Clothes on Film

Doris Day in Pillow Talk: Couture Allure

Chris Laverty — Fri, 18 May 2012 00:36:59 +0000

The perfection of a rose-tinted past, Doris Day’s costumes in Pillow Talk (1959) are some of the most exquisite ever worn on screen. They personify her immaculate character and symbolise the remnants of a dying era; opulence, optimism and the changing face of urbanised fashion.

Costume designer for Pillow Talk was Bill Thomas, although, as became standard with Doris Day pictures, he was not directly responsible for creating her outfits. That job fell to celebrated costume/fashion designer Jean Louis, earning him a ‘Gowns By’ credit on the film. Louis was known for his stylish and often deceptively simple garments, including most famously Rita Hayworth’s strapless black sheath in Gilda (1946). He even created Marilyn Monroe’s sheer ‘President’s dress’, immortalised at John F. Kennedy’s 45th birthday celebration in 1962.

Whether or not Jean Louis was working from specification for Pillow Talk we do not know. Bill Thomas would have collaborated closely with set/art directors Richard H. Riedel, Russell A. Gausman and Ruby R. Levitt in terms of coordinating colour and fabric, so Louis would likely have been involved there too. Costume design, even with a separate gowns by credit, is still a collaborative process between several creative minds.

The first garment Doris Day wears as unattached and apparently happy interior designer Jan Morrow is shot provocatively by director Michael Gordon in a lengthy close-up:

Ice blue lace topped chemise, knee length with nude stockings (seam free, sometimes called ‘nudies’).

Then, skipping from her bedroom to the apartment kitchen, Jan slips on her morning attire:

Ice blue peignoir finishing just below the knee, Edwardian neckline with drawstring, short puff sleeves; matching open toe slippers with low heel.

Commonly worn throughout the 1950s and 60’s, a matching peignoir set is generally considered an indulgence today. This particular set is made of chiffon or possibly Nylon, as the fifties saw an exploration of what were then considered to be luxury wash and go fabrics. White lace adds a measure of sensual suggestiveness but Jan is obviously content with her single life. That said, it does not take long for songwriter Brad Allen (Rock Hudson) to get under her skin on their ‘party line’.

Driven to distraction by Brad serenading his conquests over the telephone, Jan departs for her job in a sumptuous rig-out:

Black lightly quilted swing coat falling just below the knee, mandarin collar, large plastic buttons, exposed seam above the bust line; black fur hat (based on Russian Ushanka without ear flaps); large fur muff/handwarmer.

This is just about short enough in the hem to be classed as a swing coat, and certainly achieves the desired to and fro movement. The raised bust seam results in a more traditional – as in pre-sixties Christian Dior – A-line silhouette. Yves Saint Laurent (for Dior) refined this shape in 1958 as the ‘trapeze line’, essentially a slimmer, more defined version. However Jan’s coat most resembles the couture output of Cristóbal Balenciaga, namely his attempt to free what he considered to be the constricted female form from Dior uniformity. Of course, even for a successful interior designer in New York, Jan is somewhat overdressed. Yet this only amplifies Pillow Talk’s heightened reality. It is a world full of beautiful things.

Removing her swing coat to issue a complaint about Brad at the telephone company, Jan has supposedly broken the long established colour ‘rule’ of combining blue and black:

Two-piece skirt suit in French blue herringbone twill, single breasted, short bolero style jacket, wide rever collar, two black buttons closure, set-in three quarter length sleeves; lightly pegged skirt to just below the knee with self-tie fringed scarf at natural waist; true blue long sleeved top with round neck; black high heel shoes with round toes; black elbow length gloves.

French fashion still reigned at the end of the fifties, though that would change dramatically a decade later. In Pillow Talk, Doris Day parades three of the most popular styles of the time, all Parisian influenced: fit and flare, sheath (or wiggle) dress and narrow cut suit with three quarter length sleeves. Thanks to a growing ready to wear market in the U.S., these chic and simple looks were becoming increasingly popular. The narrow cut suit was not forgiving, however, and took Day’s dancer poise to carry off.

Emerald green silk loungewear; embossed bodice, thigh length frogged jacket with mandarin collar, three quarter length turn-back sleeves, ice blue lining and side slits; matching narrow leg trousers and low slippers.

Seen briefly as she discusses the party line problem with her hung-over housekeeper Alma (Thelma Ritter), this lounging outfit, based on a traditional Chinese martial arts uniform (for those that chose to wear one), is another instance of the East Asian stand-up collar in Jan’s wardrobe. Jan is hardly a woman of the world, but would consider herself well read and cultured. She would like others to think the same so promotes a cosmopolitan vibe with her clothes.

