I think this happy woman is attending a summer wedding. What other reason could there be to get so dressed up during the day? The dress looks white here, but it could be any other light pastel color.
Another outfit with tucks and pleats! The sleeves on the bolero jacket and the jacket itself indicate it also might be from the late 1930s. The blog Witness to Fashion shows many similar bolero styles, including sewing patterns, from the same era. If this woman made her own outfit, she did a wonderful job. Her gauntlet gloves are another thirties touch.
Maybe she is a favorite aunt, gifted a corsage to match the wedding flowers. Or is she perhaps the bride herself?
These two studio photographs were apparently taken on the same day. Take a close look at the clothing and you will see it is the same except for the woman’s collar. I wonder if this often happened—that sitters got their pictures taken in front of different backgrounds and decided later whether they were in the mood for a subtle setting or a tropical locale.
The husband is at the center of things here, with that broad expanse of white shirt and vest to draw in the eye. His wife stands in the background in a supporting role. Her dress comes from the late 19th or early twentieth century, with its high collar and puff sleeves. The hat is also typical for that time period. Note that she is wearing the “big black dress” common to women of her age. Her hourglass shape was undoubtedly enhanced by a stiff corset.
Both photos are printed on postcard stock so that they could be sent in the mail. According to Robert Pols’ informative book, Family Photographs, 1860-1945, the practice of using photos for postcards started in the mid-nineteenth century. By the turn of the twentieth century, studio photographers had all the materials handy to print up cards for their clients, as well as the backdrops to change the mood.
Which copy did the couple send out? I would have recommended the plainer one, where the man doesn’t appear quite so pleased with himself and the is woman not as unhappy. She looks like the last person on earth who would enjoy a trip to the tropics.
I love Easter photos because they show women in their dress-up clothes and give you a sense of what the codes for proper attire were at the time. In this photo, taken just as the fashion revolution of the sixties was getting started, many elements are in transition. Both women have on floral hats, marking both Easter and Spring. Both wear coats on what looks like a breezy, somewhat chilly day. Their coat styles are quite different, however. The younger woman on the left has on a dressy version made from a shiny material with a wide collar and elbow length sleeves, covering up her lower arms with very long gloves. Her older companion, most likely her mother, wears a more traditional cloth coat but no gloves. Although I imagined that fashion rules of the time would dictate that shoes and purses should match, note that hers do not. She also has no trouble wearing white shoes before Memorial Day.
Unfortunately, we can’t see anything of the older woman’s dress, but the coat length is certainly consistent with clothing from the fifties. Her companion, however, reveals that skirt lengths were on the rise.
This is as much a car photo as a fashion shot. On the back is written, “Easter Sun., April 17, 1960. 1960 Plymouth.”
Even plain colored dresses can be made interesting through the inventive use of tucks and pleats, a common feature in the late 1930s and early 1940s. These dresses share other distinctive elements of the era, especially the puffed sleeves that certainly don’t flatter every figure.
Sears catalog, 1939
The dress on the left has similar details to those found in Sears catalogs from 1939. Note, however, that our woman’s pleats are much fancier, showing an inserted printed fabric. It must have looked wonderful when she moved.
Sears catalog, 1942-43
The picture on the right was taken during the Second World War, evident because of the two stars in the window. They indicate that the family had two children in the war. Let’s hope the stars were blue; gold stars would have meant that the children were dead. Her look is somewhat simpler, adorned mainly with the decorations on the high chest. I wonder if the dress was news or if she had bought it before the war. The longer skirt length was no longer in fashion, but not everyone cared to follow the latest trends.
These women certainly look related, although I didn’t keep careful enough track of my eBay purchases to note if they came in the same batch. I’m even wondering if it could be the same woman, aged by her experience in the war.
What would you wear to a picnic? I don’t expect older women of the 1950s to dress as casually as we do today. Nonetheless, I’m surprised that a beaded necklace and earrings are part of the wardrobe. These semi-dressed-up feasts of yesteryear puzzle me. Are they perhaps post-Church outings? My family was not very big on church, so I don’t have similar experiences to share.
At any rate, the older woman wearing white beads sports a well-coordinated outfit—a brown and white gingham dress, a white sweater, and a matching brown coat. Her beads and earrings match the button decorations on the dress. And note her wonderful glasses with clip-on sunglass frames. She is certainly the belle of the picnic. The older woman on the right is plain in comparison, although she also wears jewelry.
The food looks delicious, with fried chicken and pie on the table. The gentleman to the left appears to be enjoying a big piece of chocolate cake, caught forever on the way to his mouth.
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.
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.
