Book Review: A Perfect Fit, by Jenna Weissman Joselit

A Perfect Fit: Clothes, Character and the Promise of America

A Perfect Fit: Clothes, Character and the Promise of America was first published in 2001, but I discovered it at the library this year. This is such a good book that I wish it had a better format. Professor Joselit writes about the way clothing “Americanized” immigrants and helped other Americans — “outriders” by virtue of race or economic status — integrate into the mainstream culture.

Illustration from A Perfect Fit; from the Peter H. Schweitzer collection. Please do not copy this image.

The chapters can be read as independent essays on topics ranging from “The Mark of a Gentleman” to “The Truth About Fur” (with a necessary side trip into egret feathers and the founding of the Audubon Society) — all researched primarily in periodicals, trade journals, and newspapers. Consequently, there is a lot of information from previously neglected sources. Other chapters discuss changing ideas of modesty (corsets and hemlines), men’s clothing and hats, shoes (“Oh, My Aching Feet”), and other accessories (“Say It with Jewelry.” )

There is much to like about A Perfect Fit — including the extensive use of primary sources that are not on the usual fashion writers’ list:  Hadassah Newsletter, Council Woman, Catholic Citizen, Scientific American, and the records of the Alabama Cooperative Extension Service, among many others.  But it can also be exasperating, chiefly because of problems that should have been addressed by the editor.  Since the preface says,  “the 1890s, when this book begins, and the 1930s, when it ends,” it’s disconcerting to see undated illustrations from earlier and much later decades.  To Joselin’s credit, the illustrations include Americans of African and Jewish ancestry wearing elegant clothing, in keeping with her theme of “The Promise of America.”

Illustration for A Perfect Fit: Photo of “two unidentified South Carolina women” by Richard Samuel Roberts, NY Public library collection. Please do not copy this image.

Her discussion of “fashion shows produced by rural women and their daughters,” between the wars, with the encouragement of 4-H clubs and the U.S. Department of Agriculture was news to me, and fascinating — in spite of this photo illustration that is clearly from the post-war era.

Illustration from A Perfect Fit. From collection of Hadassah, the Women’s Zionist Organization of America, Inc. Please do not copy this image.

The chapter on fur and feathers is very interesting, and answered a question that had been in my mind: How was it possible that photos of the 1930s — the Great Depression — showed so many ordinary women (like secretaries and typists) wearing furs? The answer illustrates the problem of unintended consequences: to eliminate the cruelty of steel-jawed traps, fur farming was encouraged as a more humane solution. “In 1917, there were only four fur farms in the entire United States; by 1930, there were more than forty-five hundred.” This drove down the price of furs — and millions of animals were raised for slaughter.

“A la Mode,” the chapter that best explains the subtitle “Clothes, Character and the Promise of America,” shows the aspiration to “blend in” and the consequent emphasis on materialism that is still [in my opinion] an American plague. It also discusses the revolution in dress that resulted from improvements in mass-produced clothing.

Illustration from A Perfect Fit. From the Peter H. Schweitzer collection. Please do not copy this image.

There is even a mention of early charity thrift shops and the “I cash clothes!” man who was familiar in many neighborhoods.

Since so many of the sources are periodicals, the lack of a bibliography is perhaps understandable, but the decision to avoid numbered footnotes — or even an asterisk — means the reader has to flip back and forth constantly, trying to track and date the sources. (The footnotes are sorted by page number; until you look for a citation, you don’t know whether there will be one or not. There usually is one — or several — identified by phrases from the text. ) Finding out more about an intriguing statement is not easy. Joselit examines trends, using copious citations but without much regard to strict chronology; it’s possible to find references to articles dating from 1911 and 1925 in the same sentence, e.g., in a sentence on p. 175 about the popularity of  ” ‘interesting insect jewelry’ and strings of pearls.”

[My husband has had several books published, so I’m aware that editing is often up to the writer these days. One publisher even told him to avoid putting dates in the text, because “people don’t like books with lots of numbers.” And some publishers are footnote phobic — but luckily, not Mary Roach’s. Her Packing for Mars would be much less funny without the footnotes at the bottom of the page. I hope other publishers notice that footnotes at the bottom of the page have not discouraged readers from buying her books. ]

I just wish A Perfect Fit had a better format and the quality of editing that it deserves.

The final chapter, “Emphatically Modern,” covers the nineteen forties and the fifties, and ranges to the 1970s ( in spite of the date range set out in the preface.) It covers man-made fibers, zoot suits, women wearing trousers, etc. — and the citations at the back of the book offer some great leads to further research.

A Perfect Fit: Clothes, Character and the Promise of America is crammed with marvellous quotations from usually neglected sources. Joselit is concerned with the everyday clothing of Americans, new and old. And she discusses both men’s and women’s fashions. It’s definitely worth reading — but you’ll need to keep a bookmark in the footnotes section; you’ll probably be flipping back and forth several times per page to check the dates. Available in hardback or paperback. You can read more detailed reviews of this book at Houston Chronicle,  Project MUSE, Kirkus Reviews.