Sandy beige sheath dress with slot collar above round neckline, three quarter length sleeves with tailored slit cuffs, attached wide-band belt with buckle worn at natural waist (raised just above at the front), pegged skirt; diamond and gold star shape brooch; beige double breasted unstructured coat in wool bouclé with large peter pan collar, fabric button closure, bright red lining, side splits and horizontal rear seam; red felt lampshade hat (to match coat lining); large red and beige accessory tote.

This is Jan’s most decadent ensemble so far as she is romanced by jilted millionaire Jonathan Forbes (Tony Randall).The mind boggles at just how long such an outfit could have remained in Jan’s rotation; the dress, coat, bag and hat combination are so meticulously matched they could hardly be seen again in the same company, certainly not Jan’s affluent social circle. The way Doris Day wears hats in most of her films is unusual; they tend to be positioned quite far back on her head. This particular hat might be referred to as ‘bucket’ style, although such a definition really only applies to coverings that shield the eyes with their brim. Her minimal lampshade reassembles a 1920s cloche but with a flat crown and, as stated, worn higher on the head.

Jan’s sheath dress is an important fifties silhouette that would continue into the ‘swinging sixties’ (see the first few seasons of television series Mad Men, costumed by Janie Bryant). As supremely elegant as this coordinated ensemble looks it is impossible not to also infer a sexual subtext. Jan is so rigidly ordered, always buttoned up (literally and metaphorically) that she has become stifled by tasteful monotony.

Back home again, Jan embraces full-on cosiness by changing into the fluffiest of feminine nightwear:

Pink fleece dressing gown with hot pink trim, full length, cuffed and revers.

Day spends only seconds in this very gender specific pink dressing gown or night-robe, though is worth mentioning to highlight how perfectly the colour suits her tanned skin. However it is understandable why she does not sport the colour more often in Pillow Talk. Coupled with Jan’s squeaky clean, or at least temporarily celibate persona, it would soften her implied independence to the point of cutesy. Effectively, it would undermine her.

In the next scene, approaching a pivotal one when Jan and ‘Rex Stetson’ meet for the first time, Jan’s showstopping outfit is perhaps her best remembered in the film (it was even replicated for a Doris Day Barbie doll):

Off white silk sheath dress, ankle length, gathered to left shoulder and accessorised with silver, jade and diamond brooch, bateau neckline, fitted bodice panel beneath bust with self tie and plunge back; white elbow length gloves; white mink shrug with single clip fastening and matching clutch.

Jan is spotless white at this point. Having fended off the attentions of Harvard man-boy Tony Walters (Nick Adams), she is still kind enough not to leave him sprawled in a drunken heap (although he is the son of her wealthy client). Jan is so virginal that Brad’s upcoming deceit feels even more unforgivable. Moreover the colour white functions as an ideal marker in this busy fifties night spot, helping Day stand out among a deluge of colourful gowns. Really though, this is all about Jan’s purity. Her purity is what attracts Brad in the first place. It could even be surmised that part of the reason for his caddish behaviour is that he desires to sully her.

Doris Day absolutely wears this stunning dress; importantly it does not wear her. It does cause her to wiggle as she walks, which was undoubtedly the desired effect. The addition of a fur shrug is a practical touch in the context but also adds a contemporary edge. Perhaps with a reduction in skirt length and a slightly wider neckline, this outfit could easily be fashionable today.

After being swept off her feet by handsome and oh-so chivalrous Rex Stetson, Jan retires to bed with one thing on her mind:

Pink silk or rayon nightgown with long sleeves, vertical ribbed detail across shoulders, high Edwardian neckline and matching frilly cuffs.

Intrinsically matronly, but at this stage of the narrative after the initial, almost shockingly sensuous image of Jan smoothing her stockings in a chemise, to sexualise her any further would be too blatant for the era. As they converse in layered exchanges on the telephone, Rex is likewise covered up in silk pajamas beneath a mid-length dressing gown.

Interesting too that director Michael Gordon employs split screen to place Rex ‘on top’ of Jan, which is obviously a metaphor. There is also a fly buzzing around her yellow bed sheets, but presumably this is not symbolic.

Forest green silk and satin evening dress, fit and flare with spaghetti straps and curving pleats across the bust; emerald green trapeze line coat finishing just below the knee, with three quarter length sleeves and puritan collar, lined throughout in white; matching elbow length gloves and clutch.

Jan’s evening attire on her first date with Rex; the test to see if he really is the gentleman he makes out to be. This ensemble is just impossible luxury. Jan’s voluminous coat strikingly echoes Dior’s post-war flamboyance in both fabric and fit. The overall shape is closer to Saint Laurent’s trapeze cut, denoting what we now refer to as A-line.

