The Little Black Dress: Breaking the rules

The little black dress has been a lady’s best friend for practically the last century that it’s fondly referred to as the LBD, the only one to turn to when all else fails.  This symbol of timeless, cosmopolitan glamour has its origins in the 1920s designs of Coco Chanel and Jean Patou, fashion revolutionaries who liberated the modern woman with simply-cut, versatile, affordable and durable fashion. Chanel’s LBD first made waves in a 1926 Vogue editorial — touted as “Chanel’s Ford,” referring to the Ford Model T which was all the rage then for being the first affordable automobile.  The straight, calf-length dress was heralded as “simple and accessible to women of all social classes, a sort of uniform for all women of taste.”

Before the 1920s, black was actually reserved for periods of mourning and was even considered indecent when worn at other times. During the Victorian and Edwardian ages, there were elaborate rules for wearing black which lasted for a period of two years.  For the first year, a widow had to wear plain black clothing with absolutely no decoration.  The following nine months allowed silk garments; then for the final three months one can have embellishment like ribbons, lace and jet jewelry — still all black, of course.  John Singer Sargent created a scandal with his painting, Madame X, a portrait of the socialite Virginie Amélie Avegno Gautreau wearing a satin black décolletage even when her husband was still alive.   An American expat who married a French banker, Gautreau became notorious in Paris society for her beauty and rumored infidelities. The controversy created by the painting at the Paris Salon of 1884 dashed all hopes for Sargent’s dreams of building a flourishing career as a portrait painter in France.

With the number of casualties during World War I, not to mention the toll taken by the Spanish flu epidemic, the sight of women in black became a more common sight in public, paving the way for the color’s entry into mainstream fashion.  Chanel’s bold appearance in the scene practically made black an everyday color for the modern age. Wearing her favorite color one day, Chanel supposedly bumped into fellow designer Paul Poiret who was horrified by her dark habit. Poiret promptly inquired for whom was she mourning.  She cattily replied, “Pour vous, cher monsieur!”

The LBD and Chanel have been such compelling forces in fashion that Vogue contributing editor André Leon Talley was inspired to curate the exhibit, “The Little Black Dress,” originating at the museum of art of the Savannah College of Art and Design (SCAD) in Georgia and later traveling to Paris where we saw it at the Mona Bismarck American Center. The germ of the exhibit was actually a 2006 Chanel dress of wool and silk trim designed by Karl Lagerfeld and belonging to Vogue editor Anna Wintour. “For nearly four decades, I have observed Mr. Lagerfeld at work fitting his highly-acclaimed couture collections in the original atelier of Mademoiselle Chanel at 31 rue Cambon in Paris. And for years, Anna Wintour has turned to me when selecting her most important looks. When my best friends doubt their little black dresses, they call me on the telephone seeking reassurance,” Talley confides. 

Other friends who value his opinion when selecting their wardrobes include Gwyneth Paltrow, Diana Ross,  Alicia Keys, Renée Zellwegger and Serena and Venus Williams.  He just had to scroll down his phonebook to procure important pieces by venerable fashion greats like Madame Gres, Balenciaga, Yves St. Laurent and Fortuny. The owners of the LBDs are just as renowned, from couture collectors like Princess Gloria von Thurn und Taxis, Beatrice de Rothschild and Anne Bass to Hollywood celebrities like Sarah Jessica Parker, Mariah Carey, Whoopee Goldberg, Rihanna and Lady Gaga.

Although his fashion experience as a journalist , his being a trustee at SCAD and wardrobe adviser to celebrities have proved invaluable in creating this exhibit, it is perhaps the influence of Diana Vreeland, his mentor for whom he worked as a costume intern at the Metropolitan Museum of Art that forms the foundation for this show:  “I’ve learned all these emotional narratives, the pauses and the cadence of how to put a show together from her.”   He credits Vreeland for teaching him how to see clothes and build a story from a dress. “These things are only important if you can build a narrative from your own personal experience.”