Note — photos from the book have been used only to illustrate points made in the review. They are not to be copied, posted, reproduced, etc. without permission of the copyright owners.

 

Shoes from Paris, 1928, Part 2: Netch et Bernard (and Vionnet)

Shoes from Paris to Wear with the New Winter Frocks, Delineator, Oct. 1928

Netch and Bernard (and Madeleine Vionnet) Part 2:  

In a previous post about Shoes from Paris to Wear with the New Winter Frocks, from Delineator magazine,  October, 1928, I described the shoes by Ducerf Scavini pictured on the left hand page.  This post is about the right hand page, with shoes by Netch et Bernard.  [Vionnet married Netch (Captain Dimitri Netchvolodoff) in 1923.]  Netch et Frater shoes can be seen in the collection of the Metropolitan Museum, but I haven’t found any references online to Netch et Bernard.  The Delineator article was written by Marie Beynon Ray.  Her chief point was that “Many American manufacturers still continue to copy the most bizarre and striking of the French designs, and to cheapen and debase the finer ones,” resulting in a “popular misconception of French chic.”

“The French Revolution in Shoes“

“Ten – a dozen years ago – a shoe was merely a utility, a high boot, buttoned and laced, in brown or black leather, sturdily made to do the heaviest service of any article in the entire wardrobe…. Then came the French revolution in shoes – daytime shoes cut like evening slippers, made of the lightest and most perishable of leathers, and frankly proclaiming themelves articles of luxury…. American manufacturers, missing the spirit of French innovation, seized upon its most superficial characteristics, and produced abortions and eccentricities. The most startling and bizarre styles of the third-rate Parisian bottiers who cater to American gullibility were generally selected as models by manufacturers instead of the restrained and elegant but far less noticeable designs of the master craftsmen; and America was swept by a tidal wave of bad taste in footwear. These snub-nosed, be-ribboned, and be-jazzed atrocities were made and sold by the millions in America….”

The Truly Smart Frenchwoman’s Shoes

The truly smart Frenchwoman’s shoes are designed “to finish the foot inconspicuously and in perfect harmony with the costume…. Her preferred footgear for evening is a plain beige satin slipper or one matching the color of her gown or her other accessories…. Netch et Bernard’s model, labeled Q on these pages, may appear a bit unusual, … as far as any really smart Frenchwoman will ever go on the road to eccentricity; and when you consider that this evening slipper can be made inconspicuously in flesh colored crêpe de Chine, piped with flesh colored kid, to be worn with matching stockings… you will admit that there is nothing bizarre about it.”

Ten Netch et Bernard Shoes, Fall of 1928

There are several pairs of shoes in the Metropolitan Museum’s collection signed Netch and Frater, and dated to the 1930s,  but I haven’t found any references to Netch et Bernard. Perhaps the company reorganized between 1928 and 1930, or perhaps Delineator Magazine was in error.  Shoes Q and S, which the article decribes as “a bit unusual,” must have been influential, since they appear to be the ancestors of many shoes familiar to vintage dealers.  The Met’s collection reminds us of the glorious colors possible.

K. Saddle strap shoe. This is dark brown with darker saddle of unborn calf.

L. One-strap shoe for daytime. Beige and brown kid with woven beading.

M. High-cut pump, brilliant and dull in black patent kid and antelope.

N. Evening pump. Rose-beige satin and gold kid – cut out in ladder design.

O. High-cut slipper of two smart leathers, black patent kid and black lizard.

P. Pump with triangles of gold and silver kid on black patent leather.

Q. Sandal of vermillion crêpe de Chine with bands of silver kid for trimming.

R. Mule of gilded wood. The straps are silver kid encrusted with gold triangles.

S. Evening sandal. A simplified model in flesh crêpe and colored kid.

T. Laughing mask mule. Soft bright blue kid with gold piping and lining. [Viewed from the front, this mule would bear the mask of comedy! In profile, it shows one eye and half of the smiling mouth.]

Netch et Bernard: The Vionnet Connection

Click to enlarge

“One model, lettered Q and S…may appear… not ornate, but a bit unusual…. Doubtless the design was inspired by the beautiful triangular and V shaped motifs which Madame Vionnet uses so ubiquitously, for the Netch of Netch et Bernard is Madame Vionnet’s husband, and his shoes, shown in conjunction with Vionnet’s dresses, are frequently inspired by her designs…. In many of the models, a touch that is purely classical or geometrical indicates the intention of this bottier to harmonize his shoes with the costumes designed by Vionnet, a feature of which the chic woman may well take advantage.” Although Netch is not often mentioned in connection with Vionnet, Betty Kirke’s Madeleine Vionnet, an extraordinary book, confirms that Netch and Vionnet were married in 1923, and that, “after they married, he supplied the shoes for her salon.” (p. 135)  They separated in the 1930s and were divorced in 1943.  Monsieur Bernard remains a mystery to me.  Here is the relevant text, from Delineator Magazine, October, 1928, page 129: