Unfashionable Fashion Fads of the '50s

The 1950's saw women's fashion morph from the structured and severe WWII years—influenced by voluntary restrictions and military style—to a softer, more feminine look in response to Dior's New Look of 1948.

But enough about that kind of fashion, the kind with a capital "F". What did we really wear? What were the fashion fads that no designer dictated but somehow became popular?

While every decade probably has them I chose the '50s as that's when I came of age, at least the age where I got interested in clothes for myself. I turned 8 in 1950. My teenage years were squarely in the '50s.

Although my mother cared about what she saw in Vogue, she too adopted some of them but wisely rejected those that didn't suit. I fear I wore all of them at some time. 

These are the fashion fads that did not stand the test of time from that time so long ago...

Popping the Poppit

POPPITS were plastic "pearls", sold in long strands, no clasps, as they would pull apart and close with a satisfying popping sound—the precursor to stepping on bubble wrap. They were cheap, maybe a dollar or two. I preferred the "natural pearl", but they were available in colors as well. You can still find popping beads—as learning toys for youngsters. But as the serious jewelry they were in the '50s? Nah.

En garde!

SWEATER GUARDS or sweater clips were meant to achieve the casual, over-your-shoulders style of wearing an open cardigan without losing the sweater. More often we just wore the sweater, unbuttoned but "guarded".

The art of the scatter

SCATTER PINS were a young fashionista's delight as they could be bought with the allowance of a week or two. That's not to say they couldn't be found for quite a bit more. One was definitely not enough. Tiny little things, you either wore a collection or a matched group artfully arranged on blouse or sweater.

Skirting the issue

PETTICOATS or crinolines were a fad that became a nightmare, particularly for school administrators. I remember my junior high declaring you could wear no more than three. Sometimes the girls' counselor stopped you in the hall and counted. Not to be stifled, we discovered more and more ways to stiffen them. One I remember was dipping the petticoat into a solution of egg whites whipped with water then hanging to dry. Eggs were a lot cheaper then.

Buffer zone

PETTIPANTS were the logical answer what to wear under all those petticoats. They were sleeker than bloomers, and you still wore underwear. Possibly invented by a girls' counselor? I know my Aunt Sally, who square-danced every Thursday night, loved them.

Poodles were just the beginning...

POODLE SKIRTS were the one fad I didn't fall for. These circle-cut full skirts (no pleats or gathers) were decorated with French poodles (a very popular motif in the '50s) or a myriad of other themes. Tasteful they were not. That would have defeated the purpose. I may not have put my finger on it at the time, but they were just trying too hard. I never wore one. 

 

Missing from pix: suede cleaner

WHITE BUCKS were a fad because saddle shoes and loafers are the classics. I wore all three, but the white bucks lasted but a season. Popularized by clean-cut singer Pat Boone, they might have been an answer to those blue suede shoes. That meant nothing as I was an Elvis fan. In essence they were just too hard to keep clean.

 

And that scarf!

TWIN SETS were ubiquitous in the '40s, knit in practical worsted wool. The '50s saw the rise of synthetic fibers Orlon, Banlon and Acrilan. The real plum would be a twin set in cashmere or its lower priced and fuzzier alternative, angora. The fad was the practice of wearing the cardigan on its own, buttoned up the back. That seemed very daring although I'm not sure why. Oh and don't forget the little scarf tied jauntily just so.

Round and round...

CIRCLE PINS, worn alone on a sweater or blouse, were one of the more restrained jewelry fads and stuck around for a while. They were also known as "virgin pins"—if you wore one you were one. That didn't stop anyone, including my mother.

It's a cinch!

CINCH BELTS were fashioned of wide elastic and had the benefit of keeping your blouse tucked into your skirt. Like many fads they were cheap—cheaper than a leather belt—and did finish off a look. Having a small waist—ten inches less than your bust line—was a figure ideal. My older sister wore a "Merry Widow", or waist shaper undergarment, for added discomfort. 

Chicken or egg???

MUU-MUUS were a brief fascination with a native Hawaiian dress. While they may have been comfortable, they did nothing for anyone, especially without the leis and ukelele. Were they a response to Balenciaga's 1957 sack dress? "If he can do that so can we?" No one ever looked as soigne as the drawing on the pattern envelope.  

Wear the boys are...

