Film, Fashion & Consumption Volume 3 Number 1 2014 Intellect Ltd Editorial. English language. doi: 10.1386/ffc.3.1.3_2 Editorial Emmanuelle Dirix and Neil Kirkham University of the Arts Fashion in 1930s Hollywood The 1930s is neatly framed by two major world events: the 1929 Wall Street Crash and, ten years later, the outbreak of World War II. Indeed, one could argue that the decade not only began with, but was in fact predominantly characterized by the largest collapse of the stock market in American history. It plunged America into the Great Depression and had traumatic ramifications worldwide. The resulting economic downturn contributed in-part to the rise of European authoritarian regimes and, before the decade was out, the continent once again found itself embroiled in conflict. Due to these seismic events the decade is often seen in an almost wholly negative light, with the world spiraling into ever-darker places. However, the 1930s was also a time of glamour and modernity, as well as the age of streamlining in design. It heralded the rise of design consultancy as a profession within the realms of consumer products. It also saw a sharp proliferation in developing technologies such as television, intercontinental aviation, Kodak colour film and Technicolour cinema. Similarly, in relation to fashion the 1930s often does not get the attention it deserves as it is falls between the follies of the Jazz Age and the horrors of war. These two periods have been widely studied and discussed for very different reasons the former as an era of excess, the latter as one of austerity and the decade that separates them is often noted as a period of mere transition. This approach significantly misses the many changes and innovations that took place, and leaves us with an incomplete view of the fashions of the time. 3
1. Rick Altman (2007) has also produced work on the use of sound throughout the silent era. The four articles in this special edition therefore emerged from an interest in a uniquely important period of both fashion and Hollywood s history. Bordwell et al. (2003) position The Classical Hollywood Cinema as commencing in 1917, rationalizing this start date as the beginning of a specific use and formulation of narrative, time, space and editing in American film. However, this was a decade before the evolution of sound and almost two decades before the widespread use of colour, the standardization of a generic system of production and the full implementation of the Production (or Hays ) Code. All four of these were more typical of 1930s and beyond. It is a common misconception that sound cinema arrived, fully formed, with the release of The Jazz Singer (Crosland, 1927). The periods before and after this film also have significant importance, with gradual technological innovations taking place throughout the 1920s and into the 1930s. Crosland s 1927 film for Warner Bros. was the first talkie but large parts remained silent, another Warners release, Lights of New York (Foy, 1928) was officially the first all-talking picture. Pam Cook (1985) notes how neither of these, however, had the impact of the Vitaphone Preludes that were screened before showings of Don Juan (Crosland, 1926), the first film to have a fully synchronized score. 1 The years that followed saw an at times laborious shift to the type of sound film associated with the golden age. Due to technological restrictions (requiring sound to be recorded on set and not overdubbed in post-production) the camera often remained static, cocooned in a shell that hid its intrusive, whirring noise. This led to several very slow films that lost the speed of movement associated with late-silent cinema: frequently such films also had the addition of bizarre sequences where the actors had to lean forward to talk into a microphone blatantly hidden somewhere on the set (typical of this are scenes from The Locked Door [Fitzmaurice, 1929]). The evolution of colour in film is even more protracted than that of sound. James Clerk Maxwell developed the principle of colour photography in the mid-nineteenth century, but although tinting film-strips was common from the very birth of cinema (first by hand, then as a mechanized process) the first all-colour, all-talking pictures were finally released by Warner Bros. at the very end of the 1920s. The depression impacted upon investing in colour technology as studios decided instead to focus on sound and it was not until the mid-1930s that live-action films such as Becky Sharp (Mamoulian, 1935) popularized the three-colour Technicolour process that would find its zenith at the end of the decade through Gone with the Wind (Fleming, 1939). Genre, of course, was not invented by Hollywood or indeed film at all. Whilst early silent cinema can be categorized using modern generic terminology (Le Voyage dans la Lune/A Trip to the Moon [Méliès, 1902] is prototype science-fiction, The Great Train Robbery [Porter, 1903] a prototype