Watching Doris Day in full swing, elegant and refined, character and actress a seamless match, transports the viewer back to an age when dressing up required the co-ordination of every tiny detail, including all accessories, jewellery and make-up. Odd considering the circumstances, Jan is missing a hat. Her colour choice is quietly telling; as Brad’s scam gets into high gear, she has transformed from pure white to gullible green.

During the subsequent montage, a sort of tour of New York with superimposed catwalk, Jan wears three outfits: long white fur coat and golden yellow dress with attached scarf; silver stain coat with puritan collar; brown round neck fur coat. These are Jan’s day, evening and party guises; neither is on-screen for long, though one returns toward the end of the film.

Following a provocative scene whereby both leads play split-screen footsy in separate baths, Jan is suddenly all covered up:

Yellow fleece dressing gown, trimmed in yellow satin, high empire fit with tie front, zip closure, attached half-cape and three quarter length sleeves.

More overtly feminine night-wear for Jan, although not intended as remotely alluring. This is comfort food for the skin. The colour announces Jan’s exuberant mood as she enters the next phase of her relationship with Rex, and one that Brad likely did not count on – she falls in love.

Green sheath dress, fitted round neck jersey bodice with top-stitched seams forming an apron-like front, bust darts and long sleeves, just below the knee pencil skirt falling from natural waistline with rear slit; matching swing coat with three quarter length sleeves, brown mink fur collar and large hip pockets; dark green shaggy Mongolian fur hat; dark brown high heel shoes with pointed toes; long light blue gloves.

The skirt and coat may have been constructed from young Karakul fur but this is difficult to confirm. Various tones of green along with the fabric weight and stark contrast between snug and billowing ensure this is one of the most fascinating costumes Doris Day wears in Pillow Talk. Again, there are shades of Dior whose influence on American style, especially ready to wear, would remain well into the sixties. Also contextually, so much green hammers home that Jan has much to learn about trust. No-one in this story is straight with her, yet at present she remains blissfully unaware. However, for Brad his Rex Stetson gambit is on the verge of collapsing.

Burgundy velvet bell coat with flounce, puritan collar and three quarter length sleeves, matching fabric buttons, lined throughout in white satin; burgundy velvet evening dress, sleeveless, fitted bodice and scoop neck.

Velvet was a popular choice for evening wear in the fifties, even more so at the end of the decade as the austerity grip really loosened. A huge bell coat (sometimes referred to as a ‘smother’ or ‘duster’) with strappy dress to match is a chic statement. The coat’s drop waist is discreet acknowledgement that trends were on the cusp of a monumental change; this era of severe and unchallenged feminine elegance would never come around again.

At this juncture the flm confounds modern audiences with its now infamous ‘gay scene’, wherein by an incredible perversion of fate, Rock Hudson plays a straight man pretending to be homosexual. Being homosexual himself, although not openly so, instils this scene with broad humour and at the same time tremendous sadness. Thankfully no additional allusion was implied with Hudson’s costume – no colourful flourish or ascot. In this respect identity is established more by actions than appearance; Rex ‘appears’ to be straight so therefore he must be. Humour is derived from the contrast between his appearance and actions, not the correlation.

Needless to say the story flips again at scene end with Rex now firmly in control, even convincing Jan to spend the weekend alone with him at a rural retreat. Bear in mind they only kissed for the first time five minutes ago.

Beige knitted wool dress with long set-in ribbed sleeves and ribbed roll neck, knee length skirt with back slit, attached narrow belt gathering material into natural waist; light brown and cream check unstructured coat with funnel neck, wide fur hood, fur collar and cuffs; beige leather gloves; tan high heel shoes with pointed toe.

This is Jan’s going away dress, which apart from its raised hem is hardly suggestive of anything let alone a ‘dirty weekend’. Brief mention must be made of the outerwear Rex is wearing, a luxurious and uncharacteristically loud Loden style garment in mottled grey tweed. The shorter length makes this coat ideal for driving a convertible, plus the jazzy finish is more worthy of the supposedly creative Brad Allen.

Jan’s dress is understated though eye-catching and certainly the most forward thinking item Jean Louis created for Doris Day in Pillow Talk. It is strongly reminiscent of Yves Saint Laurent‘s output during the mid-late sixties. The futuristic evocation of ribbing effect and rollneck, along with clean monochrome finish make this dress almost proto-Mod.

Repetition of yet another real fur topped coat sends this look back somewhat, but obviously functions within the narrative as a way for Jan to keep warm in an open top car.