It's tempting to call PREPPY a fad. The term hadn't been coined when we began emulating what college coeds wore—Shetland sweaters, pleated skirts, Bermuda shorts, knee-hi socks, Peter Pan collars, button down shirts, ditsy prints, headbands... Preppy has lasted through the years and is still turned out in endless variation by Ralph Lauren, J Crew, Tommy Hilfiger, etc. If anything is "American Style", that would be it.

The holy grail of college style

 

 

 

Stylish Read: "Claire McCardell—The Designer Who Set Women Free"

If you've been a reader here for a while, you may have noticed I mention Claire McCardell a lot. She was my fashion godmother, the woman whose 1956 book, "What Shall I Wear?" hit me wherever life-long love goes to live. I was 14. Although she was not alone, she was by far the most successful and best known designer whose work established the American Look. 

She died barely two years later. Her business was shuttered; her label no longer produced. Over time if you knew of Claire McCardell, well, you knew. Otherwise she was lost to time. Many American designers have cited her as an influence—from Donna Karan to Isaac Mizrahi to Tory Burch. If you think about it, this woman, so full of life and conviction that women deserve to be happy and comfortable in their clothes, brought Paris to its knees. No longer do the couturiers dictate what we wear—and believe me they once did—but the American Look is cherished by women all over the world.

Elizabeth Evitts Dickinson has written a life of Claire McCardell that reads like a novel. Far from being a linear biography, she sets the mood of the era, from Claire's birth in 1906 to an upper middle class Virginia family, to her schooling and early struggles as a designer in New York City, to her battles establishing herself and her work in the Depression-era '30s, to ultimate success in the '40s and even greater success in the 1950s as women themselves began to adapt to their modern roles in society. The obvious tragedy is that Claire herself did not live on, the big question being what else could she have come up with?

This book is so good I only want to write enough to entice you to read. It will be a fun read (like a novel, remember?). You will really get to know this spirited, determined woman who succeeded beyond what she could have possibly dreamed. Every time you put on a pair of ballet flats or pedal pushers or wrap dress or denim-something or most-comfortable-thing-you-own you will know who to thank.  

 

The Great Cropped Debate

She could wear no wrong...

About this time of year, every year, we see cropped pants for sale. No one ever declares "This is The Year of the Cropped", but every spring, like mosquitoes in Texas, they come back. As if finding pants weren't hard enough, what exactly is meant by cropped only adds to the dilemma.

Fall and winter cropped pants are a novelty, usually shown with tall boots or boots and tights, so never a broken line. In summer your actual legs come into play. While cropped pants easily flatter long limbs, the rest of us can wear them too. The trick is the ratio of length to width to limb. Simple, like trigonometry.  

Another season, another look...

As with hemlines, the length of pants in favor at the moment may vary. And like hemlines today, there is no one "right" length. The length depends most on the cut of the pant itself, what the designer intended and what suits you best.

A quick recap on basic pants styles:

STRAIGHT-LEG: Straight-legs hang straight from the hip, which can result in a slightly fuller leg, more so if the pants are pleated. I know what you're thinking, but pleated pants are making a comeback. They should hang straight to the top of your foot. In other words, with no drape. 
BEST FOR: Everyone and those with legs thinner in proportion to torso

The classic menswear cut

WIDE-LEG: It's important to determine what shoes you will wear with wide-legs. They should be as long as possible without tripping you up—about 1/2" from the floor. The pants legs will be wide enough to hang straight with maybe a slight drape.
BEST FOR: Everyone and those with heavier thighs

Wide-leg but safe

PALAZZO: Palazzo pants are super wide and usually made from a soft, drapey fabric with a tendency to move as you do. One assumes you won't be a moving a lot in palazzos as they are more decorative than practical. As the recipient of a hairline fracture while wearing palazzo pants, I know what I'm talking about.
BEST FOR: Those who love to look dramatic and enjoy swanning about. In other words, an affectation no matter your physical characteristics

Dangerously wide

SKINNY-LEG: A skinny-leg pant stops just at or short of the ankle. They sometimes have a slit at the hem side seam for ease in putting on and taking off. A skinny-leg pant should be your choice when wearing an overblouse or tunic top.
BEST FOR: Those with slim legs and thighs

Now to harvest the crops...

Cardinal rule: For obvious reasons never depend on the photo of a model for what the pants length will look like on you. 

