BRITISH PATHÉ: CHRISTIAN DIOR FUR SHOW IN LONDON (1969)

Ordinarily I wouldn't mind the unseasonably warm weather we've been having.  But you know, I'm "between sizes" right now (which is too say a little too chunky for the slim-tailored shirts that make up the better part of my closet), and I was really counting on hiding under sweaters and coats until at least April.  Guess I'd truly be distraught if I had a new coat from this (unbelievably groovy) Christian Dior fur show from 1969, as reported in a wonderful vintage British Pathé newsreel.  Swoon! 

There is so much here to celebrate:  that Sixties sense of chic, the use of white to enhance the stage presence of the coats, the groovy electric organ music ("if the coats didn't send the customers, the music certainly did..."), and of course all that odd, playful period modeling that seems (sadly) almost unfathomable today.  Frankly, I am living for all the synchronized "jigging about," especially in a chinchilla cape! 

I've written a little bit about Sixties style modeling before on The Social Design -specifically I think on a scene from a '68 Ungaro show used in the Catherine Denueve film Manon 70.  I wish I had a better grasp of the vocabulary of choreography, dance, and movement -  but to me there really is something paradoxical about the dominant modeling expressions of the time that both bewilders and entrances me.  It seems they sought to simultaneously exaggerate both the lines of the clothes and also the terrific sense of movement and freedom of the age.  The result is a recurrence of stiff, stylized postures that work quite well for print editorials (and here I definitely have Peggy Moffitt on the brain) but when applied to the movement of runway come off, well, a little bit bizarre...

It sort of calls to mind some observations I once read in a feature on the Audubon-inspired painter Walton Ford and how there is something distinctly unnatural in the naturalist Audubon's work,  because he was in fact not working from live models but rather from "freshly shot birds pinned into macabre dioramas."   Well, Dior isn't using dead birds but rather ballet dancers - and to great effect in my esteem.  And in my amateur musings on the Sixties modeling milieu I am probably discounting the influence of popular dance anyway. I will also add that Geoffrey Beene, a designer of great intellect, often cast dancers for models in his shows as well.

I wholeheartedly invite anyone with an opinion on Sixties modeling to chime in, or Sixties fashion for that matter (but really, I'm not so interested in the anti-fur sentiments)...

Enjoy!

THIS IS THE BLOGGING OF THE FRIDGE OF AQUARIUS...

Sometimes don't you just think you'll fall asleep if you see another stainless steel kitchen appliance?  Of course the greatest threat of such an acute and décor-triggered case of narcolepsy is hitting one's head on an equally ubiquitous granite counter top.  Last month I had to replace my old refrigerator and found the choices wanting: black or white (which apparently in any other form I love) and of course good old stainless steel.  It brought to mind the Eighties when I thought it was beyond stylish to have commercial grade stainless in the kitchen, especially glass-doored refrigeration units.  Clearly a far cry from the dulled-silver hell that constitutes the American middle class kitchen of today.

Of course what I really wanted was a mustard yellow fridge: please do think sunny Provence and please do not think Harvest Gold - although we did just watch Super 8 and were charmed to see its inclusion in the period kitchen sets. (Still, I am short
a macramé owl hanging to really pull it off...)  What I actually did end up getting was yet another stainless steel model - because, simply, neither black nor white worked with the existent scheme and the last thing I wanted to do was initiate a domino chain of kitchen redecorating.  Stainless steel really is nothing if not neutral. Yawn...

I guess I just didn't know that what I really ought to have done was this: travel back in time and pick myself up a "Match Your Mood" number from Westinghouse! 

I hope you enjoy this most compelling promotional film, one that vividly illustrates the decorative benefits of the company's "Complete Refrigerator," circa the late Sixties.  You'll see it starts off slow and moody as Young Mrs. Homemaker contemplates the winter landscape.  But then, like all groovy things, the electric organ kicks in.  And although it's not documented in the film, perhaps she's paid a call to her M.D. on the way home, since from the looks of her abrupt bout of uncontrolled shake dancing and home decorating, I myself am led to believe she's just gotten a needle of B12 and speed in her butt.  And then soon enough everyone's joining the party.  You will have, too, before all is said and (re)done...

