Color coordination is just one of many facets of the vast and complex makeup-fashion relationship. This post will attempt to outline the trajectory of this concept from the 1920s through the early 1960s and examine how it was being marketed, with particular attention being paid to the notion of a lipstick wardrobe. The usual disclaimer applies: it won't be as thorough as I'd like given the limited access I have to certain resources, but hopefully will give a cohesive picture.
In the nascent cosmetics industry, color harmony usually referred to coordinating makeup shades to one's skin tone, hair and eye color. (It must be noted that women of color, particularly Black women, were completely left out of the "types" developed by Max Factor and others.) But as makeup became more acceptable and even expected, outfits began to take on importance in terms of coordinating makeup. The rise of ready-to-wear fashion and designers releasing seasonal collections also played a significant role. By the late 1920s beauty columns were advising women to select their makeup with the color of their "costumes" in mind in addition to the original three pillars of color harmony.1
Beauty columnists also advised a bit of color correcting through the use of mauve or green-tinted powders (which, you may recall, was pioneered by Shiseido), as this would enhance the complexion depending on lighting and the color of dress. The racist/colorist goal of "heighten[ing] the effect of whiteness" via makeup persisted throughout the 20th century. While most articles weren't quite as blatant about achieving whiteness to coordinate with various clothing colors, the sentiment was implicit in many color coordination guides.
While makeup shade selection was still sparse, cosmetic companies began using dress colors as a marketing opportunity. Elizabeth Arden led the way, declaring in 1931 that "any woman can wear any color". Cosmetics and Skin explains, "Unlike clothing fashion colours, that changed from season to season and year to year, lipsticks, rouges, face powders and nail polishes were sold in the same shades over long periods of time. Although limited, the colour ranges available in the 1920s and 1930s generally included vivid colours for evening wear and enough shades to enable women to make some allowances for different outfits and/or accessories like brightly-coloured jewellery. In the 1930s, recognising that make-up, like hair dyes, could change a woman’s ‘natural’ colouring, Elizabeth Arden and others went further, suggesting that make-up could enable women to wear a greater range of fashionable colours than her natural colouring might otherwise suggest." By the end of the '30s, "Women began buying new make-up items simply because of a change in colour, thereby increasing sales."
Cosmetic companies and beauty columnists seized on the idea of choice that color coordinated makeup supposedly allowed. Women no longer had to fear certain dress colors; they could wear them with confidence provided their makeup was aligned. With a change of outfits and harmony between makeup and clothing shades, women could also express various moods and personalities. The ad copy for Elizabeth Arden's lipstick ensemble claims one could be the "The same woman…but with infinite variety" and equipped with "the power to change your personality to suit your mood – or your gown." Columnist Antoinette Donnelly expanded on the concept, suggesting that by frequently switching up makeup and clothing combinations and breaking free from their set type, the average woman could become whoever they wanted. "[Witness] the manner in which makeup is worked out so that the woman can change her dress color to one that will put her in an entirely different category than that she is occupied in the somber shades, let's say. Or, with the help of certain makeup colors, she can be a stunning black-frocked siren, pale-cheeked and red-lipped, whereas before she may have been only a negative personality…these are frequently the type, who, rebelling, finds in an entirely new makeup scheme just that transforming note that lifts them out of the nondescript class…our interesting beauties are getting away from type classification. They're going in chiefly for being that something different which is always welcome, and particularly welcome in a world now filled with good-looking women. Makeup is the avenue over which you travel to get that difference and the crowning achievement will be reached when you know your makeup colors and what dress colors they should be associated with…the point is that this new makeup occupation of playing color successfully against dress colors is going to permit you a more dress-color latitude and will supply your audience with a woman about whom it can't be said: 'She always looks the same.'"2
Still, there was a lot less flexibility than beauty columnists and ads cared to admit. Any woman can wear any color, perhaps, but only by following the prescribed advice and buying particular colors. Couched in the language of freedom and excitement, a variety of makeup shades may have offered new possibilities in terms of dress, but there were rules dictated by self-appointed experts and businesses who overwhelmingly encouraged women to wear what was "becoming", not necessarily whatever color combination one desired.
