It’s no mystery that these three are related. Just look at their noses! The grandmother and mother share the same body shape and the little boy tilts his head just like his mom.
Was the grandmother’s dress homemade? If you look closely, you will see that the design on the skirt is not aligned across the panels. The belt is made from the same fabric, but rectangles are set horizontally, not vertically. To my eye, this disrupts the pattern even more.
There are interesting differences between older and younger styles. The older woman covers up more of her upper arms, an area long considered problematic for the older set. She wears tried-and-true oxfords, while the daughter has on casual saddle shoes, already very popular in the 1930s. The grandmother’s dress is slightly longer, also indicating a more conservative style. Both like ruffles, but the grandmother likes them more. However, in one area, the grandmother’s outfit looks a bit more modern to me. Her dress has an interesting geometric pattern, while the daughter has chosen small florals, more common on the old. The little boy is right in style with his swim shorts. He looks bit impatient—when will he get to the water?
My mother died over a year ago, just a few months before her 100th birthday. Last year I didn’t pay any attention to Mother’s Day, but this year it suddenly hit me that there was no place to bring flowers.
Born and raised in Illinois, my mother signed up for nursing school during World War II and worked in Chicago hospitals when she finished. That’s where she met my father, then a graduate student at the University of Chicago. He had just returned from the war, after flying missions all over the world as an Air Force navigator.
They married at the University of Chicago Chapel in 1947. All the wedding pictures I found are very fuzzy—apparently hiring professionals was not yet part of the marriage ritual. I don’t know where or why the picture above was taken, but this is the only good photo I have of the two together. Where did she get the frilly blouse? I wonder if my grandmother, an expert seamstress, made it for her.
When I was six, my father died in a car crash. At just 32, my mother was a single mom raising three children aged 2, 6, and 8. After the tragedy we moved to be near one of her sisters. When my uncle got a new job in Southern California, we went with them and moved into the house next door. I remember most of my childhood as a fun time with my siblings and five cousins.
When I was in high school, she remarried another Air Force pilot. I remember her Chanel-esque suit and silver necklace. Although she outgrew and gave away the suit, she kept the necklace until she died. That happy union gave her four stepchildren. Mother said that one of her proudest achievements was making sure everyone went to college.
Her two sisters were her best friends. They met as often as they could. The picture above, taken in 1984, shows my mother’s preference for comfortable clothes as she aged.
By happy accident, my husband and I got jobs about an hour’s drive away from her soon after our daughter was born. Even though she was already in her mid-sixties then, she was a loving and energetic grandmother.
The two had a wonderful, close relationship.
She treasured her little house across the street from the ocean, the scene of so many family celebrations. The picture above with her sisters was taken just a few months before she had to move to a board and care home. It was very difficult transition, but she worked hard to keep up her good spirits.
My mother loved the ocean, white orchids, and the color blue. How fitting that my brother arranged a burial at sea and my sister brought armfuls of orchids to toss in the water. My mother’s ashes, glinting in the water, offered up a brilliant blue.
Last week I made a quick trip to the Bay Area to visit family. My cousin and I made sure to visit the Oakland Museum, a favorite spot. The highlight of our visit was a photography exhibit by Dugan Aguilar, a Native American from Northern California. His photos celebrate the several tribes in his area, including their crafts and festivals.
The photo above of Mimi Mullen, of the Maidu Tribe, caught my eye. I am fascinated by the many contrasts—or even contradictions—on display in this seemingly simple piece. First there is the juxtaposition of old and young skin—Mullen’s creased map next to the young person’s smiling face. Next there is the contrast between the shining smooth car and the frilly umbrella. The main subject is perfectly in focus, while we can see the watching crowd mirrored in abstract on the side of the car.
The main contrast, however, is hidden in the title. Mullen is a Native American. In 1997, she was chosen as the Grand Marshall of the Greenville Gold Diggers Day Parade. That parade, begun in 1962, is named to mark the California Gold Rush, an event that was instrumental in destroying Native populations in the state.
The town of Greenville was almost burned to the ground in the Dixie fire of 2021 and is now gaining a reputation for right wing extremism. I suppose that is one more contrast we might extrapolate from the image. While Indians were celebrated in 1997, these days it looks like the cowboys have won.
“The eye has to travel,” said fashion editor Diana Vreeland. Famous American designer Adele Simpson (1903-1995) did more than that. She traveled around the world herself collecting textiles and accessories that inspired her work.
