The Fashion Historian

Part 1: Africana Prints and Non-Western Influences

Sample from the "American National Parks" series, H. R. Mallinson and Company, ca. 1927. The Metropolitan Museum of Art, 27.151.3.

It's Textile Month here on The Fashion Historian! Each week this month we'll be bringing you a textile themed post. This week, in Part 1 of a two-part series, learn about how the art of non-Western cultures influenced the explosion of American textile design in the 1920s!

Safari silk titled "Kando" or "Samburu" by Belding-Heminway Co., 1930. Newark Museum, New Jersey. This print depicts African warriors standing behind shields.

Part 1: Snow White from Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs (1937)

As a fashion historian, I find that an interesting aspect of Disney is how the animated features serve as records of the visual culture of their day. The Disney Princesses, a successful sub-franchise launched by Disney in the late 1990s, are everywhere these days. They have not been without controversy, but they are certainly popular. They are also records of changing standards of beauty for women in the 20th century. This post series will discuss selected Disney Princesses, exploring how they embody the ideals of femininity of their time.

Fashion has always had a strong relationship with new technology. In the late eighteenth century, looms ran on punch cards to weave complex textile designs-- the very first computing technology. In the nineteenth century, the discovery of synthetic dyes allowed fabrics to take on bright, eye-popping colors. In the twentieth century, an enormous range of textiles made from synthetic materials, each with its own unique benefits, flushed the market. And in the twenty-first century, designers are using 3-D printers to create new and innovative designs.

Fashion has also always had strong ties with the media. New trends need to be disseminated around the world somehow, be it by illustrations, photographs, or film. These days we can log on to youtube and watch the latest runway shows instantly, but the relationship between film and fashion stretches much farther back in time.

In my work as curatorial assistant at the Chicago History Museum I was fortunate enough to study two beautiful court presentation gowns from the 1920s. I blogged about those dresses and the ritual of the court presentation on the Chicago History Museum Blog. But I also thought there was a bigger story to be told, and so I continue the story of these two gowns here on The Fashion Historian.

Court presentation gown and train, Jacques Doucet, 1926. Gift of Miss Mary Dudley Kenna. In the collection of the Chicago History Museum. 1965.380a-e. Photo by Katy Werlin.

Court presentation gown and train, Jacques Doucet, 1926. Gift of Miss Mary Dudley Kenna. In the collection of the Chicago History Museum. 1965.380a-e. Photo by Katy Werlin.

The first gown was worn by Mary Dudley Kenna when she was presented at the Court of St. James on June 10, 1926. It was designed by Jacques Doucet for the House of Doucet.

Court presentation gown and train, Edward Molyneux, 1928. Gift of Mrs. Frederick L. Spencer. In the collection of the Chicago History Museum. 1962.464a-d. Photo by Katy Werlin.

The second gown was worn by Mrs. Frederick L. Spencer, née Helen Hurley, in the spring of 1928. It was designed by Edward Molyneux. To see images of both women in their court gowns, please refer to my post on the Chicago History Museum Blog.

Detail of court presentation gown and train, Jacques Doucet, 1926. Gift of Miss Mary Dudley Kenna. In the collection of the Chicago History Museum. 1965.380a-e. Photo by Katy Werlin.

Both of these gowns exhibit an extraordinary technical mastery, as can be seen by the detail images peppered throughout this post. But what I find most fascinating is the contrast these two gowns present-- one representing the romanticism of a bygone age, the other representing the sleek modernity of a new era.

Detail of court presentation gown and train, Edward Molyneux, 1928. Gift of Mrs. Frederick L. Spencer. In the collection of the Chicago History Museum. 1962.464a-d. Photo by Katy Werlin.

Both gowns are well within the aesthetics of their respective designers. But just who were Jacques Doucet and Edward Molyneux?

Detail of court presentation gown and train, Jacques Doucet, 1926. Gift of Miss Mary Dudley Kenna. In the collection of the Chicago History Museum. 1965.380a-e. Photo by Katy Werlin.

