- Miss Abbott in E. M. Forster’s Where Angels Fear to Tread (1905)

I modeled Dr. Wiggins partly on the great Theodore Roosevelt, who was not only America’s 26th president, but also a pioneer of the conservation movement and a lover of nature.  In fact, the original charter creating the Museum was signed in Roosevelt’s family home in 1869.  A formidable statue of Roosevelt lords over the Museum’s front steps, and four of his quotes are chiseled into the marble walls of the Museum’s grand entrance foyer, detailing his thoughts on nature, youth, manhood, and government:

I love these quotes; who could possibly argue against the beauty and wisdom of the following excerpts?

“The nation behaves well if it treats the natural resources as assets which it must turn over to the next generation increased; and not impaired in value.” (From Nature)

“A great democracy must be progressive or it will soon cease to be great or a democracy.” (From The State)

Incidentally, my husband and I were married by a descendant of Theodore Roosevelt, and he had the same magnificent grin as his famous ancestor.

Image of Dustin Hoffman and Katharine Ross in The Graduate (1967) courtesy of Vanity Fair

I’ve long adored Schiaparelli’s surrealist lobster motifs, which abounded in her clothing and accessories in the 1930s; I’ve been known to wear lobsters on my head to the damndest of places myself.  Ms. Wintour’s dress was likely an homage to the famous lobster dress created by Schiaparelli and artist Salvador Dali, a garment donned by some of that era’s preeminent tastemakers, including Peggy Guggenheim and the Duchess of Windsor:

Some of my favorite images from the book:

Mining Ms. Lloyd’s archive is akin to visiting the depths of a strange natural history museum.  She’s sort of a Frida Kahlo of the millinery world: savage yet tender, surrealist in her sensibilities, worshipful of nature in all of its glory and brutality.  Alexander McQueen likely would have loved her.  I recently wore one of her headpieces to a gala at the Frick Museum; it was made entirely from pigeon wings.  Another one of my favorite pieces had been alluring dubbed the “War Bonnet”—it can be seen in the following slideshow (worn by the bare-breasted model):

Once again, a designer has blurred the line between fashion and conceptual art; I fully expect Ms. Lloyd’s work to be the subject of its own museum exhibit someday.

The material was especially prevalant in the 1960s: with the onset of the Space Age, the fashion industry went into plastic overdrive. In Paris, Paco Rabanne crafted wild dresses from chain mail and plastic; in ‘66 he showed a collection of “12 Experimental and Unwearable Dresses in Contemporary Materials.”  I had a lot of fun researching images of those designs:

While it’s hard to imagine that era’s prim housewives warming up to these outré new looks, the aesthetic did manage to go mainstream.  There was an American company that advertised in Ladies’ Home Journal a kit from which you could make your own plastic ‘Paco Rabanne’ tunic, in the comfort of your own living room. 

If you want to see the real deal, sashay over to New York Vintage on Manhattan’s 25th Street and ask to see the Rabannes in the archive.  It’s very likely that Twiggy or Veruschka once trotted around wearing them.