Influences: Cheetah Chic

Phyllis Gordon with her cheetah, shopping in London, 1939

I came across this image of actress Phyllis Gordon out shopping with her pet cheetah a number of months ago, but it's been on my mind ever since. I'm enchanted by the inherent insouciance of it all. Imagine trotting out to do a few errands in the neighborhood and bringing along your favorite big cat just for kicks! This is the essence of luxury and chic.

I'm not at all what one would term a "cat person". I'm cool with cats, but wouldn't choose to have one over a feisty and funny terrier. I've been known to cat-sit here and there which isn't altogether unpleasant, although I'd prefer a cold wet nose over a sandpaper-tongue. So it is interesting that I find myself completely jealous of those eternally-stylish women who through history have sported cats as an accessory. Not just any cat, but a full-grown cheetah or leopard. Hands down, this is beyond stylish and everyone knows it - no Yorkie in a Louis Vuitton bag could compete.

As Jessica Kerwin Jenkins writes in Encyclopedia of the Exquisite, "by the twentieth century the cat's sexy, slinky reputation was appreciated by bohemians, intellectuals, and some extremely glamorous women, who upped the ante by taking in leopards as pets...As they proved, no animal makes a more stunning sidekick than a glowering great cat."

Women casually strolling with a cheetah on a leash sounds like something out of an old Hollywood urban legend. You know the scene: fur coat to the floor with a sharp cloche hat and five big cats on a chain, preferably while walking briskly down a train platform with the steam rising and a porter trailing with a mountain of trunks. My whole life I've longed to be this woman.

Marchesa Casati with her leopards, by Paget-Fredericks ca. 1920s

When I first started reading about the Marchesa Casati, I became enchanted with her pet cheetahs. According to legend, the Marchesa would take her private gondola across the Grand Canal late at night just to walk her pets through the Piazza San Marco. True to form, she would perform this ritual while completely naked but for a fur coat. Imagine running into that after too many Bellinis at Harry's Bar!

Marchesa Casati with her pet cheetah, 1912

Josephine Baker was also known to sport a leopard named Chiquita around Paris in the 1920s when she was the most flamboyant act in town. Diana Vreeland saw the pair out at the movies once and loved how Chiquita pulled Baker into her white Rolls Royce in a single bound: "Ah! What a gesture!...I've never seen anything like it. It was speed at its best, and style."

Josephine Baker & Chiquita

Gloria Swanson also seems like the type who would have had cheetahs close at hand. In Sunset Boulevard, Norma Desmond seems to be surrounded by leopard skins in one way or another. Even the seats of her Isota-Fraschini are upholstered in leopard skins. This detail in the production lends itself to the once-glorious past of Norma Desmond, recalling glamorous days of dancing the tango with Valentino.

Desmond's character probably had some basis on one of the original movie starlets, the great Pola Negri. Although she made her mark in early silent film in Europe, Negri signed a contract with Paramount and came to Hollywood in 1922. (It was she, not the fictional Norma Desmond, who met Valentino at a classic Davies-Hearst costume party at San Simeon a few years later. The two became lovers until Valentino's death in 1926.) Like the Marchesa Casati, Negri also had a weakness for cheetahs and walked hers frequently down the real Sunset Boulevard in Hollywood's heyday.

Negri's love of cheetahs came full circle much later on when in 1964, Negri starred with Hayley Mills in Disney's The Moon Spinners as Mrs. Habib, a character with a pet cheetah named Shalimar. While filming this teenage caper flick in London, it is said that Negri caused a sensation walking the cheetah nonchalantly through a hotel lobby. It sounds as though Negri not only knew the essence of glamour, but that she also had a true sense of humor too.

Hayley Mills & Pola Negri in The Moon Spinners, with a cheetah in the background.

To seal Hollywood's fascination with the luxury of keeping a big cat, there's also Bringing Up Baby - an entire screwball comedy devoted to the antics surrounding a rich woman's pet cheetah.