Well, it's a terrific blast from the past - great visual and musical fun.  But on a realistic note, it's a good reminder of what Interior Design can and should be: a world of stimulating customization, a world of expression and license.  Face it, no one gets into the trade for the thrill of spec'ing one of three standardized finishes.  And I think this is one of the reasons I am so often keen on Sixties design - it really oozes optimism, possibility, and a certain kind of freshness and freedom - virtues which are always in style, if you ask me.  And there's something that's definitely out for 2012, and that's neutrality.

And as a matter of fact, I really do want a Mrs. Robinson zebra-striped fridge to match my Mrs. Robinson zebra-striped shift.  More than you know...

Enjoy! xo

Westinghouse ... "The Complete Refrigerator"

MARILYN AND CHAIRS...

Marilyn Monroe is in the media a lot this week.  I was perusing the Huffington Post at the coffee house the other day and caught a review (with terrific photographs) of a forthcoming book about her - David Wills' Marilyn Monroe: Metamorphosis, which promises to be the last word in all things Marilyn.  I appreciate the actress as much as the next guy, but truthfully, I've never been one of those gay men with a Marilyn fixation.  I guess it's just not my generation.  I'll laugh at (and, ideally, with) Liza -  but Judy Garland's allure completely escaped me.  I'm really just not into tragic gals much at all, though apparently Wills definitely does not see her as a tragic figure, and I do think his sentiments on the subject are worthy of real consideration. 

But the reason I bring all this up is that I saw the following photos and - in consciousness of my initial reaction to them - was amused by the similarity to a Facebook meme I saw not too long ago.  One of a picture lightheartedly presented to test one's sexuality by what one immediately noticed upon looking at it. There are a few variants on it.

Well, in these I hardly noticed the blonde bombshell for the chairs!  I suppose that makes me gay.  But the fact that I passed up the iconic Marilyn for the chairs? Guess that makes me not that kind of gay. Here, test for yourself and see what kind of gay you are...

This photograph is from a costume test for Something's Got To Give of 1962.  Marilyn is particularly notable in this photo for her radiance in the wake of a twentyfive pound weightloss. (And apparently the actress was often credited for the uncanny gift of appearing on camera ten pounds lighter. That's certainly not tragic).  But seriously, is it that wingback on the right that is the star of this shot, or what?  I love that large-scale pattern applied to this piece. It looks like it was taken from - I don't know at this distance - maybe a Persian miniature painting or something.  And I rather like the idea of a chair upholstered with a bit of a narrative, too. Why not? Why not wrap a chair with more visual narrative than Trajan's column?

 

This one really kills me. Of course, as anyone who has followed the blog will readily attest,  I've not been shy in expressing my admiration of the orange (or red) accent chair, which I consider as iconic as the actress herself.  And here it is - a big daddy wingback (rakeback, with a Marlborough leg in a pickled finish, no less), and Marilyn Monroe sitting in it, too boot.  That is rich.  This shot was taken from The Seven Year Itch of 1955.  I'm sure many will readily recognize what is probably the dress with which she is most associated - and I rather prefer it in the wingback than over the subway grate.  

Also of course I have long been possessed by the OpArt influence and, really, any instance of an interior effectively accented with the optic, high contrast of black and white for that matter, so of course I am enthralled with those draperies.  What particularly intrigues me, though, is not just the chic (in my esteem) of black and white - but that the silhouette-based pattern could have been pulled out of a Dutch textile design studio any time over the last decade - specifically I am thinking of Tord Boontje, to whom I seem inclined to credit for birthing the entire (and now very ubiquitous) silhouette trend in design. (Of course if I am mistaken, anyone is welcome to set me straight.  I invite it. I am here to learn, too.) And so I say, 1955? Really? I can hardly believe this room is 56 years old!

