History of Haute Couture

[SomethingElse]

13 August 1934

Not for three months will the horse chestnut trees on Paris' Champs-Elysees begin to turn yellow. Yet last week on the brief and severe Rue de la Paix autumn had already come. And on hand for its coming was an excited little army of U. S. dress buyers who crowded through closely-guarded doorways into the salons of the great Parisian couturiers. Inside the warm air was heavy with perfume and the smell of new silk. Buyers who usually paid $100 to get in (refunded on the first order) cocked their heads and adjusted their glasses as the sleek mannequins rustled to ward them in long-skirted evening gowns, sport dresses with Brazil nuts for buttons, coats made of steamer rugs, woolen dresses with oilcloth grapes. Soon the buyers would stream out of the city with notes and gossip on the fashions Paris was about to set the world for the winter of 1934-35.

To Parisians the excitement from the Etoile to the Rue de la Paix was an old story. As every fashion follower knows, there are two months in the year — February and August — when the couturiers throw open their shops to a select few to reveal in their "collections" what the best dressed women will wear during the next six months. Smaller midseason displays are held in April and November.

Present at last week's openings, to which admittance was by card only, were four types of people: 1) a few celebrated European socialites, who as private customers may be expected to buy a half-dozen gowns; 2) reporters and fashion writers; 3) manufacturers, many from the Americas, who will buy gowns as models and sell copies wholesale to every little dress shop; and, most important, 4) buy ers from big U. S. department stores, Altman, Macy, Saks Fifth Avenue, Bonwit Teller, scores of others. There is no competitive bidding between buyers and the price is the same to all couturiers who will make up any number of duplicates of a favorite model.

To supply its customers with Paris copies, a department store, through its buyer at the opening, will purchase a variety of original models and import them into the U. S. under bond. If the model is returned to France within six months, the store does not have to pay any U. S. duty on it. During that period the store turns the Paris gown, which may have cost as much as $1,000, over to its private manufacturer to make, say, 50 copies to sell at $69.50. The store is at liberty to advertise its 50 dresses as copies of Chanel or Schiaparelli or whatnot. Then the original dress is shipped back to Paris and the department store gets a refund on its customs. In Paris the soiled model is peddled to some small back-street dress shop which sells it sometimes for as little as $10.

The topnotch independent clothing manufacturer whose buyers have also attended the Paris openings follows the same routine, except that he usually makes thousands of copies and sells to smaller retail stores. He it is who is responsible for the fact, that, within 30 days of the original showings, every shopgirl in the land is wearing a cheap imitation of what is the best Paris style.

To get their news of last week's openings, most big U. S. department stores were in constant cable communication with Paris. B. Altman & Co. went a step further, with a transatlantic telephone service. This scheme was originated last year by Altaian's top Fashion Copywriter Laura Hobson. Young, smart Advertising Director John C. Wood planned to launch a display campaign in newspapers and magazines this week to publicize the new designs. The trends of fashions as Altman and other stores studied them last week: There are three predominant silhouets —medieval, crinoline, Empire. Empire features long toe-length skirts and extremely high waists to emphasize the curve of the bosom. The crinoline type, adorned with bows and puffs, has a hoopskirt effect. The ecclesiastic medieval silhouet, which fashion experts predict will be the most popular, emphasizes slim waists, full sweeping skirts, and necklines either demurely high or wickedly low. But since it is impossible to look ecclesiastical in feathery chiffon materials, the medieval silhouet is certain to have far-reaching effects upon the fabric world. Dresses of this type must be made of stiff velvets, bulky slipper satins, heavy faille taffeta.

Tweeds have come off the golf course into the drawing room, are now correct for tea. Reason: the informal shirt waist has been supplanted by blouses of stiff velvet, chenille, soft duvetyn.