Bright red unstructured coat, mid-length, three quarter sleeves and large plastic matching button closure; red suit with pencil skirt finishing just below the knee; tall leopardskin cloche hat with flat crown and lightly upturned brim; leopardskin handwarmer; tan high heel shoes.

Fleeting yet easily remembered, this outfit reflects just how ‘on fire’ Jan is after rumbling Brad’s scheme. She is back in a hat, one of her most distinctive in fact; a cloche variant worn far back on the head. Of course, typical for Day and how this style was generally worn in the fifties. One point to note: Jan wears both leather gloves and a handwarmer here, which even for autumn/winter New York seems a tad excessive.

Black velvet skirt suit trimmed in royal blue, edge to edge jacket lined in red, with high revers, long sleeves and soft natural shoulder; white long sleeve blouse, cuffed, with round neck and bow tie; narrow below the knee skirt; crushed black velvet beret with matching embellishment; star brooch on waistband of skirt.

From angry red to serious black, this ensemble is all business for Jan. Though she did know not about visiting Brad’s apartment beforehand, it is a happy coincidence that thick black velvet with high neck blouse sends out just the right signals. Wearing the beret at a jaunty angle does offset any whiff of austereness, as does the blue trim on her jacket. Nonetheless, this is all about Jan throwing herself back into what she does best – work.

During the brief shopping montage, when Jan has fun buying enough thrift store tat to make Brad’s apartment resemble a hippie love den, she is glimpsed wearing a black Breton hat and the same black swing coat from the start of the story, only this time unbuttoned to reveal a red sheath dress. Fleetingly a red and brown tweed coat with black fur collar is also seen, plus the familiar red felt lampshade hat and double breasted coat, and finally a golden yellow dress with attached scarf and flap pockets (debuted during the courting montage). This is the only time in Pillow Talk when Doris Day reuses her costumes, demonstrating that Jan actually did live in these clothes; this was her wardrobe.

Baby blue ribbed roll-neck sweater and matching narrow pants.

Following the reveal of Brad’s ‘exotic’ new abode, he re-exerts masculinity but literally kicking in the door to Jan’s apartment and lifting her out of bed, electric blanket and all. Understandable given that he carries Jan through New York in nothing but her pyjamas, this nightwear could not be in any way revealing. Not to mention the implication of an unmarried man storming into the bedroom of an unmarried woman when she is anything less than fully clothed. Even so this costume is faintly ridiculous, although covering every erotic curve of Jan’s body certainly eliminates that Brad might force himself on her – she is as safe as any woman adducted from her own bed ever could be. All he has to do now is propose.

Pillow Talk has dated disgracefully in regards to gender definitions and sexual equality, but after several views this becomes increasingly easy to overlook. The breezy byplay between Doris Day and Rock Hudson combined with brighter than life production design and fabulous costumes, shifts the film from potentially offensive to unavoidably charming. Dressing like Jan Morrow in perfect couture might be an expensive lifestyle choice now, but 98 minutes of colourfully rose-tinted nostalgia costs far less.

Pillow Talk was released on Blu-ray on 7th May.

Note: screencaps taken from DVD version. Colours on Blu-ray are far more vivid.

Clueless: Crayola Brights & Rich Girl Prep

Contributor — Fri, 11 May 2012 01:17:20 +0000

‘Do you prefer “fashion victim” or “ensemble-y challenged”?’ Josie Sampson, creator of Film Reel Fashion examines the legacy of Mona May’s costume design for Clueless (1995, directed by Amy Heckerling).

When Clueless arrived onto screens in the mid-1990s, it ensured Alicia Silverstone’s Cher Horowitz became an overnight sensation. Teenage girls identified with Cher’s heartbreak and social worries, simultaneously envying her revolving wardrobe and online outfit chooser. Loosely based on the plot of Jane Austen’s Emma, this is a High School film at its finest. Set in sunny Beverly Hills with a free rein of Daddy’s credit card, the fashion is of utmost importance and communal acceptance. These are girls on the precipice of adulthood, their levels of sophistication undeveloped and gaudy. Inwardly, they are desperate to be taken seriously and their garishly matched designer uniforms are their outward attempts at this.

Cher is the most popular girl in school, surrounding herself with the social elite in one of the most affluent cities in the world. Her style is ‘rich girl prep’ and her signature patterned mini-skirts, knee high socks and patent miniature backpacks became emulated by girls the world over. The look is all about tasteless colour and texture, with Crayola brights adorning the pleats and pinstripe patterns. When more is more, accessories are bountiful; the tackier the better. The girls are drowning in faux-fur handbags, feather-trimmed coats and velvet headbands, with Cher’s best friend Dionne (Stacey Dash) exhibiting a penchant for flamboyant hats.

