Showing posts with label Edith Head. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Edith Head. Show all posts

Friday, October 28, 2011

Head Was Born On This Day In 1887

Edith Head believed modesty was unbecoming & that you should have anything you wanted in life, but you had to be dressed for it. Edith head knew about dressing. The legendary designer saw all the Hollywood greats stripped down to their underwear or less. As the stars gazed upon themselves in the studio wardrobe mirrors, Head was the woman standing behind them, making them look impossibly glamorous while carefully avoiding glamour herself.

 


Hollywood's most famous & influential costume designer, as well as its most prolific, Head had a career that lasted 6 decades. She designed clothes for 1,131 films , an average of 35 a year, she dressed virtually every star who shimmered on screen in the golden age of movie making. Head was the last costume designer to be under contract to a major studio, Paramount. She was a woman who succeeded in a world, which in her day, was dominated by men.

Head wrote a pair of books: The Dress Doctor & How to Dress for Success, & played herself, giving a fashion show commentary in the 1955 film- Lucy Gallant, with Charlton Heston & Jane Wyman.

She could be a bit playful with the truth, taking credit for designs she had not created: Audrey Hepburn's little black dress in Sabrina & the Newman/Redford wardrobe for The Sting, for which she won an Oscar. Always discreet about the size & shape of the stars' bodies, she knew about all the skeletons in their closets, but she was never one to gossip.

Head knew about the intimate secrets of Mae West's vast bosom, Gloria Swanson's wide waist & tiny feet (size 2 1/2), & swan necked Audrey Hepburn's broad shoulders. She often boasted that she was a magician: “I accentuated the positive & camouflaged the rest".

Head would make the stars, with all their flaws, look a million dollars, & she influenced the way millions of women dressed too, as a designer for Vogue patterns at a time when home dressmaking was all the rage, although Head could not sew herself.

Her costume designs for films went global. The sarong she fashioned for Dorothy Lamour in the 1936 film The Jungle Princess, Head had her stitched into it, made the actress a star & was copied by every swimwear manufacturer in the US. It is still copied today.

For Elizabeth Taylor in A Place in the Sun (1951), Head accentuated the teenage star's bosom & tiny waist with a strapless, bouffant-skirted white ballgown, scattered with violets. It became the prom dress for American teenagers when it was copied by all the leading department stores. According to Head, Taylor had the most beautiful shoulders in Hollywood, so she created dresses for her to show them off.

Bette Davis: "Edith Head’s life was all about glamour, 60 years of it, in the most glamorous place in the world- Hollywood," Head designed the brown silk, sable trimmed cocktail dress Davis wore as Margo Channing in All About Eve, warning everyone as she swept down the staircase for the big party scene to fasten their seat belts because it was going to be a bumpy night. Davis tried on the finished gown the bodice & neckline were way too big. Head was horrified, but Davis pulled it off her shoulders & shook one shoulder sexily: “Doesn't it look better like this anyway?" Head won one of her 8 Oscars for that film. Davis later bought the dress for herself, because she loved it so much. Head: "There were 8 important men in my life, & they were all named Oscar."

Head was working as a language teacher at the Hollywood School for Girls in 1932 when she bluffed her way into Paramount's wardrobe department. She already had a B.A. from Berkeley & a master's from Stanford, but then went to study art at the Otis Art Institute & the Chouinard School. She was hired by the studio as a sketch artist, although the fashion drawings.

By 1938, she was head designer, working on every prestigious production the studio made, and left only in 1967, when she joined up with Universal. Head spent the remainder of her career here, thanks to her friendship with Alfred Hitchcock, including Tippi Hendren's smart green suit made of textured tweed that would snag easily during an avian attack.

Head's career was not without controversy. After winning her Oscar for The Sting, she was sued by the illustrator who really designed Redford & Newman's clothes. The truth about her design of Audrey Hepburn's little black dress emerged only after her death, when the Paris couturier Hubert de Givenchy quietly admitted that he'd come up with the frock that was copied everywhere & worn by a generation of women; Head had designed all the other costumes in the film.


Head also adored Grace Kelly & was upset when the actress slighted her by not inviting her to design the wedding dress when she got married to Prince Rainier of Monaco. She did create Princess Grace's grey going-away suit, though.

Head: "I regret never having dressed Marilyn Monroe, never designing uniforms for the Chicago Cubs, & being alone. It is much easier being remembered than trying to remember." It was an open secret in Hollywood that Edith Head was a lesbian.

In the Pixar film- The Incredibles, the personality & mannerisms of the film's fictional superhero costume designer- Edna Mode’s sense of style, round glasses, & assertive no-nonsense character are very are a direct homage to Head's legendary accomplishments & personality.

