As Vogue celebrates its 125th year, we look back at the history of fashion, and the magazine, in a series of “five points” videos by decade, narrated by the stylish Sarah Jessica Parker.
1930–1939
The flapper was a casualty of the stock market crash of 1929. Out of her ashes rose the femme fatale. At night she was a modern Diana in figure-molding bias-cut satins that oozed to the floor. By day, she might play with a Surrealist as served up by Elsa Schiaparelli. Then war came, and removed frivolity from fashion.
THE LONG RUN
Hemlines were lengthening before the Great Crash of 1929; they fell to the floor after that debacle and stayed there for quite a while. There was nothing prim about these sweeping hems, however. The abbreviated silhouette was traded for a long, sculptural one built along classic lines that emphasized the figure within the frock. Madeleine Vionnet’s diagonal bias-cutting technique resulted in dresses that were sensuously molded to the body. Such perfection as not easily come by; “simplicity,” noted Vogue, “is a complex art.”
LOVE SCHIAP
Even more complicated was the kismet that brought Prince Edward into the orbit of an American divorcée named Wallis Simpson, for whom he’d abandon his throne and be exiled from his sceptered isle. Theirs was a romance that was well chronicled in Vogue by John McMullin, the magazine’s “As Seen by Him” columnist, and Cecil Beaton, who were part of the royal entourage. Before she married her prince in a Wallis blue Mainbocher design, Beaton famously captured her posing in some splendors by Elsa Schiaparelli, including the “lobster” dress hand-painted by Salvador Dalí.
ALTERNATIVE FACTS
Dalí and the influence of the Surrealists was pervasive in the ’30s. Like the “phony war” that preceded major action on the Western Front, the movement, which aimed to yoke dreams and reality, captured the tension and strangeness of the time. Elsa Schiaparelli, the Paris-based Italian couturier and Chanel’s nemesis, was most closely associated with this movement and she aligned herself with artists like Jean Cocteau and Marcel Vertès. Surrealism made its way into Vogue, too. Not only did Dalí become a frequent contributor, but Giorgio de Chirico created artwork for the magazine and Cecil Beaton incorporated elements of the movement’s style into some of his photographs.
THE FEMALE GAZE
There were few women working among the stellar stable of artists working at Vogue during the 1930s, which included photographers Horst P. Horst, Cecil Beaton, and the illustrators Eric and Christian Bérard, all of whom had a keen appreciation for the haute side of fashion. Startlingly different was the work of Toni Frissell, a young, well-connected American, who joined the staff as a caption writer but ended up as a photographer, one who brought a distinctive American wholesomeness, youth, and even fresh air to the pages of the magazine: Frissell was one of the few photographers at the magazine then shooting out of doors.
PAJAMA GAMES
Though Vogue first voiced its approval of pajamas in the 1920s, they continued to be endorsed in the ’30s as a headline like “Personality + 1931 = Pyjamas” shows. It was during this decade that pants started making their way out of the boudoir, becoming acceptable for casual resortwear, as well.
1930–1939
The flapper was a casualty of the stock market crash of 1929. Out of her ashes rose the femme fatale. At night she was a modern Diana in figure-molding bias-cut satins that oozed to the floor. By day, she might play with a Surrealist as served up by Elsa Schiaparelli. Then war came, and removed frivolity from fashion.
THE LONG RUN
Hemlines were lengthening before the Great Crash of 1929; they fell to the floor after that debacle and stayed there for quite a while. There was nothing prim about these sweeping hems, however. The abbreviated silhouette was traded for a long, sculptural one built along classic lines that emphasized the figure within the frock. Madeleine Vionnet’s diagonal bias-cutting technique resulted in dresses that were sensuously molded to the body. Such perfection as not easily come by; “simplicity,” noted Vogue, “is a complex art.”
LOVE SCHIAP
Even more complicated was the kismet that brought Prince Edward into the orbit of an American divorcée named Wallis Simpson, for whom he’d abandon his throne and be exiled from his sceptered isle. Theirs was a romance that was well chronicled in Vogue by John McMullin, the magazine’s “As Seen by Him” columnist, and Cecil Beaton, who were part of the royal entourage. Before she married her prince in a Wallis blue Mainbocher design, Beaton famously captured her posing in some splendors by Elsa Schiaparelli, including the “lobster” dress hand-painted by Salvador Dalí.
ALTERNATIVE FACTS
Dalí and the influence of the Surrealists was pervasive in the ’30s. Like the “phony war” that preceded major action on the Western Front, the movement, which aimed to yoke dreams and reality, captured the tension and strangeness of the time. Elsa Schiaparelli, the Paris-based Italian couturier and Chanel’s nemesis, was most closely associated with this movement and she aligned herself with artists like Jean Cocteau and Marcel Vertès. Surrealism made its way into Vogue, too. Not only did Dalí become a frequent contributor, but Giorgio de Chirico created artwork for the magazine and Cecil Beaton incorporated elements of the movement’s style into some of his photographs.
THE FEMALE GAZE
There were few women working among the stellar stable of artists working at Vogue during the 1930s, which included photographers Horst P. Horst, Cecil Beaton, and the illustrators Eric and Christian Bérard, all of whom had a keen appreciation for the haute side of fashion. Startlingly different was the work of Toni Frissell, a young, well-connected American, who joined the staff as a caption writer but ended up as a photographer, one who brought a distinctive American wholesomeness, youth, and even fresh air to the pages of the magazine: Frissell was one of the few photographers at the magazine then shooting out of doors.
PAJAMA GAMES
Though Vogue first voiced its approval of pajamas in the 1920s, they continued to be endorsed in the ’30s as a headline like “Personality + 1931 = Pyjamas” shows. It was during this decade that pants started making their way out of the boudoir, becoming acceptable for casual resortwear, as well.
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