The first time we meet Cher, she is decisively picking out her outfit for another day of school. Settling on a mustard yellow checked jacket complete with matching pleated skirt and white knee high socks, she exemplifies the student body’s tasteless attempts at sophistication. We are next introduced to Dionne who is wearing a carbon copy of Cher’s outfit, albeit in an eye wateringly clashing palette of red, white and black. Instead of being horrified at the ultimate fashion faux pas of wearing the same ensemble, the girls are smugly delighted to be as equally stylish as one another. After all, this is a place where berets appear to be not only socially acceptable, but actually fashion forward.

In Cher’s world, appearance is the defining factor on which your successes in life depend. She is a lover of style over substance, often misusing or mispronouncing cultural references in an attempt to appear worldly. Indeed her later love interest, Josh, sarcastically remarks that her only direction in life is “towards the mall”. On the morning of her driving test, instead of practicing procedures or revising vital knowledge, Cher is seen tearing the house upside down in search of a particular crisp white collared Fred Seagul shirt, considering it to be her “most responsible looking ensemble”. She believes that by presenting herself in an immaculate and well put together outfit, she will project an image of herself as someone deserving of a driving licence, disregarding the need for any actual skills.

Similarly, when faced with the prospect of the first evening date with her object of desire Christian (Justin Walker), Cher is completely engrossed in the potential aesthetics. Outfit choices, lighting concepts and makeup are all carefully designed to showcase her to her very best. Any prospective personality or conversational factors do not enter her dating periphery. She settles on a vampish red dress, traditionally the colour of love and lust. In contrast, its skater style flair and Cher’s sweetly pinned backed hair are young and childlike, suggesting again the idea of an adolescent girl desperately trying to break into the adult world. It is interesting to note here her use of the phrase “costume decisions” when deciding on which outfit to wear. Akin to a little girl playing “dress up” in her mother’s clothes, the phrase emphasises the way that Cher sees her life status as a role she chooses to play, her clothes acting as the appropriate costume.

The sense that Cher is hovering on the fringes between socially-aware teen and beautiful young adult is showcased no better than the moment she descends down a staircase clad in a simple Calvin Klein slip dress. Its white colour connotes purity and virginal innocence, juxtaposing against its tight fit that displays her unmistakably womanly body. It is an obvious departure from the garish plaids and double denim we have become accustomed to seeing on Cher by this point and it is here that future love interest Josh (Paul Rudd) sees her as an object of adult lust for the first time. The dress represents such an iconic moment in the film that Calvin Klein re-released a run of the exact style and cut in 2010 to honour the fifteenth anniversary of the film’s release. This act demonstrates the full extent with which Clueless impacted on real fashion trends; girls wanting to emulate that little bit of Beverley Hills chic, even fifteen years later.

The name checking of designers such as Calvin Klein adds further to the fantasy element of Cher’s privileged life. In one memorable scene, she pleads with a mugger not to force her to the ground in her expensive Azzedine Alaïa dress. Begging that “It’s an Alaïa”, the mugger is momentarily dumfounded, responding, “An A-what-a?”. She reasons that “it’s, like, a totally important designer” and worthy of risking her life for. Previously, this was a name unfamiliar to the standard teenage population, making it instantly desirable in its unobtainability. With this, Clueless ushered in a generation of designer name lovers.

When new girl Tai, a then relatively unknown Brittany Murphy, arrives on the scene she is quickly shunned for her Nirvana-grunge appearance, despite being probably the most realistic portrayal of how teens dressed at the time of the film’s release. The camera lingers, mimicking the disapproving stares her new fellow classmates are throwing her way. She is clad in an oversized flannel shirt and baggy corduroy trousers, with a huge bag filled with school books slung on her back. Her comfortably flat shoes are almost hidden from view. This is in instant contrast with Cher’s statement Mary-Jane heels, which often enjoy a starring shot all of their own. The contrast is so extreme that it is Tai who looks wrong and costumed, while the other clownishly dressed students around her are the ones that appear acceptable. Indeed, one of her fellow students cruelly remarks that “she could be a farmer in those clothes”.

It is up to Cher and Dionne to transform Tai, basking haughtily in their sense of self worth. The process begins with a shot of Tai’s red hair dye being washed down the plughole. Perhaps alluding to the first arrival of the menstrual cycle, the shot signifies that, like Cher and the others, she is now embarking on her road to becoming a woman by learning how to dress. Tai emerges from the makeover another Beverly Hills clone and spends the rest of the film clad in preppy shift dresses and oxford collars.

