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One of the larger costumed scenes at the beginning of the film

I am not sure how a big budget Hollywood film that takes place between 1918 and 2005 can avoid costuming on a large scale but the makers of this film somehow managed it. The trailers for this film suggested a sweeping saga of a man who experiences the 20th century in reverse to the rest of his generation but the rest of his generation is largely missing from the storyline.

The Curious Case of Benjamin Button begins with battlefield shots of World War One and street scenes celebrating the Armistice of November 11, 1918, however, with few exceptions, such as a Baptist revival meeting in the mid 1920s, the film shrinks to smaller scenes with fewer actors as it progresses. World War II is avoided by taking place in Murmansk (I had to look it up — its a small Russian seaport off the Arctic Ocean parallel to the northern border of Sweden); New York in the late 1940s and Paris in the mid 1950s are only slightly grander than the entire 1960s that takes place almost exclusively in a studio apartment.

The costumer is not responsible for the lack of opportunity to costume the film and has little chance to do much more than outfit street vendors, senior citizens, ballerinas and prostitutes.

Cate Blanchett wearing a McCardell dress, c. 1946?

The costuming department was headed by Jacqueline West whose other historical costuming includes Quills, The New World, and the League of Extraordinary Gentleman (a steampunk version of fashion history). What Ms. West has done in this film is generally very good. Little details such as the Evangelist minister wearing a stiff celluloid collar was a nice touch, and the wardrobe worn by Elizabeth Abbott (the English ambassador’s wife played by Tilda Swinton) looks quintessentially English for the c. 1940 period. Also, Daisy’s Bohemian postwar style is well chosen; the Claire McCardell dress and capezio shoes are perfect for her character, although I believe the dinner scene where she wears the red McCardell dress is supposed to take place in 1946, a couple of years before the time when that dress would have been made.

It’s difficult to point out errors because much of the costuming is straight forward wardrobe. Everything after 1962 is essentially sweaters and skirts or trousers and blouses - nothing particularly fashion conscious. In fact my only complaint here is that perhaps a few more costume clues to set the period would have been useful as the specific dates of scenes were often not given.

The Curious Case of Benjamin Button gets an 8/10 for the costumer but I wouldn’t recommend this film to anyone who wants to see it for the costuming because there is so little of it.

I don’t make new year resolutions because I never keep them. However, I do have one year-end tradition and that is to enter the new year with the least amount of ‘baggage’ from the past year; I try to answer all correspondence, pay off outstanding bills, and dispose of inactive files. In keeping with this tradition I purge my computer of old emails, especially ones from confrontational situations. I have heard that some psychologists recommend writing down negative events and then burning the paper to release the angst; another method I like to use is to tell everyone - for educational reasons of course…

A year ago I bought a pair of 1940s snakeskin shoes with cork heels from an English dealer on eBay to illustrate my book ‘Forties Fashion’. However, instead of the shoes arriving, I received notification from the Wildlife Enforcement Division of Environment Canada that the shoes were made of python and had been impounded and would be destroyed. My reaction was to explain that obviously there had been a mistake since python was not endangered as python purses, belts and shoes were available in most high-end shops. I knew that leopard, jaguar, and sea-turtle, to name a few, were endangered and illegal, but python is a farmed animal, like mink, and surely it wasn’t endangered. I called Andrew Bruce, the Wildlife Officer who wrote me about their confiscation.

Mr. Bruce sent me a link to a long list of species and subspecies of plants and animals that were endangered and apparently there is an Indian subspecies of python that is being threatened by a loss of habitat. However, in other online python forays I found more articles about the problems with pythons in Florida’s everglades that are not indigenous because of pet-owners who release their pet ‘Monty’ into the wild. I also found a snippet about how PETA was putting pressure onto the fashion business for their use of python because in their estimation there are too many python products on the marketplace for what is being reported as farmed in Southeast Asia. Their conclusion is that pythons are being hunted in the wild. The PETA site goes on to describe in great detail how the snakes at farms are killed to obtain the skins. For anyone who has seen ‘Fastfood Nation’, a propaganda film about slaughter houses that masquerades as a comedy, the details are equally unpleasant.

