fashion magazine. In a brief wikisearch, I find that Beechcraft manufactured 128 Travel Air models in 1959. Were even one of them sold because a woman flipped through Vogue, saw this ad, thus choosing Beechcraft over Piper or Cherokee? Or bought a plane at all?

The verbiage: Round the clock, she must always appear at her best. . . she's a cause celebre. . . (In what way? What did she do? I don't think this phrase means what you think it means.) recognized from coast to coast. Each costume must be chosen with care. Everything about her must meet her standards of quality and distinction. (Why? Oddly reductive.) That's why she chose the Beechcraft Travel Air for her private aircraft. What an elegant servant it is. (What an odd sentence this is.) Smooth, quiet, efficient. It's always at her beck and call. (She just whistles and up it bounds. Really irritating copy - convenience of getting to plane hardly a quality of the plane itself. Is Beechcraft slack in other ways, too? Does raise the question.) The Travel Air is her own private sky chariot . . where she can relax and luxuriate in tastefully appointed surroundings, far above the tumult (that would be us). If privacy, beauty, luxury, spaciousness is important to you, then Beechcraft is your plane.

Safety? So prole.

Seriously, if I were shopping for a plane in 1959, I'd get something else. And this lack of logic at Beechcraft continues to this day, or at least to October 11, 2011. (Link to full article.)

"Bill Boisture, the chief executive of Hawker Beechcraft, set a dour tone early Sunday morning when he lamented the “inconsistencies” in the market outlook. He also denounced the Obama administration and some Democrats in Congress for being “nothing short of irresponsible” because they had uttered the words “corporate jet” with populist disdain, while calling for measures like reducing certain tax benefits for using private planes.

The industry correctly points out that it accounts for a large number of domestic jobs — 120,000 in manufacturing, down 20,000 since 2008 — and a healthy chunk of the American export trade. But while he railed against Washington, Mr. Boisture was also thrown a bit on the defensive at a news conference when it was noted that Hawker had closed one of its Kansas plants and outsourced jobs abroad. “We felt American industry was playing on an unlevel playing field,” he responded."

Bill Boisture

Back to 1959 -- See the coat?

Somailand cheetah. Designed by Sarmi, or Count Fernando Sarmi, designer for Pat Nixon.

Now, I find this an odd choice for the woman of luxury. There is something a bit skimpy about cheetah fur. A comparison of leopard and cheetah skins:

(I think this picture is from somebody's vacation in Namibia, of all places -- third reference I've come across this month. Leopard is on the left - rings, plusher. Cheetah has dots.)

There's just something cheap looking about that coat. I'm sure we'll run into Count Sarmi later. Let's move on.

Usually the golden era of something is the opposite of Futurama anything. Especially if the golden era is here again, which puts Futurama in the past . . oh, forget it.

"The elegance of metal compacts returns!" Are they really that elegant? The ad is pretty nifty - embossed, texturized, shiny. But what does the Van Cleef & Arpels angle add? Seems unnecessary.

I do like the enthusiasm of this ad: Gold! Eiffel Tower! Paris! Van Cleef & Arpels! Luxury for The Tumult! ! !

This was an expensive ad for Revlon. They had to buy the back, too:

In 2011 dollars, these compacts cost about $23.00 to $44.00. Kind of an odd price point - hard to pay $23 for a drugstore compact; hard to imagine a drugstore compact designed by Van Cleef & Arpels. And why so cheap? They'd squeeze out a lot more now.

I can easily imagine Chanel or Lancome selling a fancy compact. Or, further down the scale - Estee Lauder. Right now, you can get a pretty nice metal compact for $28. The limited edition compacts go up to $75.00.

But where is Chanel, Lancome or Estee Lauder in 1959? We haven't seen what we would consider today a department store brand. So, was Revlon sold in department stores? No idea.

Here is the entire spread:

And the page mate, again, quite well chosen.

"The very essence of opulence." EMBA mink again; mutation mink again; autumn haze again; Virginia Thoren photographer again.

I do like the way the black gathers at the bottom, like smoke. This woman looks more than ready to step into a private plane.

This Week at the Movies:

* In 1929, two musicians join an all-girl band after witnessing the St. Valentine's Day-esque massacre.
* Tony Curtis good; Jack Lemmon actually believable and affecting as Daphne; Marilyn Monroe is Marilyn Monroe.
* Exceptionally well put together, and funny, but nothing really lingered.

