Coco Chanel -  la dame aux camélias 
Last Updated: 
12:01am BST 29/07/2007
The little black dress, tweed suits, costume      jewellery and red lipstick - we owe them all to Gabrielle      'Coco' Chanel. As a new book celebrates her signature      style, Linda Grant assesses the legacy of fashion's very arch      modernist
In the autumn of 2005 I attended the launch party for Justine     Picardie's entrancing new book about the history of all the     clothes she had ever worn, 
My Mother's Wedding Dress: the Life and     Afterlife of Clothes. Picardie's mother had, far back in the     1960s, got married in a little black dress, now faithfully copied     for her daughter to wear at the party. The launch was held at the     Chanel store in Knightsbridge, and it was a tribute to the power of     a single word - Chanel - that almost every woman in the room was     wearing a little black dress. Black had just made a comeback, but     for many of us it had simply never gone away. The LBD, so easy to     wear, so versatile in its possible interpretations as fashions come     and go, is probably the single most enduring style statement of the     20th century, already racing on into the 21st.
The moment you say the word Chanel a picture comes to mind: of a     square, stoppered perfume bottle, a little suit, a white camellia.     Coco Chanel, credited with being the person who invented modern     clothes, stamped her adamant, distinctive personality on everything     she touched. An addictive new book, Chanel: Collections and     Creations, by Danièle Bott, explores five designs that changed the     world and asks what it was about Chanel's visual statements     that are so enduring and alluring. Students of fashion can identify     Dior's New Look, Yves Saint Laurent's le Smoking,     Schiaparelli's skeleton dress or Jean Paul Gaultier's     conical bra, but such is the power of the Chanel brand that if you     showed those two intertwined Cs to any woman in any city in the     world she would recognise them at once.
For Chanel style, someone who has never shopped further upmarket     than Marks & Spencer can still buy a bottle of No 5 at     duty-free, or a black powder compact at the make-up department of     John Lewis. A man I know, who has been wearing the same uniform of     jeans and leather jacket since the 1960s, has as his one concession     to fashion the Chanel Homme aftershave he has loyally stuck to for     30 years because he likes the simple classic lines of its packaging.
It's hard to underestimate how much Chanel style has changed     us all. The black dress existed before Chanel turned her attention     to it, but it was considered funereal and, in the years before the     First World War, buried under bows, pleats, lace, bustles and     leg-of-mutton sleeves. What Chanel meant was a dress that was     minimalist, sophisticated, elegant, to be worn at any time of day.     Reacting against the sumptuous designs of 
her immediate predecessor, Paul Poiret, she     advocated what she called 'austere luxury', the essence of     chic. Her revolutionary approach to design meant that the black     dress could be worn as day, cocktail and evening wear. 'A woman     dressed in black draws attention to herself, not her dress,'     observes Bott.
The very first LBD, the Ford of dresses, she called it, referring     to the Model T car built on a production line for the masses, was     designed to be democratic; any woman could wear one. The original     design shows a long-sleeved, slim-hipped dress, gathered low at the     waist and reaching to just below the knee. Its only adornments are     two pleated Vs dropping from the shoulders and rising from the hem,     meeting in the middle to further create the illusion of slimness.     You could step out in it today and no one would notice that you were     wearing something designed more than 80 years ago. Chanel would     develop this concept for the rest of her life, altering the fabrics,     adding sequins or chiffon trains, but the underlying structure     remained. A black dress, with dropped waist and schoolgirl white     collars and cuffs, worn over leather footless tights from 2003     reveals how radical her thought was. 'A fashion that goes out     of fashion overnight is a distraction, not a fashion,' she said.