A CROPPED STRAIGHT-LEG at one time might be called clam diggers, self-explanatory if you are digging for shellfish—although I couldn't find one photo of someone wearing them while clamming.
BEST FOR: Everyone—a universally flattering cropped pant 

Clam diggers w/o the clams

 A CROPPED SKINNY-LEG was known as pedal pushers or Capris back in the day. Today these are more likely just called "crops".
BEST FOR: Those with slim legs, thighs AND ankles

Stylishly pushing those pedals

WIDE-LEG CROPS are the trickiest to get right. The best rule-of-thumb is a wide-leg crop should fall slighter above your ankle, otherwise you will look like you are suspended by toothpicks. This is, obviously, tricky to determine without trying them on.
BEST FOR: Everyone, including petites, and those with heavier thighs. 

 

Wide-leg crops

Shorter than that and wide-leg crops become culottes. They can even be as wide as palazzo pants. Culottes are more often out of fashion than in, which is probably a good thing.
BEST FOR: Those who don't give a damn but not petites

Most unflattering pant ever?

Shorts are not cropped pants. They have their own criteria, but since I no longer wear them I don't care.

Not pants here

Petites do have one advantage over others: If you are 5'4" or under and adamantly don't want a cropped pant, but you like everything else, try the same pant in its "regular" option. You may have to go down a size for the best fit, but nobody minds doing that, right?

I Laughed When I Saw This...

...but then I didn't. 

The jelly (pliable plastic) sandal by Chloe that I saw in a recent Harper's Bazaar sells for $590. I laughed, not only at the price, but because it seems to be more foot than shoe.

Of course I had to right away search whether anyone's knocked it off yet, and of course they have. And if I must admit, the cheaper version looks more graceful.

This, by Jeffrey Campbell, is $60.

They both come in a few standard jelly colors, although the Chloe version is more translucent.

Which would you rather buy? Neither? Me too.

 

 

Cheers to the Future of Shopping?

Neiman's Bubbly Vending Machine

Saks Fifth Avenue bought the ailing Neiman Marcus in December 2024 and immediately closed the flagship store in downtown Dallas. This sent shock waves through Texas, which, as you know, is a very big state. It's not like there was much business. Shoppers prefer the Neiman's in North Park Center, Dallas' biggest and most upscale retail destination. 

Here in Houston there has not been a department store downtown since the mid-priced Foley's closed in 2013 (after becoming a Macy's in 2006). Ironically that Foley's was the last downtown American department store built from the ground up (1947).

Worthy of its own postcard

There are still 35 Neiman Marcus locations nationwide, and one is in Houston's Galleria Mall. I went there on Saturday for lunch. Neiman's still has a restaurant, "Mariposa", on the third floor, tucked between Better Sportswear and Children's Wear. My friend and I both grew up with mothers who loved nothing more than a nice department store lunch, often with their daughters in tow. Our mothers didn't know each other, but we suspect they would have been friends as well.

On the first floor, heading to the escalator, I passed a Moet & Chandon vending machine dispensing splits of Brut ($27) and Rose´ ($35), maximum 2 bottles per person, must be consumed on premises. I didn't see glasses, but I presume they would somehow be dispensed. I can't imagine they would be dispensed with.

On the second floor landing was a more conventionally stocked bar, the vending achieved by an associate. 

It's pretty clear what is happening here.

Many moons ago, when I worked at Nordstrom in this same mall, there were exclusive evening shopping hours for their high rollers. Entry was by invitation only, soft music permeated the store from the in-house pianist, complimentary hot and cold hors d'oeuvres were passed by uniformed waiters as was gratis liquor. The later the hour, the more had been consumed and imbibed, the greater the sales. I was told the sound of cash registers ca-ching-ing may have drowned out the piano.

I was never assigned to sell on those nights. Nordstrom associates worked on commission, and there were high rollers in that group too. But I often worked the next day or days after. That's when the returns came in. Buyer's remorse. Most likely very relaxed, slightly blitzed buyers.

Of course the booze makes you linger longer and open your pocketbook wider. Neiman's is making you pay for the booze, but the idea's the same.

The retail world has been waiting to see how Saks will navigate Neiman's recovery and how they will deal with malls, such as Houston's, where there is also a Saks. A former Neiman's executive doesn't think it makes sense to have both “unless you’re going to push one more toward accessible luxury and one toward pure luxury.”  

So what's the definition of accessible luxury, and what's pure luxury??? A question for another time...