Python snake shoes with cork heels, c. 1945, now destroyed

Of course, the reality of the situation is that confiscating and destroying a pair of antique shoes of cultural and historical significance has no bearing on today’s commercial trade of illegal python skins. However, it has brought attention to the topic. To rectify the situation I was told the eBay seller in the UK was required to obtain a license at a fee of ten pounds to export the 65 year old shoes. I know that ignorance of the law is never allowed as a reason for breaking a law but it now seemed there was no law broken, only a problem with paperwork and procedure. Had she paid the ten pounds, the export license would have been granted and the shoes legally shipped. Apparently when it comes to some laws, its not about what is right or wrong but rather if you pay for your indulgences.

I paid the ten pounds to get the export license but was told by Simon James at the British Wildlife Licensing and Registration Services that the license had to be applied for before the shoes were sent, not after. This little fact could have been told to me before I paid the fee, but no…and no refund was made.

In the end, all this high handed talk about endangered subspecies was really only about greasing some official’s palm to fill out a form. I am sure the pythons in the wild can relax upon hearing that!

This film was released at the 2007 Toronto Film Festival and has just been released as a DVD but I don’t recall it ever being in the theatres. It has received luke warm ratings on the IMDB and I can understand why - but the costuming was not at fault. The outdoor crowd scenes and interior theatre audience shots looked very good, so kudos to the wardrobe department! As for the costume designs, there were few costume changes for Catherine Zeta-Jones, who plays a struggling theatrical performer. Her daytime clothes are suitably subdued looking for a middle class working mother, they even appear slightly out of date in a good way, suggesting thriftiness. However, she also inexplicably owns a couple of glamorous gowns for dining and dancing at the hotel. The audience assumes she has purchased these with what little money she has as an investment to capture Harry Houdini’s interest, but there is no scene that explains this assumption. THere is also one dancing costume from her stage performance that looks bang on for a copy of a Theda Bara slave girl outfit from a 1920s silent movie.

I can’t criticize the costuming for any noticeable errors, although many people may be disappointed by Catherine Zeta-Jones daytime ensembles because they aren’t the cliche ‘flapper’ dresses they might expect to see. In fact the flowery blouses and dark wool skirts are perfect choices for a woman of her status living in Edinborough in the mid 1920s. The costume designer, Jane Greenwood, did an excellent job and I am a bit surprised because she is not known for historical films. Looking at her list of films, the only other costume drama she worked on was the American scenes for 84 Charing Cross. Otherwise her work is usually for contemporary set films, such as Arthur, Can’t Stop the Music, and Glengarry Glen Ross, although she does a lot of costuming for the theatre and it may be there that she cuts her teeth on historical costuming.

My only complaint about the styling of the film has to do with the hair and make-up of the principal characters. Catherine Zeta-Jones, has some odd pinned up, partly cropped and wavey hairstyle that sometimes looks okay when it is dressed for the evening but often looks messy and not true to period. Not every woman did crop her hair in the 1920s but by 1926 those who preferred to keep their longer locks usually did them up into tight rolls at the nape and over the ears. Her daughter in the film, played by Saoirse Rorian wears a shoulder length bob, when a much shorter cheek length bob would have been more appropriate for her age and tomboyish personality. Their hairstyles are not necessarily incorrect for the period, just unusual choices that appeal more to modern aesthetics than proper period style. The make-up is also applied on Catherine Zeta-Jones to appeal to modern aesthetics rather than an accurate 1920s style.

Overall rating for the costuming of Death Defying Acts is a 8/10. A point is lost for degree of difficulty as there is plenty of period information about the 1920s, suitable materials are still available and original garments can still be purchased or rented. The other point is lost for make-up and hair which fails to create the 1920s aesthetic. I know this is not the costumer’s fault, but it does affect the presentation of period accuracy.

It was reported yesterday that during a visit to Iraq President Bush was pelted with two shoes by an angry Iraqi. We often forget in Western Society that clothing can mean more than just keeping up with fashion, and footwear is especially loaded with meaning.

