The Fashion Historian

I recently read this article by Lisa Bloom, called How to Talk to Little Girls. It's a quick and interesting read but the gist of it is that the author recently met the five-year-old daughter of a friend, and had to stop herself from complimenting the little girl's appearance. Instead, she started talking about books, in the hopes that this little girl would learn that her mind is valued more than her appearance. Bloom also gives some troubling statistics about the girls and women of America:

"This week ABC news reported that nearly half of all three- to six-year-old girls worry about being fat. In my book, Think: Straight Talk for Women to Stay Smart in a Dumbed-Down World, I reveal that fifteen to eighteen percent of girls under twelve now wear mascara, eyeliner and lipstick regularly; eating disorders are up and self-esteem is down; and twenty-five percent of young American women would rather win America’s next top model than the Nobel Peace Prize. Even bright, successful college women say they’d rather be hot than smart. A Miami mom just died from cosmetic surgery, leaving behind two teenagers. This keeps happening, and it breaks my heart.

Teaching girls that their appearance is the first thing you notice tells them that looks are more important than anything. It sets them up for dieting at age 5 and foundation at age 11 and boob jobs at 17 and Botox at 23. As our cultural imperative for girls to be hot 24/7 has become the new normal, American women have become increasingly unhappy. What’s missing? A life of meaning, a life of ideas and reading books and being valued for our thoughts and accomplishments."

The second paragraph is the crux of her argument and I completely agree. We need to stop valuing women based solely on their appearance, and we need to teach girls to be happy with themselves, whatever shape or size they may be.

But what struck me, and what I want to talk about, is the following quote about the book the little girl read to Bloom:

"Alas, it was about girls and what they wore, and how their wardrobe choices defined their identities. But after Maya closed the final page, I steered the conversation to the deeper issues in the book: mean girls and peer pressure and not going along with the group."

This argument presupposes that an engagement with fashion and appearance is shallow and stupid. I agree that society should not tell women and girls that they have to look a particular way, and there are definitely billion dollar industries sending bad messages. But that does not mean that those who do engage in the industry and consider fashion an important part of their lives is wrong.

In 2005, a reality show aired in America (and probably elsewhere) called Beauty and the Geek. It pared beautiful but "dumb" women with "unattractive" male geeks and the teams of two competed for some some sort of grand prize. I don't really remember all the details, but what I do remember is that there would be quizzes for the participants. The men would teach the women about politics and other "serious issues" and then the women would be quizzed on it. And what did the women teach the men? Fashion and celebrities and other "shallow" things. The whole premise of the show was that anyone who is beautiful is stupid and anyone who is smart is ugly and obviously that is ridiculous. But my point is that these beautiful women knew more about fashion than politics and this made them dumb.

This all adheres to the stigma that fashion is shallow. That idea is actually a fairly recent phenomenon. The gendering of fashion is a fascinating topic and one I will post more about later, but here's a quick summary. Fashion became shallow and a female thing at the beginning of the nineteenth century, when gender roles became extremely strict. This was when men started wearing dark suits, which were relatively basic compared to the flamboyant clothing of previous centuries. It was decided that men were serious and intelligent, while women were silly and superficial. Thus the world of dress was confined to women (interestingly the majority of couturiers were and still are men but that's a topic for another post). This idea has more or less remained in tact today, coloring women interested in fashion as superficial.

My argument is to fight that stigma. A little girl can be interested in fashion and expressing an identity through clothing and still be intelligent and worldly. I say instead of fighting fashion, fight a system that labels fashion as shallow and dumb. Teach the next generation to value more than appearance, but don't devalue an interest in appearance altogether.

What are your thoughts? Comment and let me know!

This afternoon I was interviewed for a segment on AirTalk about the increasing informality of dress in today's society. This is an enormous topic with many contributing factors, but one thing the host mentioned is that in America, informality in dress could be connected to the (supposed) lack of a class system. I agreed, and believe that the mythological identity of America as a place where everyone is equal has been influential on our dress. I referenced an eighteenth-century portrait where one of America's founding fathers is dressed informally. The painting I was thinking of was this portrait of Paul Revere by John Singleton Copley.

Portrait of Paul Revere by John Singleton Copley, 1768. Museum of Fine Arts, Boston.