western), the generic system of production in Hollywood did not find its true place until the era immediately after the introduction of sound. In this period between 1928 and 1931 we see the introduction of the musical at MGM and Warners (after The Jazz Singer and Lights of New York came The Broadway Melody [Beaumont, 1929]) the Horror Film at Universal (Dracula [Browning, 1931] and Frankenstein [Whale, 1931]) and the gangster film at Warners (Little Caesar [LeRoy, 1931] and The Public Enemy [Wellman, 1931]). The development of the last of these would be significantly hindered by the implementation of the Production Code in 1934. Initially introduced in 1922, the code s guidelines were self-imposed by studio producers and were overseen by William Harrison Hays Sr, whose name 4
would later become synonymous with the rigorous censorship of Classical Hollywood cinema. At the outset, many producers followed the code voluntarily but after a few years the guidelines started to relax and by the late 1920s, at the time of the arrival of sound, the debate about cinema and morality was revived just as sex and violence became audible as well as visible. In 1930 a new code, known as the Hollywood Production Code, or The Motion Picture Production Code, was published. The next four years are now known as the Pre-Code era (Doherty 2013). While technically in operation, these regulations were largely ignored as silver screen immorality had proved to be a big audience pleaser and thus a cash cow in previous years. Still, from July 1934 onwards a mechanism was put in place to enforce the code and for the next 30 years virtually every film produced had to be morally approved before its release. The content and guidelines of the Motion Picture Production Code were clear in their intention and began by stating that, No picture shall be produced which will lower the moral standards of those who see it and that in no film released should the sympathy of the audience [ ] be thrown to the side of crime, wrongdoing, evil or sin (in Lewis 2002: 303). All four of these aspects are key to our modern conception of Classical Hollywood as a cinematic form that espoused romantic, generic, glamorous and technically advanced films which were simultaneously excessively obvious (Bordwell et al. 2003: 1) in their narrative structure and also rigidly censored. As a result, we decided to locate this edition in what we believe to be the first true decade of the Classical Style, the 1930s, as in doing so, it allows us to look at the role of fashion and the body in relation to these significant stylistic, narrative and representational changes. From this decision, however, emerged a more specified interest in the aforementioned period between 1930 and 1934, within which each of the above elements combined to produce films that demonstrated Hollywood s interest in technological development but were, as yet, relatively free from the knife of the censor. Doherty suggests that whilst Hollywood s vaunted golden age began with the Code and ended with its demise, the years immediately preceding its implementation mark: a fascinating and anomalous passage in American motion picture history: the so-called pre-code era, when censorship was lax and Hollywood made the most of it. Unlike all studio system feature films released after July 1934, pre-code Hollywood did not adhere to the strict regulations on matters of sex, vice, violence, and moral meaning forced upon the balance of Hollywood cinema. In language and image, implicit meanings and explicit depictions, elliptical allusions and unmistakable references, pre-code Hollywood cinema points to a road not taken. (2013: 2) Clearly, in relation to film costume and the representation of the body, this period is of significant importance. A number of the films (Just Imagine [Butler, 1930], Frankenstein [Whale, 1931], Gold Diggers of 1933 [LeRoy, 1933]) and stars (Jean Harlow, Joan Crawford, Ginger Rogers, Gloria Swanson) discussed in these four articles are defined in part by their Pre-Code position and would not have been represented, in this form, in the years following 1934. Of these performers, the change in Ginger Rogers bodily representation is perhaps the most startling, particularly given her later, wholesome, star 5