Furs are used extensively for trimming and edging, but big fur collars are frowned upon. Most amusing fur note is an Astrakhan muff shaped like a dachshund. Hats, also exotic, feature the stovepipe which sits high on the head, the Francois Villon, and the tiny velvet head turban with three and only three feathers. Skirts are split, but not notably longer than last year, varying from floor length to 15 in. above the floor. Trains are conspicuously absent. Predominant dress colors are black, "poison" green, purple.

time.com

[SomethingElse]

continued...

The art of creating costumes is obvious; the business, obscure and confused. The haute couture— must risk its millions of francs of profit upon the artistic fecundity of 40 or 50 designers. The wages of 300,000 cutters and sewers, 150,000 embroiderers, glove makers, bag makers, hundreds of thousands of copyists the world over depend upon their creations. If they fail, the price is instant oblivion. If they succeed the rewards may be as great as those of Charles Frederick Worth, draper's assistant who revolutionized the haute couture in the 1850's and whose sons and grandsons have prospered mightily. No aspiring Paris dressmaker ever forgets the fact that Gabrielle Chanel, the country girl from Auvergne, was said to be worth $15,000,000 as late as 1932 and is considered one of France's richest woman. Even 35 years ago openings attended by such widespread public interest as those of last week were unheard of. Before the War the couturiers of Paris were a small, select group catering to the queens and grandes dames of Europe. Even these moneyed customers consulted a couturier only when they wanted dresses for particularly grand occasions and were willing to spend as much as $1,000 for a brocaded ball gown. For everyday clothes—street dresses, afternoon frocks, sportswear— the grandes dames considered the little dressmaker around the corner good enough. But after the War there was little demand for expensive robes-de-style and no money to pay for them. So the couturiers set out to supplant the little seamstress around the corner by designing all women's clothes, even down to the negligee. These designs, simple, practical, not too expensive, brought the haute couture down from the ballroom to the tennis court.

War had an even more important effect on styles in the U. S. Before 1914 only the wealthiest of U. S. matrons bought their gowns in Paris. To the women of the great middle class, Worth, Redfern, Poiret, Callot Soeurs were simply glamorous names. After 1918 the couturiers began for the first time to dress the whole Western world. Their designs, altered and adapted to suit cheaper grades of materials, began to flow out over all Europe and the U. S. Paris became the hub of world fashion. It still is.

That change laid the haute couture open to further inroads by the hordes of unscrupulous style pirates whose activities are currently the industry's chief economic headache. They contrive through spies to pet detailed information on nearly every important opening without going to the expense of buying models. They make up copies from this information, bootleg them as bona fide originals at greatly reduced prices. French law prosecutes style pirates relentlessly: 400 were once jailed in a single drive. The fight against piracy was led by an Egyptian named Trouyet, head of the house of Vionnet. He is described as "a horrible person, but smart."

Haute Couture: 1934. The scores of big and little couturiers to whom buyers Hocked last week may be divided roughly and not without argument into three groups. First are the older houses who are heavy with prestige but exercise comparatively little authority over fashion trends. In this class are Worth, Paquin, Callot Soeurs and Redfern, who was the first couturier to receive the red ribbon of the Legion of Honor. Next is a large group of comparatively young houses or old ones which have passed their prime. Although they may startle the trade almost any year with a new trend, they are not at present the most dominant influence in fashion. Preeminent among them are Lelong, said to be the best organized house in Paris, Chanel, Bruyere, Goupy, Louiseboulanger, Jane Regny, Lucille Paray, Martial & Armand, Marcel Rochas, Maggy Rouff, Vera Borea, Alix, Dilkusha, Jodelle and the redoubtable Jean Patou.

Finally there is a handful of houses now at or near the peak of their power as arbiters of the ultra-modern haute couture. They are not necessarily the most popularized, nor are they all heavily patronized by U. S. buyers. Regardless of who else might be included nearly every fashion expert would agree that in this group the following houses most decidedly belong: Vionnet, Lanvin, Augustabernard, Main-bocher, Molyneux and Schiaparelli.