Film stars with cheetahs seems to be a classic combination. If they didn't keep them as pets they were certainly photographed with the cats as props; I would guess it is because of the wild, exotic, and animalistic connotations. You can't really argue with that. Indeed, the earliest Hollywood stars seem to have been photographed with cheetahs time and again in their ultra-glamorous, fantasy-driven publicity stills.

Bebe Daniels and a cheetah.

Joan Blondell and a cheetah.

I suppose that it isn't entirely practical to aspire to keeping a cheetah in this day and age. But was it ever practical? No. It's their impracticality that makes them so very stylish. All of these women seem to have been a bit "unleashed" while accompanied by a big cat on a leash. The sexy, outrageous, glamorous, diva-ish behaviour just seems to go hand in hand with this type of indulgence. Anything that's so truly luxurious as a pet cheetah could only be utterly, exuberantly beautiful in itself.

For more images of starlets & cheetahs, be sure to visit this post from the Pictures blog.

All images from internet searches.

Influences: Silent Cinema

John Galliano Menswear, Spring 2011A shuffling, bumbling, mustachioed prankster in a too-tight hat and jacket, and too-big pants and shoes – we all know him because Charlie Chaplin’s dandified hobo is part of our visual lexicon. A genius character for sure, but The Little Tramp as fashion icon? Only the talent of John Galliano could make this work. Galliano’s menswear collection runway for spring 2011 was filled with facsimiles of The Tramp, as well as nods to another silent cinema great: Buster Keaton, including his famous porkpie hat. Another influence on the collection was Visconti’s Death in Venice, set around the same time as the silent cinema era. Somehow, the threads of each of these were drawn together in a dandified version of modern menswear.

Galliano’s choice to create a collection based on these influences is the most interesting part.

In a motif surely borrowed from Chaplin’s final silent film, Modern Times, the models emerged fromthe shadowy gears of a large clock. Released in 1936, and known as the final film of Chaplin’s Little Tramp, Modern Times is a timeless commentary on the battle between man and machine. Chaplin never intended his iconic character to transition into “talkies”, so he instead walks off toward an unknown horizon at the very end. Historically, the film marks the end of the silent era and the beginning of modern Hollywood.

Poster for Modern Times, 1936

Meanwhile, Death in Venice considers a similar theme, depending upon your perspective. For me, I have always thought that Aschenbach’s obsession with Tadzio was not lustful, but merely a metaphor for a love of beauty. Tadzio’s youth, grace, athleticism and handsomeness are all on the brink of manhood; Aschenbach knows he is doomed to die before these will come into maturity. As the composer has already lost everything he holds dear, this one shining point of purity seems to be everything for him. Set on the Lido of Venice – the world’s most famous “dead city” – the entire story is told during that delicate time between the Belle Époque and the modern 20th Century. (Although these motifs are much more abstract in Thomas Mann’s novella, Visconti’s film interpretation is exquisitely detailed perfection.)

Dirk Bogarde in Visconti's Death in Venice, 1971

So why does Galliano seem to think that we’re at the end of an era? Is classic menswear meeting its doom? Despite this premonition, or maybe because of it, the designer presented classic suits and sportswear, but with unique quirks throughout. Indeed, the designer claimed he wanted to play with the proportions of menswear, turning the usual notions of fit and tailoring literally upside down. The “old fashioned” cuts were refreshed with an unorthodox mixing of pieces and layers, pulled together by buttons and straps. The Tramp’s baggy pants alternated with slim trousers, either straight to the ankle or cuffed just above it. The palette of greys, deep blues, blacks, creams, and whites was punctuated by a few checks and stripes – reinforcing the look of old film.

John Galliano Menswear, Spring 2011

While these ensembles may not make sense at first glance, Galliano is offering a concise collection of wearable separates that will fit seamlessly into a man’s wardrobe. Once the matinee idol makeup is gone, one sees that the lines are simple and the fit is clean. Once again, Galliano's theatricality creates a point, but his design provides the function.

So perhaps this show was just an elaborate way of Galliano to move ahead while looking backward? Or is the designer sounding a death knell for menswear as we know it? What do you think?

Runway images by Marcio Madeira,