persona. In films such as Gold Diggers, Professional Sweetheart (Seiter, 1933) and Upperworld (Ruth, 1934) she is fetishized in a highly sexual way, a look completely at odds with the more demure (albeit glamorous) image that accompanied her films with Fred Astaire later in the decade. The Hays Code s section on costume dictated that complete nudity was never permitted but also specified how indecent or undue exposure was forbidden and that undressing scenes should be avoided (Lewis 2002: 306). Both Professional Sweetheart and Upperworld contain such aspects (see Figures 1 and 2) and were advertised with risqué stills that fronted Rogers as a sex symbol and attired her accordingly. The focus on Pre-Code Hollywood also emerged from the fact that we are not, of course, the first academics to investigate the relationship between fashion and the big screen in this particular decade. Most notably, Sarah Berry s study of femininity and fashion in 1930s Hollywood analysed cinema s role in assisting the shift from class to mass in the synergy driven consumption and production of fashion, alongside the emergent spectacle and style of the American star system. For Berry, fashion and Hollywood were both significant aspects of the decade s shifting definitions of femininity (2000: xii). The economic depression in turn brought about a significant rise in service sector jobs for the female workforce: the role of women in American society was changing, as indeed was the way they represented their identity through the consumption of goods and services. Berry therefore reflects on this shift in line with the position of women as the primary consumers of mainstream cinema across this period, something that, coupled with its significant number of high-paid female leads, and the new consumer and beauty products that they advertised, underlined the importance of this decade in signifying a shift in the concept of western femininity. Whilst certain aspects of her work will naturally be touched upon in these essays (Emmanuelle Dirix discusses the spectacle Figure 1: No make-up, no perfume, no jewellery [ ] Ginger Rogers undresses in Professional Sweetheart (1933). 6
Figure 2: A fetishistically clad and gartered Rogers performs Shake Your Powder Puff as Lilly Linda in Upperworld (1934). and exoticism of feathers, Leila Wimmer the role of female consumer/ spectators) our focus is more specifically set amidst the immediately Pre-Code period of early 1930s Hollywood film and will touch upon aspects beyond the parameters of her work (the emergence of Science-Fiction and Horror genres, female fan cultures, the use of costume in material-culture-based research). Next to Berry, the most referenced writing on fashion and film in this period is undoubtedly Charles Eckert s 1978 article The Carole Lombard in Macys Window. As the first sustained consideration of how in a commercial sense audiences were encouraged to emulate what they saw on-screen (Street 2001: 8), the crux of Eckert s argument is well versed within Fashion Theory and is indeed oft-cited in the articles that follow this introduction. However, one extract from his work is particularly important in this context: Motion pictures perform a service to American business which is greater than the millions in our direct purchases, greater than our buildings [ ] the industry is a new factor in American economic life and gives us a solid basis of hope for the future by creating an increase in demand for our products. The motion picture carries to every American at home, and to millions of potential purchasers abroad, the visual, vivid perception of American manufactured products. (Hays in Eckert 1978: 5) Will Hays, the aforementioned first president of the Motion Picture Producers and Distributors of America (MPPDA), delivered those words in a Radio address in 1930. In this we see two of the key aspects of the Classical Style eloquently combined: the need for Hollywood films to advertise products abroad and, in turn, do so in a wholesome way. Manufacturers and corporations therefore pressurized the movie moguls to produce modern films with modern goods: in her article, Emmanuelle Dirix cites Eckert in outlining how, in 1930, Bernard Waldman established the Modern Merchandising Bureau that supplied exclusive reproductions of film fashions to more than 1400 shops across the United States. Shops that carried these screen styles, including Macy s in-house cinema shop, were listed in movie magazines to aid women in locating their nearest outlet. As Ena Glen explained in Filmfair magazine: it should be every woman s aim to pick out a star personality resembling her own face, figure or temperament and be inspired by 7
2. Interestingly, in the articles by Ellie Slee and Barry Curtis, such narrative devices are seen to go beyond traditional film genres aimed at women and into embryonic Horror and Science Fiction. 3. Lawrence was known as the Imp girl whilst she worked for the Independent Moving Pictures Company. Previously, whilst working for Biograph, she had been known as the Biograph girl (see MacDonald, 2000: 13). it. Choosing clothes will then become an easy and fascinating business (in Wilson and Taylor 1989: 99). In this way, women were actively encouraged to consume in line with, and to the financial benefit of, Hollywood and a primary way in which cinema influenced, if not shaped, modern consumption was therefore through the tie-up. This centred on a contractual agreement between the vertically integrated studio and a branded manufacturer and was an early example of product placement. Whilst the use of some commodities (such as popular soft