I am so in Junior High School, & I, of course, think it was fun to write the word- HEAD 24 times.
 
From Edith Head's HOW TO DRESS FOR SUCCESS:
 
How to attreact & keep a man:

1. Decide want kind of man you want.

2. Find out what kind of girls he likes.

3. Know what kind of fashions pleases him.

4. Don’t masquerade in clothes you hate just to attract a man. Be sure you are really, deep down inside, this kind of girl. If not, find another man!

5. Learn all you can about him: his hobbies, his interests, his likes, his dislikes.

6. Be interested in his interests.

7. Choose your wardrobe to please him & suit his way of life.

8. After you get him, stay the way you were & don’t relax into a post-marriage slump of careless marriage.

9. Look reasonably enticing in the morning & better at nightFrom her book- Dress for Success, Edith Head’s Success Formula For Dressing To Get A Man & Keep Him:

Friday, September 2, 2011

The Fabulous Forties: Hedy Lamarr

The most beautiful girl in the world


Hedy Lamarr: movie star, glamour queen, patented inventor. That the outrageously beauteous Lamarr should add that last, unexpected laurel to her wreath shouldn't come as a shock, as from the beginning, she was far from the average movie actress. Unlike many of her celluloid sisters at MGM, she came neither from grinding poverty, nor with a determined stage mother in the wings: instead, the well-bred and highly intelligent Lamarr came from a wealthy Austrian family. She began her theatrical career in Europe, first appearing on stage, and then, cataclysmically, in the Czechoslovakian film Ecstasy (1933), which featured the young beauty simulating (or was she?) orgasm and appearing in full frontal nude scenes.


Lobby card for the 1940 American release of Ecstasy


Lamarr then married her first husband, an Austrian arms manufacturer with Nazi ties. To escape, Lamarr reportedly disguised herself as one of her maids, and fled her husband's castle to Paris, where she obtained a divorce. Her next stop was London, where a chance meeting with Louis B. Mayer led to a contract with MGM in Hollywood. Mayer made it his personal mission to turn Lamarr into the star of stars; ironically, her first American film, Algiers (1938), was made on loan-out to United Artists, and its fame (based chiefly on co-star Charles Boyer's seductive suggestion to "Come away with me to the casbah") ultimately overshadowed nearly anything MGM featured Lamarr in. Indeed, her first two MGM pictures -- Lady of the Tropics (1939) and I Take This Woman (1940) -- were bombs, despite the huge Lamarr publicity build up, and the star wattage of co-stars Robert Taylor and Spencer Tracy, respectively.


Being made up for I Take This Woman (1940, MGM) -- snickeringly referred to as I Retake This Woman, so tedious and convoluted was its filming


Lamarr's most successful films were the ensemble dramas Boom Town (1940) with Tracy, Clark Gable and Claudette Colbert, and Ziegfeld Girl (1941) with James Stewart, Judy Garland and Lana Turner; but her own starring vehicles were ultimately disappointing, with the exception of White Cargo (1942), in which the elegant "ice queen" played deliciously against type as the hot-blooded native girl, Tondelayo.


White Cargo (1942, MGM)


It was Tondelayo too late, though; the writing was on the wall for Lamarr at MGM, as Mayer grew increasingly frustrated with both his own attempts at molding her into a superstar, and Lamarr's refusal to bow to his every whim. Mayer was accustomed to screaming, crying and cajoling what he wanted out of his vulnerable stable of female stars, many of whom came from unfortunate childhoods and looked to him as a father figure. He was thoroughly unprepared to deal with the demands and caprices of an independent, well-educated European lady of pedigreed background. To be fair, Lamarr's stubborn and mercurial nature often worked against her. For instance, she refused the plum role that Ingrid Bergman would eventually win an Oscar for in Gaslight (1944), objecting to taking second billing to Charles Boyer -- her argument being that he, not she, was the loaned-out star this time.


Hedy Lamarr at her most glamorous, 1944


Lamarr's MGM contract was cancelled in 1945 (by "mutual agreement," as they euphemistically said in those days), and she immediately formed her own production company, which resulted in two interesting noir-ish dramas, The Strange Woman (1946) and Dishonored Lady (1947). Not bad films by any stretch, they also weren't earth-shattering; and, moreover, an exhausted Lamarr realized how much work went into being a self-contained artist without the benefit of a major studio for support.






