Why the LBD rocks
Cindy on November 14th, 2009
I am against fashion that doesn’t last” – Coco Chanel
Anticipating the holidays, I’m running a favorite “fun” piece that originally appeared in The Christian Science Monitor (December 4, 1997) and is reprinted in Writing Home.
It’s been years since I’ve worried about what to wear to holiday parties. When the occasion calls for something more formal than jeans and a jacket, I reach for one of several black dresses I own. Black wool, black velvet, black silk, black velour … It’s good to have a closetful of options.
All women owe a great debt of gratitude to the little black dress, also known as the LBD. With or without pearls, it gets us through business meetings, cocktail parties, concerts, and funerals. It makes us look taller and more sophisticated. It forgives us for all the Halloween candy we ate last month.
Amy Holman Edelman’s The Little Black Dress (Simon & Schuster) celebrates the long life of this indelible fashion icon and explores its considerable impact on our culture. Edelman credits Coco Chanel for popularizing the black cocktail dress in 1926. The famous French designer, she says, liberated women from fussy pastel tea dresses and other Victorian frou-frou. And thanks to improved methods of mass production, the LBD soon became available to almost every woman.
But Edelman reminds us that black has been making fashion statements throughout the centuries.
“Black is the color most often chosen to cloak the pious,” she notes. “It reflects the humility of a nun’s habit and the practical endurance of servants and livery.” And for ages, respectable black has been worn during long periods of mourning.
It also has a flip side, a sinister nature. Black can evoke vampires’ capes, witches’ robes, suicidal moods, and a delicious penchant for scandal.
Shocking a conservative public in 1884, the most famous black dress in history was worn by Madame Virginie Gautreau in John Singer Sargent’s “Madame X” (above). Gautreau, who posed for the portrait in a voluptuous black evening gown, was a married woman of “refined tastes and shadowy reputation” — and known throughout Paris for her adulterous affairs. At the time, this bad woman in the little black dress almost ruined a painter’s career. Today, the contradictory nature of black — pious and sinful — only adds to its intrigue and enhances its appeal. No wonder it feels right for a big night out on the town.
There’s no denying that black can be bohemian, or downright rebellious, in its refusal to compete with pattern and color. Black is cool by itself. It dominates the wardrobes of motor cycle gangs, creative types, and other expatriates. And we have Audrey Hepburn to thank for making black look equally at home at coffeehouses and cocktail parties. After its appearance in Breakfast at Tiffany’s, Hepburn’s black cocktail dress became an everlasting symbol of New York glamour.
Painter Georgia O’Keeffe, also known for her high-spirited individualism, wore a simple black dress at a time when other women thought the look was too harsh. As Edelman points out, O’Keeffe’s mentor and husband, the photographer Alfred Stieglitz, was first attracted to the painter “by the distinct nature of her dress.”
In the decades since its debut, the black dress has become a uniform that expresses a modern woman’s contradictions and celebrates her independence. It announces that she’s dressing for herself. And in a season overburdened by decisions — what to buy for Aunt Beth; what to wear to the office Christmas party — the LBD offers the ease of simplicity. Or, as I keep telling my husband, you can’t own too many. – Cindy La Ferle



November 16th, 2009 at 10:17 am
You are so spot on, Cindy. What would we do with the LBD! I appreciate the history you brought to this subject. So interesting! Have you noticed a resurgence of interest in Audrey Hepburn style? My daughter’s residence hall at school was adorned with AH photos!
November 16th, 2009 at 10:19 am
oops! i meant “without” above.
xo
November 16th, 2009 at 11:11 am
Cindy, agreed this when I read it in the book. And I am due for a new one this coming corporate Christmas party season.
I loved loved your writings. You have a way of saying the truth, the beautiful, the sacred, the things which are in the minds of so many women.
When I was finished , a quick gobble, I put it aside and now am going back for a slower savour. I wish their was more. I wish to read of your health struggles, your faith, etc.
Anyway, sorry for rambling, I will let you know when I post some thoughts later in the week.
Hope you and your family are well.
love to you,
deb
November 16th, 2009 at 11:31 am
Thanks, Jan and Deb! Jan, I knew what you meant and read right past the typo
Deb, I so appreciate that you bought my book, and your comments as a fine writer mean more than words can say. You totally “get” what Writing Home is all about. It covers a special time in my life, and I am always thrilled when it resonates somehow with other moms. Thank you. — Cindy La Ferle
November 16th, 2009 at 3:49 pm
I’m due for an updated LBD, too. The history you share here is interesting. There are years of change and progress behind Ann Taylor’s online ad for the LBD.
November 16th, 2009 at 8:54 pm
I love my LBDs and black trousers with a jacket. Well said, Cindy. Your piece is a good reminder that dressing for the holidays can be easy and elegant with a LBD.
November 17th, 2009 at 7:28 am
I LOVE black.LBD’s, my absolute favorites (when I was thinner especially) but anything black, next favorite color is gray. Great, interesting post Cindy L.
November 18th, 2009 at 7:20 pm
Beautiful piece Cindy. The thoughts you share (yours and Ms. Edelman’s) have revived my appreciation for this timeless treasure I have in my closet.
Actually, I own three LBD’s. So that’s three times the treasure right there.
November 19th, 2009 at 12:15 pm
I don’t usually wear dresses in the winter (hate pantyhose!) but your essay makes me want to go out and buy one. Or six.
November 21st, 2009 at 3:42 pm
I wrote a little something about your book on my blog, Cindy.
http://forsakenforlent.blogspot.com/2009/11/bloggy-banana-bread.html
love to you
deb
November 24th, 2009 at 5:40 pm
Coco was indeed a smart woman. I’m against fads.