To have your portrait painted was a very expensive affair, and in the days before photography a portrait was how you would be remembered for all eternity. Thus traditionally most people wore their very best clothes, wanting to show themselves in the best possible light. European portraiture of the same period often shows clothing at the height of fashion and luxurious settings. Compare Revere's portrait with this image, painted just one year earlier.

Portrait of Two Gentlemen Before the Arch of Constantine in Rome by Anton von Maron, 1767. Private collection.

In the Copley portrait, Revere is very informally dressed. He doesn't wear a coat, his waistcoat loosely hangs from his shoulders and his shirt is open at the neckline. His hair is unstyled, and pulled casually back. A silversmith by trade, Revere references his status as a tradesman by holding an unfinished silver pot while engraving tools are scattered on the table. Revere is relaxed, thoughtfully looking out to the viewer, and the background is simple and black and the table plain and unremarkable. He is saying to the world, "Yes, I am rich/important enough to have my portrait done, but really I'm just a simple silversmith, I work hard and am just like anybody else."

In the von Maron portrait, on the other hand, the two gentlemen are formally attired in fashionable clothes. Their suits are sleek in cut and fit tightly to the body, and are decorated with gold embroidery. Both gentleman are most likely wearing wigs, and their hair is in a fashionable style. The man in the blue coat has his hair powdered as well, another fashionable and expensive touch. Both casually hold long walking sticks, another fashionable accessory for the 18th century gentleman. Finally, the gentlemen are posed by an Ancient Roman arch, demonstrating that they are worldly, well-traveled, and knowledgeable about classical societies. Combined, all of these elements demonstrate wealth, refinement, and formality. The message of this portrait is quite different from that of the Paul Revere portrait.

Portrait of Johann Joachim Winkelmann by Anton von Maron, 1768. Kunstsammlungen Weimar.

Even when dressed in informal attire, European portraits still convey a different message. In the above image the subject, Johann Joachim Winkelmann, is not yet dressed for the day, wearing a robe and covering his undressed head with a turban. Yet the clothing still conveys wealth and luxury. The voluminous robe is made of a lustrous red fabric and lined with fur. Although Winkelmann does not wear a wig, his turban is an equally fashionable headdress, a product of the highly fashionable orientalist influence which swept Europe in the 18th century. Furthermore, his surroundings include a luxuriously draped swag of fabric, a marble bust of a classical figure, and a fashionable writing table. Like the other portrait by von Maron, the sitter in this portrait is broadcasting his wealth and status.

Did all wealthy Americans choose to portray themselves as Revere did? Absolutely not. But I think there is an interesting comparison to be made. Revere is a famous figure of the American Revolution, and his portrait is emblematic of the mythological American identity which still holds influence today. It is this same mythological identity that many American politicians and public figures still try to convey. During the 2008 American presidential election, Republican Vice Presidential candidate Sarah Palin built her entire image on the idea that she was (supposedly) just like the rest of us. So to return to the original topic, the increasing informality in our society is due to a number of causes and could easily be a dissertation topic. But for Americans, I think that one cause is the identity, demonstrated by Revere, which is so fundamental to the mythos and history of this country.

I don't know very much about contemporary art. It's not really my thing. And when I went to see Bound Unbound: Lin Tianmiao at the Asia Society, I knew absolutely nothing about the artist or her place in the world of Chinese contemporary art. But I was intrigued by this exhibition because the majority of the works on display significantly used textiles. I'm not sure if I "got it" or if any contemporary art critic would agree with my interpretation of Tianmiao's art. But I think one of the great things about art is that you bring your own history and experiences to the art you view, thus coloring your own interpretation. So here is the interpretation of contemporary art by a fashion historian.



Bound Unbound: Lin Tianmiao, at the Asia Society until January 27, 2013, showcases the work of Chinese artist Lin Tianmiao. Tianmiao’s work uses thread and textiles, along with other media, to create sculptural pieces exploring concepts of the human body. Her work is inspired by memories of her childhood in China, when she would help her mother sew clothes for the family. According to the introductory text of the exhibition, Tianmiao’s works “are as much about her personal journey as an artist as they are about a desire to articulate broader social issues. Through her focus on the female experience, she comments on the enormous social progress made in Chinese society during Mao Zedong’s tenure, yet she hints that some promises remain unfulfilled." Her work also explores the concept of dualities. According to the exhibition press release, “These are frequently played out in her works through contrasts between materials, but they are also evident in binary themes such as male versus female, function versus form, and physical versus psychological experience.” Within my personal experience of the exhibition, I was particularly struck by the unique interaction between textile and human form.