Mad Man

2011-10-22T22:40:00.000-07:00

Vogue is not making this easy - but still, I have to hand it to whoever arranged the ad page. Putting the two worst ads together was probably the right choice. But still. Downer.

Bad . . .

Here we have Bill Blass, on his way to becoming Bill Blass, Inc., designing for Maurice Rentner, the King of Seventh Avenue (or the Napoleon) "paying tribute" to Galey & Lord, a new-to-me-but-quite-large textile manufacturer, a division of Burlington Industries, which was as big as it sounds.

I can only depart information here for those who are interested in following up. This is just not grabbing me. New York Times Obituary for Maurice Rentner; creepy website for current manifestation of Burlington Industries; New York Times Obituary for Bill Blass. (This link has been glitching - good luck.)

A quick image search shows that Galey & Lord ads can be quite kicky. Not this one.

Here is Bill Blass - the thought of whom has always bored me silly, but he seems to have been a nice man.

And worse . . . but actually it's just when I wonder what the hell I'm doing here that something interesting turns up.

They've got to be kidding -- Revlon of the Flama Grande! Flama Grande! Flama Grande! ????

Oh, the difference an ad agency makes!

From the New York Times, February 2, 1959:

"Writing an advertisement can be relatively simple. So can writing a letter. But the creation of an ad containing a letter in an envelope is another matter.

This is a conclusion reached by Revlon, Inc. C. J. LaRoche and Vogue magazine. . . The latest issue of Vogue has an ad for Revlon''s new Ultima, a skin cream. An envelope that duplicates the personal stationery of Charles Revson, president of Revlon, is pasted on a page, with a letter enclosed telling women about the new product.

The envelope is pasted on in a manner that makes it possible to bend it back and expose a canceled postage stamp. This had to be affixed to all subscription copies."

Oddly enough, this idea came from a woman. In July 1958, Frances Shaw, a copy supervisor at LaRoche came up with it. It required:

* 9 tons of paper, 4 tons of special vegetable parchment to simulate Mr. Revlon's stationery and five tons for the magazine page;

* applying each envelope by hand

* pre-canceled stamps

* $45,000.00 for everything, including overtime.

I sold that a copy of that issue - the envelope had disappeared.

Presumably, by December 1959, women rushed out and bought Ultima, and wrote letters of their own to Revlon, or Peggy Olson just made them up.

Exactly a year after the Herculean effort of the envelope, the agency C. J. LaRoche fired their client. Oh, the many bottles of scotch that went into that decision.

Chester LaRoche: "We believe the best result is realized when there is an agreed upon plan to achieve specific needs through a specified series of actions. Revlon, on the other hand, finds that best results are achieved when action is determined by reaction to situations and competitive moves. . . We found that the account took more of our time and effort than we thought prudent, both in relation to our clients and to our own plans for continued growth."

That was a good episode!

Chester LaRoche, of whom I can find no photograph except in his obituary, was the quarterback for Yale in 1916. He was head of the War Advertising Council during World War II. An interesting person.

Now, let's go to the movies!

* In this living, breathing, issue of Vogue, three girls go to New York to work at a place very much like Conde Nast.

* This was my favorite movie when I was 10. Still very fond of it, but it sure is awful in many ways. (Robert Evans (!!) as rich Wasp heel, who. . .no -- you've got to see it to believe it.)

* Hope Lange and Stephen Boyd very good together; Suzy Parker dreadful. Joan Crawford is Joan Crawford.

Next -- another wack Revlon ad.

Oh, How I Cried When That Aldehyde Died!

2011-10-08T14:50:00.000-07:00

Apologies to whoever wrote, "Oh, how we cried when that Naugahyde died!" Which is almost an Allan Sherman parody of "Chim Chim Cheree," but not quite. And so not keeping with the thunderous luxury of the next two pages.

Allons-y!

Van Cleef & Arpels -- very fine, very expensive, as much a part of my life as the planet Jupiter. The jewels pictured are actual size, which means very big indeed.

Go here for every page of every issue of L'Officiel, and all related magazines. Get an iPad. You will probably never return. (This is the best I can do with this. You can find it at the beginning of the November/December 1959 issue. They are very smart over at L'Officiel and don't let you rip out their pages and decorate your blog with them.)