Chanel launched her career at the height of modernism, in design,     art, literature and music. By returning to the essential form, the     movement showed radical simplicity. Modernism was the thinking     woman's fashion statement, and derived its power from the idea     that women were no longer to be wholly decorative. They could act,     and needed clothes to wear while doing so. Chanel herself designed     things not as playful allusions to what had gone before but to meet     the demands of her own life and body. When Karl Lagerfeld arrived at     Chanel in 1982, there seemed to be no more unlikely a designer to     lead the house. A master of post-modernism, he was the opposite of     everything Chanel stood for, yet his greatest triumph was the     revival of the Chanel suit.
My mother, slim and only 5ft 2in, had a wardrobe full of     good-quality high-street copies of the Chanel suit. She knew they     were what suited her best and she hung on to them long after they     went out of fashion. The Chanel suit dates from the reopening of the     fashion house in 1954 (it had closed during the war), but it was     Jackie Kennedy who made it famous. In jersey and tweed, with its     collarless jacket and slim skirt, it was meant to be a kind of     second skin. Worn with a quilted chain-handle bag, two-tone     slingbacks and a camellia brooch, it was a look as simple and     sophisticated as the little back dress, but less dressed-up. Chanel     insisted that every suit had pockets into which a woman's hand     could actually fit, the jacket hem was weighted to ensure it hung     properly, and the only concession to embellishment was the gilt     buttons embossed with lion's head, stars, the sun or double C.
Lagerfeld radically reinterpreted the suit, making it in pink     tweed, fraying the hems and jacket edges (a trend that worked its     way to the Per Una range at Marks & Spencer), and in the process     turned it into one of the most celebrated comebacks in the history     of fashion.
One thing Chanel was quite clear about was her dislike of the     unadorned face: 'I don't understand how a woman can leave     the house without fixing herself up a little - if only out of     politeness,' she said. She regarded the lips as the primary     weapons of seduction and insisted on painting them a deep     vermillion. As far back as 1921 she made her first stick of colour,     protected in wax paper, the precursor of the lipstick as we know it     today. Next she made for herself a mother-of-pearl tube, then a     push-up case in gunmetal grey. Pictures of her early cosmetics show     the designs to be startling similar to today's. The No 5 bottle     remains unchanged since the 1920s. The black boxes she used for her     powder and eyeshadow go back as far as 1932, and were made from     Bakelite, then being used in car manufacturing.
But Chanel did not entirely eschew adornment. She was an     inveterate wearer of necklaces, and the lavish, even Byzantine     luxury of her jewellery contrasted with the minimalist lines of her     clothing. The spectacular Comète necklace of 1932 is a diamond star     from which a cascade trail of 649 diamonds drapes itself round the     shoulder, arching at the neck and ending at the base of the throat.     It is interesting that Chanel, who adored the minimalist form,     should have thrown pearls and gold chains all over her severe     canvas. Bott offers some suggestions: in the 1930s Chanel had     accepted a commission from the International Diamond Guild, which     she took because she felt that, in times of economic depression, too     much austerity was… depressing. Another possibility is that her     lover, Paul Iribe, was a jewellery designer. But perhaps there is a     more material consideration: before she was a major designer she was     a courtesan, the lover of wealthy men such as the Duke of     Westminster who, in the tradition of the times, rewarded her     affections with gifts of diamonds.
Yet her originality would hit on one emblem, the camellia, which     in her hands became a necklace, a watch, a hat, a chignon, a detail     on a button, or just a silk flower pinned to a dress. There was     something radically simple about its shape, what Bott calls     'its perfect, almost geometric roundness'. As far back as     1922 a stylised camellia is embroidered on a blouse. Every season it     appears as a jewelled monogram on a toe or beaded outline on the     heel of a Chanel shoe. Like the lotus in Buddhism, the camellia     expressed for Chanel a shape with infinite possibilities. And so she     goes on, the way she saw and thought affecting the lives of millions     unborn when she first discarded what was known and set out on an     adventure into the future.
		
		
	
	
Coco Chanel in trademark ropes of pearls in a 1935      Man Ray portrait
Chanel's beauty packaging remains much the same      today as it was 80 years ago
A 1930s gold, sapphire and ruby bangle