Nalina Moses

ARCHITECT, WRITER, CURATOR

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THE PROMISE OF A NEW DRESSThe Cazalet Chronicles, a trilogy of novels by Elizabeth Jane Howard, follows a wealthy English family during World War II.  Three generations of the family, along with their servants, lovers, nurses, school friends, and a …

THE PROMISE OF A NEW DRESS

The Cazalet Chronicles, a trilogy of novels by Elizabeth Jane Howard, follows a wealthy English family during World War II.  Three generations of the family, along with their servants, lovers, nurses, school friends, and a governess, retreat to a country estate in Sussex to brave out the war.  The daily life here is richly described.  Howard has a gift in offering seemingly mundane details (what’s served for dinner, what’s blooming in the garden, what’s being worn) that also, somehow, work to reveal the inner life of each character.  There’s a precision and ease about the writing that makes the harried, melodramatic storytelling on Downton Abbey, which covers similar territory, seem downright amateurish.

During the war clothing can only be purchased with ration coupons, so the Cazalet women continually mend existing garments and fashion new ones from scraps.  But every so often they take the train into London and visit a dress shop run by the socialite Hermoine Monkworth.  They typically visit as they are about to embark on a new romantic drama, and Hermoine outfits them properly for it while also offering words of encouragement.  For these ladies a new dress is more than a new dress.  It’s a treasure, a talisman for romance, glamor and sex in a world whose foundations seem to be crumbling about them.

Juliettte Longuet’s silk Olympe dress is that kind of dress.   It’s both modern and modest, cut slim, skimming the body, without any fuss. Villy could wear it to to rendezvous with her composer heartthrob, Angela to go dancing at a club, or Zoe to meet her soldier paramour.  It’s a warm, deep shade of peacock blue that would draw attention in the dark wood-paneled lounge of a private club, or a first class train compartment.  The silk has a lustrous skin, and is embellished  with tiny pintucks and bias inserts.  The dress has been crafted like jewelry, and would feel just as precious for the woman wearing it.

Image courtesy of Juliette Longuet.

February 01, 2015 by Nalina Moses
February 01, 2015 /Nalina Moses
FASHION, Elizabeth Jane Howard, Cazalet Chronicles, Juliette Longuet, 1930's, DRESSES, Downton Abbey
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One thinks of Elsa Schiaparelli as a wit more than an artist.  What pops to mind first are the shoe hat, the lobster gown, and the seed packet dress, creations that are more like one-liners than clothes.  What becomes apparent when seeing her work u…

One thinks of Elsa Schiaparelli as a wit more than an artist.  What pops to mind first are the shoe hat, the lobster gown, and the seed packet dress, creations that are more like one-liners than clothes.  What becomes apparent when seeing her work up close, as it’s possible to at the Met’s new exhibit Impossible Conversations, is that she was, also, an impeccable seamstress.  The dinner jackets are fitted and fastened with armor-like severity, and the floor-length gowns are draped asymmetrically, on the bias, with a sumptuous, casual mastery.  Without wit – without any ideas at all – the finesse of Schiaparelli’s cutting and draping would assure her reputation.

The Met exhibit pairs Schiaparelli with another great Italian fashion designer, Miuccia Prada, and is framed as a series of dialogues between the two.  Throughout the galleries there are video monitors showing the two great ladies chatting with one another in a special film by Baz Luhrmann.  Prada portrays herself, admirably, and actress Judy Davis portrays Schiaparelli with campy excess.  The fineness of the garments on display show up Davis’ portrayal.  (They also, unhappily, show up most of the Prada garments.)  On a mannequin encased in a full-height vitrine, Schiaparelli’s silk lipstick-printed gown looks less like a piece of clothing than a delicate, palpitating, creature.  It’s as if it were born rather than made.  All the cerebral references – to surrealism, to popular culture, to women’s roles – are rendered irrelevant.  When it comes right down to it, Schiaparelli knew how to make a dress.

May 21, 2012 by Nalina Moses
May 21, 2012 /Nalina Moses /Source
FASHION, Metropolitan Museum, EXHIBITS, Prada, Schiaparelli, DRESSES
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