THE
REVIEW OF
COMMUNICATION
1 (2001):
199-203
© 2001 National
Communication Association
Determination and Style—1930s Hollywood and Women’s Lives
Helen Sterk
Sarah Berry. Screen Style: Fashion and Femininity
in 1930s Hollywood. Minneapolis, MN: University of Minnesota Press,
2000. 234 pages. $25.95 (cloth); $20.76 (paper).
Think of women in the 1930s. In the absence of
personal knowledge of the time, images of Joan Crawford, Katherine
Hepburn, Greta Garbo most likely shape your thoughts. Feisty,
courageous, able to meet challenges, these determined women stamped the
era with their personalities and styles. In the films of the day, these
actresses epitomized class in films such as Jezabel and Easy
Street, reigned over royal spectacles in Queen Christina and Mary
of Scotland, oozed exoticism in Mata Hari and The Bitter
Tea of General Yen, and made their way in the business world in Skyscraper
Souls and Big Business Girl. Film has made it possible for us
to glimpse into the culture of the 1930s—as seen through the eyes of
Hollywood. Even more interestingly, argues Sarah Berry in her first
scholarly book, Screen Style:
Fashion and Femininity in 1930s Hollywood, these pictures offer us a
bridge into the lives of women in the 1930s.
Classic theories of the dynamics that drive
women’s fashion, especially as articulated by James Laver, historian
and social critic of costume, argue that the “seduction principle”
motivates wealthy women’s fashion choices. Berry suggests Laver’s
articulation of a single cause ignores other good reasons for haute
couture’s style changes and women’s style choices.
When women entered the work force, a social world
not subject to the norms of home and “society,” they were faced with
questions of self-presentation and performance that were not answered
adequately by the “seduction principle.” Influences on their choices
included cues given by the setting of the workplace, surely. Further,
however, women realized, through their exposure to film and their own
enactment, that dress was a means by which women could cross class
barriers through dressing appropriately. And Hollywood presented a wide
range of style possibilities, thereby presenting role models.
This brief, well-argued, thoroughly researched and
supported book depicts Hollywood as a potent avenue of agency for women
in a country gripped by the Depression. More than escape, Berry argues,
the movies’ “use of costume to parody, invert and denaturalize
social distinctions may have been a significant part of Hollywood
cinema’s entertainment value, along with its demystification of
specific codes of behavior, dress, and entitlement” (xxi). Through
narratives that featured women able to change circumstances, film’s
visual spectacle provided models of dress. Thanks to industrialization,
the dresses seen on the screen could be translated quickly into ones
that could be purchased in one’s home department store, no matter how
small the town. Unlike the fashions of an earlier day, handmade by
designers, then interpreted by means of dresses on costume dolls or
patterns in publication such as Godey’s
Ladies Book, making their way slowly down the economic chain,
Hollywood styles were accessible to almost everyone almost as soon as
they were seen on the screen.
Far from trivial, this point about accessibility
of Hollywood-inspired dresses is worked by Berry into a sophisticated,
complex argument about how cultural life changed when the technology of
film provided a key source of entertainment. Through entertainment, the
films of the 1930s modeled women whose characteristic strength and
stylistic glamour contrasted with Depression era women’s lives and
inspired them with hope for bettering their own lives.
The four substantive chapters of Screen Style: Fashion and Femininity in 1930s Hollywood move readers
through different ways in which the look of female stars was made
available to women audiences.
After lucidly setting the stage for her overall
argument in the introduction, Berry explains how Hollywood’s fashions
were marketed to women through advertising. The advertising of the day,
according to Berry, contained a deep structure of belief in the mental
simplicity of their audiences, assuming a fourteen-year-old mentality
for women (5). Ads presented women with types and encouraged them to see
themselves as “dramatic, ingenue, [or] athletic” (7). Placed in ads
that played up their association with one or another of those types,
stars reinforced the idea that, through dressing the part, a woman could
pass as if she were that type of person. And if dress could suggest
type, it could suggest also class. Dressing as if one were of a
different class is all it takes, the ads and films imply, to be accepted
as of that class.
Throughout this chapter and the others, Berry
works with a wealth of support material. Drawing upon fashion and film
magazines of the day, pertinent current research on dress, and a variety
of films exemplifying the argument, Berry ends each chapter focusing on
several movies that best present the narratives and images that underlie
the point of the chapter.
In the chapter on fashion and class, Berry focuses
on The Bride Wore Red, starring Joan Crawford as a poor singer
who is dressed up as a society woman by a man trying to win a bet, and Easy
Living, starring Jean Arthur as a working-class woman whose life is
changed when a fur coat is tossed from a penthouse and lands on her
head. Opening an
imaginative space in which class could be erased, Hollywood films
depicted “a decade in which the codes of social status were identified
and parodied, undermining commonly held notions that the rich were
simply ‘different’ due to lineage and inimitable forms of
cultivation” (46). Instead, clothes made the woman.