Vionnet is in appearance a typical French seamstress. Small, nimble, birdlike, she is incredibly skillful with the needle, sews better than anyone in her shop. Although she is reputed to be the daughter of a Monte Carlo cocotte, her contemporaries speak of her with awe and respect, consider her the dressmaker's dressmaker. She achieves a classic elegance of line at the expense of color. To make her gowns cling to the figure she cuts her materials on the bias. A couturier for nearly 40 years, she designs her models on a famed wooden doll.

Lanvin made her first dresses at home for her daughter, who is now the Comtesse de Polignac. Others liked them so well that they went to Mme Lanvin to be dressed. Never an extremist, she bases nearly all of her designs on historical fashions or documents, adapting and reworking them to modern colors and materials. The results are regal and highly dramatic, which is one reason why she is patronized by European grandes dames, South Americans, French actresses.

Augustabernard, noted for her temper. is popular in the U. S. She is noted for her superb technique which makes her dresses the favorites of connoisseurs. Commercial buyers are less enthusiastic. Her gowns depend on expensive materials, are difficult to copy. But she has a large following among well-bred socialites, dresses some of the smartest women in Paris.

Captain Molyneux, an Irishman who was thrice wounded in the War and won a British Military Cross, is a favorite of young U. S. and English girls. In his grey-walled shop, his grey-clad -vendeuses specialize in selling slender evening gowns, tweed sports and town ensembles, nearly all designed by Molyneux himself.

[SomethingElse]

...last part.

Mainbocher ("Main" to his friends). was born in Chicago and edited Paris Vogue. Five years ago he resigned to go into business for himself, reputedly with the backing of Mrs. Gilbert Miller (daughter of Broker J. S. Bache), Elsie de Wolfe and the Comtesse de Vallambrosa. Mainbocher, youngest of the currently prominent houses, turns out chic and tasteful gowns in a chic and severe salon on Avenue George V.

Schiaparelli. "Of course we don't want pants," cried Elsa Schiaparelli in a speech before Manhattan's Fashion Group last year. "Men are already ugly enough in them without having women wear them." But Mme Schiaparelli gave women practically everything else, including dresses made of cellophane and rubber, collars of china, gadgets designed from harness. One of her best textile designs grew out of some plaster and netting she picked up in a rubbish pile. In her crusade for sharp, dramatic line ("skyscraper silhouet") Mme Schiaparelli persecutes the button with morbid zeal, has substituted all manner of gadgets in place of it, including metal coat fasteners in the shape of dollar signs.

Madder and more original than most of her contemporaries, Mme Schiaparelli is the one to whom the word "genius" is applied most often. Even to her intimate friends she remains an enigma. Her great-great-grandmother was an Egyptian. Her Italian father was dean of the University of Rome, a professor of oriental lore, an authority on Sanskrit and old coins. Her uncle, Astronomer Giovanni Schiaparelli. discovered the canals on Mars. Elsa Schiaparelli was born in Rome, educated in Switzerland and England where she married a Polish gentleman and moved to New York. There she lived on 9th Street, worked for the cinema in New Jersey, did translations for importing houses, had a baby. After five years of marriage she left her husband, fled to Paris.

One day in 1925 she designed a black & white sweater for herself. Her friends liked the smart melancholy of black in sportswear, urged her to take an attic in the rue de la Paix and set up as a designer. She did, in 1927. Two years later she moved down two flights. By 1932 her 400 employes were turning out between 7,000 and 8,000 garments a year and Mme Schiaparelli, with no previous experience and only five years' work, was the most discussed fashion-maker in Paris.

Midinettes and Vendeuses consider it a privilege to work in her house, though she is often autocratic, impatient and hasty. She arrives promptly at 10 o'clock, opens and answers every letter herself, signs every check. She can design gowns with pencil and shears but more often puts them together in her head while driving in a motorcar. At her opening last week, clad in a last season's black crepe dress, she tied each scarf and fastened each belt on the mannequins before they left the cabine. Then she hastily escaped to her studio.

