Edward Steichen: In High Fashion And On Display

DAHLINGS –

If you find yourself in Manhattan, you simply must hie yourself to midtown to the International Center for Photography’s Museum for

“In High Fashion: Edward Steichen

The Conde' Nast Years 1923-1937”.

Below is the catalogue for the show.
(All images by Edward Steichen, courtesy of the Conde' Nast archives)

(And no, I don't know why that satin thing is bulging to one side.)

It is a wondrous chronicle of this brilliant photographer’s work, originally organized by the Musée de l'Elysée, Lausanne, and the Foundation for the Exhibition of Photography, Minneapolis, in conjunction with the International Center of Photography. The exhibition opened here in January and will run through May 3rd. It is part of the International Center of Photography's 2009 Year of Fashion.

It features over 150 examples of the finest of his fashion and celebrity portraiture. Steichen accepted the position of chief photographer for Vogue and Vanity Fair, both Conde' Nast publications, in 1923. One does not have to be as worldly and well-educated as yours truly to appreciate what beautiful pictures these are. Although it helps. Steichen's artistic development can be traced as he moved from romantic pictorialism in the 1920s to the crisp lines of Modernism in the 1930s. For instance, this is an iconic portrait of silent star Gloria Swanson, taken in 1924.

Contrast that photo with this one of young Joan Crawford, taken in the early 1930s.

And here is an atypical picture of a very young Katherine Hepburn from that same period.

Note the rather odd composition of the white hat on the chair and what seems to be a lamp in the background.

Already famous, he only added to his fame with his spectacular work. This photo is one of my very favorites, with the Manhattan skyline in the background and the dresses--ah, the dresses!

The clothes are by the top designers of the time: Lanvin, Chanel, Agnes'. Besides fashion to swoon over, there are portraits of great writers and politicians of the day. There is also a room entirely devoted to color photography, as well as a fascinating silent film of Steichen at work. One could spend hours there, as I did.

The exhibitions on the upper floor, "Weird Beauty" in particular, do not live up to the sheer greatness that is Steichen, but then, what possibly could?

You can take a look at this link:
http://www.icp.org/site/c.dnJGKJNsFqG/b.4783341/

And again, if you are in Manhattan and have any feelings about fashion and fashion history, you owe it to yourself to wallow in all of this beauty!

Ciao,
Elisa & Bucky the Wonderdog

Paris Couture Fall 2008: Dior Is Still King!

DAHLINGS –

It may come as a great shock to mon cher readers that your faithful correspondent was not in Paris for the Fall 2008 couture shows.

But it was far too tempting to spend the July 4th weekend at my sumptuous (featured in Architectural Digest) oceanfront mansion in the Hamptons. There, Bucky can frolic under my watchful eye, while I sit under a thick baby blue silk dupioni canopy (have to keep the sun away from my milk-white skin). The ocean roars against the sand, and I am tempted to think Deep Thoughts…

But then my head starts to ache.

In any event, tonight’s schedule includes the Halsey House Cocktail Gala in Southampton (one must to give the locals something interesting to look at). One can only hope that Kelly Ripa will not be there. A few too many White Russians (ugh) and America’s Sweetheart turns into the most vicious drunk you ever beheld. She’s tiny and cannot hold her liquor. How does poor Regis deal with her hangovers?

On to Paris!

What can one say? John Galliano for Dior absolutely, as you Americans say, “knocked the ball out of the parking lot.” An amazing collection, that harkened back to the rich, glamorous days when Dior himself designed.

But first, let me shake a little detritus off my high-heeled sandal: Christian Lacroix.



The man is obviously mired in thoughts of world disaster…what else would explain those HIDEOUS fashions and that dead-eyed make-up? The model looks like she has some sort of godawful disease on her body, not clothes. (Cathy Horyn of The New York Times used the priceless phrase “wall-eyed blondes,” for which I shall always worship her.) One supposes the man is designing for after the Apocalypse. Après Lacroix, le déluge.

The Chanel show was very ho-hum for yours truly, yes, pipe organs, metal, c’est la vie. Although I hardly think this is a silhouette most women would embrace:



But the Dior show! Ah, the Dior show.

I wish I’d had the good sense to fly to Paris for that one. Galliano outdid himself—the man understands that a woman has curves:





This number is one I intend to order for myself, although I think I will keep the right side opaque:



There was simply too much to choose from, and so many of the classic Christian Dior shapes: the wasp waist, the full circle skirt, sweeping gowns, and tulle!







For a femme such as moi, it added up to complete sensory overload. Even from a distance. But a delicious one! Brava, diva, brava!



Oh, dear, some tourist from Montauk has wandered onto my private beach…in madras plaid shorts, no less. Must run, dahlings, and get my pellet gun.

Ciao!

Elisa & Bucky the Wonderdog

TAXES--And No Deductions for Bucky!

DAHLINGS -

I do wish I had come up with a cleverer title, but what is a tall blonde buxom style goddess to DO? I met with my accountant yesterday (a tall, irrestible man who is--yes--taller than moi), and each year the list of deductions grows smaller. I tried everything...batting my eyelashes, showing some leg, unbuttoning the top button of my Chanel blouse. Nothing worked! Was the man made of stone?

The final insult was to learn that I could no longer deduct Bucky the Wonderdog! He has been a goldmine of deductions, what with wardrobe, vet care, the finest food money can buy, toys, accessories, plane fare...I swear, that miniature pinscher has more deductions than his owner.

"But Bucky is an essential part of my business!" I cried, trying to keep my voice as high and feminine as possible. "He is part of my trademark! He is almost my partner! Without this little dog, I...I couldn't possibly run my fashion empire!"