drinks) appeared prominently on-screen, there were many other modern goods that could blend more easily with the mise-en-scène and pass virtually unnoticed (such as refrigerators, cars, clothes and accessories). Certain films were accompanied by large-scale promotional campaigns sponsored by the brands whose goods featured in the film. For major productions these went far beyond magazine and newspaper campaigns: shop windows were decorated with cut-outs of actors and actresses, and other promotional materials were used to remind customers that the retailers goods were endorsed by their favourite stars. Movie stars even crossed the United States on promotional tours, pitching up at the sponsor s showrooms at every stop, as well as endorsing products on the radio and in the printed press. As Hays also said in 1930: every foot of American film sells $1 worth of manufactured products some place in the world (in Miller et al. 2005: 65). The big studios all had exploitation departments that looked over all new scripts, broke them down into product categories and went in search of sponsors. This system not only heavily influenced scripts but it also irrevocably shaped consumer choices, including fashion choices. By extension, technological advances (such as the gradual development of the sound film) helped in delivering increasingly complex, if at times slightly jarring, narratives. Thus talkies allowed for more character development and now that Hollywood s silver screen heroes and beauties had voices and genuine personalities, their appeal and popularity grew exponentially as audiences found it easier to establish an emotional bond. As cited earlier, technical advances also allowed for an expansion of movie genres and this in turn allowed films to target specific audiences through narrative, mise-en-scène and style. Although the arrival of sound had made the production of films more expensive (and as a result had forced many female screenwriters and directors out of the industry), in the early years of the talkie getting women into the actual theatres as consumers became key for Hollywood studios. Films aimed at female audiences often followed a traditional romantic plot, and often featured extravagant fashions. 2 In a sense, they operated as high-end fashion magazines and in turn instructed women on the latest styles and looks. Indeed, studio publicity departments made large-scale efforts to use fashion as a means to draw women in, with the legendary costume designer Edith Head commenting: the publicity departments went to work immediately, promoting every A picture as a fashion extravaganza (1983: 19). The bond between spectator and performer was encouraged through the star system, Hollywood s own classification scheme that took actors and actresses and transformed them into products. Although the concept of the Hollywood star had first emerged through Carl Laemmle s promotion of Florence Lawrence as the IMP girl two decades earlier, 3 it was in the 1930s that the system as we now know it started to truly take shape. By the 1930s glamorous stars drove Hollywood cinema and were specifically linked to genres, studios and marketing campaigns. 8
The idea revolved around three key points: creation, promotion and exploitation, transformed by Dyer (1979) into the phenomenon of production and the phenomenon of consumption. As Berry notes, the mythology of the makeover became synonymous with the Hollywood star s rise from obscurity to fame (2000: xviii) and the studios took on young talents and moulded or produced them, through beauty practices (including cosmetic surgery), elocution lessons, dance and acting classes into glamorous personas, often with invented new names and histories. This stereotyping was justified on the basis that a star was accepted and consumed by the public based on a set of personality traits, mannerisms and associations that were consistent and present in all their movies. Equally their off-screen image was expected to match their on-screen persona, and morality contract clauses aided this need for coordination. Publicists and magazines had a mutually beneficial relationship the former providing a constant stream of information and pictures, the latter both affirming, perpetuating and profiting from the celebrities on its pages, and in turn cementing their fame and so guaranteeing high audience numbers. Once their fame was established, these glamorous stars became fashion icons, aspirational role models, and perfect marketing tools as women worldwide knew them and yearned to be like them. And Hollywood was fully aware of this desire and ready to exploit it (stars were, as John Ellis [1982: 93] notes, an invitation to cinema ). Although Hollywood in the 1930s therefore relied increasingly on female film fans as consumers, in her article on French women s cinephilia in this decade, Leila Wimmer notes that there remains a focus on masculine ethics in relation to the subject: although