Interestingly, as the film reaches its climax and Cher and co. realise their superficial wrongdoings, Tai loosens her Clueless makeover and somewhat reverts to her true self, albeit retaining some of Cher’s unmistakeable fashion sense. This is comparable to real life girls whose style is often unconsciously influenced by their friendships, an idea that makes Tai and Cher more humanly accessible right at the point of their self discovery.

The west coast preppy flair delves us into a world of pure fantasy, far removed from the grunge style of its 1995 release. As a result, Clueless provided a fashion revelation, with girls everywhere longing to shop on Rodeo Drive. In the words of Cher, they would strive for “courageous fashion efforts” and work to makeover their wardrobes. Hopefully, like Cher, they were also inspired to makeover their souls in the process.

By Josie Sampson. Do visit her blog Film Reel Fashion.

You can watch Alicia Silverstone in Clueless at LOVEFiLM.com.

American Gigolo: Armani Gere

Chris Laverty — Sat, 05 May 2012 01:36:09 +0000

American Gigolo (1980, directed by Paul Schrader) is a vapid expression of style without substance that has somehow become an academic’s favourite. Yet to argue the emptiness of the film and its bland protagonist as subtext is to miss the big picture: American Gigolo is not even about its protagonist; it is about what he wears. American Gigolo is about Armani.

It was Italian designers who led a revolution in tailoring during the early 1980s, reinventing the male suit by removing hitherto essential padding for a lightweight, almost floppy silhouette. Combined with unusual fabric choices and bold colours, they defined the decade. Giorgio Armani was at the forefront of this revolution, certainly in terms of bringing it to the masses. Moreover, his clothes were just as popular with both sexes, the GA logo coming to symbolise luxurious excess disguised as simple class.

Armani trained with Nino Cerruti before becoming established under his own name in the late 1970s. Originally his garments were designed to accentuate men of a muscular build, but following French couturier Daniel Hechter’s lead in the mid-seventies, he changed direction. In 1980 Armani introduced long zoot style jackets and heavy trouser pleating, with oversized blousons and mannish tailoring for women.

These components that now characterise the Armani name as relaxed, classic Italian, were showcased in American Gigolo, representing perhaps the most successful brand promotion on film of all time. A suggestion not lost on the designer himself, as rumour has it Richard Gere can still walk into any Armani store and select whatever he wants off the rack for free; he did that much to sell the product.

Although costumed as a whole by Bernadene C. Mann, American Gigolo is all about Armani. In two hours it parades every single line across the screen: formal, semi-formal, casual, daytime, evening, leisurewear, underwear, accessories. The pretext is how these sartorial choices define Gere’s high class prostitute Julian, though really we are watching how his clothes define the Armani name; literally brand creation on film.

While Julian does have a backstory only hinted at during the movie, he is not as appealing as the clothes he wears. This is a perfect fit for Giorgio Armani, who clearly does not want his garments encapsulated by a whore, even if he is an expensive one. It is Richard Gere we recall before his character, and that was what Armani was tapping into. Dress like the star, not the character.

Julian is a narcissist; he enjoys his own appearance and, put simply, is attracted to himself. This leads to an obvious interpretation – that Julian is gay. This may or may not be true; certainly he has undertaken homosexual ‘tricks’ in the past. However this is ultimately irrelevant. It does not matter ‘what’ Julian is, it only matters how he is perceived. With American Gigolo, Armani was not selling a lifestyle choice; he was selling a look.

Julian’s narcissism is exemplified at its fullest as he strolls down L.A.’s designer aisle, laid-back in sports jacket, open neck shirt and jeans. He wants people to notice him just so he can ignore them. Note the way he derides Detective Sunday’s (Hector Elizondo) outmoded street attire then implies that it is not so much his clothes but his face that makes him unattractive. Julian likes to belittle through appearance because it is the only asset he has.

Yet, despite Julian’s questionable personality we still love his clothes. Perhaps implying that a man is not what he wears after all? Or perhaps we do not care about Julian’s disposition and just love Gere for wearing that wardrobe so well?

At risk of appearing hypercritical, there is little point in analysing Julian’s sartorial choices too deeply. Above all else the meaning of these costumes is style not character. It is more worthwhile to appreciate them for fashion’s sake. With this in mind, here is a selection of the most significant outfits Richard Gere wears in the movie and what it meant to the future of fashion that Armani* very shrewdly chose them:

Sports Jacket

As worn for Julian’s first meeting with high profile but lonely housewife Michelle (Lauren Hutton), whose clothes are made by Basile, although still similar to Armani in contruction. Julian’s single breasted, golden brown wool cashmere jacket is long in the skirt, ventless, with high notched lapels and prominently shaped shoulders. The silhouette is a combination of 1930s ‘New Deal’ muscular torso and 1940s zoot suit.

