Dreaming of Dior

Every Dress Tells a Story

Charlotte Smith, Grant Cowan

• Publisher: Atria Books
• Year: 2010
• Print ISBN: 9781439187555
• eBook ISBN: 9781439187579
• Topic: Design
• Subtopic: Fashion Design

Charlotte Smith had already had more than her fair share of fabulous dresses and adventures. She lived life to the fullest in London, Paris and New York before falling in love with Australia and making it her home.

Then she discovered that she had inherited a priceless vintage clothing collection from her American Quaker godmother, Doris Darnell.

When the boxes started arriving, they were filled with more than three thousand pieces dating from 1790 to 1995, from Dior and Chanel originals to a dainty pioneer dress.

But when she unearthed her godmother’s book of stories, the true value of what she had been given hit home. This wasn’t merely a collection of beautiful things; it was a collection of lives. Women’s lives. Tiny snapshots of our joys and disappointments, our entrances and exits, triumphant and tragic.

This is a book for any woman who knows a dress can hold a lifetime of memories.

Inheriting a priceless vintage clothing collection containing more than three thousand pieces sounds like every woman’s dream come true.

But all I could think after my American godmother Doris Darnell told me her invaluable legacy was on its way across the world to me was: ‘What on earth am I going to do with it?’

Doris’s collection had been a lifetime labour of love for her, more precious than any treasure I knew of, and she had chosen me as custodian. I was simply overwhelmed.

That is, until the first box arrived at my home in the Blue Mountains. I peeled back the packing tape, pushed aside layers of white tissue and caught my breath at what lay inside. It was a gown of gossamer silk in the palest cream with silver beads glistening over and beyond the bodice; panels of frothy chiffon slipped through my hands as I raised it to the light. I had unearthed my first treasure. I was instantly enchanted, as Doris knew I would be.

For the next three months Christmas came every day. Out came strapless ballgowns with vast, sumptuous skirts of taffeta and moiré silk, velvet hats bedecked with exotic plumes, organdie party dresses in every style and hue … and every stitch, every sequin, ribbon and silk petal reminded me of Doris.

When I was a child growing up in Philadelphia, Doris was the ultimate fairy godmother. Tall and elegant, flamboyant and utterly charming, she was exotic and unpredictable in a thrilling way. She always dressed in clothes from a time long ago, swishing bustle skirts, lace blouses and trailing feather boas. Clothes that no one else wore, and no one else could wear with quite the sense of drama that Doris did.

I grew up thinking everyone had a special room in their house full of nineteenth-century hats and crocodile handbags, and that every woman had - or should have - wardrobes and trunks filled with rainbows of shimmering gowns.

Each time I visited Doris, the two of us would climb the impossibly narrow and steep staircase to the top floor of her townhouse and lose ourselves for an hour or two amid her latest acquisitions and old favourites. For me this was where magic happened, brought alive by Doris’s wonderful stories about the dresses and the women who wore them. Her eyes would sparkle as she recounted the adventures of 1920s flappers, Edwardian ladies at high tea, new brides, debutantes and pioneer women. And it is these stories that make her collection unique.

Doris’s collection is a spellbinding journey spanning two hundred and five years, from 1790 to 1995, and encompassing famous couturiers like Lucile, Madeline Vionnet, Dior, Galanos and Jean Muir, but not one bit of it was purchased by her. They are all gifts from friends and acquaintances who either knew or had heard of her legendary ‘hobby’. As the Quaker saying goes, every piece was ‘given in love and in trust’. Doris was a Quaker her whole life, and while her passion for clothes and accessories was frowned upon as immodest and frivolous by the elders of her religion, her passion remained as irrepressible as her character.

In the spirit of love and trust, Doris devoted the last few decades of her life to sharing her collection with the world. Throughout the 1970s and 1980s, Doris became well known throughout the east coast of the United States and beyond for her ‘living fashion’ talks, which she would give in museums, college halls and even on cruises around the world, including the QEII, donating her speaking fees to the Quaker Society of Friends. Her audiences were invariably so enchanted by her shows that they would donate some of their own treasures to the collection, from a great aunt’s pair of Victorian dancing slippers to the latest designer gowns by Chanel and Dior. And so the collection continued to grow, more and more stories were added to share, until the baton was passed on to me.

The treasures that lay before me were worth a fortune. Selling them would set me up for life, but enticing as that thought was, I could never consider such a thing or the idea of them being broken up by donation to museums or other collections. I still had no idea what to do with the collection, but somehow, like Doris, I would find a way to share it, and to keep it growing. Over the years, Doris had loaned me some of these gowns to wear, for a ball in Oxfordshire, a wedding in Monaco … I had so many stories I could add too.