Though her fame continues to spread, one thing keeps Schiaparelli, now in her middle thirties, from becoming the very smartest of the Paris dressmakers. Her designs are too easy to copy. The mutton sleeves and tray shoulders which she sponsored last year were instantly popular on the Champs-Elysees and Manhattan's Park Avenue. But it was not long before every little dress factory in Manhattan had copied them and from New York's 3rd Avenue to San Francisco's Howard Street millions of shop girls who had never heard of Schiaparelli were proudly wearing her models.

Of late the fashion supremacy of Paris has been challenged by New York whose couturiers are growing more articulate. The autumn openings of Elizabeth Hawes. Clarepotter, Muriel King, Helen Cookman will not begin until September. But in Chicago last week was an indigenous fashion show of the 225 principal manufacturers of inexpensive dresses for the farmer's wife, the restaurant waitress, the ribbon clerk. On the tenth floor of the huge Merchandise Mart important cloak & suit makers like J. Baach of Chicago, Biberman Bros, of Manhattan, Liberty Frock Co. of Kansas City — firms of which the consuming public rarely hears — proudly displayed the jersey wools and striped cotton washables that this autumn S. Klein ("On the Square") will sell in Manhattan; Pogue's, in Cincinnati; Schuster's, in Milwaukee; Famous & Barr, in St. Louis. Women's and misses' swagger coats were $3.25 a dozen, wholesale, cotton prints as low7 as $6.75 a doz., checked and tartan synthetic dresses ("51% cotton according to the code") from $2.50 retail up. Top retail price was $42.50 for knitted wools. There was no champagne for thirsty buyers but free beer and sandwiches were served in a room on the 14th floor fixed up like a prison and called "The Kooler." Special fashion shows were held on two nights in the exhibition hall, where a scantily-clad "Miss Merchandise Mart" and four buxom japesters in red-striped flannel nightgowns paraded across stage sets decorated to suggest winter.

*Literally, high-class sewing.

[SomethingElse]

Untucked: A brief history of haute

The foundation of haute couture rests on the luxury of original design and perfect fit. However, this industry represents far more than fine clothing. Ever since its initial conception, haute couture has been a symbol of privilege and prestige -- offering an exclusivity that only the wealthiest individuals could afford.

Today, haute couture -- a French term which literally means "high dressmaking" -- occupies the highest tier of the fashion industry; attainable only by a select few, envied and copied by everyone else. Yet, behind the glamorous façade, there lies a carefully executed business strategy that successful designers have used to capitalize on consumers' fascination with status and recognition.

The concept of haute couture as it is now known was created by Englishman Charles Fredrick Worth in the mid-1800s. Up until the time of Worth, fashion design was a collaboration between those buying the clothing and those constructing it.

Wealthy ladies would purchase fine fabrics from prestigious textile manufactures and then bring the cloth to a seamstress. The seamstress would then fabricate the garment according to the lady's specifications. Trends were dictated by the Royal Court, where empresses and countesses would commission lavish gowns for various appearances. Worth changed all this by taking the position of the final authority in dress, regardless of his clients' wishes.

Worth also changed the level of importance behind who constructed one's clothing. Previously, the position of seamstress or tailor, although respected, did not carry much prestige in privileged circles. As news of Worth's exceptional gowns spread, his name became synonymous with quality and refinement that only the highest levels of society could partake in. Thus, the first designer label was born.

Worth cultivated this fashionable reputation by associating himself with newsworthy celebrities -- most notably Empress Eugenie of France. This strategy is still employed by couture houses today, as evidenced by the Oscar night "red carpet" parade. The fact that the richest and most glamorous people of the day were wearing what Worth told them to wear soon had elite women scrambling from across France, England, and America to purchase their own Worth gowns. He came to be seen as an artist in his own right, and, therefore, anything he said became a fashion trend.