Much of Tianmiao’s work uses a technique called thread winding, in which “she winds silk or cotton thread around an object until it is completely covered and ultimately transformed.” In pieces such as All The Same (2011), Tianmiao wraps bones from the human body in different colored threads, creating a rainbow of bones. In other works, she covers human forms and other objects with pieces of silk. To me, these works showed an exploration of the relationship between the human body and its textile covering. The drive to clothe the body is shared by almost all societies on the planet. It is one of the things that unites us as people. I found Tianmiao’s work a reflection of this idea. Despite any cultural differences, at our core we are all made of the same bones, take the same basic shape. Wrapping these basic foundations of humanity in thread and fabric reflects the idea that, like bones and bodies, clothing is also a basic foundation of humanity.

You can learn more about the artist and her work at the exhibition website.

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

All the cool kids are following The Fashion Historian on twitter, @PastFashion.

Charles Frederick Worth (1825-1895) is widely considered the first couturier. My most popular blog post in history is about him, and can be found here. After Worth's death in 1895, his descendents continued the fashion house, until it was closed in 1952 after the death of his great-grandson. But in 2010, the House of Worth returned to the couture stage. The revival is done through the House of Worth Ltd, a new company created by Dilesh Mehta and Martin McCarthy. The head designer is Giovanni Bedin, a graduate of the Chambre Syndicale de la Couture Parisienne, who has previously worked with Karl Lagerfeld and Thierry Mugler. "We're taking baby steps because Worth is a huge brand with a big heritage and it's brand new again and we have to tell this beautiful story and make people know again the heritage," said Bedin on his rather daunting task of reviving the great couture legend.


House of Worth, Spring/Summer 2011 Couture

My favorite so far is the Spring/Summer 2011 couture collection, which is particularly interesting from an historians perspective. The collection is called Night and Day, and was inspired by an original 19th century Worth dress, which embodied both night and day. “When I saw this dress – the Night and Day dress – it was like a revelation. It's cut in two – one side for day and the other for night with all of the elements like the sun, the moon, bees, flowers, a bat. It was so modern,” said Bedin.


House of Worth, Spring/Summer 2011 Couture

Another obvious inspiration is the tutu, the famous garment worn by ballet dancers the world over. Says Bedin on the tutus: “The tutus – I like the idea that women in the 19th Century didn’t wear mini skirts but the basque was very important and I like the idea of wearing the volume but reducing the length.” His creations certainly capture the opulence of 19th century Worth designs while bringing in a more modern concept of short skirts for women. But is it really that modern?


House of Worth, Spring/Summer 2011 Couture

Well if you wanted to be technical about it, the tutu did develop during the 19th century which most historians categorize as the modern period. The birth of the tutu is quite mysterious, but its first famous appearance was in 1832 in the ballet Les Sylphide, and was designed by Eugène Lami (however no renderings for the tutu remain). It was worn by celebrated ballerina Marie Taglioni, who starred in the ballet as a sylph- an otherworldy spirit who inhabited the air. Soon the tutu became the standard for ballerinas everywhere, its light and floaty qualities emphasizing the ethereal beauty and lightness of the dancers. As the century progressed, the tutu began to get shorter and stiffer, and by the 20th century became the pancake shaped tutu we know today.


Carlotta Grisi in Giselle by J. Brandard, c. 1841. Collection of Marie Rambert.

The history of the tutu is fascinating (and hopefully a lengthy article I have written on the subject will soon be published!) because of the dichotomy of its symbolism. On the one hand it transformed ballerinas into graceful, beautiful creatures, floating about the stage as fairies and princesses, the delicate fabrics and sparkly decorations of the tutu adding to the magic. But on the other hand, the tutu revealed the legs of women in a period when showing legs was a social taboo. It subsequently became an extremely controversial garment. Furthermore, the fairies and princesses of the stage were mostly low class girls in reality. While the famous prima ballerinas enjoyed a celebrity lifestyle, the majority of dancers were simply ballet girls, poor and transformed into sexual objects. The soliciting of sexual relationships with ballet girls was practically institutionalized. At the Paris Opera, rich and influential gentlemen known as abonnés could gain access to the backstage rehearsal hall, where they could flirt with the dancers. While not all ballet girls prostituted themselves, many did and the reputation of the ballet girl as a sexual object was widespread.