Mary's gown was designed by Jacques Doucet (1853-1929) for the House of Doucet. The House of Doucet was founded in 1817 by Antoine Doucet (1795-1866), Jacques' grandfather. Originally the house supplied lingerie, lace, and embroideries, a fitting beginning for a house that would come to represent a delicate, feminine aesthetic. In the early 1840s the house was established on the Rue de la Paix, one of the most important couture streets in Paris. Jacques himself was born there in 1853 and officially joined in the house in 1874. The House of Doucet was one of the largest couture houses of the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, and some of the great couturiers of the twentieth century worked for Doucet including Paul Poiret (worked for Doucet from 1896-1900) and Madeleine Vionnet (worked for Doucet from 1907-1912). However, the firm never truly recovered from the ravages of World War I. It merged with a lesser couture house, Doueillet, in 1924, and closed altogether in 1932.

Detail of court presentation gown and train, Edward Molyneux, 1928. Gift of Mrs. Frederick L. Spencer. In the collection of the Chicago History Museum. 1962.464a-d. Photo by Katy Werlin.

Captain Edward Molyneux (1891-1974) was born in London and served as a captain in the British army during World War I. He also worked for couturier Lucile in London before opening his own couture house in Paris in 1919. The House of Molyneux was an enormous success and branches were soon opened in Monte Carlo, Cannes, and London. Twentieth-century couturier Pierre Balmain apprenticed at the House of Molyneux, describing it in his 1964 memoirs, My Years and Seasons, as a "temple of subdued elegance... [where] the world's well-dressed women wore the inimitable two-pieces and tailored suits with pleated skirts, bearing the label of Molyneux."

Detail of court presentation gown and train, Jacques Doucet, 1926. Gift of Miss Mary Dudley Kenna. In the collection of the Chicago History Museum. 1965.380a-e. Photo by Katy Werlin.

The aesthetic of Jacques Doucet is colored by delicacy, romanticism, femininity, and a strong historical influence. Doucet himself was a great collector of 18th century art and his designs show the influence of the rococo aesthetic. Floral motifs and lace were particularly popular in his designs. 

Mary's court presentation ensemble is certainly a fitting example of the Doucet aesthetic. The cut of the gown is in the fashionable 1920s style-- loose fitting and with a dropped waist. And yet the full, gathered skirt suggests the styles of a previous era. A sense of romance and whimsey, recalling the light aesthetic of the Edwardian period (1901-1910), is conveyed by the appliqued floral motif on both the gown and train. Soft velvets and satins are expertly stitched and gathered to create soft flowers which rest lightly in an embroidered basket. There is a playful whimsey as a few flowers and buds fall gracefully from the slightly tipped basket. Overall this dress conveys a sense of soft, delicate femininity. Compare it with the Doucet gowns below, from the early 1900s:

Afternoon dress, Jacques Doucet, 1900-1903. In the collection of the Metropolitan Museum of Art. 2009.300.579ab.

Ball gown, Jacques Doucet, c. 1902. In the collection of the Metropolitan Museum of Art. 2009.300.3309ab.

Detail of court presentation gown and train, Edward Molyneux, 1928. Gift of Mrs. Frederick L. Spencer. In the collection of the Chicago History Museum. 1962.464a-d. Photo by Katy Werlin.

Molyneux designer label visible on the underside of the headdress associated with the gown. Court presentation gown and train, Edward Molyneux, 1928. Gift of Mrs. Frederick L. Spencer. In the collection of the Chicago History Museum. 1962.464a-d. Photo by Katy Werlin.

February is Black History Month! To celebrate here on The Fashion Historian, I asked my dear friend and colleague Elizabeth Way if she would pen a couple of guest posts about two incredible African American fashion designers and dressmakers and she kindly agreed. Enjoy!

Ann Lowe pictured in Ebony magazine in 1966.

Ann Lowe was a leading society dressmaker in New York City in the 1950s and 1960s. Her designs were so exclusive that she restricted her clients to those found on the Social Register; people with names like Roosevelt, DuPont, and Rockefeller. Her most famous design was for Jacqueline Kennedy’s wedding dress, but she also made countless wedding and debutante gowns for American socialites. Anne Lowe made couture-quality gowns on par with the best French designers, true pieces of art that now reside in museums like the Museum at the Fashion Institute of Technology, the Metropolitan Museum of Art, and the Smithsonian National Museum of African American History and Culture. But before she came to New York, Lowe built her career as artistic and technically skilled fashion designer in Tampa, Florida.

