She Misses the Days When Fashion Meant That Form Trumped Function
By CHERYL LU-LIEN TAN
"Years from now," predicts Mary McFadden, "when people look back at this period in our civilization, they'll say, 'This was the beginning of very functional clothes.'"
That's a troubling development to the acclaimed designer of Grecian-style dresses and other classically inspired clothing, whose work is now the focus of "Mary McFadden: Goddesses," an exhibit at Philadelphia's Moore College of Art and Design through Dec. 6 -- though she no longer has any skin in the game. In 2002, after almost three decades, Ms. McFadden shut down her business and now focuses on traveling and lecturing on the design and art of ancient civilizations, as part of her bid to enlighten people about the beauty of the objects that once inspired her collections. (She will also lecture on the topic this school year at Moore.)
So what does she think about the fashions that she sees on the streets and runways now? "I haven't seen anything distinct," Ms. McFadden says.
"I'm sorry, in a way, that people's lifestyles have become very utilitarian, so therefore things that I particularly like are not as important as they used to be. The overall look of fashion -- it's just not as creative, not as focused on uniqueness.
"Look at your top, for instance," she says, gesturing to a basic cotton blouse I was wearing. "You could make that for $1 in China and, hopefully, sell it for $50."
Ms. McFadden's clothes, by contrast, reveled in their singularity. Bucking trends, her collections referenced Egyptian mythology, antique Japanese illustrations or the garb of Indian royals.
Though she lives in a tony modern building on Manhattan's Upper East Side, her apartment is dark and museum-like. The walls are covered with gold Byzantine designs, and the dim living room is packed with centuries-old figurines and robes that she's picked up in her almost 50 years of traversing the globe. In one corner, there's a gold burial belt from 2500 B.C. that she bought in Afghanistan; perched in another is a set of funereal statues from a trip to Madagascar.
These pieces are far from being mere objets d'art. For the 70-year-old New Yorker, who grew up near Memphis, Tenn., they're reminders of the ancient civilizations and artifacts that first inspired her to design clothing.
She was working as director of publicity for Christian Dior in New York in the 1960s when she married an executive at De Beers, the diamond company, and moved to Johannesburg. There, she began writing for Vogue South Africa. That's when she developed her fascination with exotic materials.
"I was living in Africa and I would travel and pick up silks from West Africa, Cote d'Ivoire, Madagascar," she says. "These were beautiful textiles, and I started making very simple dresses -- tunics or caftans -- to show off the fabric."
While reporting a story in what is now Zimbabwe, she met the man who would become her second husband. (She has been married several times and is currently single.) There, she set up an artisan sculpture workshop while continuing to make clothing for herself.
It wasn't until Ms. McFadden moved back to the U.S. in 1970 that her design career took off. As a special-projects editor at Vogue, she would occasionally wear her African dresses to the office, inspiring the magazine to include her pieces in a fashion shoot. Henri Bendel president Geraldine Stutz placed an order and held an event to show her collection, and Ms. McFadden's company was born.
In spring 1984, Ms. McFadden showed what would become one of her most-celebrated collections -- a line inspired by the Medici dynasty of 15th-century Florence that was filled with gowns constructed from rich, heavy velvets that were then embroidered and beaded.
From the beginning, she focused on simple silhouettes designed to showcase her fabrics. "I figured that I could see the world by going to a different civilization for each collection," says Ms. McFadden, who would spend two to three weeks in places like Greece, Tibet or Israel each season before coming back to New York to sketch out her collection "in 10 minutes -- well, I'd already been thinking about it for months."
Ms. McFadden may be best-known for her "Marii" pleat, which she devised in 1975 for her Greek-style gowns. The Marii -- the designer's first name spelled out with "a Japanese feeling to it" -- is a densely woven pleat that looks so scrunched up it resembles tree bark up close but is designed to drape the body "like liquid gold." The fashion world honored her with a Coty award (known as the Oscars of the fashion world until they were discontinued in 1985) in 1976, and she was inducted into the Coty Hall of Fame in 1979. Those who wore her designs included such style luminaries as Jacqueline Onassis and Vogue editor Diana Vreeland.
At a time when fashion's high end and low end regularly meet in stores such as H&M, and inexpensive, disposable clothes have become almost as coveted and celebrated as those found on designer runways, Ms. McFadden's over-the-top, jewel-encrusted styles represent a moment when designer fare often strove to be artistic and tried to present a different, daring viewpoint. Not everybody could afford a Mary McFadden gown -- they ranged from about $1,500 to $8,000 in the 1990s -- but then again, they weren't intended for the mass market.
The market for Ms. McFadden's fashions took a fatal turn after the 9/11 terrorist attacks. "I thought people weren't ever going to be interested in swell clothes anymore," she says. "There was a real pall on Seventh Avenue." Sales began to slip -- even those of an affordable accessories line she did for QVC -- and Ms. McFadden decided to hang it up.
"People's lifestyles have changed. It's a much more relaxed way of living," she says. "They wear blue jeans a lot of the time, and these very exaggerated, opulent clothes didn't have a place in the 21st century. That was the realism of it. At that time, I had done all the civilizations I wanted to do and I felt that after 30 years of doing it, the work was complete."
wsj.com
By CHERYL LU-LIEN TAN
"Years from now," predicts Mary McFadden, "when people look back at this period in our civilization, they'll say, 'This was the beginning of very functional clothes.'"