In 1978, Simpson gave a large collection of her treasures to the Fashion Institute of Technology as a research source for students. The FIT Museum (a hidden treasure in Manhattan) put on an exhibition to mark the donation. Called 1001 Treasures of Design, it displayed a small selection of clothing, textile fragments, hats, and ornaments from around the world, including a Manchu robe (or jifu pao) like the one Simpson wears above. It also showed how Simpson used what she found to inspire her own work. The images below are from the exhibition catalog, which was sadly a budget job.
From the catalog 1001 Treasures of Design, FIT 1978
Above we see how she took an authentic Argentinian gaucho outfit (right) to inspire her own work. It is hardly a copy. The blouse is much different. The vest is shorter, rounder and has a a shiny trim. However, the shape of the pants is largely the same.
From the catalog 1001 Treasures of Design, FIT 1978
In another example, she was inspired by a bamboo vest from China, turning it into luxury evening wear. Again her version has a lot more bling, but the structural inspiration is obvious.
Today many might criticize Simpson for cultural appropriation. In my view, however, the more we look outside our small circles for inspiration the better off we are. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if FIT made the collection available to us all online?
Apparently the “Glam-ma” (ie glamorous grandma) and the “glam-ma makeover” are well established trends that I somehow missed. So much for keeping my finger on the pulse of popular culture. There are teams of plastic surgeons ready to reverse all the visible signs of aging—like the hip shelf and menopot that most women get. In fact, one surgeon in my neck of the woods has trademarked her bundle of procedures as the “GMommy Makeover.” Here are the options—a butt lift, thigh restructuring, arm restructuring, a tummy tuck, a face lift, a brow lift, a neck lift, a lip lift, and more. Some I’ve never heard of. According to one plastic surgeon, body surgeries on women over 70 have gone up 30% recently, twice as fast as for women between 50-69.
If you don’t want to take to the knife, makeup experts have lined up to give advice on how to glam up with products. British former model Lisa Elridge has several popular YouTube videos on how to do it. For the woman above, she used 14 different products and seven separate tools. I’m too lazy (or frightened?) to add up how much that must have cost.
All this is aimed at women with extra time and money on their hands. One woman interviewed on ABC News admitted that in the past she might have invested in music lessons for her children. Now that they are grown up, she can use her spare money on herself.
I’m not a grandma and might never be, so that alone might exempt me from the trend. In the meantime, I’m trying to boost my “wrinkle positivity.” In the words of gerontologist Lynn Yaeger, “Who says wrinkles are ugly and curves unattractive? The multi-billion dollar skin care and weight loss industries. [And lets add plastic surgeons to the list.] You can’t make money off satisfaction, but shame and fear create markets that advertisers and marketers exploit.” Maybe we can just say no.
It’s too bad that the name “Simpsons” now brings cartoons to mind. In mid century America, it denoted a power couple in the world of clothing—fashion designer Adele Simpson (1903-1995) and her husband, textile designer Wesley Simpson (1902-1975). They briefly formed a company together in the 1940s and then went their separate ways.
Wesley Simpson achieved fame with his artist-designed textiles, used by top American names in fashion. The dress above was created by Adrian using a textile designed by Salvador Dali.
Wesley Simpson’s work with top designers was widely advertised in American magazines in the late 1940s. The ad at the top shows that he also continued to collaborate with his famous wife. The small print reads that Adele Simpson’s “charming dress for daylight dining” is made up “in a wonderful new Cotton Taffeta from the Wesley Simpson Custom Fabrics collection.” I think I would be more inclined to wear it than the Adrian/Dali confection. What about you?
Birds of a feather… The two women on the right look remarkably similar, with their helmet hair, pearls, fur wraps, and stiff a-line evening gowns. I’m just imagining that this is opening night at the opera, but it could be some other fancy event. I used to own one of those tiny clutch bags, sent to me by an aunt who didn’t know me well. I don’t think I ever used it.
The fur wraps captured my attention here. Do they have a special name? They are not quite a jacket but larger than a stole or scarf. I’m drawn to their practicality, since they would stay on your shoulders and keep your hands free.
Did women wear them on the street? Or were they just for dress-up events? Any ideas are welcome.