Nevertheless, the industry wanted to make it easy for women to buy multiple shades and the notion of sticking to one color or ensemble seem antiquated. As one 1933 article encourages, "Don't say, 'I can't wear grey'- or blue, or green as the case may be. It's hopelessly old-fashioned. Smart women these days merely change their complexions to suit their costumes, and find that there are no longer any forbidden shades…when you know your makeup story, it's all so simple."3 In addition to this sort of rhetoric that emphasized simplicity and modernity, cosmetic companies boosted sales by creating ensembles that made choosing colors less daunting for customers. The assumption was that by eliminating confusion regarding what beauty products went with what fashion color, pre-made sets detailing appropriate shades would appeal to shoppers who would otherwise be intimidated by makeup-dress color coordination (or those who merely didn't want to be bothered spending time picking out the "right" shades), normalize the idea that women should own more than one color, and introduce shades customers may not have considered otherwise. Matched makeup products and sets existed – most notably by Max Factor and Richard Hudnut – but without the fashion component, instead focusing on the original three tenets of color harmony (complexion, hair and eye color). Elizabeth Arden's lipstick ensemble and color harmony boxes may have been the first official sets designed to take the guesswork out of makeup-clothing color coordination.
General guidelines on color coordination proliferated and more companies began releasing pre-made sets.
Elizabeth Arden may have also been the first to collaborate with department stores on showcasing new colors that went with the latest fashions. In 1931, a fashion show held at Lord & Taylor demonstrated not only new dresses, but the Arden products that went along with them. "How the new striking colors of the season may be worn by all women if the proper makeup is utilized was illustrated by various feminine types wearing the proper cosmetics with the colorful gowns chosen for them."4 Five years later, makeup companies were advertising their seasonal shades alongside the latest fashion colors in department store windows. Primrose House, Helena Rubinstein and Charles of the Ritz displayed their new tawny shades in next to white sportswear collections.5
Elizabeth Arden continued to lead the way by introducing "color capes" at counters and salons where customers could try on little capes in the season's latest fabrics and decide what makeup went best with them.
Generally speaking, color coordination guidelines were to stick to either warm or cool tones (i.e. don't mix a warm-toned brown dress with a blue-red lipstick) but still wear colors that allowed for maximum contrast between skin and dress. While dress and accessory shades needed consideration, one's own coloring was the most important in terms of picking out makeup. If your outfit had two or more contrasting shades, the makeup should be matched to the dominant color or the one closest to your face. One should own at least three lipsticks: a "clear" or true red (what I suspect has neutral undertones), a blue red (cool-toned) and an orange red (warm-toned). Finally, coordinating lip color was more critical than face powder for a harmonious look, if one had to choose between the two. Some rather harsh color coordination advice from the decade6:
"There are shades of rouge and lipstick and powder that are unequivocally antagonistic to other colors in close juxtaposition. This is seen in makeup colors themselves. Such as a bright orange face rouge and a purplish or deep raspberry lipstick. This combination is really ugly. Extend the idea to apparel. Take a blue eyeshadow with a red or flame colored dress. Just wrong, that's what it is."
"You must change the lipstick and rouge cases that you carry in your pocketbook as regularly as you change your frock, if you want a pleasing ensemble."
"Remember always that your lips supply the most outstanding color to your face. If they are wrong, your whole face might as well give up."
In terms of individual colors, the prescriptions were as follows. It's very interesting to see the roots of makeup color theory, especially considering how advanced it is today. Some of the advice is debatable, most likely due to the fact that there simply weren't many shades back then. And once again, these sorts of color-specific tips were intended for white women only. While some of the principles could theoretically be applied to BIPOC skin tones, it's obvious that the industry was focused on a white audience. Racism and colorism were on full display, particularly in the advice given for black dresses.