Later when Michelle arrives unexpectedly at Julian’s apartment, he wears a double breasted light grey flannel jacket with sporting-like yoke detail. Here the shoulders look even more defined; his hand on hip gesture causing the angular box shaping to jut out even further.

Interesting, in reference to the brown jacket, Julian wears his as a less austere alternative to the plain black chauffeur suit; interesting because throughout the 1990s, Armani was largely recognised for his plain black unadorned suit above all else.

Sunglasses

These are based on 1950s-era Ray Ban Wayfarer style, only with far larger frames and in a lighter tortoiseshell finish. Still coveted, but undoubtedly look better on Richard Gere than practically anyone else in history, onscreen or off.

Designer eyewear really hit its stride in the eighties, with movies such as American Gigolo and Tom Cruise’s breakthrough Risky Business (1985) selling the attitude that built the decade: conspicuous consumption was nothing to be ashamed of.

Linen Jacket

Cool in natural Italian linen, Julian meets ex-pimp Leon (Bill Duke) to report back from his ‘rough trick’. There is a sultry quality to linen that is instantly relaxing to the eye. Before Armani dressed Richard Gere in this unstructured, half-lined, rather longer than typical ventless version with grey shirt and pleated grey trousers, linen was hardly used for suiting in couture, with lightweight tropical wool normally chosen instead. From humble beginnings as a shirt fabric before the mid-19th century, linen is now regarded as something of a luxury, a concept that Armani’s American Gigolo typifies – owning a look for every occasion.

Being as it crumples so easily, especially the softer Italian yarn, few choose to wear linen on a regular basis. Some consider the creases to be a handsome characteristic of the fabric, others an ugly side-effect. A consumerist, conspicuous man such as Julian would probably view the fabric as demonstrable means. This is the Armani extravagance. Having an Italian linen suit in your rotation proves that you can afford it.

Cardigan, Shirt and Tie

A pale blue turndown colour shirt with the decade’s soon to be crucial short collar points, skinny patterned tie and ribbed shawl neck cardigan, worn with high waist linen mix trousers and leather Chelsea boots by Roots. At this point in the story, Julian’s life is beginning to deconstruct. Picked from a line-up in a murder investigation he rushes to the home of a wealthy, married client in an attempt to prove his alibi.

The inference here is that Julian’s attire reflects emotional changes within himself. He is getting sloppy, less ordered, irrational even. Yet from a historical perspective his outfit is still deemed ‘proper’, the shirt and tie a direct signifier of someone who is controlled in their dressing.

In fashion terms the eighties were about colour and texture. This is a good example of how the latter, a thick fisherman’s rib, has evolved from sportswear to fashion wear. Armani was an innovator in this respect too. Not only did he change the way we wore suits – for a full decade at least – he also evolved the traditional rules of formal/non-formal. Julian’s cardigan, shirt and tie are reminiscent of Albert Finney’s attire from Two For The Road (1967), and more recently a similar look was seen on Daniel Craig in Quantum of Solace (2008) and The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo (2011).

Tuxedo or Dinner Suit

Depending on where you reside, either in North America or the rest of the world, the tuxedo or dinner suit has been prescribed formal attire for over 150 years. It has changed little in this time, only in the gradual reduction of tail coat to frock coat to lounge jacket. Correct dress is presently the same as it was in 1980: white poplin shirt, wing collar or turndown, in plain front or pleated; black bow tie and black suit, single or double breasted with silk faced lapels or shawl collar. Wearing a tail coat in all but the most ceremonial of occasions died out after World War II.

Keen as ever to stamp his identity onto an ensemble, Giorgio Armani added a less common waistcoat to Julian’s dinner suit to fit under his single breasted jacket, that featured peaked lapels and a distinctive hand fastened black bow tie in crushed velvet. Although, in actual fact this is the one time Julian unavoidably becomes part of the crowd. He is used to being the centre of attention, yet there was only so much Armani could play with in Gere’s costume and still call it formal attire, which for this very public segment of the narrative it needed to be.

Sports Jacket and Jeans

This is a look that only existed from the 1980s onwards. Again shifting sartorial boundaries, in this instance between semi-formal and casual, Julian’s wool jacket nonchalantly slung over his shoulder and fitted, slightly retro pressed jeans; open neck shirt with sleeves rolled up and tortoiseshell sunglasses, is a classic crossover of Italian class and American prep.

Denim entered fashion mainstream during the 1970s. After a fifties rebellion of U.S. teenagers donning thick selvedge turn-ups and capri pants to upset mum and dad, now mum and dad owned a pair for themselves. Calvin Klein introduced the so-called designer jean in 1977, closely followed by Gloria Vanderbilt’s clever ‘swan’ branding exclusively for women a couple of years later. Armani was not at the forefront of this particular revolution, though he was one of the first to mix and match fabrics in this way.

