SOS: Save Our Sweats

Before Corona the only time I wore a sweatshirt was when I was painting. I have only one, and it holds the history of every place I've lived since 1960. 

Social distancing of the extreme variety (venturing out for not more than groceries and doctors' appointments) began for us in March, when it was already getting warm in south Texas.

All summer I wore decent clothes around the house—cotton pants, knit tops or button downs. Yes, I "got dressed" later and later, but when I did they were respectable. I would not have been ashamed to see Matthew McConaughey should he have turned into the Amazon driver. 

Matthew, is that you?

Now that winter is near, the comfort of sweats is calling. Like most of us, my willpower is weaker. It's harder to choose a cute outfit to wear nowhere and easier to put on something that feels cozy. I've read about the slippery slope that are sweats. Wear them every day and you are one step from never getting dressed at all!

Remember a few years ago when dressy pajama tops were a street wear trend? I don't think you could get away with that today.

Women were running towards athleisure before the pandemic. There was a fuss at first, then even high-end designers put out athleisure wear collections. I never joined in because the last thing I've ever wanted to do was spend big money on gym clothes. Target has served me very well, thank you. AND I only wore them to the gym (with maybe a stop for a quart of milk).

Once gym clothes were cuter...

Sweats are not even gym clothes. You wouldn't want to work out in them because, well, you would sweat. Sweats are for...being around the house in a pandemic. 

If the pandemic has taught us anything it's that we want to be comfortable. I think we will have less tolerance for the ties that bind and chafe and pull. It will be hard going back to structured suits and heels just because they are expected, although that will be a small price to pay for freedom of movement in the world.  

Worth it

 

 

Happy Birthday, Jean Shrimpton, and Then Some

Today is Jean Shrimpton's 78th birthday. If you're thinking "who?", well, today's post is not for you. Everyone else will remember her as a Supermodel of the '60s (when they were first being called that). Along with Twiggy, Jean Shrimpton represented the '60s ideal. Twiggy, all arms, legs and eyelashes, was the quirky go-go girl. Jean embodied the Bohemian and romantic, a look that has never gone out of style.

British-born country-girl Jean Shrimpton fell into modeling at age 17 via secretarial school in London, a stab at acting, then "charm school". She was spotted by David Bailey, an up-and-coming photographer, while  shooting a Kellog's corn flakes ad in 1960. Jean credits Bailey with discovering her and making her career. Likewise she was his muse, and he quickly climbed the ladder to success.

Bailey and Shrimpton, just starting out

This is where I come in but not in a big way. Glamour Magazine was often a conduit for Conde Nast's untested talent. Before Alexander Lieberman would grant access to Vogue many photographers were vetted by Glamour's Art Director, Miki Denhof. As she was also a sophisticated European émigré, Lieberman trusted Miki implicitly. If a photographer worked out for her, he could be hired for Vogue.

Glamour's art department was the heart of the magazine's offices. In my early years there (1965-70), the vibe was open and welcoming. We didn't have cubbies or desks. The graphic designers worked across from each other, standing, at long counters to hold layouts in progress. Mini page photostats of upcoming issues were pinned to one wall, a row of the past years' covers tacked along another. There were windows along two sides of the room and a jungle of plants, lovingly tended by the senior designer. 

Visitors were always shown the art department, and we were introduced to them all. Sometimes we were alerted so as to be our most gracious. Charles Revson, for instance, looked like any successful businessman. It was important to know that his company, Revlon, bought so much advertising he practically subsidized our salaries. 

The photographers were more fun and hung around longer to chat. They all wanted to know which photos Miki liked (as they were never allowed to choose) and to see how they were being cropped and laid out. Not that we had any influence, but many of them brought gifts (mostly candy) and always remembered us at Christmas.

Being in this right place, at that right time, has never failed to amaze me. It was 1965. I was nobody, the junior member of an art department where that position was often a swinging door. I had no idea I would work at Glamour for 25 years. Some of the people I met were already established in their fields; many were not, like David Bailey. So my briefest encounter was with David Bailey, shorter than Jean and wearing a motorcycle jacket, and Jean, wearing I-can't-remember-what, very pale and quiet next to him.

With Terence Stamp

 
Jean Shrimpton (and David Bailey) shot a lot for Glamour in the next year or two, then went on to Vogue and high fashion work. They split as a real-life team. Jean had a long relationship with actor Terence Stamp. In 1979 she married photogapher Michael Cox, and retired to Cornwall, where she and her family still run a small hotel. 

Retired, early '80s, with family

She's never been persuaded to appear in any kind of Super Model reunion and has never expressed regret that she left the profession. I guess we could say, with Jean Shrimpton, no news is good news.

Avedon's famous 1965 cover

 

Hair Apparent

Considering the state of the world these days my hair should be of little interest to anyone, but there is a point to this posting. 

Since deciding to go natural after 40 years of I-Love-Lucy-Red, I've taken navel gazing to a new form—scalp gazing. Every day I investigate the depth and coloration of what appears to be many shades of gray. My hair has always been short, but I decided to go full Jean Seberg in "Saint Joan" with a very close crop to hurry things along. 

 

 

Otto Preminger's discovery of Jean Seberg in 1957 was heralded as a twist to the old Schwab's drugstore discovery. He had put out a nationwide search for his Joan, testing thousands of young hopefuls. Preminger anointed 17-year-old Jean Seberg of Marshalltown, Iowa, as his star. Far from being the complete novice described in the publicity, Jean had already moved to New York City and was appearing in east coast summer stock when she auditioned.

The first thing Preminger did was cut her hair. Life magazine covered Jean's return to Marshalltown, Preminger in tow. I remember thinking both that she was so pretty it was a shame about the hair and I wanted that haircut myself.

With Preminger and Svengali-like neck-hold

 
Jean Seberg's life is a fascinating one. "Saint Joan" was not a hit, nor was a romantic potboiler, "Bonjour Tristesse", that was at least fun to watch. She moved to France and made "Breathless", a classic of the French New Wave. It still holds up as a stylish thriller, and she is luminous. Long an activist for racial equality, her association with the Black Panthers produced a rash of ugly rumors, put her on an FBI watch list and surely contributed to her fragile mental state. Three unsuccessful marriages and a spotty acting career didn't help. Seberg was found dead in her car in Paris in 1979, ruled a suicide from an overdose of barbiturates.

Whenever Jean went through a stressful period in her life she cut her hair back close to Saint Joan short. She always said it made her feel most like herself. And I wonder, which self would that be? Was it the Jean Seberg just starting out, with so much promise and hope? Was it the Jean who knew pretty actresses were a dime a dozen, but few could pull off that look? Was she rebelling against standard norms of beauty? Did she just love having one less thing to fuss about?

Is there some part of your appearance that makes you feel like you? A color lipstick you feel is the most flattering? A fragrance? It may be forgotten for a while, but when you put it on, that's You. Is it something you wear? A sweater that has kept you cozy for years. When you reach for it do you feel not only warmer but calmer?

I doubt I will keep my hair this short when all is said and done. We are always on a journey, aren't we? For me the crop is a vessel, for Jean it was a safe harbor.