"I'm sorry, but he's a pet,'' said the accountant in a steely voice. "You can't deduct him as a dependent." The man was becoming less irrestible by the second.

"What about a therapy dog?" There was desperation in my tone. "You handsome man, you must realize what a comfort my little darling is in my business. The stress relief alone is saving me hundreds in doctor bills!"

"You have to have the correct paperwork, which you don't have. I warned you about this last year, that if you wanted to continue to deduct your dog you had to get the right paperwork. He's a pet."

Bucky was curled in my silken-clad lap, as he is wont to do. At the sound of raised voices, he lifted his head with a menacing growl. This was not the way I intended to make my case! So what if the man was tall, he was a beast! An unfeeling beast!

"How could I be expected to remember something like that?" If only a tear would trickle down my cheek! "You should have told my assistant to remind me!"

"I did. You fired that one months ago, according to these W-2s."

Bucky's growling grew louder, and he was showing his little fangs. Any moment, blood could be shed. Hopefully not mine.

"And he certainly isn't behaving like a therapy dog right now," the abominable fellow pointed out.

I drew myself up, surreptitiously tightening my hand around Bucky's Burberry harness. "That is where we part ways, my good man." My tone was as steely as is. "My beloved therapy dog knows exactly what I feel at all times, and right now he is protecting me--no, Bucky--OUCH!"

Unfortunately for the sake of my argument, Bucky lunged forward, I jerked him back, and he bit my right hand, which was holding his harness. For the sake of appearances, I quickly moved my bleeding hand out of sight and sat on it, simultaneously taking hold of the Bucky's leash (the harness was obviously not the best idea).

"This conversation is at an end," I said stonily, brushing the growling dog off my lap and standing. "Send me the forms when they are ready. And I promise you, there will be repercussions."

The accountant stared at me. "Very well. You should have the forms in plenty of time for April 15th. Oh, and be careful, your hand is bleeding on the carpet. Wipe it down with hydrogen peroxide when you get home. Dog's mouths are full of germs."

"Not this dog! His mouth is probably cleaner than yours!" With that, I wheeled out of the man's office, keeping my throbbing hand out of sight.

I must confess, dictating this today, the bite is rather red and swollen...thank goodness last year I had a tetanus shot.

The nerve of some people!

Ciao,
Elisa & Bucky the Wonderdog

Adventures In Los Angeles, cont.

DAHLINGS -

Los Angeles is a most interesting city, so unlike my dearly beloved New York. For one thing, as everyone knows, people live in their automobiles (when they live in their automobiles in New York, it's a housing choice). Los Angeles has no center, and unlike here, if you refer to "downtown," everyone gets quite afraid.

My companion and I had dinner at Musso Franks, a lovely relic of old Hollywood (rather like Elliot Gould, who I met briefly at the Ocean's Thirteen premiere). It seemed like we spent most of every day driving from place to place. When I suggested we walk to a restaurant only a few blocks from my companion's mansion, he stared at me as if I were insane. Walk? What did walk mean?

You'd think he was the one in four inch stiletto heels. Well, he was, but not in public.

I fear that in a few years Angelenos will have toilets installed in their car seats, so that they don't ever have to get out of their Beemers. I mean, there are drive-through banks, dry cleaners, wedding chapels, hardware stores...why stand up at all?

There is even a trolley in the middle of the Farmer's Market on Gilmore Street, to save you the trouble of strolling ten feet from Banana Republic to Anthropologie. Nonetheless, the high point of my visit (besides standing next to George Clooney) was a visit to Decades, that vintage store of legend, on Melrose Avenue.

Cameron Silver, the owner, was clearly aghast at my robust proportions (apparently they rarely carry anything above a size six). However, he did show me many beautiful Birkin bags and other accessories. This is one of my pet peeves with many vintage stores...if you are larger than a modern size eight, you are out of luck.

Hence my store, of course. If only Chanel had had the foresight to design for larger women, the world would be a better place. But I digress.

In all, the weather was superb, the conversation superficial, and I had a lovely time. The best way to put it would be that it was a vacation for my intellect.

And of course, I am now reunited with Bucky! He lost quite a bit of weight while I was gone, poor thing, but this morning I had the maid rub him down with Shea dog butter and his coat is nice and shiny. If a bit on the sticky side.

Ciao,
Elisa and Bucky the Wonderdog

Dahlings, FIT Celebrates Pure Luxury through November 9

DAHLINGS:

The institution that graciously has presented my course, "Haute Cou-Poor," bringing Fashion In the True Sense to the peasantry, the Fashion Institute of Technology, is presently displaying a truly marvelous collection. It has been personally curated by the museum director, Dr. Valerie Steele (a lovely woman), with much help both nationally and internationally. The name of the display is “Luxury - A Close Encounter with Extravagance, Vanity, And Excess," at the museum at FIT.

As a woman who is extravagant but never vain and believes there is no such thing as excess (at least when I choose my own wardrobe), I was in heaven touring the exhibition. This is Fashion In The True Sense! 150 beautiful creations, from 1750 on! It will be running through November 9th, so buy a plane ticket to New York and treat yourself. (Forget about such common tourist attractions as the Intrepid.) Both private and public creations, these are worth treating yourself to. From Chanel, Poiret, and more modern designers such as Romeo Gigli.

To give you just a wee taste, here is a magnificent creation by Cristobal Balenciaga, from 1951, of black silk jersey, silk faille, sequined and jet beaded lace.



Do yourself a favor and get thee to FIT!

Ciao,
Elisa & Bucky The Wonderdog