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Post by BunnyWhit on Mar 17, 2024 17:22:01 GMT
A pint for Peebs!
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Post by Fading Fast on Mar 21, 2024 12:48:19 GMT
In a cross post with this week's Sunday Live! movie, child actress Ann Carter shows us you're never to young to start wearing a beret as she does here in "The Two Mrs. Carrolls."
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Post by I Love Melvin on Mar 21, 2024 13:24:39 GMT
In a cross post with this week's Sunday Live! movie, child actress Ann Carter shows us you're never to young to start wearing a beret as she does here in "The Two Mrs. Carrolls."
Just out of curiosity, Fading Fast, is any money changing hands between the beret manufacturers and you?
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Post by BunnyWhit on Mar 21, 2024 18:00:43 GMT
Rest in peace, dear Martin Greenfield (9 August 1928 -- 20 March 2024).
Yesterday, Heaven became all the richer and more stylish for welcoming Martin Greenfield.
Martin Greenfield was born in Pavlovo, a small village located in Carpathian Ruthenia, on the southeastern tip of Czechoslovakia in what is now Ukraine. In 1944, Martin and his family were taken to Auschwitz. His mother and siblings were killed immediately; his father worked and survived until one week prior to liberation, when he also was killed. Martin was moved to Buchenwald near the end of the war, and he was there when the American army stormed and liberated the camp.
In his 2014 book, Measure of a Man: From Auschwitz Survivor to Presidents' Tailor,* Greenfield tells the story of his time in the most notorious Nazi concentration camp. After being severely beaten for accidentally tearing a guard's shirt, Greenfield stole the shirt, mended it (his very fist act of sewing), and wore it under his prisoner uniform for the duration of his captivity. He credits this shirt for his survival, saying it gave him the understanding of the power of clothing.
He also writes about his experiences as a tailor. It began when Greenfield's cousin in America (whom he'd never met) helped him make the journey to Brooklyn in 1947. A job as floor-boy in a garment factory was arranged for him. He learned the trade and moved up through the ranks. Thirty years on, Greenfield bought the factory, changed the name to Martin Greenfield Clothiers, and the course of his destiny was written.
Greenfield dressed the rich, famous, and powerful. His first big-name customer was General Dwight Eisenhower as he began his run for the presidency. He dressed Presidents Eisenhower, Johnson, Ford, Clinton, Obama, and Trump; countless other politicians and businessmen; LeBron James, Shaquille O'Neal, Wayne Gretzky; Martin Scorsese, Johnny Depp, Leonardo DiCaprio, the cast of Boardwalk Empire; and so many more. Greenfield also created white label suits for brands DKNY, Brooks Brothers, Neiman Marcus and Rag & Bone. The list of Greenfield's clientele is nothing short of amazing.
I find it particularly serendipitous that Greenfield's first important client was Eisenhower, as Greenfield shook his hand when Buchenwald was liberated. (Also, according to a Washington Post article from 2012, standing next to Greenfield at the time was Elie Wiesel, who would become Nobel Peace Laureate in 1986.)
Martin's sons, Tod and Jay, have spent their lives working in the business with their father.
There are many extraordinary bespoke tailors. But I'll be perfectly frank -- Martin Greenfield was the best tailor in the world. Among those who know, Greenfield's name certainly long has been at the very top of the list among American tailors, but even a brief amount of research about the man and his work reveals that he is regarded as the best internationally as well. I prefer to call Greenfield's work his oeuvre, as it is definitely art. His level of knowledge, skill, perfectionism, professionalism, humility, and grace were beyond compare.
*As it turns out -- no hyperbole here -- I just ordered two books: Lucy Adlington's The Dressmakers of Auschwitz: The True Story of the Women Who Sewed to Survive (2021), and Martin Greenfield's Measure of a Man: From Auschwitz Survivor to Presidents' Tailor (2014). The Adlington book arrived a couple days ago, and Greenfield's is on its way to me. Its arrival shall be bittersweet to be sure. I'll issue some remarks when I've read them.
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Post by Fading Fast on Mar 21, 2024 19:03:18 GMT
BunnyWhit, that is fantastic color on Martin Greenfield. As a kid out of college in the late '80s, I caught the last few decades when classic American tailoring was still valued, so I've owned (via Brooks and, I think, J.Press) a a few of his suits. The rapid loss of that generation of tailoring knowledge is stunning and sad.