Enjoy...

THE DISCO HIPPIES OF "WITH SIX YOU GET EGGROLL" (1968)

 
 

Seems like we are long overdue for a little disco hippyism here at The Social Design.  A friend of mine brought this clip to my attention the other day and we had to have a laugh at what is perhaps one of the "squarest" psychedelic swinger scenes known to film. Well, it is a Doris Day film after all - "With Six You Get Eggroll" of 1968.  And if you look closely, everyone is drinking ...um...coffee. Well, it's seldom about social realities on The Social Design, only their stylized representation...

It's pretty apparent Doris Day and the production company are far removed from the psychedelic experience: their idea of a trippy reference effect (and my favorite) is a close up on a stained glass light fixture.  The house band actually is a real band, though - The Grassroots - probably best known for the hit "Midnight Confessions" of the same year. Granted, not as keen as The Strawberry Alarm Clock's appearance in "Beyond the Valley of the Dolls", of course, but given this level of vanilla be appreciative as the band could just as easily turned out to be The Lettermen in fringed suede vests and ponchos. 

What is interesting though is that as this is being filmed, Doris Day's son, the musician and record producer Terry Melcher, is hanging out with Charles Manson and his hippie family, who, though pre-murderous, are most definitely not drinking coffee in a discotheque and tripping on a stained glass light fixture. Otherwise some great swinging beads, minis, and Sassoon bubble cuts. Enjoy!

 

COSTUMES FOR THE "WORLD OF THE FUTURE" BALL, FROM "RIPTIDE" (1934)

 
 
 

Meet Insect Man and Lady Sky Bug. They are from the Future. Specifically, the fictitious  "World of the Future" Ball otherwise (and I have to add, very unfortunately) not attended by Norma Shearer and Herbert Marshall in the 1934 film "Riptide".  Era-wise, not the standard fare on The Social Design, but we caught this one the other night and really, who can resist the appeal of these sort of spoofy-Surrealist-Futurist costumes? I know I couldn't. And I sure as hell wouldn't have traded my invitation to the ball for dinner in a supper club... 

The film itself runs a little slow after a while. But there are some stand-out moments - such as Norma's Deco furnished apartment seen above, with that coral piece that would have been the jaw-dropping envy of any decorator about eight years ago. (I'd still take it if you gave it to me, I won't lie).  Later in the film keep an eye out for Norma and cocktails in a white pantsuit with bias-striped silk halter top that frankly looks like it went down a Milan runway yesterday.  And, my favorite, a quiver-inducing shot where Norma is framed by a wingback chair  - upholstered in a crisp but undulating stripe (I am thinking navy on white), railroaded to the horizontal, and looking about as fresh as ever.  Enjoy!

VILLA OF DISTINCTION: TAYLOR & BURTON IN "BOOM" (1968)

 
 

File this under "Villas of Distinction".  In my last post I mentioned coming across a spread in the July issue of Architectural Digest on the private Bel Air residence of the late Elizabeth Taylor.  Honestly, it was a privileged view, but one quite a bit softer than the cinematic image of the lady so many of us have loved and enjoyed.  It got me thinking about one of my favorite Taylor-Burton films, 1968's "Boom"...

An adaptation of the Tennessee Williams play, "The Milk Train Doesn't Stop Here Anymore", apparently the film was a bit of both a commerical and critical flop. It sat in obscurity for many years until sometime in (if I remember correctly) the very late 90s bootleg copies began making the rounds and it soon reasserted itself as a campy, cult classic. Also stars Richard Burton, of course, and Noel Coward as "The Witch of Capri" - in a role originally offered to Katherine Hepburn and in part inspired by the eccentric Italian Marchesa Luisa Casati .