Then, among the last of Doris’s boxes, I found her catalogue notes - the notes of all her stories, of the dresses and the women who wore them. As I pored over Doris’s words - her wit, wonder and wisdom - the true value of what I had been bequeathed hit home. This wasn’t a mere collection of beautiful things, it was a collection of life. Women’s lives. Tiny snapshots of our joys and disappointments, our entrances and exits triumphant and tragic - and sometimes tragically hilarious.

And so, in the spirit of love and trust, I - and the inimitable Doris Darnell - share some of those moments with you now.

Charlotte Smith

Dearest Charlotte,
You cannot imagine how happy I am to learn that you are thrilled to have me pass on to you my collection of clothing and accessories of other eras.

Ever since I was a teenager, I have loved to dress up and I still do! Family and friends and friends of friends heard of the old trunk in my attic where I stored my dress-up clothes and started adding to my collection as they cleared out ancestral attics and wondered what to do with all that stuff. That’s when my collection really started to grow!

It’s been hard, if not impossible, for me to turn down any gifts, because I soon discovered that I was not just collecting dress-up clothes, but, in addition, each piece was a springboard to history. Each donor told me the story of the woman or man who wore the clothing, fascinating stories of other times, sometimes full of joy, other times grief, sometimes bitterness, other times heartache. In my opinion these stories make my clothing three dimensional and in some odd way the people who wore the clothing come alive again in the telling. I am giving you all the stories so that they can continue to be an extension of each outfit.

You ask me what everything I am giving you is worth if you have to declare a value. I have a hard time with that question. I have never bought a single thing nor has anything been appraised. I am giving you a part of my life. I have been a trusted custodian and I am delighted that you see yourself in that same capacity.

The contents of our home are insured for a modest amount with no mention of my clothing. If our house burned down and we lost everything, all of the stories, the glimpses of history, would have no value without the clothing. Money could not replace what I had lost, so why insure?

If I had to come up with something, I would call my gift to you ‘Old-fashioned clothing with stories about the people who wore the clothes’. They have been treasured by me, but never evaluated. I had planned to leave everything to you in my will, dear godchild, but I am 87 years of age and feel now is the time. So here it is with my blessing!

Love, love, Doris

Every woman has a dress she can’t bear to part with because it holds too many memories. For Doris, it was love at first sight in a shop window - a peach slipper satin ballgown that seemed to glow as if lit from within.

But for a scholarship student in 1936, the price tag of $40 - almost half the cost of her room and board for the year - meant owning it was an impossible dream. Then one day a SALE sign appeared and Doris found a way.

Her dream dress made its debut at her first college dance in 1936, escorted by a handsome Rutgers University student, Howard Darnell. Tall, blond and an excellent dancer, Howard was whisked away all too soon, thanks to a Bryn Mawr tradition allowing classmates to claim others’ dance partners.

Glowing in her new dress, Doris herself was claimed by the handsome Mel Ferrer, later to become a screen idol and Audrey Hepburn’s husband. She was floating on air until she found Howard later: ‘He was rigid with anger. When I asked him what on earth was wrong, he replied: “I came to dance with you and not a roomful of strangers!”

Three months later they were engaged.

Classic, chic, elegant. It’s pure 1960s glamor. Rich black crepe de chine to ankle and wrist, this evening gown is ingeniously constructed to gently caress each curve of a woman’s body, giving me the perfect silhouette. So I like to think.

Above its sleek off-the-shoulder bodice, sheer silk rises to a sumptuous collar of marabou feathers encircling the neck. Another circlet of feathers floats at the base of each sleeve. Outrageously lavish and yet subtle.

It would be a sin to add a single thing to adorn it. I just scoop up my hair and wear a pair of diamond stud earrings. Choose a simple black evening bag that will disappear against the fabric, stilettos with finely pointed toes, and my favourite oriental scent.

It fits me like a glove - and so it should, since my own very special fairy godmother left it to me.

One of only two precious evening dresses my godmother Doris could afford during her college years, this drop-dead elegant 1930s gown shows her inimitable style.

But its daring low back, all the rage at the time, upset Doris’s mother, Faith. She observed wryly: ‘Doris’s impression is that one tended to take off for the dance wearing the jacket and reassuring one’s parents about being well covered, and then take the jacket off as soon as you arrived so that you were viewed in all your glory.’

It’s hard to imagine this demure 1920s dress causing a scandal, but there was a time when a glimpse of stocking was looked on as something shocking. After it was modelled at one of Doris’s shows, one man told her it bought back fond memories of seeing his first ‘really short’ dress in San Francisco at the tender age of ten.

Sent off to town on an errand, young Tom was stopped in his tracks by the sight of a beautiful young woman in the shortest dress he had ever seen. When she paused at the trolley stop it suddenly dawned on him that in order to get up into the trolley this vision of loveliness might have to reveal even more of a glimpse of her legs. Crossing the street for a better view, he saw he wasn’t alone. A group of grown men had gathered outside a store for the same reason.

