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1910 postcard

In 1910 the Edwardian era came to an end with the death of England’s King Edward VII. It was also the year Mexico had a revolution, Japan began its empire with the annexation of Korea, the women’s suffrage movement was gaining momentum, and Father’s day was first celebrated.

Some fashion milestones from 1910 include the founding of Elizabeth Arden in New York (women were beginning to wear small amounts of rouge on their cheeks and lips.) The death of King Edward in May 1910, was just before  Ascot, which resulted in England’s elite wearing full mourning to the races. A half century later, this event inspired Cecil Beaton to costume the Ascot race scene for My Fair Lady in black and white.

The fashion designer Paul Poiret introduced his “Liberateur” line which freed women of corsets, and Jean Patou, an architect of modern fashion through the development of sportswear, opened his fashion atelier in 1910. Casual and sporting activities such as sea bathing, picnicking, golf, and motoring were on the rise, just in time for the word ‘week-end’ to be coined to reflect the half Saturday and full Sunday being enjoyed by the majority of the working classes for the pursuit of leisure (the two day weekend wasn’t common until the 1930s.)

But most amusingly, according to a snippet from the New York Times, March 22, 1910, long hat pins were being banned!

“It is now a misdemeanor for any woman to wear a long hatpin in public places in Chicago. Any woman caught wearing one is liable to arrest and a fine of $50… A crowd of women had gathered to protest against the measure on the ground that the city had no right to attempt to regulate women’s wearing apparel, and that long hatpins often at night formed women’s only weapon of defense.

The ordinance decrees that “no person while in the public streets…shall wear any hatpin, the exposed point whereof shall protrude more than one-half inch beyond the crown of the hat…”

The argument for the measure was that long hatpins worn in crowded places endangered the eyes, noses, and faces of people. When the vote was announced cries of ‘Shame! Shame!’ came from women in the galleries.”

While cleaning up some files I found a review of the Poiret exhibition I wrote for the Costume Society of Ontario (I think I also posted it on the Vintage Fashion Guild’s site at the time.) It was a great exhibtion, so here is my review once again - from the summer of 2007, the Metropolitan Museum of Art’s exhibition ‘Poiret: King of Fashion’:

Unlike the Met’s 2005 commercial-looking Chanel display or last summer’s theatrical and borderline content-free ‘Anglomania’ show, Poiret: King of Fashion avoids the pitfalls of its predecessors. Like Poiret’s clothing designs, this exhibition is colourful and elegant. Hand painted two-story theatrical backdrops of spring gardens, party-light strewn terraces, and dark Oriental lounges set the scene for the groupings of garments.

Most of the clothes from the Costume Institute’s collection were made for Poiret’s muse-wife Denise and were acquired by the Institute in 2005 in Paris at an auction of Denise Poiret’s clothes. The garments do not overly favour glamour but show a realistic balance of smart walking suits, exotic embroidered coats, block printed tunic dresses, harem trouser evening gowns, classically draped negligees, and elaborate beaded party dresses.

It becomes abundantly clear through the fifty gowns on display why most fashion historians call Poiret the founder of modern fashion. Famous for abandoning the corset, Paul Poiret (1879 – 1944) used simple cuts, luxurious fabrics and saturated colours to create his designs. The chemise dress, originally known as a ‘minute robe’ because it could be made up so quickly, was an early brush with modernism along with his straight hanging pleated skirts and kimono cut coats. Poiret revived harem trousers with little success but much publicity and introduced a ‘T’ shaped blouse that was essentially a forerunner of the T-shirt. Poiret’s interest in historical and exotic sources was obvious in his designs but he was not a tailor – Poiret draped his clothes. Poiret was also an excellent businessman and knew how to use the press to promote his designs. Understanding the power of celebrity, he hob-knobbed with the artsy crowd of his day and dressed actresses on and off stage. He was also the first designer to create a scent – Rosine, in 1911.

If I have to find fault with this exhibition, I would point to the lack of identification of prop clothes such as Fortuny Delphos dresses under Poiret theatre coats and various hats to complete 1920s daytime ensembles. At first I wasn’t sure I liked the elongated grey- toned alien-eyed mannequins but I see the inspiration for the installation was borrowed from contemporary artists of Poiret’s day, in the same way Poiret borrowed ideas for his clothes. The mannequin faces resemble Modigliani portraits and because of this, they are the perfect choice for Poiret clothes. However, when it comes to depicting hair, the stylized mannequins become problematic. Organdy knotted hairstyles look intentionally but not always successfully like turbans.

For me, the most controversial element appeared at the entrance and exit of the exhibition. Here, digital animated presentations show how a length of fabric was folded and sewn into two different garments. The dress from which the presentation was created is lit up behind the scrim for the finale. I know museums often feel they have to use technology to appeal to their audience and these presentations did draw crowds but did they really teach anything that could not have been learned faster and better in a simple line drawing? No. In fact the problem with the presentations was their speed where clever little tucks and pleats were glossed over too quickly for anyone to understand exactly how Poiret had manipulated the fabric. I usually tend to see presentations like these more as gimmicks than educational tools but I am sure others will disagree with me. Regardless, these are minor issues and hardly worth mentioning in what is an overall landmark costume exhibition – the best I have seen produced by the Met.

The oversized $65.00 book on Poiret offered to accompany the exhibition is a glorious all-colour publication with close-up shots of details. However, many of the garments photographed in the catalogue do not appear in the exhibition and those garments that are in both book and exhibition appear on different mannequins, so don’t expect the book to be a catalogue of the exhibition, it is not. Regardless, the book is a worthy purchase and an important addition to any library of fashion history.

Images courtesy of the Metropolitan Museum of Art