In The Wings No. 3, by Jean-Louis Forain, shows a rotund abonné flirting with a dancer. In the collection of the Boston Public Library.

So what does all this have to do with the beautiful couture creations of Bedin? The tutu was always beautiful, but it was also once a symbol of sexuality and immorality, only donned by the lowest class of women. It is true that ballerinas today have risen far above this heritage, but I think it's interesting to look at these couture tutus in the context of their inspiration- the 19th century. What was once a marker of a lower status has now become a marker of the highest status- the woman able to afford couture. The thought of the House of Worth designing tutus to be purchased by the wealthy and (hopefully) put on display in museums someday would have been absurd in the 19th century. Now it is perfectly normal. And furthermore, in featuring tutus as couture Bedin has taken them off the stage and put them into the "real world", they no longer belong in the realm of costumes but in fashion itself (not that costumes are not a part of fashion, but I think you know what I mean). This is a garment that has made quite a journey!!

Don't forget to follow The Fashion Historian on twitter, @PastFashion!


Left: Valentino Fall couture 2010.
Right: Late 18th century illustration of a woman getting dressed.

Sustainability is a big issue these days and applies to every aspect of life, including fashion. It can mean a lot of things, using sustainable materials, using sustainable construction methods, recycling old clothes, etc. Sustainability also raises some issues with fashion, as fashion changes constantly by it's very nature, which means throwing out the old and bringing in the new. You can read some great posts on sustainable fashion at Worn Through here and here.

With this theme in mind, last spring I was a designer for COUTURevolution, the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill's second annual sustainability fashion show. The designers took many different routs with their clothes, from reworking old clothes into new fashionable pieces to using recycled products. As for me, I chose to bring a little history into my designs.



This dress was made from issues of The Daily Tar Heel, UNC's daily newspaper. I raided all the newspaper boxes late one night, much to the confusion of everyone who walked past me, but I'm quite proud of the result. The flowers are made from fabric scraps I took from the scrap bin at the UNC costume shop. The skirt is made of pleated newspapers built on top of my hoop skirt (unfortunately as the day wore on all my perfectly sculpted folds started getting a little messy, one of the hazards of working with newspaper), which I adjusted into a conical 16th century shape (it would have been called a farthingale back then). The bodice is pleated newspapers on a muslin base.



Not only does this dress invoke the 16th century, it also invokes the 1960s, when there was a fad for wearing dresses made of actual paper. A topic for a future post!



My other dress was an homage to my favorite era ever, the 18th century.



This one is made out of black and white trash bags, and unfortunately did not photograph as well as the newspaper dress. The bodice is actually made of very tightly gathered trash bags, the vertical folds created were just gorgeous. The skirt is three layers, and the trim is actually pleated in an 18th century style. The skirt is supported by plastic shopping bags stuffed with more plastic shopping bags (my roommate was thrilled to get rid of all the plastic shopping bags we had sitting around).





More amazing photos, of my dresses and the others, taken by an actual professional can be found here.

Big big thanks go out to my two amazing models, who worked their outfits like pros. They were fierce!

Left: Detail of Noble Couple by A. van den Tempel, late 17th century.
Right: Alexander McQueen Spring 2007 Ready to Wear.

Welcome to a new feature of The Fashion Historian! One of my favorite things to do, and one of my favorite research topics, is finding historic influences in modern haute couture. So every so often I'll put up a picture of couture next to a period image. No lengthy explanations about what the influence is or why it was chosen or the social relevance, I'll just let the images speak for themselves and let you enjoy some beautiful creations.


Left: Fashion plate from 1897, taken from the New York Public Library Digital Gallery.
Right: Dior Fall 2007 haute couture, designed by John Galliano.

As you may already know, the fashion world was recently rocked by the announcement of the untimely death of visionary designer Alexander McQueen. His clothes were striking, beautiful, impeccably crafted, and often controversial. His fashion shows were more than a simple trot down the runway. The theatricality and creativity with which he presented his clothes is just as much a testament to his talent as the garments themselves. The man was a true artist.

Fall 2006


Spring 2007


Fall 2008


Fall 2008


A video of the unforgettable moment during his fall 2006 show when Kate Moss materialized from thin air and danced in a ghostly gown.