Despite the stellar cast, my favorite presence in the film is that of the Mediterranean villa in which it was filmed (Sardinia, actually). Airy, spacious, perched on a dramatic natural setting - the villa once again satisfies my eternal appetite for the white room.  And Taylor's predominantly white wardrobe set against this stylish backdrop is like the icing on the (apparently vanilla) cake.  I also like the approach the designers took in creating the interior mix: the juxtaposition of the clean-lined, modern upholstered pieces (and expansive white interior) with older, detailed casepieces and accents for texture and visual interest.  Hope you enjoy, too...

And below, the trailer for "Boom" - if you are more into dramatic sound bites than interiors. Though I am willing to say the two together are mutually beneficial...



 

 

OP-ART INFLUENCE IN FLOOR TREATMENT (A.D., JULY 2011)

How I hate to stumble on an abandoned blog. Or worse: a blog whose last entry starts with "sorry I haven't posted anything lately..."  And here I am, my own blog teetering on the verge. Well, suffice it to say my creative/editorial energy was directed, by necessity, elsewhere throughout the better part of the summer. But still I was always making note of great little items I knew I wanted to share...

Last month I was waiting to get my hair cut. I like to arrive early so I can peruse the magazines in the reception area and otherwise unwind.  Usually I don't go for the Architectural Digest, but the July cover promised a sneak peek into the private residence of the sadly late, great Elizabeth Taylor. Of course someone with a taste for Sixties glamour like myself is going to take the bait.

Liz aside, what I did find and actually liked quite a bit was a spread on the South Carolina beach house of interior designer Amelia Handegan (photos posted above and below).  And of course anyone who coos on about Op-Art accents as much as I do is going to flip over the graphic floor treatment in the hall above.  I've always loved a white room to begin with - add a dash of that optical black & white and I'm all about it!

Of course on a practical note, I'll say it's good this is a light-usage second home or that A.H. is well off enough to have domestics: painted floors, especially white ones, are frankly a colossal pain in the ass to keep up. I speak from experience since I have painted hardwood floors (long story) myself, the color of an elephant.

Below, a couple more photographs from the editorial - these of a guest bedroom where Handegan again brings in an optical punch, in this instance a black and white Persian kilim I like quite a bit.  Ambiguously Franco-Indienne textiles compliment the airy interior and add a little hippie chic, which is also fine by me, of course...

BRANIFF AIRLINES' BOLD VISION OF ... 1975 (1968)

 
 
 

#23: YESTERDAY'S TOMORROW IS SELDOM TODAY.

There's a certain charm to the dated vision of the future.  A quaint naiveté one doesn't find in the once-conjectured reality we currently occupy nor recognizable (by ourselves,  not yet) in the visions of tomorrow and the life futuristic we as a culture are producing.  Frankly it's easier to look back on the past and guffaw.  Well, we saw a bit of this charm in the previous post -  a staging of André Courrèges' spring '68 fashions - and so here again I'm posting another little issue from the same year: a Braniff Airlines commercial prophetizing the space age thrill of air travel ... circa 1975. Pretty ambitious for seven years, one has to admit.

Clearly in the scheme of things, 1975 was going to be a great year for hoods and streamlined fashion helmets!  Though I have to ask, what's the story with that lady in the crinkled metallic number scratching her ass?  Guess the future was going to be itchy.  And with all those rather jerky, hard-finished means of conveyance to which the modern traveler is subjected, I would say it's kind of whiplash-y, too...

Enjoy!



ANDRÉ COURRÈGES ON GERMAN TELEVISION (1968)

 
 
 
 

Here's another "summer white" for your consideration.  Some great German television footage of André Courrèges' 1968 collection, paired with a little moog music. It's the product of a terrific woman in Germany who posts under the name of cosmocorps2000 on YouTube. She's worth loooking up: she's got scads of great vintage fashion videos and lovingly pairs each one with some equally groovy "space age" tunes.  Says cosmocorps2000's bio: (I) have an affinity for anything futuristic (Design, Furniture, Architecture, Music...) especially from the 1960s and 1970s, the heyday of futuristic design and lifestyle. Well, I have an affinity for you, cosmocorps2000, I have an affinity for you!