When did the United States establish a foothold in global fashion? Nancy MacDonell argues that it was during the Second World War, when the New York fashion industry was shut off from the influence of Paris. By the time the war was over, a number of American designers had made a name for themselves in the US and began to achieve global recognition. Claire McCardell is the main example of this new direction. The book also shows the army of advocates needed to cement a new direction. She examines department store directors Marjorie Griswold and Dorothy Shaver; fashion journalists Virginia Pope and Lois Long; the publicist Eleanor Lambert; as well as magazine editor Diana Vreeland and her photographer Louise Dahl-Wolfe. Together they all created the “American Look,” casual sportswear which eventually took the world by storm.
I loved this book for its detailed examination of all the moving parts of the fashion industry, from a designer’s first choice of fabric to a dress’s arrival in the department store. Although she chooses Claire McCardell as her main example, a careful reader can discover many other important figures in clothing design. It is also a reminder that our fashion choices are mediated through many middlemen—or rather middlewomen—who filter what we see. MacDonell documents a unique moment in American fashion history when the whole edifice of the New York fashion industry was dominated by women—the empresses of Seventh Avenue.
Nonetheless, this book has a narrow focus that gives pride of place to the consequences of the Second World War. Distinctive American design trends began long before then, as Rebecca Arnold’s book The American Look has shown. Although MacDonell acknowledges this, she gives it little credit. Moreover, American fashion did not originate in New York alone. What about California? Blue jeans came from there and West Coast women were wearing separates long before McCardell supposedly invented them. A powerful argument could be made for the fact that America’s signature—sportswear—originated in California and not New York.
But don’t let my West Coast chauvinism stop you from reading this lively and informative book. Just remember that there is more to the fashion world than New York and Paris.
Even though I read a lot of books on the history of American fashion, I often run across names I don’t know. The recent excellent book Empresses of Seventh Avenue by Nancy MacDonnell (review to come soon) listed a famous Black designer who was new to me. Zelda Wynn Valdes (1901-2001) had a storied career. She learned to sew from family members, including a stint in her uncle’s tailoring shop in White Plains, New York. After working her way up in a number of dressmaking establishments, in 1948 she and her sister opened up their own studio in Harlem. As her success grew, she moved the store to Midtown Manhattan, naming it Chez Zelda.
Wynn Valdes quickly became the designer of choice for Black entertainers. The photo above shows her fitting Eartha Kitt. Other famous clients included Ella Fitzgerald, Dorothy Dandridge, and Marion Anderson. Her clientele extended beyond the Black community, including Mae West and Gloria Vanderbilt. Beginning in 1970, she started working with the Dance Theatre of Harlem and continued even after she closed her store. Best known for her skintight dresses, she is said to have had a hand in designing the Playboy Bunny outfit. Read more about her career here and here.
There aren’t many photos of Wynn Valdes as an older woman, at least not pictures with a fixed date attached. In the top photo, taken in 1952, she was about 51 years old. Her own outfit surprised me. Unlike many designers depicted in their workplace, she is quite dressed up. Those sky-high heels make me suspect that the session was posed. The second photo is undated, but apparently she liked tight fitting clothes for herself, too.
The New York Times published an obituary of Zelda Wynn Valdes in its “Overlooked” series of Black men and women who didn’t received the attention they deserved when they died. It goes to show that we all have a lot to learn.
This photo is by James Jowers (1939-2009), a photographer best known for his street scenes of New York City. Many depict the Lower East Side of Manhattan, still a poor area in the late 1960s filled with unrenovated tenements. The woman on the steps probably lived in the shabby building behind her. However, the area was also home to a number of garment outlets and was a place to find nice clothing cheaply if you were willing to spend the time. That might have been the goal of the woman on the left.
Their clothes speak volumes. From her profile, the woman on the left is not so young. She also wears a hat, a marker of the older set by the late sixties. However, her clothes have something of a hippie vibe. Note the crochet trimmed sweater and the long necklaces, looking a little like love beads. The other woman’s clothes make no nod to the fashions of the time. The shirt waist dress could have been decades old. Her sensible shoes with short socks reveal a woman interested in practicality over style.
What did they find to talk about? Were they neighbors discussing local affairs? Or was the woman on the steps scolding her companion for occupying a neighborhood resting spot?
To contribute to this collective history project, send pictures and stories about the older women in your life to americanagefashion@gmail.com. The more information you can include (date, place, etc.), the better.