A tribute and interview with McQueen: http://www.style.com/stylefile/2010/02/mcqueen-the-showman/

A great article: http://www.wornthrough.com/2010/02/12/alexander-mcqueen-lost-designer/

Yay! I have readers! Please continue to comment and let me know what you think, it's terribly exciting for me to see that some one other than my mom is reading this.

Most people know that I am a HUGE Dior fan. From the timeless designs of Christian Dior to the over-the-top theatricality of current Dior designer John Galliano, I adore Dior. One of my favorite Dior designs, and indeed one of my favorite pieces of clothing of all time, is the Junon dress.


From the Metropolitan Museum of Art.

The Junon dress was part of Dior's fall/winter 1949-1950 collection. Junon is French for Juno, Juno being the Ancient Roman goddess who was wife to Jupiter and patron goddess of Rome. Her Ancient Greek equivalent is Hera. Also associated with birth, the Romans called her "the one who makes the child see the light of day". On a side note, the Junon dress was featured in the same collection as the Venus dress, another Dior masterpiece named for a mythological figure (Venus being the Roman goddess of love, her Greek equivalent is Aphrodite).

Although it doesn't have the trademark fabric drapery of the ancient world, the Junon dress nonetheless carries references to it's ancient namesake. The peacock is often associated with Juno/Hera, and the petals of the skirt are reminiscent of eyeless peacock feathers. The foundation of the dress is made of a pale silk net, a light fabric which invokes a sense of otherworldly weightlessness. One could easily imagine a goddess descending from the heavens dressed in such a fabric. When the iridescent sequins catch the light, the lady would look like an otherworldly, shimmering goddess.


From the Metropolitan Museum of Art

The beauty and magic of the Junon dress has naturally inspired other incarnations. In the musical Wicked, the character of Glinda wears a blue version of the dress, the lightness and sparkles easily translating to the character of the lovely witch.





At the 2009 Oscars, Miley Cyrus wore a Zuhair Murhad gown clearly inspired by the Junon dress. I love how this gown takes the ombré sequins and applies them to the bodice.



Most recently, the Junon dress has seen a reworking from the house of Dior itself. In the spectacular 2010 spring couture collection, designed by the always fabulous John Galliano, the Junon dress returns. This time with an even lighter feel, as the sequins are a very similar color to the floaty fabric. I can only imagine how this dress moves, but I would guess that the skirt floats down the runway, making the model appear to be lightly gliding on a soft breeze. This contrasts nicely with the heavy satin, crystal encrusted bodice and bow. According to the reporter at style.com, when the dress came down the runway "you could hear gasps of girly delight from the front-row clients. The fight for who will wear what at the Costume Institute Gala is officially on".



Anyone wanna lend me a few hundred thousand dollars so I can get this dress for myself?

Today's topic is the fashion doll, and it's place in three moments in time.

The 18th Century

Back in the days before mass media, the latest trends needed to be disseminated to the general public. There were fashion plates, which illustrated the latest styles. But as we all know, seeing a dress in a magazine and seeing it in the store are two very different things. Furthermore, clothing was extremely extremely expensive. If the rich and fabulous were going to be spending that much money on something, they had better know exactly what they were getting. Enter the fashion doll, aka Pandoras, aka poupées de mode aka Queen Anne Dolls (called so because Queen Anne (1665-1714) was a huge fan of the dolls). Scholars differ on the origin of the fashion doll. Some trace it to seventeenth century France, others trace it to Renaissance Italy.

A fashion doll was made of either wood or plaster, and had a painted on face (some even had glass eyes) and a fashionable hairstyle made from flax or wool. They showcased the latest fashions coming from Paris, which was already the fashion capital of the world, and were shipped all over the world. Their importance was so great that they even received diplomatic immunity. In 1712, for example, when France and England were at war with each other again, fashion dolls were exempt from the embargo on enemy imports, given an "inviolable passport", and even a cavalry escort. These dolls showcased the couture of the day, the highest and newest of styles, and women clamored for them. After all, fashion takes precedence over everything. Even religion, as one satirist noted.