Wearied by her experience with self-production, Lamarr signed a short-term contract with Paramount, and was cast as one of the titular characters in Cecil B. DeMille's gloriously vulgar epic, Samson and Delilah (1949). The film was a smash hit, and briefly restored Lamarr to renewed stardom; but the excitement was short-lived. MGM requested her services for A Lady Without a Passport (1950), but the film was such a dog, Lamarr should have refused. Paramount did her no favors by tossing her into a dreary Western, Copper Canyon (1950), then had her playing second fiddle in a minor Bob Hope comedy, My Favorite Spy (1951). In barely a year, Lamarr's comeback was already over.


Samson and Delilah (1949, Paramount)


The ad copy and costumes for A Lady Without a Passport (1950, MGM) shamelessly cashed in on Hedy's success in Samson and Delilah


Lamarr made one last attempt at reclaiming her movie stardom with the campy B melodrama The Female Animal (1957), in which she portrayed a fading screen queen, competing with daughter Jane Powell for the studly charms of George Nader. From there it was on to sporadic, sometimes bizarre TV appearances; botched plastic surgery which altered her exquisite looks; an embarrassing arrest for shoplifting which made worldwide headlines; a lurid "tell all" autobiography (ghost-) written for the money; and finally, quiet obscurity in Florida, far removed from her former fame.



With George Nader in The Female Animal (1957, Universal)


Guest hosting Shindig! with Jimmy O'Neill, 1965


At a press conference following her arrest for shoplifting, 1966


It's not to belittle Hedy Lamarr's abilities when we propose that she was the ultimate case of style winning out over substance. She was a tremendous star during the 1940's, whose very name was a byword for otherworldly glamour and beauty -- yet she never carried a classic film on her own, never was considered big box office. But even in her worst films, Lamarr's face was so compelling, audiences simply couldn't keep their eyes off of her. Unlike some starlets who had the looks but no talent and, worse, no charisma, Hedy Lamarr was a star who had the looks and charisma, and more talent than she was given credit for.





As for that invention? With George Antheil, Lamarr co-invented a technique for spread spectrum communications and frequency hopping, initially intended for wartime use to make radio-guided torpedoes difficult for enemies to detect or jam -- and the basis for the technology used for such modern day essentials as Wi-Fi and wireless telephones. As we noted before: not your average movie star.





Wednesday, June 22, 2011

Style is Timeless

Anna May Wong in Dangerous to Know (1938, Paramount)

Anna May Wong in the Producers' Showcase TV series production of The Letter (1956)

Sunday, May 1, 2011

Tuesday, April 19, 2011

No Love Lost


"Miss Hayward was very unkind to me on the set of Where Love Has Gone [1964]...I didn't know until later that she had been called 'The Poor Man's Bette Davis.'" - Bette Davis

Monday, March 21, 2011

You Mean, All This Time...?


"There is no need to hole up in an apartment and die alone. No. None. Poor Joan. I wish I could have liked her more." - Bette Davis

Thursday, March 10, 2011

Sunday, February 20, 2011

Wong and White

Anna May Wong in Dangerous to Know (1938, Paramount)

Jane Fonda in In the Cool of the Day (1963, MGM)

Thursday, January 27, 2011

Good Costume


We'll do our Mystery Guest reveal tomorrow, darlings, but in the meantime...


A recent, marvelous post over at Poseidon's Underworld, detailing the costumes Edith Head created for the all-star Ross Hunter epic, Airport (1970), started us ruminating about the fabled, eight-time-Oscar-winning designer. During the early phase of her 42 year run at Paramount (1925-1967), the untrained Head was dwarfed by the staggeringly chic creations being turned out by head designers Howard Greer and, later, Travis Banton. When called upon, though, Head could supply the fireworks, as with the spectacular emerald sequined gown she designed for Mae West in She Done Him Wong (1933).

Mae West in She Done Him Wrong (1933, Paramount)
Designer: Edith Head

More often, though, Head took a practical, workman-like approach -- which, it must be admitted, gave many of the costumes she worked on an undated, timeless look. There was a minimum of adornment on her dresses and gowns, most of which were made in either neutrals or subdued tones. Her no-fuss ethic was in direct contrast with the fantastical, glamorous, almost otherworldly creations that other designers like Adrian (MGM), Orry-Kelly (Warners), René Hubert (Fox), Kalloch (Columbia), Walter Plunkett (RKO) and Paramount's Banton were turning out.