In ancient times, the shoe was often used as a symbol of authority. ‘Upon the land of Edom do I cast my shoe’ (Psalms 60:8) This biblical story refers to the symbolic acquisition or transfer of property — a cultural practice of Assyrians and Hebrews. The symbolic ritual of the shoe was extended in Hebrew culture to express wealth and/or seal a deal. When a loved one dies, Judaic practice for the grieving family is to go shoeless during the mourning period as a sign of poverty because without their loved one they are poor. Also implicit in Judaic law is the ceremonial ‘Halizah’ shoe that was removed by a childless widow from the foot of her unmarried brother-in-law to release him from wedding her.

During the Middle Ages In Western culture shoes came to represent good luck; when renovations were done in homes a well-worn shoe was often placed in the rafters or walls to ward off evil spirits. As early as the 1540s there are references to shoes being thrown after newly married couples to wish them good luck in their new life together; Queen Victoria referred in her diaries to shoes being thrown, for good luck, into the doorway of Balmoral castle upon its completion in 1855.

However, feet and footwear can have very different meanings in different cultures. In Ghana, a king must never touch the earth or he loses his status, so he is always in sandals, even though most of his people are barefoot. In Japan it is rude to sit on the floor with your feet out in front, with your toes pointing at someone.

Shoes and sandals line the doorways of Mosques because shoes are considered unclean in Middle Eastern culture and are removed in the presence of God (Allah) to show respect and submission. To use the shoe or sandal to hit someone, even lightly, is the worst insult that can be made, even showing the soles of your shoes to someone is considered rude in Arab culture

In Western culture, where our colder climate necessitated indoor footwear until central heating became common, it is now becoming popular to request guests to remove their shoes, despite the fact that it has not been our custom and could embarrass guests with smelly feet, holey hosiery, a short stature, or foot deformities. The request is not always warmly received as it suggests the host or hostess care more about the condition of their floors than the comfort and company of their guests.

Although I normally deny any interest in reality TV, I can’t deny I am a keen follower of the ‘So You Think You Can Dance’ shows. Sunday night was the finale of the Canadian version and Nico, not surprisingly, took the top award. Why am I blogging about dance instead of fashion? Because dance and fashion have always had a close relationship. What a dancer wears affects their ability to perform and enhances their movement, especially when it comes to footwear.

In ancient times, every culture developed some form of dance, usually related to harvest or hunt celebrations, marital or maturity rites, or victory over an enemy. In Europe, dance associated with pre-Christian rituals survived the medieval church by becoming secular folk dances. As Christianity spread globally, converts were more easily procured if elements of indigenous culture, such as dance, could be retained alongside their new religious belief. From the Scottish Fling to the Hawaiian Hula, dances that were once pagan rituals became secular folk dances. Some dances even became associated with Christian rites like the religious parades of Latin America where the Samba was born.

The other catalyst for the development of dance was in the distinguishing of class. Masques (balls) became popular Renaissance entertainments at the Italian and French courts in the late 16th century. Dances such as the Farandole and Pavanne were presented in participatory performances to display the dancer’s fine clothing and reflect refinement through erect backs and precise processional movements - the exact opposite of bawdy peasant dances that were usually danced drunkenly, in circles.

French high heeled shoe, c. 1730

By 1700, court dances were developing into a new form of performance art called ballet. Professional dancers trained for regular performances at the French court. King Louis XIV even performed as a dancer, for which he became known as the Sun King, after Apollo, whom he portrayed in one of the ballets. Dancing masters taught ballet to improve deportment and foster conspicuous refinement. Most aristocratic dancers were not ballet dancers, but emulated simple ballet steps in high-heeled shoes through the fashionable dances of the time - the Minuet and Gavotte. However, when the French aristocracy fell in 1789, the minuet also fell from favour. Dance in Western Society now grew in two separate directions, professional and social.

“It is with regret that for many years past, the Minuet has, almost, totally fallen into disuse . . . a dance essential for youth to learn, on account of its utility as a foundation for the superstructure of those graces which distinguish people of fashion, and good breeding . . .” Francis Peacock, 1805

Ballet was originally danced in fashionable dress. By the 1820s, square-toed shoes with ribbon laces were in fashion when ballerinas first danced on their toes. The ballet slipper has remained a similar shape ever since.

While the French court danced the Minuet, the English preferred the simpler and livelier ‘country’ dances such as jigs, reels, and cotillions that were usually performed in sets of four or eight people. These dances quickly spread throughout Europe in the 1790s when ‘Anglo-mania’ became the rage following the French Revolution. They are the origin of today’s square dancing and country line dances and gained popularity in the early 19th century as the middle class grew in size because these dances could be learned after a few lessons and did not require years of dance training.