Red:
"Keep rouge and lipstick in the tone of the costume color – red geranium for an orange red or vermillion dress, red raspberry for the purple-reds, the rich wine shades and fuchsias."
"When wearing red, violet or blue-violet, it is very important to have the same basic tones in rouge, lipstick, and costume – no clash of orange with blue-red. That's bad!"
"If your dress is red, your lipstick leans toward purple and your rouge is borrowing its tones from orange, you will look as flamboyant as a circus poster."
"Red is a danger color in makeup. If the costume color is a bright shade of red, it should be matched as closely as possible with lipstick and rouge. The smartest crimson frock could be ruined by proximity to orange rouge and mandarin lipstick."
"If you wear red, particularly the bright, slightly off shades, the lipstick must match your costume exactly. Your rouge must be properly toned with your lipstick."
Beige and brown:
"Rouge and powder should have a touch of yellow. Green eyeshadow is stunning with beige."
"For wheatstalk and other beiges, use a vivid note: peach makeup base and peach powder, red geranium lipstick, rouge and nail polish. Green eyeshadow and blue-green mascara."
"If you are wearing browns that let orange supply their gaiety, you will want a touch of orange in your makeup."
"A warm terra cotta or russet makeup base, terra cotta or russet rouge and lipstick and a faintly mauve shade of face powder. Use bronze shadow and brown mascara."
Grey:
"All shades of grey needed a decided contrast."
"It is advisable to accentuate lip and eye makeup and subdue grayish pallor by using a deep peach rachel powder. When cheek rouge is used, it should be of a dark red or true blood tone, never a light orange shade."
"For grey, a vivid makeup is recommended for contrast: peach makeup base, a light shade of pinkish tan powder, red coral rouge and lipstick and matching nail polish. Blue eyeshadow and blue-green mascara."
"If you emphasize the pinkish tones in your skin and use a warm, bright rouge and lipstick the color will be more becoming."
Purple:
"The new purple shades are difficult colors to wear, so be sure to use a double application of pale peach foundation to give the skin an extra smooth texture and even coloring. Red coral rouge and lipstick have the clear quality that you need with difficult costume shades. Use blue eyeshadow if your eyes are blue, blue-green if they are brown."
"If you're in purple, lipstick and rouge ought to have bluish tones under the red."
"For lilac, mauve and violet, makeup base with a brownish undertone, a light shade of pinkish tan powder, red raspberry rouge, lipstick and nail polish. Black mascara and blue eyeshadow."
Green:
"For costumes of green – the vivid shades – a bright flame rouge and lipstick with pale rachel powder and green-gray eyeshadow could be tried out with effectiveness assured."
"For deep green costumes, use the same rouge, powder and lipstick shades, but use blue-green mascara and shadow according to the color of your eyes."
"For greens, from pale green to emerald and vivid green, makeup base with a brownish undertone, light shade of pinkish tan powder, red geranium lipstick, red strawberry rouge with a blue undertone, red geranium nail polish. Jade or emerald green eyeshadow, and blue-green mascara."
"Greens and yellow-greens are trying, but if you bring out the warm rose tones in your coloring you will stand a better chance of wearing these colors successfully. If these colors make your skin appear sallow, blend a little mauve face powder with the color you normally select to match your skin. Use a dark rosy lipstick to give your mouth a definite outline and a brown or grayish purple eyeshadow."
Blue:
"For blue apparel ensembles the 'blue' idea is stressed. The powder should have a good deal of purple pink in it, the rouge and lipstick with a purple cast. And blue eyeshadow by all means."
"If your favorite gown is in one of the bright new blue shades, use a soft peach shade of makeup base and powder and raspberry rouge and lipstick."
"For guardsman blue, dusty blue and other spring blues, peach makeup base, peach powder, red strawberry lipstick with a blue undertone, matching rouge and nail polish. Blue mascara and blue eyeshadow."