The bottle, the name, the typeface itself all stun you into submission. Then the aldehydes deliver the coup de grace, which would be a fine name for a perfume.

I'll be every woman in the consumerized world has had a bottle of this at least once in her life. But what is it? It is a bit of everything, all rolled up and held together by an organic compound, our friend the aldehyde. It is "a woman."

My other new find, Perfume Shrine, will now explain in a way I never could, how this works, and why Chanel is not actually the first to do this. Go here -- really, do go. It's well-written and entertaining, written by an archaeologist, not even in her first language.

I don't feel like a woman in Chanel No. 5. I feel like a Perfume Monster.

Let's go to the movies!

* A breathless nations awaits the defloration of Doris Day.

* Much better than I had remembered. As a jeering teenager, I hated this. I know better, now. Doris Day has marvelous wtf scene in taxi. And, leaving aside the layers of Rock Hudson, or not, has anything really changed? Lolololol. No.

* Thelma Ritter as a comic alcoholic. This should be appalling. And it is -- except Thelma Ritter in every scene makes this whole thing a lot more human than you'd expect. Especially when she advises Doris Day not to pick up men in bars: "It doesn't work." She's marvelous.

Black Diamonds

2011-10-01T17:39:00.000-07:00

"Black Diamonds" on both pages - real diamonds on neither; and This Week At the Movies -- No Name on the Bullet.

Details -

Uncredited photo, but I've seen the blonde model in other Virginia Thoren photos for fur ads - so it may be her again. But of no importance at the moment.

Here we have South West African Persian Lamb, aka Astrakhan, which reminds me of that Harry Potter title as in prisoner of. In 1959, "South West Africa" was a part of South Africa; it is now the Republic of Namibia. I am ashamed that I knew so little about Namibia - including its history as a German colony.

A potted history: Starting in 1907, German furrier Paul Thorer - of a house of furriers dating back to the early 1600s -- encouraged the breeding of karakul sheep in Namibia. In 1973, the peak of production, breeders sold more than 3 million pelts - known as black diamonds - to European furriers. Then came a drought and a backlash to the fur industry, and a near total collapse of a decent living for Namibian farmers. More recently, there has been more drought, but an increase in interest in karakul sheep, both for fur and for wool for carpets. According to figures from Swakara, the present-day trade organization, a bit more than 55,000 pelts were sold at the most recent fair in Copenhagen - high demand, sold out. That is a 98 per cent decrease from 1973.

Persian Lamb, or karakul, is what Hamid Karzai's little hat is made of. The breed is one of the oldest of domesticated animals and does well in harsh climates of all kinds: hence Namibia. Here is an American take on Karakul sheep:

Did you watch the video? Did you notice the skip over the lamb pelts? The very best lamb pelt is from still-born lambs. This is common among karakuls - harsh conditions cause frequent aborted pregnancies. But regular lamb pelts are good, too. So. . . pelts there are.

The lambs are so cute - and lamb korma is so tasty.

I didn't watch the video exposing the cruelty of the Namibian fur industry. Probably is cruel. Keeping a goldfish is cruel. Yet raising sheep for food and trade has kept a lot of us alive for millennia. It would be conflicted to feel sorry for people suffering in Africa and then go livid when they pursue an old business that nets farmers food and cash and an interesting perch in the fashion industry.

Back to the ad. These "blacker, brighter, lighter" coats, we are startled to read, are special "AA" designs. Spill proof? No - "meticulously proportioned" for the Average American under 5' 5." Petite does sound so much better. But what was the issue about sizes? No idea -- moderately detailed search turned up nothing.

Jack Zimmerman, the designer of the coats, of whom I could find no information beyond that he was a designer of fur coats . . . Oh, well. The discovery of Namibia will have to suffice. There is a place there called the Skeleton Coast . . . very enticing.

Earlier I had mentioned that the fine jewelers almost always used black and white, while the costume jewelry people advertised in glorious color. I find I am wrong on both counts - but here not too wrong. The jewelry is black or clear -- or for an amazing bit of synchronicity in page mateage -- "black diamonds" and "clear crystal."

The brand name of "Albert Weiss" has been, or was at one time, "revitalized." I can find no more about it than anyone else with a minute and a browser.

This Week At the Movies (Why not give it its own title?) --

* Pleasant assassin arrives in town; chaos ensues.

* Tidy, almost noirish, pacifist Western that could have been great if had been more fully developed.