Joan Crawford in Dancing Lady (1933, MGM)
Designer: Adrian

Kay Francis in Mandalay (1934, Warner Bros.)
Designer: Orry-Kelly

Gloria Swanson in Indiscreet (1931, Fox)
Designer: René Hubert

Irene Dunne in The Awful Truth (1937, Columbia)
Designer: Kalloch

Lupe Velez in Strictly Dynamite (1934, RKO)
Designer: Walter Plunkett

Marlene Dietrich in Desire (1936)
Designer: Travis Banton

To be fair, during this period, Banton, as head designer, was in charge of the plum assignments, and therefore, the most important films and biggest stars. More often than not, little Edie was left to toil in B-unit productions like Jungle Princess (1936), Her Husband Lies (1937) and Dangerous to Know (1938).

Dorothy Lamour in Jungle Princess (1936, Paramount)
Designer: Edith Head

Gail Patrick in Her Husband Lies (1937, Paramount)
Designer: Edith Head

Anna May Wong in Dangerous to Know (1938, Paramount)
Designer: Edith Head

Whether it was due to the smaller budgets on these films, Head's own minimalist approach, or a combination of the two, these stills illustrate both the designer's career-long fondness for simple lines with a minimum of frills, and a certain uneasiness when pressed to do something more outré: the sequined gown for Dorothy Lamour seems sleazy, especially compared with the clean, uncluttered look she gave Gail Patrick and Anna May Wong (more successful was the sarong that Head designed for Lamour in the same film!). But Head was acutely aware of her own limitations, and, when she was made head designer after Banton left Paramount in 1938, Head took pains to ensure that she rarely stepped out of her self-imposed boundaries again. She also set to work at making herself a household name.


The dark glasses. The crisp white blouse. The tailored suit. The bangs and chignon. The look, adopted in the late 1930's, would remain in place for the rest of Edith Head's life. "I knew I could never be the greatest costume designer," she once remarked, "but I knew there was no reason I couldn't be the smartest." Brilliantly, she copyrighted and branded herself, making her image nearly as famous as the movie divas she designed for. What Head wasn't so brilliant at, was fashion. Let us be very clear here: we respect Ms. Head as a very talented costume designer. That was her job, and she not only did it tremendously well, but she took it very seriously. She conferred not just with the director and actors on creating looks for the characters, but also with the art director and set designers, to ensure perfect harmony of line and color in every scene. The idea was for the costume to enhance and compliment the scene and character, not to overpower for mere effect.


Consequently, many of Head's best-remembered costumes were worn by some of the most celebrated, tempestuous women in Hollywood -- precisely because it took enormous presence and strength of character to bring many of Head's designs to life. Do you recognize either of these rather drab, uninteresting gowns?



How about now? They are, of course, the iconic dresses worn by Bette Davis and Elizabeth Taylor, respectively, in All About Eve (1950) and A Place in the Sun (1951).

Bette Davis in All About Eve (1950, Twentieth Century Fox)
Designer: Edith Head

Elizabeth Taylor (with Montgomery Clift) in A Place in the Sun (1951, Paramount)
Designer: Edith Head

It could be said, then, that Edith Head's greatest strength was knowing exactly what would work for the actress at hand, and the character she was playing. The clothing itself wasn't the star of the scene: it became a seamless, almost subliminal part of it. Indeed, it's difficult to imagine Margo Channing tossing off her "Fasten your seat belts" sally without that brown satin dress; but seeing it on its own hardly conjures up such delicious glamour. The clothes may not make the woman, but in many cases in Head's career, they helped make the character.

Barbara Stanwyck in Ball of Fire (1941, RKO)
Designer: Edith Head

Perhaps Edith's greatest collaboration with a star was with Barbara Stanwyck. Stanwyck had a reputation among Hollywood designers as being difficult to fit; her long-waisted torso seemed to stymie them. The look Head perfected for Stanwyck -- wide waistbands, narrow backs -- gave Stanwyck a new identity, and the closest thing to a designer/star partnership (a la Adrian/Crawford, Banton/Dietrich) that the free-lancing, studio-hopping star would ever have. The two women remained close friends, with Head not only designing for Stanwyck's films, but also her personal wardrobe.



Barbara Stanwyck in The Lady Eve (1941, Paramount) and Ball of Fire (1941, RKO)
Designer: Edith Head

That Head and Stanwyck got on famously was no fluke; Edith Head was trusted and beloved by almost every actress she worked with. She not only knew how to accentuate and camouflage as needed (as in Stanwyck's case), she also knew better than to spill gossip about her clients' private lives or, worse, their figure flaws to the press. Edith may have lacked the talent of a true couturier, but she could very well have been a diplomat.