When Marie Antoinette was picking out her wedding trousseau for her marriage to Louis XVI, Hofburg was filled to the brim with fashion dolls bearing the latest Parisian styles. Carrolly Erickson describes the array as wearing "ball gowns, afternoon dresses, robes and petticoats in a score of delicate shades, the silks embroidered with floral designs or silk ribbon applique, the borders trimmed with serpentine garlands of silver and gold lace,... already over-decorated fabrics [trimmed] with fields of artificial flowers, feathers, tassels and silk ribbon bows, rosettes and ruffles, passementerie and beading and costly metallic fringe". Yeah, you know you're jealous. After Marie Antoinette's ascension to the French throne, her favorite designer Rose Bertin created a life size fashion doll in the likeness of the queen on which to display her latest creations. This had been done before, with Louis XV's mistress Madame Pompadour, which not only featured a fashionable wardrobe but also a book of directions on how you too can dress this fabulously.







The 20th Century

Fashion dolls emerged out of the need to get information from one place to the other. With the technical innovations of the 20th century, the fashion doll seems to be an obsolete article of the past. However, the fashion dolls made their triumphant return in 1945.

In 1944, France was liberated from German occupation, but their economy was in ruins and many people were without food or homes. Raoul Dautry, the head of L'Entraide Francaise, the organization responsible for providing war relief, decided to ask the Chambre Syndicale de la Haute Couture Parisienne (the organization which is basically the head of the haute couture world) if the couturiers would get together and organize something to show off French couture to a world which had been isolated from it, and at the same time raise money for L'Entraide Francaise.

What was decided on was the use of dolls, 27 inches tall, dressed in exact replicas of the couture collections. Everything from hats to shoes to furs to accessories were replicated in exact and miniature detail. To avoid the connotations of dolls as toys, and to create something new, it was decided that the dolls should not be solid. Artist Eliane Bonabel designed basic wire structures to exhibit the outfits, and Catalan sculptor Rebull created heads so that the dolls could have fashionable hairstyles. Robert Ricci, Dautry's friend at the Chambre Syndicale de la Haute Couture Parisienne, came up with the idea to display the dolls in little sets designed by the couturiers, all housed in a little theater. The project then took on the name Théâtre de la Mode.

On March 27, 1945, the exhibition opened to the public at the Pavillion Marsan. It was a smash hit, people from the war torn country being desperate for glamor, beauty, and a bit of normalcy in their lives. Besides the hauntingly lit dolls in their sets, there was also a display about the couture industry and historic fashion drawings. The exhibition brought in a million francs for the relief effort, and brought couture back to the forefront of the social consciousness. After the war ended in 1945, Dautry decided to take the exhibition on tour, saying "France has little, alas, to export, but she has her appreciation of beautiful things and the skill of her couture houses..." The tour made it all the way to America, where the dolls were seen, stored away, and largely forgotten. In 1952, they were moved from their makeshift storage to the Maryhill Museum of Art in Goldendale, Washington, where they were once again forgotten. Then, in 1983, they were found by historian Stanley Garfinkel, and in 1990 the restored dolls were put on display once again. David Seidner took new photographs of the dolls, which were recently put on exhibition at the International Center of Photography in New York City, along with one of the original dolls. I was lucky enough to get to see these photographs, as well as the doll, which was simply stunning. The sheer talent that went into making the little blue polka dot dress blew me away. If you would like to know more about the Théâtre de la Mode, as well as see beautiful pictures of the dolls in their recreated settings and Seidner's photographs, I highly recommend getting the book Théâtre de la Mode- Fashion Dolls: The Survival of Haute Couture.








One of David Seidner's photographs.


The 21st Century

I was very interested to recently discover that the fashion doll has made a reappearance, this time as art. Artist and former Dennis Basso employee Andrew Yang has begun making "supermodel rag dolls", which sell for $600 (hearkening back to the days centuries ago when only the rich and fabulous could afford to buy a doll of their very own) and feature perfect miniature replicas of the clothes and hairstyles featured on the Spring 2010 runway. Unlike the incarnations before them, these dolls are not used to share fashion ideas with the world. Instead, they are art, an expensive decoration for the fashionable mind to display in their home. Thus the purpose of the fashion doll has transformed from practical to artistic, reinforcing the notion that clothes are not just something you put on your body, but can be an artistic expression of ideas and individuality.


From left to right: Katie Eary, Gareth Pugh, Rick Owens; Lanvin.


From left to right: Comme Des Garçons; Marc Jacobs.

Note the hairstyles of a few of these dolls. The updo is reminiscent of the tall hairstyles worn by fashionable ladies in the late 18th century, a trend popularized by Marie Antoinette. I just thought the parallel was interesting.