With his revolutionary approach to clothing design and construction, Worth set many standards for haute couture that have remained intact to this day. With his obsessive attention to detail and high standard of perfection, Worth's clothing required hours upon hours of skilled labor to create and, consequently, commanded a staggering price.

The same holds true for contemporary couture fashion houses (although some critics argue that one pays mostly for an exclusive name). Today, one can expect to pay from $16,000 to about $20,000 for a woman's tailored suit and in excess of $60,000 for an evening gown. At such prices, it is not surprising that the current market for couture clothing is extremely specialized, to say the least.

It is estimated that presently fewer than 1,000 women worldwide buy couture clothing regularly. This is not surprising when one considers that there are only 3,000 women in the world who posses the financial resources to purchase such items. The French haute couture industry reported in 1994 that the made-to-measure business represented only 6% of turnover in the big-name fashion world. Given these figures, one might question how these fashion houses are able to sustain any profit at all. The answer is prêt-a-porter, or "ready to wear."

Unlike couture garments, which are custom fitted to each client's body through multiple, painstaking fit sessions, prêt-a-porter garments are mass-produced in standard sizes. Although these garments are still of a very high quality, they do not require the same time commitment needed for couture items. Consequently, prêt-a-porter clothing is offered at a lower, but still prohibitively high cost -- making it out of reach for a large portion of the population. Nevertheless, the market for such items is much broader than the 1,000 or so women who partake in haute couture.

One might wonder why fashion houses even bother with couture clothing lines at all when they bring such low returns. This is where the clever business strategy comes into play. Essentially, couture clothing is a marketing tool for the more profitable prêt-a-porter industry. Without the extravagant, and often outrageous, couture shows to attract media attention, consumers might not be as infatuated with the mystique of designer labels. It is this mystique that couture houses depend upon to drive high international prêt-a-porter and accessories sales to gain substantial profits.

Thus, haute couture has as much to do with human psychology as it does fashion. The quest for perfection in dress speaks not only to the desire to be clothed in the most luxurious attire money can buy but also the urge to look better than anyone else. Haute couture embodies the romance, expense, and excess that is fashion.

Source: tuftsdaily.com . By Luke Brown Published 3 May 2004

[kissmesweet]

Thanks for the article and it was interesting to read how Haute Couture is the way it is because of the past.

[SomethingElse]

"Haute Couture" published 13 August 1928

From Paris, last week, came reports of feverish activity around the Place Vendôme and, particularly, along that brief but important, severe but incredibly expensive street known as the Rue de la Paix. Crowds milled about sternly-guarded doorways; ultra-fashionable women sought admission as to the most coveted box at the Opera; Parisian celebrities entered with an air of triumph, emerged with subdued cries of "Oh!" and "Ah!"

To the Parisian, even to the accustomed tourist, the mêlée in the Rue de la Paix was not unfamiliar. Similar scenes had been observable just a year ago, and again last February. As every true follower of fashion knows, there are two months in the year when the couturiers open their magnificent salons to the view of a favored few, display their latest triumphs of design, reveal what the well-dressed woman will wear for the next six months.

Many a fortunate Parisian hastened, last week, from the grand openings of the dressmakers to ponder how she should persuade her husband that no matter how chic she might appear in his eyes, in truth she would be in rags unless her wardrobe conformed to these newly-pronounced edicts.

Color. Bright, navy blue is to be the predominant color of fall fashions. But the most fastidious of women may appear without shame in creations of a red-brown hue. Very smart is a combination of the two, or of shades of navy blue.

Silhouette. Let the cautious woman apply the following test. Dressed in a frock of an outworn mode, a pea dropped from her fork would roll to the table (or carpet) without interruption. But dressed in the 1928 silhouette, she might retrieve the pea in the ruffles at her neck, in a bow or a flounce on her skirt. Adopting the broken silhouette, dressmakers refer the dubious to modern architecture, pointing to jagged, jutting lines of skyscrapers.