"Blue has a way of throwing bluish or purplish shadows on the face. Use a creamy tinted powder to soften this effect and use a lighter color of rouge and lipstick, yet one that is vivid and bright."
White:
"White requires little rouge – the amount that is chic with black is blatant with white – and the paler tones are more successful."
"White, like black, takes either a dark or a fair makeup, but nothing is more striking than white worn with the darker powders. Golden skins, tawny skins, make a gorgeous contrast with white."
Black:
"Black requires a more brilliant makeup to complement it than a color does. A powder as light as your skin tone permits, and the bright shades of rouge and lipstick, those on the geranium cast, prove most effective."
"Black is most striking and flattering when the skin is fair, pearly and transparent-looking. Black is not becoming with sun-tanned skin or sallow, yellowish skin. If your new fall costume is to be black, then you must get rid of your leftover tan and get your skin as freshly pink and white as possible…powder with a warm pinkish or peach cast, rouge and lipstick that are a blush rose or a frank red – those are good to wear with black."
Pastels:
"Shades which have a suggestion of blue in them call for a rouge with a blue cast. Shades with a hint of yellow look their best when the face is made up with rouge and lipsticks with an orange cast."
Vogue also offered general color coordination guidelines in their October 1, 1938 issue.
Another development in the 1930s was the recognition of the win-win situation offered by color-coordinated makeup and clothing. As early as 1932 both industries acknowledged the opportunity to profit through various types of partnerships. According to the December 30 issue of WWD that year, "Clothes-stylists and cosmetic experts are in a strong position to help each other today, with the result that more clothes and more cosmetics can be sold." The end of the decade marks the point at which cosmetic companies began creating makeup shades based on seasonal fashion colors and/or formally collaborating with fashion houses on colors.
Perhaps in an effort to outdo Elizabeth Arden, in the fall of 1938 Helena Rubinstein collaborated with noted milliner Marion Valle to produce the "vanity box of hats" series, a collection of 6 hats "based on the colors of six Rubinstein products." The hats and cosmetics were displayed together in department store windows.
To further emphasize the connection between fashion and cosmetics, it was around this time that companies began referring to color coordinated makeup using fashion terminology. Gone was the "ensemble"; enter the "wardrobe".
In short, the 1930s witnessed the solidification of clothing/makeup color coordination, mostly due to cosmetic and fashion companies realizing they could have mutually beneficial relationships in terms of sales, but also due in part to the greater trend of accessory coordination and the growth of the cosmetic industry more generally. The 1940s strengthened the notion of color coordination. The sales tactics, accessory coordination, and pre-made sets remained more or less the same. Advised a 1946 issue of Chain Store Age to salespeople, "Lipsticks must also harmonize with costume colors so women need a vari-colored lipstick wardrobe. Point out to your customer that she should have one for daytime, one for evening, one when her skin tans, etc."
In the spring of 1947, U.K. company Gala of London presented a similar idea to Arden's color capes by encouraging customers to visit their "Colour Room" with swatches of their dresses in hand. It's not clear whether they were inspired by Helena Rubinstein/Marion Valle partnership some 9 years prior, but Gala also collaborated with Gertrude Harris on several creations based on lipstick shades.
Seasonal colors really came into their own in the 1940s. Primrose House released a shade called Maraschino, a "cherry red designed for wear with summer clothes," while Revlon came up with Pink Lemonade and Red Punch for summer 1940.
Dorothy Gray continued introducing colors to go with the latest fashions, a tactic they had begun in the the late 1930s, but launched sets in addition to individual coordinated colors. The company was one of the first to present sets as a cost-effective way to have the necessary variety of colors on hand. "To offset the disadvantage and expense of various makeup colors to match costumes, there is a new 'Portrait Make-up' package at a nominal cost, which will harmonize with any color scheme milady might have for spring."7
Formal collaborations between cosmetic and fashion houses also continued in the '40s. Elizabeth Arden, still the runaway leader in fashion/makeup color coordination, began partnering with a collective named Color Affiliates in early 1940.
