Up front in the Norton Museum of Art’s new "Cocktail Culture" exhibit is a video clip of William Powell in full alcoholic splendor in 1934′s The Thin Man, a movie in which Powell might be completely sober for perhaps 10 minutes.
Those were the days.
Nobody got swozzled better than Powell – he made it look desirable. (I shudder to think of the vast number of alcoholics created by people trying to emulate the debonair drunks of 1930s movies.)
The film clips and objects in the Norton exhibit both precede and post-date Powell, but they don’t surpass him – nothing could.
The earliest parts of the exhibit are an orgy of Moderne – cocktail shakers, Cartier ashtrays, cigarette holders that Auntie Mame would kill for, cologne from the Stork Club and a real keeper: a champagne bucket in the shape of a top hat.
It’s a symphony of silver in designs both minimalist and maximalist, remnants of an era awash in post-Prohibition alcohol ardor.
There’s even a dress by MGM studio costumer Adrian – not a photograph, or design, but the actual dress. There’s also a cocktail table by Donald Deskey, who designed the interior of Radio City Music Hall.
The show moves through the eras from the Moderne to the modern, and it’s interesting to see how the unified style of the late 1920s and 1930s give way to a far more diversified and – let’s be honest – less interesting variety of designs as we edge closer to the present day.
"You can look through Vogue and see a mix of things," says curator Michelle Finamore, "but it’s true that fashion was particularly well unified in that era. Many of the things that were produced had a distinctive aesthetic that was very streamlined and Moderne."
Some of the material derives from museums and such – the Tiffany archives contribute particularly luscious pieces, including jewelry that belonged to Lady Slim Keith – but much of the material derives from private collectors, which made Finamore’s job that much more challenging. (The collecting of Moderne objects picked up speed about 30 years ago, as the people who had bought the material originally began dying off and their estates were dispersed.)
"The process depends on the collector," says Finamore. "Jimmy Raye, who lent his handbags and hats, had never done it before. He was happy to do it, but I spent a lot of time at his house going over things."
Raye, a private collector, was a sign that the show was meant to happen, because it turned out that he lived literally around the corner from Finamore in Salem, Mass s.
"Overall, the reason I accessed so many private collections was time. I only had about six months to pull the show together. Working at the Museum of Fine Arts in Boston helped with material they had, but if you go to other museums cold, it usually takes about a year to go through the permissions process."
The show is all about that most nebulous of things, style, which is far more important than utility when it comes to matters of fashion, although even reputable purveyors can veer far off line. There’s a Tiffany’s/Elsa Perretti mesh bra from 1980 in the show, which certainly represents a lapse of taste, and probably of comfort as well.
By the 1960s, the culture had begun the process of fragmentation that continues today, although Finamore still managed to showcase some pieces that are timeless, such as an Yves St. Laurent women’s tux from 1966 that could fit seamlessly into any period from 1930 on. Ditto a drawing of Gloria Guinness in Palm Beach, looking as much like Audrey Hepburn as possible.
"Youth culture and street style had a big impact in that period," says Finamore. "There was still a formality in some of the photography and the way ladies dressed if they were of a certain age. But at the same time, there was the metal miniskirt."
Finamore was able to get a lot of pieces she didn’t think she’d get, but there was one piece that got away.
"I wanted to use a pair of shoes by Andrea Pfister that looked like a martini. It’s a cocktail glass on a heel with a slice of lemon. They were so cute. I came close to finding a pair in a French shoe museum, but it didn’t have the lemon slice, so it didn’t look like a martini glass."
News & Images Source: pbpulse.com
Those were the days.
Nobody got swozzled better than Powell – he made it look desirable. (I shudder to think of the vast number of alcoholics created by people trying to emulate the debonair drunks of 1930s movies.)
The film clips and objects in the Norton exhibit both precede and post-date Powell, but they don’t surpass him – nothing could.
The earliest parts of the exhibit are an orgy of Moderne – cocktail shakers, Cartier ashtrays, cigarette holders that Auntie Mame would kill for, cologne from the Stork Club and a real keeper: a champagne bucket in the shape of a top hat.
It’s a symphony of silver in designs both minimalist and maximalist, remnants of an era awash in post-Prohibition alcohol ardor.
There’s even a dress by MGM studio costumer Adrian – not a photograph, or design, but the actual dress. There’s also a cocktail table by Donald Deskey, who designed the interior of Radio City Music Hall.
The show moves through the eras from the Moderne to the modern, and it’s interesting to see how the unified style of the late 1920s and 1930s give way to a far more diversified and – let’s be honest – less interesting variety of designs as we edge closer to the present day.
"You can look through Vogue and see a mix of things," says curator Michelle Finamore, "but it’s true that fashion was particularly well unified in that era. Many of the things that were produced had a distinctive aesthetic that was very streamlined and Moderne."
Some of the material derives from museums and such – the Tiffany archives contribute particularly luscious pieces, including jewelry that belonged to Lady Slim Keith – but much of the material derives from private collectors, which made Finamore’s job that much more challenging. (The collecting of Moderne objects picked up speed about 30 years ago, as the people who had bought the material originally began dying off and their estates were dispersed.)
"The process depends on the collector," says Finamore. "Jimmy Raye, who lent his handbags and hats, had never done it before. He was happy to do it, but I spent a lot of time at his house going over things."
Raye, a private collector, was a sign that the show was meant to happen, because it turned out that he lived literally around the corner from Finamore in Salem, Mass s.
"Overall, the reason I accessed so many private collections was time. I only had about six months to pull the show together. Working at the Museum of Fine Arts in Boston helped with material they had, but if you go to other museums cold, it usually takes about a year to go through the permissions process."
The show is all about that most nebulous of things, style, which is far more important than utility when it comes to matters of fashion, although even reputable purveyors can veer far off line. There’s a Tiffany’s/Elsa Perretti mesh bra from 1980 in the show, which certainly represents a lapse of taste, and probably of comfort as well.
"Youth culture and street style had a big impact in that period," says Finamore. "There was still a formality in some of the photography and the way ladies dressed if they were of a certain age. But at the same time, there was the metal miniskirt."
Finamore was able to get a lot of pieces she didn’t think she’d get, but there was one piece that got away.
"I wanted to use a pair of shoes by Andrea Pfister that looked like a martini. It’s a cocktail glass on a heel with a slice of lemon. They were so cute. I came close to finding a pair in a French shoe museum, but it didn’t have the lemon slice, so it didn’t look like a martini glass."
News & Images Source: pbpulse.com
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