cinema has depended on female audiences [ ] their contributions, when they are not silenced, are still undervalued or dismissed. She positions the 1930s as a golden age for the popular film press as a conduit for discussing cinema and also as sites where cultural meanings, both local and global, were produced and consumed. Still, the magazines read by female film fans, such as Cinemonde, Cine Miroir and Pour Vous, were often, in line with the women who read them, condemned as popular, escapist or capitalist indoctrination aimed at debased female readership or midinettes (little shop girls). Her article also underlines the global reach of Hollywood in this decade. These magazines were primarily concerned with the stars of the Woman s Film, a solidified genre in 1930s American cinema, but one which never found the same status in France. Whilst French magazines did then focus on French female stars, they were often superseded by the alternative model of the modern Hollywood performer. This is perfectly exemplified both by Wimmer citing a series of articles in Pour Vous, which asked its readers whether they were the Joan Crawford, Marlene Dietrich or Claudette Colbert type and also changes in hair styling: Winmer cites Zdatny (2008: 240) in outlining how the magazine Coiffure de Paris saw the platinum blonde of Jean Harlow being followed first by the Katherine Hepburn and then the Joan Crawford as the most popular style amongst French women in 1934 and 1935. Wimmer s article therefore highlights what is perhaps the key element of this period in relation to film and fashion: Hollywood s challenge to Paris as the centre of elegance and taste. The publications she analyses were in no way willing to accept defeat (Pour Vous confidently claimed in 1935 that there is only one fashion and it is French ), but as Emmanuelle Dirix points out in her article, this resistance to the vulgarity of Hollywood glamour was arguably also premised on a French distaste for the way in which such costumes 9
4. It is estimated in total over half a million Lynton-inspired gowns were sold and not only grown women fell for the dress, with Vogue noting in 1938 that the country was flooded with mini Joan Crawfords. were made and how the Americans, through Hollywood s Classical Style, had colonized their cinema. This notion of colonization is important in understanding how the artistry behind 1930s Hollywood functioned. The Pre-Code period saw political as well as economic turmoil across Europe and a significant percentage of the continent s cinematic talent fled these troubles to work in America. This shift directly impacted upon the visual style of Hollywood cinema, most clearly in the Universal Horror films discussed by Ellie Slee, which owe more than a passing debt to the jarring look of German Expressionist cinema. But there are more subtle influences as well, and it is important to keep in mind that many of the stylistic innovations discussed in these chapters had their origins outside of American film. For instance, Barry Curtis discusses the visual modernity and machine-age references in the costume and styling of the early Sci-Fi prototype Just Imagine, but its look was heavily indebted to Metropolis (Lang, 1927) and such modern costume design had actually been seen six years earlier in the Soviet film Aelita: Queen of Mars (Protazanov, 1924). This cannibalization (Appadurai in Mills 2009: 31) of other national cinemas is symptomatic of the fact that by the 1930s, Hollywood was the most dominant power in world film. It used this global reach to launch several memorable fashions: the Empress Eugenie hat (as worn by Greta Garbo in Romance [Brown, 1930]), Walter Plunkett s barbecue dress for Vivien Leigh in Gone with the Wind and most famously Joan Crawford s ruffled organdie dress from Letty Lynton (Brown, 1932). Copies of this last dress sold in the thousands, and in 1932 the magazine Silver Screen stated: Paris may decree this and Paris may decree that, but when that Crawford girl pops up in puffed sleeves, then it s puffed sleeves for us before tea-time (in Herzog and Gaines 1991: 78). 4 Silver Screen magazine picked up on this influence as early as 1932, boldly stating that: some fossils may still look to Paris for their fashions [ ] but you and I know Paris isn t even a stand-in to Hollywood (in Herzog and Gaines 1991: 78). The reality of the situation is however more complex and more the mutual corroboration described by Lucien Lelong: We, the couturiers, can no longer live without the cinema any more than the cinema can live without us. We corroborate each other s instinct. (in Dirix and Fiell 2012: 29) Whilst many fashions of the decade are attributed to Hollywood, their actual origin is not so clear-cut. In fact, there seemed to exist a symbiotic, two-way relationship between Los Angeles and Paris. For instance, Jean Harlow s bias cut backless charmeuse gown worn in Dinner at Eight (Cukor, 1933) was a close copy