* Audie Murphy just good enough and strange enough to pull it off. Other male lead, whoever it was, completely miscast. Virginia Grey underused. But, still, interesting enough to almost recommend.

Next week -- the real goods.

Weekend in France

2011-09-24T21:03:00.000-07:00

And In this Post . . . The Opaque Jessica Daves . . .The Nun's Story

A quick and welcome trip to France on these two pages.

Carnet de Bal, which means dance card, which is what young men wrote their names in when claiming a dance from you, which conjures up a whole lost world. This is a lovely ad. The small print says you can buy this perfume in the Revlon department of finer stores, which is confusing because it made me think that "de Revillon" just meant the extra fancy division of Revlon. It's not. It is or was part of the furrier house.

According to Perfume Intelligence - a new find -- Carnet de Bal was "an oriental floral aldehyde chypre parfum with citrus top notes; heart notes of cyclamen, rose, jasmine, lily and ylang-ylang; base notes of amber, patchouli, civet and musk and is classified D3f." I find D3f the most romantic of all the D3s, don't you? This stuff was strong.

Bardot plus bikini equals gingham play suits. Why is France mad about gingham? Because:

Brigitte Bardot wore a pink gingham wedding dress his year when she married Jacques Charrier. Voila!

And now back to the very boring Jessica Daves, who you will surely have forgotten was the editor of Vogue. I obtained a copy of Ready-Made Miracle from the San Francisco State Library, renewed it once and still haven't been able to get through it. I did learn about the buildings along Seventh Avenue that housed the various branches of the fashion industry.

I was trying to tease out a sense of Jessica Daves herself. For a fashion editor, she had a remarkably nuts-and-bolts turn of mind. She was very interested in how many actual items were manufactured by various companies and various classes of companies: better dresses, day dresses, catalog houses. The book reminded me of something in a high school library you'd use for a report: cheery, confident, full of facts. It could have been written by a home ec teacher.

Ms. Daves probably thought herself rather broadminded. She made two flattering comments about Jews as a race -- they are loyal and they have some other wonderful quality that I can't find now. Strange and unsophisticated for a woman in her position. She did have one startling phrase: (About Lana Turner) "although that tightly pulled sweater across her surprised young bosom . . ."

This week's trip to the movies:

* A young nun struggles with the vow of obedience in her convent and in the Congo.

* This was really good. I saw it as a child and remember feeling so shocked when Audrey Hepburn's hair was cut off. I had forgotten everything else about it. Audrey Hepburn was flawless. The movie is beautiful, both the European and the African scenes. I was quite surprised at the lack of sentimentality.

* A rare film of any time so occupied with a woman working hard.

Surfing

2011-09-17T16:22:00.000-07:00

Once more, whoever chose the page mates is playing an excellent match game. Lovely use of black and white on both sides. Page details:

This is the third lacy dress in a row. Roxane Kamenstein, sister of the better known designer Karen Stark (whom I find myself pretending to have heard of, when I really have not), was the in-house designer for Samuel Winston from 1952. In 1960, she won a Coty (do you win those?) for her work in evening wear. In this article from 1965, the startling idea of the Seventh Avenue designer is broached. Women don't just want an afternoon dress -- whatever that is -- they want a "Samuel Winston." Just like they don't want a painting, they want a Rauschenberg. Who would not really be a Seventh Avenue artist. . .

I can find no reference to "Samuel Winston," except as a dress manufacturer. Am suspecting it was a "classy name" to put on the label and there was no such person. Dunno.

This is from Dresses on the Fifth floor of Saks, so probably not a "Sophie" design of the Third Floor. I remember lamenting last time -- the October 15 issue -- that a single name like "Sophie" is unsearchable on Google, thus lost to history. Not true. Found her. But she has nothing to do with this page.

Car upholstery was apparently very chic in 1959 for suits.

This ad makes no sense. She is "checking in" for "shore leave," but isn't she going the wrong way? And what was the man on the left supposed to add?

This would cost more than $1,200.00 today, and I would pass it up then and now.

This week's movie, by odd coincidence, was Gidget. Cliff Robertson, the Kahuna, died this week.

No trailer to be found:

This clip contains one of the best scenes in the movie -- the surfers with torches. Very cool. But very brief.