Ann Lowe was born in 1898 in Clayton, Alabama. This was a rural town in the Jim Crow south, where most blacks struggled as sharecroppers, but Ann’s family was better off than even some white families because her grandmother, Georgia Cole, and her mother, Janey Lowe, were excellent dressmakers. Georgia was a former slave who had been bought and freed by her husband, a free black man named General Cole. When Ann was very young the family moved to Montgomery, and established a thriving business, fashioning gowns for the society ladies of the state capitol. Ann grew up picking up scraps from her grandmother and mother’s work and sewing them into beautiful replicas of the flowers she saw in the garden—these floral accents would become a signature of her designs. In 1914 Janey died suddenly, leaving her daughter to complete an important order for the governor’s wife. Sixteen-year-old Ann, not only finished the order, she took over her mother’s business. Her already advanced design and sewing skills made her a capable dressmaker, but when she married and gave birth to her son Arthur, her husband, Lee Cone, compelled her to give up her work and stay home with her family. Yet she never stopped designing—instead of sewing for socialites, she fashioned beautiful clothing for herself.

Gasparilla Court wearing gowns designed by Ann Lowe, 1927. Black Fashion Museum.

One day, Josephine Lee, a wealthy socialite from Florida, spotted a very fashionable young black woman from across an Alabama department store. Mrs. Lee was so impressed by Ann’s chic clothing she had to ask about them and when she found out that Ann made them herself, she hired the young woman on the spot as her live-in dressmaker. Mrs. Lee had four daughters who all needed fashionable clothes for the social season and Ann was to make them. Lee Cone was against the move, but Ann saw an opportunity to continue and expand the career she loved, and so she and Arthur boarded the train to Tampa.

In Florida, Ann’s career flourished. The Lee girls’ friends coveted their fashion-forward clothing and Ann was soon the most popular dressmaker in town. She was known for making original designs and working fast—sometimes a lady would drop by her shop in the morning with fabric for a dress that she could pick up and wear that night. The Lee family adored Ann and supported her growing talent—in 1917 they encouraged her decision to attend design school in New York City. Luckily for Tampa, its finest dressmaker returned after a year—Lowe was so skilled that she completed the course work of her design school in half the time, despite the fact that she was segregated to a separate classroom to work alone because of her race. Ann reopened her business and by the time she turned 21, she employed eighteen dressmakers in her shop.

Gasparilla Court wearing gowns designed by Ann Lowe, 1928. Black Fashion Museum.

Though Lowe made all types of garments, she was best known for exquisite ball gowns. Tampa hosted an annual social event called the Gasparilla festival, which was full of balls for the wealthiest residents. Young girls from the best families were elected to a Gasparilla court—the most popular was crowned the Gasparilla Queen—and they all wanted dresses by Ann. One socialite recalled, “If you didn’t have a Gasparilla gown by Annie, you might as well stay home.”

In interviews given late in her life, Ann Lowe always remembered her Tampa clients fondly and her time there as very happy. But she was destined for a bigger future. She made a permanent move to New York in 1928, again supported by the Lees who appreciated her talent and ambition. Yet, a local newspaper reported, “There is much ‘weeping and wailing and maybe gnashing of teeth’ to use the old expression, among Tampa society maids over the fact that Annie Cone [as she was known then] is going to New York City… feminine society is wondering just how it will be able to survive the future social seasons without her assistance.” Nearly forty years later, her Tampa clients still remembered their incredible designer. A Tampa Tribune article, written in 1965, included several interviews of Lowe’s Tampa clients and reported that, “everyone we spoke to who had an Ann Lowe gown remembers it distinctly and nostalgically.” The 1924 Gasparilla queen, Sarah Keller Hobbs, sentimentally recalled, “There was never anyone like Annie.”

Further Reading

Frye, Alexandria, “Fairy Princess Gowns Created By Tampa Designer for Queen In Gasparilla’s Golden Era”, Tampa Tribune, Feb. 7 1965, pp. 6-E.

Powell, Margaret, “The Life and Work of Ann Lowe: Rediscovering ‘Society’s Best-Kept Secret’”, (master’s thesis for the Smithsonian Associates and the Corcoran College of Art and Design, 2012).

Elizabeth Way, Curatorial Assistant at the Museum at FIT. Elizabeth wrote her master's thesis on the African American dressmakers Elizabeth Keckly and Ann Lowe and continues to research the intersection of African American culture and fashion.