That's a troubling development to the acclaimed designer of Grecian-style dresses and other classically inspired clothing, whose work is now the focus of "Mary McFadden: Goddesses," an exhibit at Philadelphia's Moore College of Art and Design through Dec. 6 -- though she no longer has any skin in the game. In 2002, after almost three decades, Ms. McFadden shut down her business and now focuses on traveling and lecturing on the design and art of ancient civilizations, as part of her bid to enlighten people about the beauty of the objects that once inspired her collections. (She will also lecture on the topic this school year at Moore.)
So what does she think about the fashions that she sees on the streets and runways now? "I haven't seen anything distinct," Ms. McFadden says.
"I'm sorry, in a way, that people's lifestyles have become very utilitarian, so therefore things that I particularly like are not as important as they used to be. The overall look of fashion -- it's just not as creative, not as focused on uniqueness.
"Look at your top, for instance," she says, gesturing to a basic cotton blouse I was wearing. "You could make that for $1 in China and, hopefully, sell it for $50."
Ms. McFadden's clothes, by contrast, reveled in their singularity. Bucking trends, her collections referenced Egyptian mythology, antique Japanese illustrations or the garb of Indian royals.
Though she lives in a tony modern building on Manhattan's Upper East Side, her apartment is dark and museum-like. The walls are covered with gold Byzantine designs, and the dim living room is packed with centuries-old figurines and robes that she's picked up in her almost 50 years of traversing the globe. In one corner, there's a gold burial belt from 2500 B.C. that she bought in Afghanistan; perched in another is a set of funereal statues from a trip to Madagascar.
These pieces are far from being mere objets d'art. For the 70-year-old New Yorker, who grew up near Memphis, Tenn., they're reminders of the ancient civilizations and artifacts that first inspired her to design clothing.
She was working as director of publicity for Christian Dior in New York in the 1960s when she married an executive at De Beers, the diamond company, and moved to Johannesburg. There, she began writing for Vogue South Africa. That's when she developed her fascination with exotic materials.
"I was living in Africa and I would travel and pick up silks from West Africa, Cote d'Ivoire, Madagascar," she says. "These were beautiful textiles, and I started making very simple dresses -- tunics or caftans -- to show off the fabric."
While reporting a story in what is now Zimbabwe, she met the man who would become her second husband. (She has been married several times and is currently single.) There, she set up an artisan sculpture workshop while continuing to make clothing for herself.
It wasn't until Ms. McFadden moved back to the U.S. in 1970 that her design career took off. As a special-projects editor at Vogue, she would occasionally wear her African dresses to the office, inspiring the magazine to include her pieces in a fashion shoot. Henri Bendel president Geraldine Stutz placed an order and held an event to show her collection, and Ms. McFadden's company was born.
In spring 1984, Ms. McFadden showed what would become one of her most-celebrated collections -- a line inspired by the Medici dynasty of 15th-century Florence that was filled with gowns constructed from rich, heavy velvets that were then embroidered and beaded.
From the beginning, she focused on simple silhouettes designed to showcase her fabrics. "I figured that I could see the world by going to a different civilization for each collection," says Ms. McFadden, who would spend two to three weeks in places like Greece, Tibet or Israel each season before coming back to New York to sketch out her collection "in 10 minutes -- well, I'd already been thinking about it for months."
Ms. McFadden may be best-known for her "Marii" pleat, which she devised in 1975 for her Greek-style gowns. The Marii -- the designer's first name spelled out with "a Japanese feeling to it" -- is a densely woven pleat that looks so scrunched up it resembles tree bark up close but is designed to drape the body "like liquid gold." The fashion world honored her with a Coty award (known as the Oscars of the fashion world until they were discontinued in 1985) in 1976, and she was inducted into the Coty Hall of Fame in 1979. Those who wore her designs included such style luminaries as Jacqueline Onassis and Vogue editor Diana Vreeland.
At a time when fashion's high end and low end regularly meet in stores such as H&M, and inexpensive, disposable clothes have become almost as coveted and celebrated as those found on designer runways, Ms. McFadden's over-the-top, jewel-encrusted styles represent a moment when designer fare often strove to be artistic and tried to present a different, daring viewpoint. Not everybody could afford a Mary McFadden gown -- they ranged from about $1,500 to $8,000 in the 1990s -- but then again, they weren't intended for the mass market.
The market for Ms. McFadden's fashions took a fatal turn after the 9/11 terrorist attacks. "I thought people weren't ever going to be interested in swell clothes anymore," she says. "There was a real pall on Seventh Avenue." Sales began to slip -- even those of an affordable accessories line she did for QVC -- and Ms. McFadden decided to hang it up.
"People's lifestyles have changed. It's a much more relaxed way of living," she says. "They wear blue jeans a lot of the time, and these very exaggerated, opulent clothes didn't have a place in the 21st century. That was the realism of it. At that time, I had done all the civilizations I wanted to do and I felt that after 30 years of doing it, the work was complete."
wsj.com