I do like this video quite a bit. I'm a sucker for an impractical, all white interior. I'm mad about quaint visions of yesterday's tomorrow.  The totalizing, white interior - that's optimism. See, even dirt has been left behind in mankind's great ascension.  Plus there's a place for everything, as evidenced by the series of closets from which the models enter and exit. It's man's mastery over the elements, or at least clutter.  And it's optimism that says tomorrow's woman can sport a bubble-hooded white space poncho and still have occasion for girlish pigtails, scalloped hems, and sweet white gloves...



CLUB "LES HIPPIES" FROM "LE PACHA" (1968)

WARNING: FABULOUS NUDITY

 
 

Now here's a clip that really takes us back to the heart of the social design: disco hippies. (Yes!) This film, 1968's Le Pacha, really does as much so very literally it even features a highly improbable nightclub titled "Les Hippies"...

Part of this vignette anyway is fabulous.  And another part, well, a piece of shit.  I haven't actually seen the entire film.  Apparently from what I can detect it was never released in an English dub and my command of French doesn't carry me so very far beyond dining, shopping, and insulting.  Maybe there's something sub-titled out there, though it probably doesn't matter since few of these films are even being considered for their plot.

Plot (or lack of) excused, there's some great vintage style here.  Unfortunately it's a bit polluted, as clearly the "scene" has been rendered to serve as a fairly foolish counterpoint to the old detective.  Note how almost every guy on the dance floor is basically an effeminate, spaced-out gypsy with a pashmina. (And though I rather like that in a club, it's as its own end, and here it is decidedly not.)  A sort of dancing floral arrangement as Monsieur L'Inspecteur makes his way through the psychedelic clubscape.  Pity since this blog is not about old detectives.

Well, if you can overlook the obvious bias, there still much to love.  The kaleidoscopic intro with the strobe flash on the dancing girl scantily clad in what appears to be Mylar fringe: hello, terrific!  A great segue into the dancers ornamenting a club which otherwise seems to be populated with little more than highly-visual ornaments.  Of course that bar maid could not look more out of place if they had cast Doris Day in the role, and frankly it looks like they tried and settle for second best (or, as the case may be, worst).  Hilarious! In that pink suit with the jeweled necktie.  Oh dear.  I am definitely not buying it!

Well, speaking of dancing floral arrangements.  We actually encounter one, literally, by which I mean the creature in the blue peek-a-boo caftan with a head of posies.  Shades of the notorious Atlanta drag queen Octavia L'Ampshade, circa 1996, really.  In the film, too silly to be true, of course.  Clearly the stylists went a little overboard.  But otherwise some great fashions and body paint.  Really what I like best in this scene is the controlled use of color and metallics against a black background.  It's a rich effect.

The music is Serge Gainsbourg's Psychasténie.  Of course we've considered this terrific sort of disco-raga mish-mash before... 

 



Gainsbourg, from Le Pacha (1968)

and again from Manon 70 (1968)

1968 was a great year for electric bass and sitar, which Gainsbourg also married (with Michel Colombier) for the Catherine Deneuve vehicle Manon 70.  Well, it really does set a tone, you cannot deny.

Gainsbourg actually appears in Le Pacha.  Specifically performing the song Requiem pour un con, or Requiem for a Jerk. Very groovy percussion, I think you will agree.  A rough translation of the lyrics follows.  Says one viewer on YouTube: "Gainsbourg à l'apogée de sa coolitude..." 



Listen to the organs, they are playing for you

This tune is dreadful

I hope you like it, good enough, isn't it?

It's the Requiem for a Jerk

Yeah

I composed it specially for you

In memory of you, scoundrel

On your pale face, on the prisons' walls

I'll inscribe myself: "silly jerk"