I've considered getting a copy of "Measure of a Man: From Auschwitz Survivor to Presidents' Tailor" many times to go with my embarrassingly large collection of books on fashion and menswear, but never pulled the trigger. I look forward to your review, which I bet, will encourage me to finally buy a copy for myself.
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Post by NoShear on Mar 23, 2024 15:02:37 GMT
The casual wear of James Caan's Brian Piccolo and Billy Dee Williams' Gale Sayers in Brian'S SONG - Lacoste, Levi's and loafers - looked not unlike casual wear for mid-1980s preppies. Thought of you, Fading Fast, while watching last night.
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Post by Fading Fast on Mar 23, 2024 15:09:45 GMT
The casual wear of James Caan's Brian Piccolo and Billy Dee Williams' Gale Sayers in Brian'S SONG - Lacoste, Levi's and loafers - looked not unlike casual wear for mid-1980s preppies. Thought of you, Fading Fast, while watching last night. Lacoste, Levi's and loafers or Chuck Taylors are a classic outfit that I've been known to sport myself. It is such an all-American look.
I first saw that movie as a little kid in the mid-70s on TV and cried my eyes out. It made me so sad, I've never watched it again, but maybe I should.
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Post by BunnyWhit on Mar 23, 2024 22:00:52 GMT
Thank you for posting Tyrone Power’s costume test for Blood and Sand (1941), I Love Melvin. For anyone who missed it in the “Screen Tests of Classic Hollywood Stars” thread, you can take a look here.Because Power looked so great in the dressing gown, I thought I’d give the garment some love here.
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The dressing gown’s lineage reaches back to the banyan (or banian, or even pyjama). The banyan dates to the late 17th century and enjoyed popularity into the early 19th century. It is a men’s casual garment of leisure or undress to be worn inside the home, though it was not unheard of for a man to wear a banyan outside of the home, say, to a quiet evening at a friend’s home. It is a loose garment, often heavily adorned, made from a wide range of fabrics including silk, wool, velvet, linen, and cotton.
Origins for the banyan lie in Asia. When the Dutch East India Company (1602-1799) began trade between Asia and Europe, influences on fashion naturally followed. Many give the kimono credit for the eventual dressing gown, and it is easy to understand why. The kimono came out of Japan for the first time into other markets, and being a loose-fitting gown with wide sleeves and a cloth tie definitely sounds like a dressing gown. However, the kimono’s influence really came in a bit later in European garments. It was actually the Indian banyan that had the initial impact in Europe, especially England and France. The banyan has closer fitting sleeves and torso and includes buttons which fasten from nearly the waist to a high neckline. Europeans adopted the name as well as the garment. Later, European garments combined elements from both the banyan and the looser kimono, and thus lead to the dressing gown that comes to mind for us today.
French banyan from 1720 (LACMA) with matching waistcoat. Notice the patched left side hem. I’ll mention this again later.
“Portrait of an unknown man”, c. 1730-1740, Carl Van Loo, France (Château de Versailles). The banyan of embroidered silk brocade is fuller in the body, but shoulders are still fitted and sleeves have not yet completely loosened. Includes fold back cuffs.
Indian printed cotton banyan, c. 1750 (LACMA). Fabric printed and garment constructed specifically for the European market. It is a relatively early example of a looser garment, likely due to the lightness of the fabric.
As banyans became looser garments, they were especially popular with writers, even becoming something of a uniform by which to tell their occupation at a glance. It was believed that the less restricting garments allowed the wearer freedom to get down to the thinking at hand. Portraiture often depicts writers and others wearing banyans in order to illustrate the importance of their work, and for others their taste and wealth. Additionally, it showcased the artist’s skill at representing on canvas the intricate patterns and luminance of silk fabrics.
The banyan did eventually make the leap over to women’s wear, but it was less common. Often called robe de chambre or English morning dress, the garment at this point really did become more of a dressing gown, as its primary use was over stays and petticoats in the morning before dressing or in the evening during undress.
Beautiful green silk damask, linen lined garment; woven 1740-1750, sewn 1750-1760; designer Anna Maria Garthwaite (V&A). The V&A tells us the garment has signs of former folds and pleats, a sign that the fabric was reused from a previous garment, a common method.