Julian is at his most fascinating wearing this ensemble. That arrogant strut denoting total awareness of his beauty. He is a walking, talking tailor’s dummy, yet exudes such unstoppable sexuality that even a beautiful woman will degrade herself into following him in a pathetic disguise and diving for cover every time he clocks her presence.

Black Suit

The black suit is indelibly linked with movies. It is hugely symbolic, though the colour itself alludes different ideas to different stories, characters and situations. Recently it has meant savoir (The Matrix, 1999) or mysterious (Men in Black, 1997) or cool (Reservoir Dogs, 1992). The last example is particularly universal; for whatever else the black suit says about a person, stripped of all sub-textual intention it still projects a single, indestructible value: it looks good.

A certain irony can be appreciated with the suit in question, that those around Julian elicit a less than favourable response, as Leon mocks, “You look like you’ve come from a funeral”. For women, black remained the primary shade for evening wear in the eighties, but for men texture and colour were paramount.

There is a further paradox, in that if Armani, i.e. all the brand has encapsulated during its 35 year history, was reduced to one item it would likely be a plain black suit. Yet Julian is openly mocked for wearing his heart on his sleeve. Evidently the black suit would have to wait another twelve years for its revival in film, and it was the aforementioned Reservoir Dogs, costumed by Betsy Heimann, that achieved it.

Underwear

In short, soft grey jersey, it is worth noting just how much these trunks resemble modern men’s underwear. Any high street clothing store will sell a pair similar to these nowadays. Influence does not always have to be dramatic, sometimes big changes come in small packages, so to speak.

Legacy

Ask most cinemagoers to name five movies with memorable contemporary clothes and American Gigolo is sure to appear on their list. There is no denying that the costumes achieved their goal of facilitating a protagonist whose sole existence depended on the control of his appearance.

Although it was Giorgio Armani who received the ultimate prize; with American Gigolo he created a narrative for fashion – his fashion. This film established the Armani brand, and not just for years to come, but forever.

* Not every item Julian wears is Armani. Look closely and you will see a few other eighties specific designer brands in his closet.

You can watch Richard Gere in American Gigolo at LOVEFiLM.com.

Win! Five Copies of Movie Dressmaking Book Sew Iconic

Chris Laverty — Tue, 01 May 2012 00:06:43 +0000

Right, sit comfortably with a cocktail (we encourage that here) because this is an excellent competition with an excellent prize: we have five copies of Liz Gregory’s new movie dressmaking book ‘Sew Iconic’ to give away to five lucky winners, just for answering an easy peasy question.

Sew Iconic is an innovative book that walks the reader through making their own copies of famous dresses from movies. Ten costumes are covered, including Marilyn Monroe’s halterneck from The Seven Year Itch (1959) by William Travilla, Jennifer Grey’s pink cocktail dress by Hilary Rosenfeld from Dirty Dancing (1987), Audrey Hepburn’s Givenchy LBD from Breakfast at Tiffany’s (1961) and Keira Knightley’s cripplingly complex emerald green evening gown by Jacqueline Durran from Atonement (2007).

Nestled just over half way through Sew Iconic is the ice blue chiffon dress worn by Grace Kelly and designed by Edith Head for To Catch a Thief (1954). Get some practise in before tackling this one.

It is advisable that you at least know your way around a needle and thread before attempting any of these recreations, although Sew Iconic does include a pattern for each garment featured, in addition to full colour photographs, concisely written instructions – even video links to an accompanying Tumblr in some cases –also context notes and a mini-biography of the costume designer in question. Helpfully, the dresses are listed in rough order of difficulty. The toughest? Well, last in the book is Kate Winslet’s lace evening gown from Titanic (1997), as designed by Deborah Lynn Scott. You will need to bring your A game by this stage.

Sew Iconic by Liz Gregory is available right now on the shelves of all good book shops (i.e. Amazon and the like). But if you would like to win a free copy instead, all you have to do is answer this simple question:

It’s Saturday evening and you are having cocktails on the roof terrace of the world’s poshest hotel. Which outfit from the movies would you be wearing and why?

Most interesting, original and/or funny answers win a brand new copy of Sew Iconic. Email your answer to: SORRY, COMPETITION NOW CLOSED with your name, address and the subject heading ‘Sew Iconic!’ by FRIDAY 11TH MAY, 23.59 GMT. We will let the winners know as soon as possible.

Competition only available to readers in Europe and South Africa. Full terms and conditions HERE.