* Sixteen-year-old girl eschews "man hunts" with her rather slutty-minded friends, yet ends up as mascot of a brotherhood of surfers, led by disaffected Korean War vet. The foregoing is perfectly true, yet somehow doesn't sum it up all that accurately.

* Knew nothing about the history of Gidget - the girl, the book -- but was expecting better. Thought it would be a bit more like Pillow Talk -- silly, but with some actual human beings in it. No. Also, Sandra Dee was fine in Imitation of Life, so was surprised at how excruciating to watch she was here. Cliff Robertson seemed embarrassed; James Darren came out the best, manfully plodding through. Apparently no one thought a decent screenplay was important here.

* Bored, so found myself focusing on the Indian print bedspread in the Kahuna's shack. I remember stacks and stacks of them in stores in The Haight in 1967, and then in the hippy stores that turned up in the early malls in the early 1970's, but where would you buy such a thing in 1959?

Two Lace Dresses/Four Degrees of Separation

2011-09-10T15:43:00.000-07:00

Not too inspiring, n'est pas? Allors -

Disappointing to hit the doldrums so few pages in. L'Aiglon, was a fairly large "house dress" manufacturer reported on far more frequently in the business pages than the fashion page. It seems to be best known for a lawsuit against a rival who used a L'Aiglon dress in an ad and then sold a very inferior dress in its stead. I also found a suit with California's own Equalization Board in which L'Aiglon tried to get out of paying a very small payroll tax on the salary of its California rep. Nice.

Here we have a daytime dress -- I think. Today you'd pay about $190.00 for it - ($24.95 in 1959). This seems steep to me. Maybe it was L'Aiglon's top dress of the season. It looks so uncomfortable -- that model is wearing serious corsetry. And she's wearing the same kind of shoes that came with my Barbie doll -- little default pumps. The whole ad makes no sense whatsoever. L'Aiglon was based out of Pennsylvania or New York.

Next.

Dress by John Moore of Talmack. Photo by Louise Dahl-Wolfe. Available at Bonwit Teller. This is much better. The dress looks like fun to wear, although what color is mimosa?

Louise Dahl-Wolfe we have already met in the October 15 issue. Here is an excellent piece from the NYT from 2000 that unfortunately lacks photos. Fortunately, I have some. I'll post them later. In 1959, Mrs. Dahl-Wolf was right between quitting Harper's Bazaar (1958) and quitting fashion photography (1960).

The designer, John Moore, described somewhere as a "blond from Texas," designed Marilyn Monroe's wedding dress (Arthur Miller, husband). Thank goodness for some color:

The Movie of the Week -- The irritating-in-every-way-possible The Fugitive Kind. Spoilers aplenty.

First - there's no trailer. Second -- even though it shows up in the WikiList for 1959, it apparently was released in 1960, thus eliminating the need for me to see it at all. Third -- the whole damn movie itself. Here is a key scene -- I can't even get it to load in the center of the page, goddamn it.

* Usual Tennessee Williams horror. This time a drifter drifts into town, gets a job in a dry-goods store, gets himself and inexplicably Italian mistress luridly killed.

* Six degrees (actually four) of separation between Marlon Brando and me: my mother's cousin was best friends with Marlon's sister Jocelyn in Libertyville, Illinois. Marlon was a strange boy. Here, he would be a lot more riveting with a bit of direction. He is so different from any other man on the screen at that time - except possibly Montgomery Clift - that it is hard to believe he was possible. This movie comes between Guys and Dolls and Mutiny on the Bounty.

* The women in this film: Anna Magnani, strange and compelling, more out of place than I think was really meant. Why does her character have such a thick accent? Not Italian war bride, as I had assumed. Joanne Woodward. Why was she channelling Courtney Love? Maureen O'Hara. Why did her character, an artist -- oh, irony! -- go blind and crawl through the gutter, and what did that have to do with Marlon Brando? No explanation at all.

And a fourth * this week: By sheer coincidence, I saw The Help right before seeing this. Do Southern writers make the South seem so awful just to keep the rest of us out? It would have been a lot better coincidence if I had seen Odds Against Tomorrow this week because I should have mentioned that Cicely Tyson had a micro bit as a bartender in that movie and that she just popped out the few seconds she was on screen. She should have had a much different career.

Meta-posting: best search term of the week -- young lady is putting off nylon socks. Traced to an office complex in Litja, Slovenia. Intriguing, but I don't think I ever wrote the word "socks."