Skirts. Last week, His Holiness the Pope issued a thunderous edict. Modesty, he declared, is an essential part of godliness. Said His Holiness: "Early Christian women, dragged into the circus at Rome to be devoured by wild animals, were more concerned in covering their nudity than in saving their lives." Obediently, dressmakers dropped skirts a full two inches, brought their hems to a point between 1½ and 2 inches below the bend in the knee.

Hats. Three designs, all applied to small, close-fitting hats, share the approval of the French fashion makers. A pronounced slant downward on the right side, occasionally obscuring the vision of the right eye, is a mark of a correct hat, as is the bonnet shape, and an imitation of the French peasant's beret.

Formal Dress. Since the War, it has been permissible, though not desirable, for women to wear the same gown at a luncheon or at an afternoon tea, at dinner or at a ball. This year, pre-War distinctions are again in evidence. With more money to spend on clothes, the well-dressed woman will have rich and luxurious gowns for formal wear.

These modes, or adaptations of them, were seen last week in the salons of the 200 French dressmakers who pretend to Haute Couture. But of these 200, not more than 15 or 20 had originated new and startling designs. It was possible, therefore, for Parisians to discuss, eliminate, select the real titans of post-War fashions. And Parisians chose, not without acrid debate and violent disagreement, the Big Six of the dressmaking industry.

Worth. Traditionally important is the House of Worth. Founder Charles Frederick Worth came to Paris from London in the middle of the last century, found himself the man of the hour in the attempt of the Empress Eugénie to restore the magnificence of the First Empire. Eugénie became the patron of the young Englishman. To his shop in the Rue de la Paix came not only Eugénie herself but Charlotte of Mexico, Maria Pia of Portugal, Elizabeth of Austria. Only two reverses came to Founder Worth. Victoria of England would have none of him. And Eugénie, expecting the Prince Imperial, declined to swathe herself in Persian robes, decided to set the style in maternity gowns with the crinoline. Founder Worth battled, but to no avail. The crinoline flourished.

Son Jean Philippe Worth succeeded his father in 1895, carried on the aristocratic traditions of the House. He still comes to the Rue de la Paix to serve the most exalted personages, but his two nephews, Jacques and Jean Charles, have active control of the business, the one as business manager, the other as head designer. The House of Worth remains the arbiter of the most elegant fashions. There go the women of upper French society for their robes de grande soirée. There goes the prospective bride for her wedding gown.

Chanel. The fame of Gabrielle ("Coco") Chanel has waxed since the War. Sweaters have made her name and her fortune, the light, boyish sweaters which form the sports costume of many an American and English woman. The story of Gabrielle is shrouded in mystery. Some say she is of Basque origin, the daughter of a peasant. Others declare her youth was spent in Marseilles, where the jerseys of sailors gave her the idea for the emancipated woman's golfing costume. Even today she is something of an enigma to gossip-loving Paris. "Coco" Chanel is not beautiful, yet her name is linked with that of Prince Dimitri, Parisian man of the world, famed connoisseur of beautiful women.

Vionnet. Dressmakers concede to Madeleine Vionnet mastery of the art of fitting. She never uses linings in her gowns. Unexpected darts and seams, giving perfect lines to a dress, are the despair of copyists and imitators. In her salon of Lalique glass, with heroic figures of women in Vionnet models decorating the walls, mannequins display her triumphs of cutting and sewing. But before a gown leaves her shop, she marks it with her fingerprint, a safeguard against imitation.

time.com

[SomethingElse]

...the remainder of the article

Lelong. At the head of the organization of a Paris dressmaking house is the designer. Under the designer comes the première vendeuse (chief saleswoman), assisted by a seconde and numerous other vendeuses. Heads of workrooms are premières mains, with general supervision over the training of the apprentices, the 14-or-15-year-old girls who come as midinettes to learn the history of textiles and of art, the tricks of designing, cutting, fitting, sewing. Finished models are shown by mannequins who think the opportunity of meeting British and U. S. millionaires enough compensation for tiny salaries.