of a Vionnet creation, but whilst the original had gone relatively unnoticed, Harlow s dress became an overnight success selling thousands of copies. Similarly the leg-o-mutton sleeves designed by Walter Plunkett for Irene Dunne in Cimarron (Ruggles, 1931), and the broad shouldered suits Adrian created for Joan Crawford (apparently to balance out her hips) contributed to the decade s fashion for defined shoulders. This was so popular Paris could not ignore it and indeed various couturiers adopted the silhouette. Lelong seems to have hit the nail on the head: Hollywood and Paris corroborated with each other. Thus to merely see these films as escapist entertainment playing on perceived traditional female interests to attract audiences would be to miss the fundamental reason for this emphasis on luxury products: their promotion 10
was closely bound up with a far bigger marketing and consumption structure which sat at the core of the industry. As Peter Wollen (1995: 14) suggests, it perhaps understandable that Hollywood should associate itself with extravagant and spectacular clothes when so many of the moguls behind it had started out in the rag trade. Samuel Goldwyn was a glove salesman; William Fox inspected fabric for garment makers; Louis B. Mayer sold used clothes and Harry Warner worked in the shoe repair business. All therefore understood the power of fashion and saw clear marketing opportunities. Furthermore, as Hollywood was bankrolled by some of the largest banks, investment houses and corporations in America, the emphasis on return and product placement was paramount. Through two distinct strategies consumption was actively encouraged by the industry: the showcasing of commodities including fashion and tie-ups with brand-name manufacturers. Our aim in the short collection of articles that follows is to further analyse the interplay between early 1930s fashions and the start of the classical Hollywood era. However, we are concerned with more unusual areas of study, be that the importance of female fandom, the use of costume in embryonic genres such as science-fiction and horror or the use of material culture methodologies in the study of film costume. We would like to thank Pamela Church Gibson and the editorial team at the journal for allowing us the scope to do this and hope the articles prove to be interesting and informative. Finally, this edition also sees the inclusion of a new section Short Cuts which aims to further the editorial team s interest in analysing the relationship between fashion and film across a range of different forms. References Altman, R. (2007), Silent Film Sound, New York: Colombia University Press. Beaumont, Harry (1929), The Broadway Melody, USA: MGM and Warner Bros. Berry, S. (2000), Screen Style: Fashion and Femininity in 1930s Hollywood, Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press. Bordwell, D., Staiger, J. and Thompson, K. (2003), The classical Hollywood Cinema: Film Style and Mode of Production to 1960, London: Routledge. Brown, Clarence (1930), Romance, USA: MGM. (1932), Letty Lynton, USA: MGM. Browning, Tod (1931), Dracula, USA: Universal. Butler, David (1930), Just Imagine, USA: Fox Film Corporation. Cook, P. (1985), The Cinema Book, London: British Film Institute. Crosland, Alan (1926), Don Juan, USA: Warner Bros. (1927), The Jazz Singer, USA: Warner Bros. Cukor, George (1933), Dinner at Eight, USA: MGM. Dirix, E. and Fiell, C. (2012), Fashion Sourcebook 1930s. London: GoodMan Fiell. Doherty, T. P. (2013), Pre-Code Hollywood: Sex, Immorality, and Insurrection in American Cinema, 1930 1934, New York: Colombia University Press. Dyer, R. (1979), Stars, London: British Film Institute. Eckert, C. (1978), The Carole Lombard in Macy s Window, Quarterly Review of Film and Video, 3: 1, pp. 1 21. Ellis, J. (1982), Visible Fictions, London: Routledge. Fitzmaurice, George (1929), The Locked Door, USA: George Fitzmaurice Productions/Feature Productions. Fleming, Victor (1939), Gone with the Wind, USA: Selznick International Pictures/MGM. 11
Foy, Bryan (1928), Lights of New York, USA: Warner Bros. Herzog, C. C. and Gaines, J. M. (1991), Puffed-sleeves-before-tea-time: Joan Crawford, Adrian and women audiences, in C. Gledhill (ed.), Stardom: Industry of Desire, London: Routledge, pp. 77 95. Head, E. and Calistro, P. (1983), Edith Head s Hollywood, Boston: Dutton. Lang, Fritz (1927), Metropolis, Germany: Universum Film (UFA). LeRoy, Mervyn (1931), Little Caesar, USA: Warner Bros. (1933), Gold Diggers of 1933, USA: Warner Bros. Lewis, J. (2002), Hollywood V. Hard Core: How the Struggle over Censorship Created the Modern Film Industry, New York: New York University Press. MacDonald, P. (2000), The Star System: Hollywood s Production of Popular Identities, London: Wallflower Press. Mamoulian, Rouben (1935), Becky Sharp, USA: Pioneer Pictures. Méliès, Georges (1902), Le Voyage dans la Lune/A Trip to the Moon, France: Star Film