Vintage Shopping: The Future is Now

There are many reasons to shop Vintage aka Pre-loved aka Thrifted. It's always been right for:

> Those who love the thrill of the hunt

> Those who appreciate the styles/construction/fabrics of the past

> Those who love to snag a bargain or a "find"

> Those who pursue a unique style all their own

Shopping Vintage has other benefits as well, not the least of which are:

> To counter over population in your closet due to the rise of fast-fashion shopping and its highly disposable garments. Besides, too much choice can be paralyzing.

> To save the world from what to do with all that unwanted donated apparel

A sobering dead end

> To fight the rising cost of clothing, which, especially with the uncertainty of tariffs, is likely to continue     

> As part of the decision to buy nothing. It doesn't seem as wrong to give a new home to something as opposed to encouraging fast fashion to get even faster. 

> Realizing you really don't need anything but as an inveterate shopper do need to scratch that itch. It's both the thrill of the hunt AND unearthing the treasure.  

Jane Fonda, at age 83 was quoted as saying she wasn't going to buy any more clothing.  She said she was still wearing clothes she bought 30 years ago in multiples because her then-husband Ted Turner had many residences. She's 87 now; I wonder if she's kept that promise. 

Jane Fonda has all she needs

Vintage is a term that has loose definitions. An antique piece of furniture, for instance, needs to be 100 years old to be considered antique. "Vintage" denotes anything more than 20 but less than 100 years old. "Retro" fills the gap at less than 20 years. 

You can see for yourself how those don't necessarily apply to clothing. Retro can be a designer's term for bringing back the '70s while a consignment store will call the original piece Vintage. Wearable clothing never seems to be labeled Antique either. Great Grandma's Edwardian wedding dress, over 100 years old, is still Vintage.

To further confuse things, "Vintage" has become the acceptable term for anything pre-worn (or "pre-loved") as opposed to being called "used" or "second-hand". Goodwill and the Salvation Army don't bother with these distinctions, but shopping them is usually to look for something Vintage—better in quality than the usual. 

For the sake of convenience I'll just be calling all this stuff vintage.

* * * 

Personally I've only tip-toed into vintage shopping. Here in Houston there are dozens of re-sale shops where the Young & Restless can drop off or exchange their (mostly fast) fashions for cash or more of the same. My favorite among them did have a client just my size with a Marc Jacobs obsession, but she seems to have moved on (as has he). More and more these kinds of places are bringing in new, cheap stuff to add to the old cheap stuff. So buyer beware. There are a very few quality vintage shops, but they tend to feature old St.John knits and massively sequined, heavily shouldered party dresses. 

So I am going to defer to my very experienced friend, Diane O. She has the advantage of living in New York City. Not only are there women galore who love fashion, New Yorkers have notoriously small closets. Thus the constant trek to unload and repurchase. Through trial and error Diane has figured out what works for her and along the way has compiled a hefty roster of tips how to play—and win—at vintage shopping.

 

AllWays in Fashion: How did you get started vintage shopping?

Diane O: I noticed that more and more vintage and secondhand stores were opening near me, and I was curious! After a while (and a lot of bad choices), I started to learn how to identify a keeper. I haven't sprung for high-end, three-figure vintage, but you can stay under that and find some real treasures.

 

AWIF: What were some of your best buys?

DO: The Issey Miyake crinkled turtleneck in a beautiful clear blue, which is timeless. The '70s men's fitted shirt in a print I think of as "disco Christmas"—the ideal holiday party shirt. The Liberty print I had tailored to fit. And my favorite before/after: the patterned ski sweater with two buttons missing and a mismatched one hanging by a thread (I replaced the whole set with new metal buttons).

 

AWIF: And the worst?

D.O: Probably pants. They're hard to fit under any circumstances, and if you find them in a secondhand store, they may be dated-looking. Some, I've found out the hard way, are beyond alterations. If you have to basically re-cut a pant, it's not worth it.

 

AWIF: What are you always looking for?

D.O: An interesting top. 

AWIF: What will you never buy?

D.O: Shoes. A little too much personal contact for me!

 

AWIF: How do you style a vintage piece with what you already own?

D.O: Let the piece be the standout—if it's very distinctive, don't wear anything that competes with it. And if it's clearly an old style like my disco shirt, keep the rest of your outfit modern. Head-to-toes '70s looks like you're going to a theme party, and you never want to be that literal.

 

AWIF: What else would you like the world to know:

D.O: Not every trip will be productive; most aren't. But they do train your eye. Once you find stores you like and learn to be selective, you'll go home with more winners. 

