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Audacity characterised the career of couturier Elsa Schiaparelli. It is not for nothing that her most famous fragrance, her signature shade of pink and her autobiography all carried the same title: “shocking”. The same might be said of her biography: born into a distinguished Roman family of aristocrats and scholars in 1890, she was a cultural omnivore from a young age. Her obsession with ancient Greek mythology led her to publish a book of erotic poems at age 21, a decision that her parents found so troubling that they sent her to a Swiss boarding school, where she went on a hunger strike until she was returned home. The remainder of her twenties were no less eventful: there were moves to London and New York, a marriage to a Theosophist con man, a period spent on the run from the Bureau of Investigation in America, the birth of her child, the sudden death of her opera singer lover, and the unsolved murder of her husband in Mexico. All of this occurred before Elsa even started making clothes, yet it set the stage for a life and career in which an appetite for the extraordinary and the strange would become her signature.
Her move to Paris in 1922 marked her immersion into the city’s avant-garde. She quickly forged friendships with key figures in the nascent Surrealist scene, like Salvador Dalí and Jean Cocteau, and her couture would reflect the movement’s sense of dreamlike whimsy and subtle menace. Shoes became hats, dresses revealed skeletal forms and gowns erupted with sprouting flowers. In a dress famously worn by Wallis Simpson, a Dalí-designed lobster emerges on the front, illustrated with sprigs of parsley (Schiaparelli famously had to dissuade Dalí from using real mayonnaise to “decorate” the dress.) Her garments invited the wearer and onlooker alike into a world where there was no boundary between fashion and art. Her love of theatre and cabaret led her to design for stage and screen: Marlene Dietrich and Mae West were famous clients, and her costume design for Zsa Zsa Gabor in the Oscar-winning film Moulin Rouge (1952) was highly acclaimed. So famous was Schiaparelli in the interwar years that Irish poet Louis MacNeice referred to her designs as a synecdoche for the modern, glamorous woman in his 1939 poem Autumn Journal: “Give me a new Muse with stockings and suspenders / And a smile like cat, / With false eyelashes and finger-nails of carmine / And dressed by Schiaparelli, with a pill-box hat.”
This March, the V&A will open Schiaparelli: Fashion Becomes Art, featuring over 200 pieces – from couture and millinery to jewellery, scent and sculpture – from the V&A archive. The first major retrospective of the designer’s work in the UK, the exhibition traces the evolution of Schiaparelli from the Maison’s birth in 1927 as a fledgling Parisian atelier, its collaborations with artists like Salvador Dalí and Jean Cocteau, to its contemporary iteration under Daniel Roseberry. “If someone like Edward Molyneux or Coco Chanel was known for elegant, understated, luxurious garments, Elsa Schiaparelli was known for creating garments that made people look twice,” says exhibition curator Sonnet Stanfill, who has been working on the project for the past two years. “At the same time, she was also capable of making a very glamorous gown, so there is something for everyone in the Atelier of Elsa Schiaparelli.” Indeed, the technical mastery behind Schiaparelli’s garments is remarkable, all the more so given that Elsa had no formal training in couture. TANK shot some of the brand’s most celebrated pieces from the archive (in the V&A storage rooms) and spoke with Stanfill about some of the most iconic pieces from the exhibition.
This hat will have a display case all to itself, which tells you something about the importance of the work. This was a collaboration between Elsa and Salvador Dalí, who is said to have been inspired to create a drawing of an upside-down shoe on a woman’s head by his wife, Gala Dalí. Schiaparelli’s hats were some of her most outrageous expressions of wit: there were circus tent hats, hats shaped like a lamb chop. You can get away with making something outrageous because hats are already so sculptural and lend themselves to expressions of whimsy. There are other versions of this hat, including one all-black version, but I think the shocking pink heel is a wonderful Schiaparelli touch: it makes it more readable as a shoe. It brings together a lot of the elements we address in the exhibition: just as Surrealism turned the world on its head, here Elsa does the same with a shoe. It’s a nonsensical garment that is nonetheless extremely beautiful.
COCTEAU EVENING COAT
Elsa Schiaparelli was fascinated by magic, dreams, the uncanny and the otherworldly. She made this evening coat in collaboration with Jean Cocteau, who was not exactly a Surrealist but certainly shared those interests. From the front, it is deceptively plain with minimal decoration, apart from one of Elsa’s signature unusual buttons – you wouldn’t know from the front that there is extraordinary storytelling going on in the back. The design on the back, executed by the House of Lesage embroidery atelier [now owned by Chanel under the 19M collective], can be seen either as a vase with roses that explode across the wearer’s back and shoulders, or as two faces about to kiss. If you see it as a vase, there are lines underneath that suggest the grooves of a column. There are only a handful of other such coats, so this is a very rare example.
The coat was designed for her 1937 collection, a decade into her fashion career and a time when the house was at the peak of its powers. She had moved into 21 Place Vendôme in Paris in January 1935, and she’d been on the cover of Time magazine the previous year. Her relationships with artists were well established; she had her suppliers and relationships all in place. This coat is a spectacular reflection of that moment.
HANDS HAT
It’s important to note this was not designed by Elsa Schiaparelli, but by the artist Eileen Agar, a member of the London Surrealist group. We included it not only because Agar was part of Schiaparelli’s social and artistic circles, but because Agar’s creation mimics a pair of Schiaparelli’s gloves. These were made from suede with red snakeskin fingertips, so it looks like a trompe l’oeil manicured hand in the guise of a glove. The hat itself is made from a rough, clipped plant fibre, contrasted by the demure positioning of the gloves, like how a seated figure might rest their hands on their lap. If you zoom in or examine the fingernails closely, you can see that they’re stitched rather crudely, so they are unlikely to be original. The sophisticated viewer would have recognised them as a wink to Schiaparelli. The Surrealists often used garments as stand-ins for the human form, and clothes often had a psychological, even erotic presence in their art. Agar is making a statement here about the blurred boundaries between fashion and art, suggesting a whimsical acknowledgement of the importance of Elsa Schiaparelli to that circle.
CIRCUS COAT
This ensemble is from Elsa Schiaparelli’s 1938 Circus Collection, and you can see this reflected in buttons fashioned in the shape of circus horses with plumed headdresses that prance across the front of the jacket. There is a wonderful bead embroidery down the torso, which is a riot of colour, with glass red, white and blue beads executed by the House of Lesage. The Circus Collection, like some of her other named collections such as “Pagan” or “Zodiac”, embodied the motifs and themes explored in the garments.
Embroidered jackets were a Schiaparelli signature. While the motifs of the embroidered jackets differ, the key elements are shared across this garment type: they are very tailored and quite severe in their sharp shoulders and trim shape. They are usually made of structured material like wool, and sometimes silk. These are called dinner suits because you are meant to be able to sit down at a table, and your top half is visible. If you wore this out to dinner or to the theatre, you would have been instantly recognisable as a Schiaparelli client. It was a useful way of communicating your allegiance to the House of Schiaparelli without wearing a logo.