As a fashion historian, I find that an interesting aspect of Disney is how the animated features serve as records of the visual culture of their day. The Disney Princesses, a successful sub-franchise launched by Disney in the late 1990s, are everywhere these days. They have not been without controversy, but they are certainly popular. They are also records of changing standards of beauty for women in the 20th century. This post series will discuss selected Disney Princesses, exploring how they embody the ideals of femininity of their time.


Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs is a landmark moment in the history of film. It was the first full length animated feature produced by Walt Disney, and is one of the top ten performers at the North American box office. Based on the Brothers Grimm fairy tale, it tells the story of an evil queen who is jealous of Snow White's superior beauty and orders her murder. After a huntsman, Snow White's would-be murderer, shows mercy, Snow White begins a life of hiding in the woods and befriends seven dwarfs. Furious that Snow White is still alive the evil queen disguises herself and visits Snow White in her woodland cottage giving her a poisoned apple. Snow White takes a bite and seems to die but is ultimately awoken and rescued by the kiss of a handsome prince. And they all lived happily ever after.

Marjorie and her animated counterpart dance.

Illustration of two women wearing dress coats from Croquis de bal, 1930s. The New York Public Library.

Hat designs from the 1930s.

The Little Black Dress, or LBD, is one of the staples of the 20th century woman's wardrobe. The Oxford English Dictionary defines the LBD as "a simple black garment suitable for a woman to wear at most kinds of relatively formal social engagements." But where did this style come from?

Portrait of a Young Woman with a Fan by Rembrandt, 1633. In the collection of The Metropolitan Museum of Art.

According to the OED, the first use of the phrase was in 1902, in Henry James' The Wings of the Dove: "She might fairly have been dressed tonight in the little black frock..that Milly had laid aside." Of course, by the 20th century, women had been wearing black dresses for hundreds of years. Traditionally, black dye was one of the most expensive dyes and difficult colors to maintain, thus it served as a signifier of wealth. Many people were painted in black in the 16th and 17th centuries, but it wasn't because they were particularly conservative. It was to express their wealth, showing that they could afford the most costly garments.

Actress Joan Bennett wearing a Little Black Dress in 1928. Image: Sasha, Getty1.

Most people trace the modern idea of the Little Black Dress to the 1920s. The LBD is most famously associated with Coco Chanel, but it is worth noting that Chanel did not invent the Little Black Dress. She helped to popularize the LBD, it was an important part of her fashion aesthetic, and Chanel's Little Black Dresses are important to the history of fashion. But Chanel was neither the first nor the only designer to embrace the style in the 1920s. British designer Edward Molyneux was also crucial to the promotion of the LBD, and many designers had their own take on it. In 1926, Vogue published a picture of a Chanel LBD. Although it was not referred to as a "Little Black Dress", Vogue did call it "Chanel's Ford", implying that the style was as popular and indispensable as Ford's famous cars. Many historians consider this moment important in the history of the LBD.

Audrey Hepburn wearing a Little Black Dress by Givenchy in Breakfast at Tiffany's, 1961.

One of the most famous Little Black Dresses is the stunning dress worn by Audrey Hepburn in Breakfast at Tiffany's (1961). Hepburn's famous dress was designed by her frequent collaborator, Hubert de Givenchy. Although this dress only appears during the opening credits of the movie, it has become one of the most iconic movie costumes of all time and helped to cement the LBD's place in history.

I couldn't decide if I wanted to compare to an extant garment or an illustration, so you get both!


Left: Karl Lagerfeld for House of Chanel, Spring 2012 Couture
Right: Evening dress, 1925, from The Metropolitan Museum of Art


Left: Karl Lagerfeld for House of Chanel, Spring 2012 Couture
Right: George Barbier illustration, early 1920s

"For a dress to survive from one era to the next, it must be marked with an extreme purity." ~ Madame Grès


Madame Grès c. 1946.
Photo Credits: Eugene Rubin/ FNAC/Centre national des arts plastiques, Paris

Madame Grès (1903-1993) was a remarkable couturier in the 20th century, known for using delicate pleats which turned ordinary fabric into Greek sculpture.


On display at the Musée Bourdelle in Paris.

