Always in Vogue, an Excerpt With Commentary
by L M
Edna Woolman Chase was Vogue’s first editrix (though not, alas, editor), running the magazine from 1914 to 1952. She started as an editorial assistant in 1895. That’s the Turn of the Century, World War I, the Great Depression, WWII, and then some. She published her autobiography, Always in Vogue, in 1954, and, among its many gems, it includes this “code on how to attain smartness” (commentary mine):
Point #1: Study yourself with the unblinking eye of your meanest enemy. Could that throat, so like a swan to your lover, perhaps be considered a long, skinny neck, thrust forward at a cranelink angle, by one who cares for you less? (Eek!) Or could that short neck and submissive little chin, which make you so cuddlesome, could they, with the years, develop into a thick, indeterminate oneness, with that middle-aged hump at the back? (Eeeek!) Are your legs or upper arms too thin or too fat? Do you have pretty hands and nails, so that you can permit yourself eye-attracting gestures and jewelry, or are they large and capable, profiting from a decent anonymity? And your hair? Is it sexy or serviceable? This questionnaire could go on indeterminately, but its point, I think, is clear. Your person is the material you have to work with.
Study yourself with dispassionate eyes and in a three-ply mirror. It is a grueling ordeal, but it pays off. (Is not-having a three-way mirror a passable excuse for avoiding this? Yes? Oh good.) Remember your enemy, the rival who sees you always in 3-D. Make sure you are at least as well informed as she. (My life would be so much more dramatic with an enemy. Volunteers?)
Point #2: Set your dressing table in front of a window, so that the uncompromising light of day will fall evenly upon your face when you are making up. (Hold me. I’m scared of the uncompromising light of day.)
Point #3: Choose for yourself clothes that play up your good points and subdue your bad. Have you pretty legs, but a thick middle? Perhaps your hips depress you, but from the waist up you are a Tanagra figurine? Or have you the lean, lithe flanks of a Diana yet are overemphasized above? (Poor lean, lithe, busty you.) For this silhouette the French have an apt expression: Beaucoup de monde au balçon — a lot of people in the balcony. These are the assets and defects you must be aware of.
Point #4: In fashion do not have the courage of your mistakes. Since you are human you will make them, yet if you want a reputation for elegance hide them. They are expensive, yes, which is one reason you should read Vogue (I see what you did there, Edna. Anna wouldn’t stoop to tricks like that), so that you will make fewer of them, but you must be brave. If you’ve pulled a fearful boner, if the dress or hat so beguiling in the shop is a dud in the home, pitch it out. (You know she’s right. Just accept that the amazing Wang onesie longjohns you scooped at a warehouse sale will always look like crap on you and get rid of them. ACCEPT IT.) Give it to some dear relation or send it to the thrift shop: don’t wear it. To be considered well dressed, you must be it continuously. Not in fits and starts.
Point #5: Select clothes appropriate to the life you lead. The wildly inappropriate garment is usually the mistake of youth, before the discipline of taste and budget has had time to sink in. (Erm.)
Point #6: The allotment of the budget. There are certain articles in one’s wardrobe on which one not only may, but should, splurge. Within reason, of course. Remember this is a Quaker speaking. (God, when was the last time a Quaker edited Vogue?) A good cashmere sweater will last for years. You winter coat should be the very best you can afford. It is meant to survive several seasons, keep you warm, and be worn every day. The same is true of your tailored suit. It should be of good fabric and well cut.
Point #7: Don’t buy too much. (Um.) There is nothing to sap the morale and dull the appearance like a closet full of half-worn, no-longer-at-their-peak clothes. With the exception of the aforementioned staples — coats, suits, and street shoes, which should last several seasons — buy only what you need at the time, make it serve you well, and get rid of it. (I promise, St. Edna, I’m trying. I now only have two gray jeans instead of five. One poncho I’ll never wear instead of three. Progress!)
Point #8: In your wardrobe consider color carefully. If you use restraint you will find it makes both for elegance and economy. This does not mean you have to be drab and monotonous; if your clothes are interchangeable, shoes and accessories doing duty with several dresses and suits instead of only one, you will achieve greater variety at less cost. Don’t get a blue hat and a red bag and a brown coat and black shoes, each good in itself but as incompatible as whiskey and wine. Plan your wardrobe as a whole. Don’t just buy it, compose it.
Point #9: Consider color; don’t get set in concrete as to what colors you can and cannot wear. (Is it just me, or is this the same as #8?)
Point #10:
A: Dress your age. A hat that really belongs above a mature, thoughtful face is far more flattering, and incidentally in better taste, than a cuter pixie cap. Clothes that are too young paradoxically make their wearer look older. Remember that the interesting men of the world like women who appear youthful but who are not pathetic carbon copies of the girls they were. On the other hand, clothes that are too sophisticated do not imbue the youthful wearer with the femme fatale look she longs to achieve, but tend, on the contrary, to give her a comically childlike appearance. (Oh god, this is so true. The whole throwback/vintage trend makes this a common issue — girls in their 20s wearing lipstick that makes them look like they’re playing dressup instead of being vampy and sexy. Oof. Ladies, your time will come. Eventually you’ll be in your 30s and be convincingly fatale-y. Fatal?)
B: As you grow older, cover up. Aging flesh is not appealing. (EXCEPTION: Helen Mirren.) Whether a Bikini bathing suit on a charming young body is modest or immodest is a matter of the current mode or local morals or good taste; it has nothing to do with aestheticism, but too much revelation of a figure that is too thin, too fat, or too old can be lamentable. (I like that “too thin” was included. Can you imagine Anna deeming anyone too thin for a bikini?)
Point #11
A: Stand up when you buy a hat… (You just dated yourself, book.)
B: Just as you should stand up when you buy a hat so should you sit down when you buy a dress. It may be all to the good when you are erect, but how does it sit.
Point #12: Pare down the nonessentials. This does not meant to eschew jewels and flowers, scarves and bows and hair ornaments; it does mean to use them with discretion, to integrate them into your costume so that they are a deliberate accent, the perfect finishing touch. (The random fascinator? Anyone?)
Point #13: Let us now suppose your wardrobe is admirably chosen from every point of view and that even if you are wealthy you have adopted as your own a slogan I coined for Vogue long ago: “More Taste than Money.” It is still so much our philosophy of good dressing that annually we bring out a “More Taste than Money” issue, proving our premise in page after page of fashions that are admirable rather than costly. (Anna, if you’re reading this, please. Do this. So retro! So helpful! So not in line with your current philosopy!)
The same point of view has resulted in our more recent and very popular “Young Nillionaire” feature. (Guys. GUYS. So fetch!) Taste is better than money at any age, but if one has youth, a good figure, and is well informed on fashion, thanks to the ready-to-wear industry and Vogue’s guidance, one can be well dressed on surprisingly little outlay.
Yet even when every article is chosen with foresight and taste there is still one great fashion law to bear in mind. As in cooking or bartending, so in good dressing: the mixture is the secret. (Tell me the secret, Edna. Sing it!) Never be guilty of wearing fancy shoes with a sports costume, an elaborate hat with a simple tailored suit. Do not wear long earrings for traveling or carry a businesslike leather bag with a filmy summer frock. (So that’s what always looks so wrong.) Ask yourself always, Am I harmoniously put together, am I appropriately clad for the deed at hand, and I free of nonessentials? If you can truthfully answer yes, you are a well-dressed woman.
Lucia Martinez reads too many old poems and tries to be a well-dressed woman.