To this organization, Lucien Lelong brought an Oxford education, a vigorous personality. Most efficient of all couturiers, Lelong housed himself in a 9-story building, passing in Paris for a skyscraper, and proceeded to produce 1,000 models a year under 20th century working conditions. Lelong is popular with U. S. buyers. Particularly popular are his three perfumes : "A," for the exotic woman (or the unexotic woman who, acting out of character, is attending an exotic affair); "B," the perfume pour le sport; "C," the delicate scent for the ingénue.

Premet. More than 1,000,000 women are said to have worn the boyish black gown, with white collars and cuffs, which went by the name of La Garconne. It was the House of Premet which invented La Garconne to ride the wave of the novel's popularity. Madame Charlotte, the present head of the house, is herself one of the most beautiful women in Paris, with mauve hair which has an interesting history.*

Louiseboulanger. To Louiseboulanger belongs the credit of discovering the secret of the down-in-the-back hemline. Primarily a dressmaker, rather than dress seller, she amuses herself by studying the personality of unusual women, then designing costumes to suit them. Her greatest triumph has been with the Actress Spinelly, whose frocks are an annual Parisian wonder.

Through the salons of these internationally-known couturiers, last week, wandered the elite of Paris and of Paris visitors. But U. S. women of fashion need not despair because they were not in Paris last week. Let them but wait until fall and they will find the most classic models of Worth, the most daring of Vionnet's designs, reproduced in many a U. S. department store. Instead of paying $500 for a sports costume by Chanel, they will pay $200 or $300 for a replica of the same costume in a Manhattan shop. For Paris dressmakers have found no way to prevent copying of their creations. Madame Charlotte made but 1,000 of the 1,000,000 copies of La Garçonne. As simplicity is the vogue in Paris, U. S. copyists may turn out French designs for $50 or $75. Even now the buyers are speeding homeward with dearly purchased models, ready to put them in the hands of expert imitators, preparing for the nation's great fall shopping season.

* Here is the story of her violet locks: A few years ago she planned to attend a fashionable ball at the Paris Opera. In the morning she went to her coiffeur for a shampoo. As white-haired women usually do, she requested the coiffeur to put a little bluing in the rinse water. By mistake the man poured in a chemical that stood on the shelf beside the bluing bottle. At first Madame Charlotte's hair looked all right. But when she got back to Premet's and took off her hat she saw to her horror that it had turned green, the color of grass. She rushed back to the coiffeur, in tears begged him to do something for her. He poured more chemicals into more rinse waters, now her hair was blue. Hour after hour he rinsed and struggled; after each attempt the head of hair emerged a new tint. Finally, an hour before the hour of the ball, they gave it up. Madame Charlotte's hair was a pale violet. There was nothing else to do. At first she thought of staying home. But her love of gayety got the better of her. She took her courage in her two hands and appeared at the ball. She half-expected to be the butt of jibes and ridicule. To her amazement she found herself the hit of the evening. Her triumph was so overwhelming that it aroused the jealousy of fair countesses and members of the social set who expended lavish sums on their toilettes for the evening. Journalists flocked about her, cabled abroad the news of her mauve hair. Next day pastel locks were the rage. Madame Charlotte liked hers so well on second thought that she decided to keep them so always.

time.com

[MissMagAddict]

TOUJOURS COUTURE
Vanity Fair September 2009
By Amy Fine Collins
Stylist: Sarajane Hoare
Photographer: Patrick Demarchelier






source | scanned by MMA

[eugenius]

Thanks for posting, can't wait to read it later!

[Dona]

^Same here!

[Elle23]

Great Information! Very interesting