“Country dance is the most common of all dances now practiced. It is so simple, that the most illiterate are in some measure able to perform it . . .” A Treatise on Dancing, 1802

A wave of vernacular European dances followed English country-dances into the ballroom beginning with the Waltz. Derived from the Landler, a Bavarian folk dance, the Waltz developed into a couples dance by 1812 that was considered scandalous at the time because partners faced each other with the man’s arm about the woman’s waist. However, under the watchful eyes of chaperons, the dance became acceptable as long as light could be seen between the couple while they whirled about the floor. More couple dances took to the floor during the mid 19th century including the Polka from Bohemia and the Mazurka from Poland.

At the end of the 19th century Black American rhythms were synthesizing with European musical forms, resulting in a new syncopated beat called Ragtime. Dancing to Ragtime required a close hold of the partner, bent knees, and a walking gait - very different from the previously required stance of dancing on the balls of the feet with an erect back and straight legs.

Shoes with criss-cross laces became known as Tango shoes in the 1910s and early 1920s when the Tango was popular. They were best displayed when a woman extended her ankle while being dipped by her partner.

In North America different steps and dances, some with upper body movements, were often named after animals, like the foxtrot, turkey trot, or bunny-hug. At the same time in South America, the sensuous Tango developed in the brothels of Buenos Aires. Society was not ready for dances that looked like recipes for sin. However, in palm-filled hotel courts at afternoon teas, the latest dances gained acceptance when sanitized versions were demonstrated by dancing stars like Irene and Vernon Castle.

“Unspeakable Jazz Must Go! …We reprove those dances which are lascivious, such as the Fox-trot, the Tango, the Turkey-trot, and others of the same kind, by whatever name they may be called . . . Rapid and jerky music is condemned and with any form of improper dancing is disapproved of as degrading tendency.” Ladies Home Journal, December, 1921

While afternoon ‘Tango Teas’ were being held in acceptable venues for socialites, it was in the urban night clubs and speakeasies of the early 1920s that Jazz and Latin rhythms really began to take off.

Saddle shoes, c. 1950

From Ragtime developed a number of Jazz dances, beginning with the Charleston and Black Bottom in the mid 1920s. These were energetic dances that only entered the general population when reinterpreted by white dance bands. A modified version of the Charleston was combined with a fast-tempo Foxtrot to become the Quickstep - a dance created specifically for the purpose of competition dancing in the late 1920s. The Lindy, named after Charles Lindbergh, also grew out of the Charleston, and was later known as the Jitterbug when danced to Swing music. After the war, Jive and eventually Be-bop (the early steps of Rock ‘n’ Roll) evolved from Jitterbug. These dances were especially favoured by teens who from the late 1920s to early 1960s commonly wore saddle shoes (two tone laced shoes) for hopping and bopping to the latest song.

Evening sandals perfect for rumba dancing, late 1930s

The success of the Tango brought interest in other dances from Latin America in the 1930s and 1940s, when the evening sandal was coming into popularity. The Rumba was a hit with wealthy Americans who wintered in Cuba; it was brought to America by Xavier Cugat’s band in the early 1930s. The Samba, Conga, and Mambo followed and were joined later by the Cha-Cha, Bossanova, and Salsa.

When boots returned to fashionable wardrobes in the early 1960s Go-go dancing was all the rage and the boots became known as Go-Go Boots.

In the 1960s dancers literally let go and no longer danced with their partners, instead performing numerous ‘go-go’ steps and upper body movements that were given names like the Twist, Watusi, Frug, Fly, Pony, Hitchhike, Hully-Gully, Monkey, Swim and Mashed Potato, to name a few. By 1970 the popular hippie mantra of ‘do your own thing’ could be interpreted on the dance floor as unstructured, free form movement, with no defined steps.

Then in the mid-1970s, a dance called the Hustle brought about a renaissance in partner dancing. This touched off the disco fever craze that ended in 1980 as abruptly as it had begun a few years earlier. While Disco blended Latin and Black rhythms on the dance floor, Latin and black cultures blended on the street in the form of competitive street dances, performed in sneakers, that took the place of gang fighting. Break-dancing, popping, and vogueing developed into hip-hop, house and krumping at the end of the 20th century.