Much to the delight of her audience, as the lady in question stepped up to the trolley she discovered her dress was a little too snug and she had to pull it up a tad higher to get in. The sight was too much for the owner of the store, who exclaimed ‘Jesus Christ!’ as the trolley chugged off. Tom remembered thinking ‘Amen to that!’

Made for misbehaving, this 1960s cobalt-blue chiffon cocktail dress with a sequinned collar was the perfect choice for the guest of honour at a glamorous party to mark a landmark birthday.

The celebration went into the wee hours and beyond, helped along by a glittering circle of friends, including Princess Grace of Monaco, and plenty of French champagne. But with a dress like this and a few little birthday jewels from Cartier, the birthday girl was assured centre stage.

After all, it’s not every day a gal gets to celebrate turning eighty.

Designed by the famous Lucile, this gown was worn by Quaker Elizabeth Vaughn in 1911 when she wed Edwin Williams, her second husband. Elizabeth obviously had no truck with the Quaker belief of dressing simply.

Lucile, also known as Lady Duff Gordon, began dressmaking in the late 1800s to support her daughter after a short-lived first marriage. Her empire grew to include boutiques in London, New York, Paris and Chicago to meet the demand for her ‘Gowns of Emotion’. A former lingerie designer, Lucile created dresses that were unashamedly romantic, adorned with delicate pastel-coloured ribbons and flowers.

Lucile was one of the first designers to license her name for perfumes, brassieres and even luxury car interiors. She also created a cheaper fashion line for a chain store, Sears Roebuck & Co.

In 1912 Lucile and her husband survived the sinking of the Titanic by climbing into the first lifeboat. But as each lifeboat could carry forty peopl...

Table of contents

• Cover Page
• Title Page
• Copyright Page
• Dedication
• Chapter 1
• Chapter 2
• Chapter 3
• Chapter 4
• Chapter 5
• Chapter 6
• Chapter 7
• Chapter 8
• Chapter 9
• Chapter 10
• Chapter 11
• Chapter 12
• Chapter 13
• Chapter 14
• Chapter 15
• Chapter 16
• Chapter 17
• Chapter 18
• Chapter 19
• Chapter 20
• Chapter 21
• Chapter 22
• Chapter 23
• Chapter 24
• Chapter 25
• Chapter 26
• Chapter 27
• Chapter 28
• Chapter 29
• Chapter 30
• Chapter 31
• Chapter 32
• Chapter 33
• Chapter 34
• Chapter 35
• Chapter 36
• Chapter 37
• Chapter 38
• Chapter 39
• Chapter 40
• Chapter 41
• Chapter 42
• Chapter 43
• Chapter 44
• Chapter 45
• Chapter 46
• Chapter 47
• Chapter 48
• Chapter 49
• Chapter 50
• Chapter 51
• Chapter 52
• Chapter 53
• Chapter 54
• Chapter 55
• Chapter 56
• Chapter 57
• Chapter 58
• Chapter 59
• Chapter 60
• Chapter 61
• Chapter 62
• Chapter 63
• Chapter 64
• Chapter 65
• Chapter 66
• Chapter 67
• Chapter 68
• Chapter 69
• Chapter 70
• Chapter 71
• Chapter 72
• Chapter 73
• Chapter 74
• Chapter 75
• Chapter 76
• Chapter 77
• Chapter 78
• Chapter 79
• Chapter 80
• Chapter 81
• Chapter 82
• Chapter 83
• Chapter 84
• Chapter 85
• Chapter 86
• Chapter 87
• Chapter 88
• Chapter 89
• Chapter 90
• Chapter 91
• Chapter 92
• Chapter 93
• Chapter 94
• Chapter 95
• Chapter 96
• Chapter 97
• Chapter 98
• Chapter 99
• Chapter 100
• Chapter 101
• Chapter 102
• Chapter 103
• Chapter 104
• Chapter 105
• Chapter 106
• Chapter 107
• Chapter 108
• Chapter 109
• Chapter 110
• Chapter 111
• Chapter 112
• Chapter 113
• Chapter 114
• Chapter 115
• Chapter 116
• Chapter 117
• Chapter 118
• Chapter 119
• Chapter 120
• Chapter 121
• Chapter 122
• Chapter 123
• Chapter 124
• Chapter 125
• Chapter 126
• Chapter 127
• Chapter 128
• Chapter 129
• Chapter 130
• Chapter 131
• Chapter 132
• Chapter 133
• Chapter 134
• Chapter 135
• Chapter 136
• Chapter 137
• Chapter 138
• Chapter 139
• Chapter 140
• Chapter 141
• Chapter 142
• Chapter 143
• Acknowledgments