LOUISEBOULANGER

One of the greatest female designers of the 1920s, now nearly forgotten.

I’m on vacation this week, so I wanted to re-run this piece that originally appeared in the old Old Fashioned two years ago. It’s one of my favourites and not just because it has the most beautiful dresses… I’ll be back soon with jelly shoe news and a new video for you! In the meantime, please enjoy this ode to one of the 1920s greatest talents.

Also! July marks five since I first started Old Fashioned. I have to admit, I’m feeling apprehensive about the state of newsletters right now, but every time I meet a reader in real life who has been here reading my work for half a decade (wtf!!!) I am reminded of how special this whole thing really is. I am touched to the dusty depths of my heart that so many of you have been here across platforms, through huge life changes, and all along the winding path of history. To mark this genuinely kind of huge anniversary, I’m offering 20% off memberships all month. Thank you for being here.

A few months ago, I was browsing the Costume Institute’s archives in search of some historic uses of ostrich feathers (as one does), and I stumbled across an image of a dress so striking that I quickly scribbled the designer’s name down in my notes, promising myself to return to research it. The dress is sleeveless and champagne- coloured with a cowl neck that hangs down the back like a scarf flung carelessly over the shoulder. The waist is dropped, and at the hips sits a skirt composed of ostrich feathers emerging in full, fluffy glory from the illusion of nudity above. The hem of the skirt drops slightly in the back and at the side, lending the garment an organic feel, as if the feathers have grown there of their own volition.

Though the feathers mimic the haphazard look of island grasses fastened hastily into a sarong, a close inspection reveals them to be knotted together from darkest cream-beige to lightest creating a gentle ombre effect, the beauty of nature made perfect by minute handicraft. To further dispel the notion that this asymmetry is a happy accident, tiny glass beads adorn the top of the feathered waistband, drawing attention to its sloping nature. They also rise towards the middle of the torso, forming a pattern of undulating Art Deco waves. The entire dress is so elegant and so strange, it feels almost impossible to place it firmly in a time period. The garment is so sensorily rich that one can hardly help but to imagine it on their own body, hearing the swish of feathers and feeling the ripple of silk as it strides across the room.

This dress, which has utterly captivated me, is a 1928 creation by Louiseboulanger (more on the peculiarities of that name later), a prominent French designer of the 1920s whose work has mostly fallen out of the public eye now.