Also, the garment is extensively pieced with no full repeat of the damask pattern. You can see this if you zoom in on the photo. Piecing is period. Fabric was so labor intensive to create, and therefore so expensive, that nothing was to be wasted. Even among the wealthy, pieced fabrics were not uncommon. Home sewing patterns from the 1920s into the 1940s often call for piecing, largely because fabric was woven more narrowly at that time, and a full skirt piece, for example, could not be cut from one piece. I feel this method is frowned upon today by those who do not understand the purpose, or they mistakenly believe that piecing is the same as patching. Harken back to when I mentioned the patched hem on the 1720 French banyan. Patching is used for repairs, also nothing to be frowned upon.
Fast forward at dizzying pace to 20th century America, and we’ll take a look at the dressing gown, where this whole conversation started. You can see that across the miles and through the years the garment still displayed a fashion sense and air of sophistication, but it became a much simpler and relaxed garment in the hands of the Americans. Later, of course, the bathrobe was born, and all the panache went out of the thing.
Paul Muni in Scar Face (1932)
William Powell in The Thin Man (1934)
Cary Grant in My Favorite Wife (1940)
Fred MacMurray in Practically Yours (1944)
Robert Walker in Strangers on a Train (1951)
I could go on and on, but I shan't.
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In 1769, Denis Diderot wrote the article “Regrets on Parting with My Old Dressing Gown; or a Warning to Those Who Have More Taste than Money” in Encyclopédiste. He laments the loss of his familiar and worn gown which he’d used as a wiper for his pen. It was still perfectly serviceable to him, and the new garment, perhaps gifted, was certainly an irritant. Diderot asks:
“Why on earth did I ever part with it? It was used to me and I was used to it. It draped itself so snugly, yet loosely, around all the curves and angles of my body – it made me look picturesque as well as handsome. This new one, stiff and rigid as it is, makes me look like a mannequin.”
“I look like a rich loafer, and nobody can tell by looking at me what my trade is.”
I feel you, Denis. My favorite robe is one I’ve had for forty years. It is soft and familiar. It has borne the indignity of tea stains, paint smears, and globs of marmalade, yet it soldiers on. It wears remarkably few mends, though it does so in sturdy affirmation that it is uniquely mine. I have long threatened to draft a pattern from it in order to make another, but I’ve yet to do so out of fear that it will be the end of our relationship. I’m not ready for that breakup.
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Post by galacticgirrrl on Mar 25, 2024 17:00:51 GMT
Rest in peace, dear Martin Greenfield (9 August 1928 -- 20 March 2024).
There are many extraordinary bespoke tailors. But I'll be perfectly frank -- Martin Greenfield was the best tailor in the world. Among those who know, Greenfield's name certainly long has been at the very top of the list among American tailors, but even a brief amount of research about the man and his work reveals that he is regarded as the best internationally as well. I prefer to call Greenfield's work his oeuvre, as it is definitely art. His level of knowledge, skill, perfectionism, professionalism, humility, and grace were beyond compare.
Thank you BunnyWhit. You prompted me to listen to Mr. Greenfield's moving and inspiring Shoah Testimony. In this instance, when an irresistible force met an immovable object, the result was a beautiful and thoughtful man making the finest glorious garments.
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Post by NoShear on Mar 28, 2024 23:46:21 GMT
BunnyWhit, what a search of PUFFA PUFFA RICE has to do with the following upload I can't tell you, but I can tell you I thought of you with its discovery:
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Post by NoShear on Mar 29, 2024 0:14:21 GMT
Beret Alert: Fading Fast, please see my Edward G. Robinson at WB post at your convenience...
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Post by jamesjazzguitar on Apr 2, 2024 23:12:45 GMT
Just watched the Perry Mason film with Ann Dvorak as Della Street, The Case of the Stuttering Bishop (1937).
Hopefully BunnyWhit saw this film since Ann sports many very cool hats (and various outfits). Just love that mid-30s style.
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Post by NoShear on Apr 3, 2024 23:07:49 GMT
Fading Fast, noticed the following last night on T CM and thought of you, of course:
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Post by Fading Fast on Apr 4, 2024 9:20:11 GMT
Fading Fast, noticed the following last night on T CM and thought of you, of course: Thank you for posting this. I recently watched "Remains of the Day" and did notice the "beret moment." I always want a different outcome for her character in that movie, but no matter how many times I watch it or read the book, it never happens.
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Post by Fading Fast on Apr 4, 2024 9:25:28 GMT
Bunny and team, I recently watched the 1955 movie "Lucy Gallant," and, I kid you not, an Edith Head fashion show broke out toward the end, with Edith in an extended cameo hosting the show. How crazy "inside Hollywood" is that. Some of the fashions she showed - all designed by her - were, not surprisingly, beautiful.
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