Edith Head and Gloria Swanson, in costume for Sunset Blvd. (1950, Paramount)
Designer: Edith Head

There were, of course, a few bumps along the way. Most famously, as Paramount's head designer, she refused to allow young French designer Hubert de Givenchy's name to be included in the credits of Sabrina (1954) -- in spite of the fact that he had designed all of the haute couture gowns for the film's star, Audrey Hepburn, at Hepburn's request. Adding insult to injury, Head won an Oscar for the film (her second for a Hepburn picture; she had won the previous year for Roman Holiday)! To Head's credit, she did thank Givenchy in her acceptance speech for his "contributions." History almost repeated itself three years later, when Givenchy designed the spectacular couture gowns for Hepburn in Funny Face (1957), while Head was relegated to Kay Thompson's gray suits and the sad-sack outfits worn by Hepburn prior to her transformation from duckling to swan. This time, however, Givenchy rightly demanded, and received, screen credit.

Audrey Hepburn in Roman Holiday (1953, Paramount)
Designer: Edith Head

Audrey Hepburn in Funny Face (1957, Paramount)
Designer: Hubert de Givenchy

Her ambitions to do high fashion designs for Audrey Hepburn thwarted, Head found her 1950's muse in Hepburn's sleek blonde counterpart, Grace Kelly. For the future princess, Head designed some of her loveliest, most fashion-forward creations, particularly for Rear Window (1954) and To Catch a Thief (1955). These two films also cemented a long, fruitful relationship with Alfred Hitchcock, who was not only impressed by how Head's designs looked on his treasured cool blondes (Head would also dress Kim Novak for Vertigo [1958] and Tippi Hedren for The Birds [1963]), but how effectively they complimented his vision and direction.

Grace Kelly in Rear Window (1954, Paramount)
Designer: Edith Head

Grace Kelly in To Catch a Thief (1955, Paramount)
Designer: Edith Head

The 1960's saw Head responding to the ever-changing times in a surprising fashion: she took the plunge into the outrageous, and her designs for such mid-1960's fare as What a Way to Go! (1964) with Shirley MacLaine and Love Has Many Faces (1965) with Lana Turner are eye-popping, jaw-dropping -- and not always in a good way. But they demonstrate Head's determination to remain not only relevant, but newsworthy and attention-grabbing. Much was made of the costume budgets for these two films, in particular; Lana's costumes alone were reportedly worth $1 million!

Lana Turner in Love Has Many Faces (1965, Columbia)
Designer: Edith Head


Shirley MacLaine (with Robert Mitchum) in What a Way to Go! (1964, Twentieth Century Fox)
Designer: Edith Head

In 1967, after her Paramount contract expired, Head jumped ship to Universal. Though much of her work for Universal was minor, she did manage to win one final Oscar, for The Sting (1973). In an echo of the earlier Givenchy debacle, however, she was sued by the sketch illustrator who worked on the film (Head herself didn't, or couldn't, sketch), claiming that he had, in fact, designed the costumes. This sort of controversy started Edith Head's career -- she had conned her way into Paramount's costume department by displaying a portfolio padded with sketches by her fellow art class students -- and would continue to the end. When, in the 1970's, she began holding "fashion costume shows" purporting to feature her classic film gowns, many whispered that the gowns were, in fact, reproductions, and that some weren't even originally designed by Head in the first place.

Edith Head and models at one of her costume fashion shows, 1970's

Still, when Edith Head died on October 24, 1981, she was mourned not only by Hollywood but, thanks to Head's unrelenting publicity drive, the world. Obviously, Edith Head's supporters far outnumber her detractors; and, whatever her shortcomings as a designer may have been, her massive influence and sheer force of personality are such that they override any deficincies. In any case, if the unflattering designs she created for Mary Martin, Hedy Lamarr and Claudette Colbert (three of the very few stars with whom she shared a mutual dislike) are any indication of the kind of retribution she would dish out to those who dared cross her, we'd rather stay on her good side!

Mary Martin in Love Thy Neighbor (1942)
Designer: Edith Head

Hedy Lamarr in The Strange Woman (1946, United Artists)
Designer: Edith Head

Claudette Colbert in Zaza (1939, Paramount)
Designer: Edith Head

Thank you, Poseidon3, for getting our creative juices flowing! Frankly, in spite of her legend and her undeniable longevity, we've never been a big fan of Head. (And we never thought we'd have that phrase coming out of our, er, mouth.) Her work always struck us as a little bland and a lot derivative. And yet, contradictorily, she's the woman behind some of the most iconic costumes in film history, a few of our favorites among them. In the end, we simply have to give the lady respect and credit for all that she achieved in her nearly-sixty year career. And it goes without saying that we heartily endorse the always entertaining, always educational Poseidon's Underworld. Visit him today, and tell him that Big Edie sent you.