Grès was born Germaine Krebs in Paris in 1903. She originally wanted to be a sculptor, but was unsuccessful. She then ventured into millinery, changing her name to Alix Barton. Her design house would be known as Alix from 1934 through 1942. She first gained attention by designing the costumes for Jean Giraudoux's play The Trojan War Will Not Take Place, and quickly became a leading designer of the day, whose clients included everything from duchesses to movie stars (Grace Kelly, Greta Garbo and Marlene Dietrich are a few of her more famous clients). In 1942 she created the name Grès, a partial anagram of the first name of her husband at the time, Serge Czerefkov. The New York Times called her couture house "the most intellectual place in Europe to buy clothes".


On display at the Musée Bourdelle in Paris.

“I wanted to be a sculptor. For me, it’s the same thing to work the fabric or the stone” Grès once said. And it is a truth universally acknowledged that Grès was indeed a true sculptor of fabric. Her favorite fabric was silk jersey, and a single dress could take from 13 to 21 meters. Her talent for pleating could reduce 9 feet of fabric into a mere 2.8 inches. The drapery of her gowns also showed her technical virtuosity. Long swags of continuous strips of fabric would be incorporated into the front and back of a gown, giving her work a sense of classical antiquity. She also introduced the idea of cutouts, creating little windows in her gowns which revealed the back or shoulder. Wearers of her gowns have said that they felt perfectly secure in her gowns, so impeccable was the construction.


On display at the Musée Bourdelle in Paris.

While Grès is most known for her draped Grecianesque gowns, she also showed talent in less formal designs. Her every day wear showed the same attention to detail and impeccable tailoring that her gowns did.


On display at the Musée Bourdelle in Paris.

Grès had an extraordinarily long career, working until the late 1980s. Throughout this period, which encompassed huge changes in fashion, her work remained consistent and timeless. "Once one has found something of a personal and unique character, its execution must be exploited and pursued without stopping," she said. Her work remains timeless, any one of her elegant gowns could be seen walking a red carpet today. It is easy to see the "extreme purity" Grès would strive for in her work.


On display at the Musée Bourdelle in Paris.

Mary Victoria Leiter Curzon, Baroness Curzon of Kedleston and Vicereine of India (1870-1906), was born in America and was the daughter of Levi Z. Leiter, an early partner in Marshall Field and Co. After being introduced to London society, in 1895 she married George Nathaniel Curzon, a British statesman who would have an extremely successful career. In January 1899 George Curzon was appointed Viceroy of India, giving Mary the honor of holding the highest political position ever gained by an American woman. Tragically, after a long illness, Mary died at age 36 in 1906.

Mary was known for her beauty, and the owner of many stylish gowns. And as a rich and powerful woman, she was able to afford the very best couture, designed by the House of Worth, founded by the father of couture himself, Charles Frederick Worth.




Oak leaf dress by House of Worth, copyright of the Fashion Museum in Bath and the NE Somerset Council.

The oak leaf dress was created in 1903, several years after Worth's death. However, his sons continued his couture business and it is clear that they inherited their fathers skill in design and detail. The silk satin dress features over 400 oak leaves, outlined in satin cord and chenille thread. The darker leaves on the skirt were created by actually cutting out oak leaf shapes, and backing the holes with silk net.

But this beautiful dress is merely a walk in the park compared to Lady Curzon's most famous gown, the peacock dress.


The peacock dress by House of Worth, in the collection at Kedleston Hall.

The peacock dress was commissioned for the Delhi Durbar in 1903, a celebration honoring the coronation of Edward VII. The dress is made of cloth of gold, worked by craftsmen in India, and has a pattern of overlapping peacock feathers. The eye of each feather is not an emerald, as many guests believed, but an iridescent green wing from the scarab beetle (cetonia cyrata).


Detail of peacock feathers.

The fabric was sent over to the House of Worth in Paris and designed into the ornate dress seen today. In addition to the sparkling fabric itself, the hem of the dress is decorated with white roses, and elaborate jewel work sparkles on the bodice.


Detail of bodice front, photograph by Victor Swain.

With all of the decoration, the dress weighed over 10 pounds. Lady Curzon sparkled in the new electric lights, and reportedly left guests breathless. One commented, "You cannot conceive what a dream she looked."

The dress is currently on display at the historic Curzon family house, Kedleston Hall in Derby, England. Although it's over 100 years old and the metal has tarnished, it is still breathtaking. The detail of the cloth is extraordinary and the way the dress sparkles is magical. I imagine Lady Curzon looked like a fairy queen or a goddess when she moved in her gown.