D.O in "Disco Christmas"

 

A little caution goes a long way, and Diane O. has also identified some things to watch out for when shopping for vintage:

 

> Don't succumb to nostalgia for "when clothes were good".

 

> Don't be seduced by a label or beautiful fabric. That won't matter if it doesn't fit or you don't need it.

 

> Be wary of styles that don't really pair well with modern clothes. "We've moved on and you risk looking clueless".

 

> Run, don't walk away, from anything that reminds you of something you once loved. "Your body has changed, a lot of that stuff was too prissy; some things are actually better/easier in current versions, like pants with Lycra".

 

> Say no to a one-off that might be a gem but will go with nothing you own.  The idea is not to then have to go shopping for something to make it work!

> Be wary of the "feeling that you have to go home with something to reward yourself for the effort of searching." Instead, buy yourself a bouquet of flowers or stop in a lovely coffee shop for a treat or pick up that new best-seller.

 

> Don't let the price overtake you. "You can't go wrong? Yes, you can".

 

> If you have to justify the purchase with an explanation of its backstory or where you found it, think again. "Your outfit shouldn't need a caption".

 

> If you know it "probably won't work, but you're going to make it work, dammit", just calm down. "No tailor is that good".

 

> Since we all learn by our mistakes, you're going to make some and get wiser. But never let any mistake hang in the closet to taunt you.

 

* * * 

 

We both agree that "the more attractive the shop the more pleasant the experience". Neither one of us will shovel through massive piles, and we are both discouraged by finding too many lemons. The nicer things are displayed, the more one feels they are in a "real shop", and the more inclined we are to spend time there.

 

Su'juk (top) and City Opera Thrift, two NYC faves

 

 

Fine and Dandy

Janelle Monae disguised as a suit for the Met Gala

"Superfine: Tailoring Black Style" is the latest excuse for holding a Met Gala. If that seems a bit harsh I will admit to wondering if that affair is Fashion or Entertainment. The intent of the exhibit itself is to interpret "the concept of dandyism as both an aesthetic and a strategy that allowed for new social and political possibilities" in the Black community. Those are big words for a term that historically had a different definition. I'm thinking the "dandy" as referring to a male figure of fashion is different from the "dandy" the Met is showcasing.

So what is a dandy? From the late 18th into the 19th century a dandy was a man meticulously concerned, top to bottom, with his appearance and adherence to the latest fashions and styles. Being white, wealthy and male were prerequisites. This dandy didn't just "dress up" for the public; he wouldn't be caught, dead or otherwise, not looking splendiferous. Examples: Beau Brummel (the first dandy of note), Oscar Wilde, Lord Byron. 

Brummel, Byron, Wilde

In the 20th century the author Tom Wolfe took great pride in being a dandy. By then the look was anachronistic. Wolfe would choose items such as spats, a fedora or a cane that were long out of popular fashion. Wholehearted dandies like him are few.

Brummel, Byron, Wilde, Wolfe

The Met has woven together what looks like a gangbusters of a show of American Black fashion from the 19th century to today in a concept of twelve themes and featuring hundreds of garments, accessories, paintings, drawings and videos. This is the first Met Costume Institute show devoted entirely to men.

I love the example of this livery coat and waistcoat from 1840s. It was worn by an enslaved man on a Southern plantation and shows his owner's preoccupation with an ostentatious, dated form of displaying wealth. It pains me to think how humiliated the wearer must have felt. This would not have been his choice but his master's.

Dressing the part

In stark contrast are photographs of Frederic Douglas, the great orator, statesman and aboltionist. He knew how to get his point across. As one of the most photographed men of the 19th century he was aware how he looked and what he wore would be scrutinized. But did using the power of dress to influence make him a dandy? 

Frederick Douglass

The spirit of the late Andre Leon Talley permeates the galleries. Talley, close to Vogue editor Anna Wintour, was the magazine's fashion news director then creative director from 1983 to 1995. He was so much more—a figure of prominence from the disco days of the '70s until his death in 2022. He could surely be called a dandy in his youth. He developed the unique style of his later years as a solution for various weight and health problems. 

Talley, always unique

Although its official title is a mouthful and a bit vague, calling it about black dandies would be wrong. What and how you wear it signals loud and clear your hopes, dreams, aspirations and rebellions. Despite my dithering about definitions, the whole show sounds impressive, thought provoking and a must-see.

"Superfine: Tailoring Black Style" will be up at New York's Metropolitan Museum of Art through October 26.