Company. Miller, T., Govil, N., McMurria, J., Maxwell, R. and Wang, T. (2005), Global Hollywood 2, London: British Film Institute. Mills, J. (2009), Loving & Hating Hollywood: Reframing Global and Local Cinemas, NSW: Allen & Unwin. Porter, Edwin S. (1903), The Great Train Robbery, USA: Edison Manufacturing Comapny. Protazanov, Yakov Alexandrovich (1924), Aelita: Queen of Mars, USSR: Mezhrabpom-Rus. Ruggles, Wesley (1931), Cimarron, USA: RKO Radio Pictures. Ruth, Roy Del (1934), Upperworld, USA: Warner Bros. Seiter, William A. (1933), Professional Sweetheart, USA: RKO Radio Pictures. Street, S. (2001), Costume and Cinema: Dress Codes in Popular Film, London: Wallflower Press. Wellman, William A. (1931), The Public Enemy, USA: Warner Bros. Whale, James (1931), Frankenstein, USA: Universal. Wilson, E. and Taylor, L. (1989), Through the Looking Glass: A History of Dress from 1860 to the Present Day, London: BBC Books. Wollen, P. (1995), Strike a pose, Sight and Sound, 5: 3, pp. 10 15. Zdatny, S. (2008), French hairstyles and the elusive consumer, in Regina Lee Blaszczyk (ed.), Producing Fashion. Commerce, Culture, and Consumers, Philadelphia: University of Philadelphia Press, pp. 231 49. Contributor details Emmanuelle Dirix is a lecturer in Critical and Historical studies who specializes in fashion history and theory. She is theory coordinator for the Textile degrees at Chelsea College of Arts and leads the Historic research course at the Antwerp Fashion Academy. In addition, she is an associate lecturer at Central St Martins, The Royal College of Art and The University of Westminster. She has previously worked as assistant curator of the textiles and wallpaper collections at the Whitworth Art Gallery in Manchester and in March 2011 curated Unravel: Knitwear in Fashion at the Fashion Museum, Antwerp (and edited the accompanying book of the same name). She has contributed chapters and articles to a number of academic publications on fashion and design and has written several fashion histories for Carlton Books. Contact: University of the Arts, 16 John Islip St, London SW1P 4JU, United Kingdom. 12
Dr Neil Kirkham is Lecturer in Cultural and Historical Studies at the University of the Arts, London, UK. He has recently completed his Ph.D., entitled Simple pornographers? Sade, libertinage and the evolution of the hard-core pornographic film narrative and is preparing a series of journal articles that are based on his doctoral research. His publications include articles on the role of costume in hard-core pornography (Fashionably Laid: The Styling of Hard-Core and The new porno-chic? Fashion, consumption and film pornography, both 2012). Contact: University of the Arts, 16 John Islip St, London SW1P 4JU, United Kingdom. Emmanuelle Dirix and Neil Kirkham have asserted their right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988, to be identified as the authors of this work in the format that was submitted to Intellect Ltd. 13
intellect books & journals Performing Arts Visual Arts Film Studies Cultural & Media Studies Intellect books publishers of original thinking www.intellectbooks.com Fashion and War in Popular Culture Edited by Denise N. Rall Aside from the occasional nod to epaulettes or use of camouflage, war and fashion seem to be strange partners. Not so, argue the contributors to this book, who connect military industrial practices as well as military dress to textile and clothing in new ways. For instance, the book includes a series of commentaries on the impact of military dress in the airline industry, in illustrated wartime comics, and even considers today s muscled soldier s body as a new type of uniform. Elsewhere, the effects of conquest introduce a new set of postcolonial aesthetics as military and colonial regimes disrupt local textile production and garment making. In another chapter, it is argued that textiles and fashion are important because they reflect a core practice, one that bridges textile artists and designers in an expressive, creative and deeply physical way to matters of cultural significance. And the book concludes by calling the very mode of military chic into ethical question. The premier text to illustrate the impact of war on textiles, bodies, costume, art and design, Fashion and War in Popular Culture will be warmly welcomed by scholars of fashion design and theory, historians of fashion and those interested in theories of warfare and military science. ISBN 978-1-84150-751-4 16, $22.50 170x230mm e-book available We are here to support your ideas and get them published. To send us your new book or journal proposal, please download a questionnaire from www.intellectbooks.com. To view our catalogue or order our books and journals visit www.intellectbooks.com Intellect, The Mill, Parnall Road, Fishponds, Bristol, BS16 3JG. Denise N. Rall is an adjunct lecturer at the School of Arts and Social Sciences at Southern Cross University in Australia. Tel: +44 (0) 117 9589910 Fax: +44 (0) 117 9589911