The genres of musical, costume melodrama, and
historical drama provide another perspective on performativity. In
these, stylish clothing again takes center stage. This time, the
clothing is less closely associated with realism. Instead, the clothing
“acts” along with the actor, standing as a metaphor for character,
such as Scarlett O’Hara’s green velvet gown made from drapes,
feigning a wealth she no longer owned.
Such clothing is “over the top,” worn to
emphasize a point about the character (uniqueness) or the concept of
woman (uniformity). An early distinction between the two can be seen in
how the Ziegfeld Follies costumed for “multiplicity rather than
uniformity,” (60) in which each woman was dressed thematically rather
than uniformly; while in the Busby Berkeley productions, the women were
dressed for uniformity of design and look.
Eventually, the emphasis lay more on uniformity
than eccentricity, argues Berry. So, being “in fashion” was more
important than having a dress unlike anyone else’s: “Hollywood’s
debunking of fashion exclusivity is directly linked to its promotion of
consumer fashion, both in general and in direct merchandising tie-ins”
(71). Imitations of the lavish costumes of the movies were available to
women. For example, the chiffony, white, ruffled Letty Lynton dress,
similar to the one worn by Joan Crawford in the film of the same name,
was bought by thousands of women. Spectacle films drew attention
visually to extravagant clothing, again suggesting that women could
change who the world thought they were through what they chose to wear.
Hollywood presented women with compelling reasons
to shed their inhibitions about wearing makeup by marketing
“exoticism” to them in films such as Jungle Princess, Lost
Horizon, Mata Hari, and The Bitter Tea of General Yen.
Although all the chapters of the book accomplish important ends in the
argument about the relations among women, class, race, marketing, and
reasons for consumption, this one is outstanding. Its range of sources
is extraordinary, stretching from the 1587 book Of
Beauty by Gabriel de Minut to the popular magazine ads of the 1930s
to a wealth of appropriate films. Berry shows convincingly that the use
of cosmetics moved from a class to a mass market on the faces of working
women in a service economy, exposed to the new Technicolor images of
glamorous, exotic women.
Berry argues that movies played a large role in
introducing women to the pleasures of pants and suits, both of which
eventually made their way into everyday work and social life of women.
Importantly, she suggests that more attention must be paid to the effect
of the demands of a work setting on women’s dress in order to
understand the “bottom up” promotion of suits and pants. According
to Berry, women create social identity through the dress worn to work.
They negotiate between “too masculine” and “too feminine” in
order to accomplish a “professional” look. That look requires a
judicious mix of both masculine and feminine elements. Seemingly, a kind
of gender accommodation takes place when women enter a previously all
male space.
The films of the day served a morality tale
function, though, in that they encouraged women not to become too
masculine: “Working women are presented as vulnerable to corruption
and sexual predation, and female ambition is presented as a displacement
of more ‘natural’ feminine desires for security and love” (164).
These themes can be marked in films such as Employees’ Entrance,
Skyscraper Souls, and Platinum Blonde. Freedom of physical
and social expression offered women by suits and pants is reined in by
contrasting limitations of feminine clothing. Feminine clothing is
presented as that which brings true happiness, in the form of a husband,
to the woman.
In Berry’s conclusion, she reiterates the
central claim of the book—“This work has attempted to acknowledge both
the economic basis of the connection between Hollywood and fashion and
the contested nature of its cultural politics” (188). Those politics
deconstructed traditional, historical categories of women, work, race,
and class. The films of the 1930s both reflected and shaped the lives of
women, showing tensions and resolutions, suggesting that, just as the
heroines did, women could change their lives. And style is one way to
show it.
I highly recommend this book. As a researcher of
fashion and dress myself, I particularly appreciate the complexity of
her analyses. Not content with single or simple causality, Berry
considers a web of reasons why these films matter, and why their study
can enrich our understanding of not only that era, but ours.
Berry’s method of analysis works well. Chapter
by chapter, she introduces us to cultural and social materials to
explain the history, economics, and warrants of the day; she then
discusses a range of films that mirror and inform the period, and then
focuses tightly in on several particularly pertinent ones, telling the
stories, showing the images, and interpreting the results. Theoretically
and methodologically, this book has much to recommend it. Scholars of
semiotics, rhetoric, fashion, gender, and film will appreciate this
book.
And finally, maybe most importantly, it is a great
read. Anyone who loves movies for their visuals as well as their stories
will find this book riveting.
Helen Sterk is Professor of Communication Arts and
Sciences at Calvin College in Grand Rapids, Michigan.