“This has been a monumental year for Discomania . . . 15,000 new clubs have opened across the country . . . including roller discos . . . and franchise clubs like 2001, Tramps, and Club 747 featuring discos housed in old Boeing 747 airplanes . . . Paramount’s film Saturday Night Fever grossed over 32 million after only 26 weeks . . . and New York City declared the first national disco week in June.” Disco - The Official Guide, 1978

Anyone wanting to keep up with the latest dances has been able to attend dance schools, purchase ‘how-to’ books by authors like Arthur Murray, and since the 1950s, watch television shows like American Bandstand or Soul Train, to learn the steps. Competitive ballroom dancing began in the 1920s and became popular in the 1950s. The goal of competition dancers is to create artistic and athletic performances within a framework of standardized steps and deportment. There are five competition ballroom dances: English (slow) waltz, Viennese (fast) waltz, tango, quickstep and fox-trot; and five competition Latin dances: Paso-double (Spanish in origin), jive (even though not Latin), cha-cha, rumba and samba. Along with the standardized steps came associated styles of dress. Full-skirted gowns for ballroom and skimpy fringed dresses for Latin became standardized dress for competitions in the 1960s and 1970s. So remember the link between footwear and dancing the next time you Shake Your Booties.

Last weekend we braved the upstate New York snowy weather forecast for a trip to visit friends in Stroudsburg, Pennsylvania. For years now we have been driving by Syracuse on the way to visit our friends or to get to New York, but this time we decided to enjoy the journey and not just the destination. This was going to be Syracuse’s chance to prove it was more than just another rust-belt city, and it succeeded.

Firstly, from the mid 19th century to the late 20th century, every architectural movement is represented by phenomenal examples in Syracuse, including one of the best Art Deco edifices ever - the Niagara Mohawk Hydro building. A drive or walk (in better weather) reveals numerous examples of textbook perfect historical and modernist structures including the I.M. Pei designed Everson Museum of Art.

Fortunately, we had time to visit the museum where there were currently two fashion related exhibitions: Marie Antoinette: Styling the 18th-Century Superstar, and Warhol Presents. Both exhibitions opened September 20, and close January 11, 2009.

At first the Marie Antoinette exhibition appears more like a window display at Lord and Taylor than a museum exhibition, but there are no rules for how a museum exhibition has to be. In fact it is upon reading the text on the walls and relating the Rococo-styled models to the themes of the exhibition (exoticism, luxury, fantasy, novelty…) that the presentation becomes deceivingly clever. Using modern clothes and accessories (1950s to the present) to tell the story of the 18th century queen and her influence upon fashion history is a brilliant concept. Mounting similar exhibitions without using authentic clothing could become a valuable exercise for fashion departments that want their students to understand the aesthetics of period dress, especially where students do not have access to museum garments.

This exhibition of 48 mannequins was curated by Jeffrey Mayer, Associate Professor of Fashion History at Syracuse University’s Fashion Design Department. There is also an interesting catalogue published by the museum and available at the gift shop, that further develops the textual information from the exhibition. Speaking of the gift shop… I have to give a prize to the Everson Museum for having the most sardonic souvenir ever produced for an exhibition… the Marie Antoinette head on pike chocolate lollipop!

On another floor there is a small but charming exhibition of Andy Warhol’s fashion illustrations from the late 1950s. Before his Pop fame, Warhol worked as a commercial artist; his first jobs were as a freelancer for New York firms such as shoe manufacturer I. Miller. Warhol’s whimsical drawings have a relaxed quality to them, like Ludwig Bemelmans’ sketches of the French school girl Madeleine, or Charles Adams’ cartoons of the Adams family. There is something quintessentially 1950s about the sketchy style and Warhol cleverly transformed the art style for the world of advertising.

Curated by Natalie Sanderson, University Art Museum at the University of California, the exhibition highlights eighteen of Warhol’s shoe illustrations as well as drawings of other accessories and fashions, and most notably a recreation of a store window Warhol designed of Miss Dior perfume for Bonwit Teller in 1957.