In weaving his story, the curator decided not to present the clothes chronologically.  He did not want it to look like a military lineup of mannequins in a department store. “You never want to do something and make it look like a window display.  You have to build a narrative based on your own culture.” The culture behind these dresses, of course, he only knows too well:  The culture of parties and entertaining.  Viewing the exhibit then feels like entering the houses and ballrooms where these dresses were worn at the most glittering affairs of the past decades.  Each LBD shows the individuality of the owner, what she thought of the dress and the history of the garment, from the drawing board of the designer to the fittings and finally to the grand party which has many more stories to tell.  The venue of the exhibit, a former mansion on Avenue de New York, was actually most appropriate because it was the home of Mona Bismarck after whom the exhibition center is named.  Bismarck was a much-married, American philanthropist known for her beauty, style and wealth; and the first woman in the world to head a “Best Dressed” list in 1933. 

Frivolous as the setting of “Little Black Dress” may be, there is a serious effort to chart the historic and contemporary significance of this singular sartorial phenomenon, tracing its social history from the 20th to the 21st century.  “It charts the evolution from its original definition of invariable propriety to new and distinctly contemporary explorations of texture, tone, and silhouette,” says Talley.

The LBD has indeed come a long way, with new fabrics, innovative cuts, and novel ways of wearing the dress. One of our favorites is a ’70s Madame Gres piece in silk crepe de chine.  Talley calls it a “stingray” dress because it looks like those sea creatures  underwater when you raise your arms and let the wind spread the flaps of the sleeves.  It’s a simple, elegant piece that has stood the test of time, masterfully cut on the bias from one piece of fabric with just one seam at the back.  Madame Gres was really a genius.  “She was so of her era, the disco era, that she was making these extraordinary clothes that were so modern in 1977.  That’s a dress for a woman to go to dinner and then afterwards to Studio 54,” Talley says in admiration.

Although the Gres and pieces like a 1957 lace cage dress from Balenciaga, a 1907 Fortuny pleated silk “Delphos” sheath, and a ’60s silk and paper tafetta Pierre Cardin tiered dress represent vintage collections, many of the LBDs are of the moment.  Talley wanted to do a cultural examination of the changing social mores found in haute couture where 20th century conventions have eroded.  “Puritan’s Delight,” a sculpture by Rachel Feinstein whose LBD by Marc Jacobs is included in the show, was an influential piece in Talley’s development of the exhibit.  He considered the sculpture of a broken wooden carriage a symbol of collapsed elegance:  “The rules of the little black dress have collapsed. It is your own rules that make it the little black dress.  Rules have been broken. Rules have been erased!” He cites the time when Sarah Jessica Parker wore a Prabal Gurung buttery soft leather LBD together with white suede stilettos:  “The late great Estee Lauder, who I knew very well, always had a rule. Never white after Labor Day.  That rule has vaporized and vanished.  A black leather dress with fabulous white suede stilettos was the perfect thing to wear.”

The historical thread of the collection which Talley was visualizing was also challenged by visions of dresses that he came across while working at Vogue:  “I would go to resort appointments and see the most extraordinary neoprene dress from Alber Elbaz for Lanvin.”  He immediately arranged to bring the dress to Georgia where he was preparing the exhibit.  Upon arriving at SCAD, he encountered the clothes of Alexis Asplundh, a graduate of the school, who had her whole collection done in neoprene. “So neoprene is a new fabric to create elegance — the collapsed rules of fabric. Crepe de chine is no longer necessary to create a sexy black dress.” 

Other dresses that caught his fancy were a Proenza Schouler transparent dress and a Nicolas Ghesquiere for Balenciaga crepe de soie with cellophane fringe from the 2013 collections.  “The more I kept looking, the more I kept thinking that this will balance out the historical clothes. It’s the yin yang and feng shui of the contemporary age with the idea of historical relevancy.”

But with all the beautiful dresses on show, when asked by New York Times writer Maureen Dowd which one he found the most compelling, Talley pointed to a male mannequin wearing a transparent black lace dress worn over white boxer shorts and black Louis XIV-inspired shoes.  It was a shirt-dress from Comme des Garçons, worn by Marc Jacobs to the Met Costume Gala. It was a seminal moment in style for a man to go there, perfectly accessorized with diamanté buckled black matte leather court shoes that he designed himself.

It also reflects how the rules have been liberated not just with the little black dress but with fashion in general and how we choose to express ourselves.