The New Look, Deconstructed

Would you mind terribly if I continued to gloat about the awesome gifts Santa brought me this Christmas? After coveting a certain outrageously big and expensive book for years, it is finally mine all mine! I’m speaking of the book Dior, a massive hulk of a tome that could easily break several toes if dropped. It’s huge, glossy, and gorgeous. I’m seriously considering tracking down one of those book stands that huge dictionaries are situated on in libraries so that I have it available for my perusing pleasure at all times. (Okay, perhaps not all that seriously.)

Anyway, the point is, I am obsessed with this book. It celebrates 60 years of the famous couture house’s designs with huge, gorgeous photographs. I was not surprised to be drooling over the earliest New Look designs of 1947, but I was unexpectedly drawn to the Galliano years. Don’t get me wrong, Galliano is a genius, but the early years of Dior have always been my thing. Well, now I have discovered Galliano’s fall/winter 2005 couture collection, and I seem to have a new obsession. Galliano was brought to Dior in 1997 to design a 50th anniversary tribute to the seminal New Look collection. Well, the book posits that the designer didn’t actually truly achieve a tribute collection until 2005.

But the collection goes beyond being a tribute; it’s a brilliant deconstruction of the New Look. And more than that, it makes the New Look fabulously transparent, wrenching out the innards for all to see. Take this dress:

See how the organza bodice dispays the boning and padding underneath? And then there's the draped skirt, revealing hip pads underneath, which were an integral part of the New Look construct. (I blogged about hip padding here, if you're interested.) In the runway piece, you can even see a bit of bust padding slipping out.

Here's another example from the book, in a lovely blue-violet shade.

One of my favorite details from these dresses are the handwritten labels, which are displayed on the outside of the bodice. Early Dior pieces had these labels on the inside to identify the style names.

These dresses are, arguably, much more striking on the dress form than on a model. Perhaps the concept was taken too far with the styling (i.e. the wig caps and drawn-on eyebrows). It would be interesting to see these looks on a model made up with classic early 50s hair and make-up, allowing the deconstruction of the dresses to stand out in contrast.

This one takes it a step further by mimicking the look of a dress form underneath the draped skirt.

So why are these looks so invaluable to the modern retro seamstress? Well, there are few things I love more than finding a close-up shot of the interior of a vintage Dior gown. With their intricate corselets, bust and hip padding, waist stays, crinolines, handwritten labels, boning and taffeta linings, I’ll admit that I sometimes find them more lovely than the gown itself. I’ve always been intrigued by the architecture of complicated vintage clothing, and it doesn’t get much better than a New Look Dior. And photos of these interiors are, sadly, few and far between. I love that Galliano takes the artifice of the designs and makes that the focal point.

Do you find this collection inspiring or bizarre--or both? These looks have me dreaming of making a lingerie-inspired dress with lots of boning, tulle, organza, and peach satin!

I'm Obsessed: Hula Hooping!

You know me: new week, new obsession! The flavor of the week isn't sewing-related, but it's definitely retro.

Trudy wrote about her love for "hooping" a while back, and I was intrigued, to say the least. I kept thinking about it, so I recently took the plunge and ordered an adult-sized fitness hoop and an instructional DVD. The best part about the purchase was the mail room guy walking into my office holding my pink, glittery hula hoop (wrapped in a bit of clear plastic). Luckily, he seems to have a good sense of humor.

I took it home, cleared away the coffee table, and proceeded to fail miserably at hula hooping for the next five minutes or so. But then, something magical happened: I was hooping! And it was fun! And, it must be said, it was a tremendous workout that left me extremely sweaty—and with some decidedly weird hip bruises (I'm told these will pass). With the help of my DVD and a two-hour workshop I took last weekend, I've now even progressed to some cool moves.

Of course, the right outfit is everything at chez Gertie, and I'll admit that in my hooping daydreams I've been planning the perfect outfit for my new retro fitness activity. I think that some sort of 50s-style romper should be involved, don't you? This lady had the right idea:

Just you wait, readers. Before long I'll be performing super fancy hooping tricks in a custom-made romper. Until then, I'll be practicing in my living room, scaring the cats and hitting the lighting fixture on the ceiling. (On second thought, maybe I'll go practice on the roof.)

Any hoopers in the house?

I'm Obsessed: Alabama Chanin

I tend to burn through obsessions pretty quickly: one day it's millinery, the next it's owl brooches. The day after? It's anyone's guess. I used to worry about this aspect of my personality, but I've decided to take a different stance on it lately: that all these little obsessions add up to one unique world view - that they all contribute to my creativity in one way or another. So instead of fretting, I'd like to celebrate my obsessions here. And this week, it's "haute homespun" fashion line Alabama Chanin.

You may have seen the two sewing books out by founder Natalie Chanin: Alabama Stitch Book and Alabama Studio Style. I looked at the latter briefly when it first came out and mistakenly assumed that it wasn't my aesthetic. But then I saw a dress by this designer on display in the FIT Eco-Fashion exhibit and it was jaw-droppingly gorgeous. I also had the good fortune to meet a woman wearing a beautiful skirt that was handmade using the techniques found in Chanin's books. I was fascinated to learn that the method espoused by the books - and the line - is one of pure hand sewing. A machine never comes into the picture. The pieces in the line are created by artisan stitchers in Florence, Alabama. (The garments are fantastically expensive, as you can imagine.) But the real draw is the gorgeous embellishments.

I marched myself right back to the bookstore yesterday to pick up Alabama Stitch Book, and reading about the method is truly fascinating for sewing geeks and couture enthusiasts alike. (Plus, it'll make you itch to sit down with some intricate hand stitching!) The pieces are achieved by taking regular cotton jersey (sometimes sourced from old t-shirts), creating a deconstructed couture look with handstitched - often exposed - seams, and embellishing with intricate skill: stencils and fabric paint create the designs, and then the amazing handwork is created by applique, decorative stitches, and beading. The use of jersey, which doesn't ravel, is pretty brilliant: the applique edges can be raw, rather than that fussy look you can get with applique edges that have to be turned-under or stitched with a heavy satin machine stitch.

I'm not interested in copying these pieces exactly (though, if you are, the books are an awesome help for that). My question is: how can I tailor these embellishment and couture stitching techniques to my vintage aesthetic?

It's not quite such a stretch to imagine these techniques on 50s styles. After all, applique and beading was rampant during that decade. Can't you see these styles done Alabama style?

from Etsy

from Etsy

The real question is how to use the Chanin method, but achieve a more constructed look (rather than deconstructed) while still maintaining the simple, modern elegance of the embellishment?

I would love to try these embellishment techniques on a basic 50s-style dress like my swirly red one. The dress could be structured as usual (no exposed seams or unfinished hems for me). But I would use a stable knit like a doubleknit or a wool jersey for fall - this would allow the applique pieces to be unfinished, as on Chanin's creations. But it would be interesting to still structure the piece with facings, silk organza underlining, and horsehair braid on the hem to give it that 50s couture look I love. But then I would try a mixture of applique, reverse applique, and beading (and maybe sequins!) on the skirt border: with a vintage-inspired pattern like the roses on this lovely tablecloth.

Perhaps the dress would be a lovely saffron hue with white applique roses.

What do you think? How would you adapt the Alabama Chanin style to suit your own?