As a side note, some companies had a more literal interpretation of the lipstick wardrobe idea. Gala's set, most likely released during this decade, consisted of an outer box featuring an illustration of a wardrobe and slid open to reveal four colorful dress silhouettes with corresponding mini lipsticks.
Tussy's Kiltie Red was obviously named for the Scottish garb and the bottom of the tubes adorned with a plaid kilt-like ribbon.
While Elizabeth Arden was the preeminent expert in color coordination, in 1945 Helena Rubinstein introduced her "color spectrograph", which detailed makeup-dress coordination for five types.
Rubinstein introduced several products relating to the color spectrograph, including lipstick wardrobes in a pouch, Four-Cast lipsticks and Keys to Beauty sets. These were all basically the same concept but packaged differently. (Keys to Beauty had been launched previously in 1940, but was not marketed as a color-fashion coordinating set. Rather, there was only one set of three shades meant to be worn at different times of day.)
The lipstick tubes for the Four-Cast and Keys to Beauty were cleverly correlated to the outfit color family, i.e. the lipstick in the pink tube would go with pink or pastel outfits, while the shade in the green tube went with green or similarly colored outfits. (I would have taken these out to demonstrate but sadly, they had not an insignificant amount of mold.)
The idea of being able to pull off any color also continued as a selling point for makeup, although by this time fashion salespeople were officially in on the concept. As noted earlier, it was a win-win situation: if the only thing holding back a customer from buying an outfit in a hard-to-wear shade is makeup, it benefitted fashion companies to have their sales force advise buying the appropriate cosmetics. And voila! New outfit AND new makeup purchases means profits for designers and cosmetic companies alike. Echoing the commentary from 15 years prior, one department store buyer remarked in 1947, "A wide-awake ready-to-wear salesperson who has a customer who feels she cannot wear fall's vivid green or wine, can so easily suggest that the woman consult with the cosmetic department about a makeup which will alter her skin tone enough so that she can wear one or both of those colors, and wear them well! Toilet goods people can also suggest complete new makeups for customers who may mention that fall colors are difficult to wear." Additionally, the department store window cosmetic tie-ins that had begun in the early '30s had become de rigueur for the big makeup companies by the late 1940s.
The trend of selecting colors to go with one's clothing continued throughout the 1950s and early '60s, with more or less the same marketing tactics and new seasonal shades. Lipstick remained the key to color harmony.
Pre-made lipstick wardrobes continued to flourish, usually in sets of 3, 4 or 5 tubes.
Of note is Charles of the Ritz's lipstick wardrobe containing single-use matchsticks, which was introduced in 1952 after the company had success with an individual matchbook released in 1948.
In looking at these ads and guides, it seems being a woman back then must have been absolutely exhausting. Not only was one expected to wear makeup regularly, nails and clothing needed to coordinate with it. And not just a dress, but one's bag, shoes, hat, scarf, gloves, hosiery, etc. also had to "harmonize". According to the ads and advice at the time, it was simply a matter of planning ahead, but the process seemed extremely labor-intensive.
Possibly the strangest take on the makeup-clothing color coordination trend was a Pond's Angel Face campaign that ran from about 1959-1962. Their claim that using different tints of face powders would allow every outfit to be flattering no matter one's complexion. It wasn't a new idea, as Pond's actually offered a different powder in 1940 that advertised roughly the same notion. Pond's essentially took the color correcting/enhancing concept described in the 1927 news column by Lucille Buchanan a (questionable) step further. While swapping out lipstick shades to better coordinate with clothing makes sense in the abstract, trying to change one's entire complexion to suit a particular fashion color is a fool's errand. A dusting of bronzer, color correcting or translucent powder is fine; wearing the completely wrong shade of powder or base makeup will look odd, to say the least. Given the excessive number of ads (which mostly ran in Life magazine), it seems Pond's was set on convincing women they could in fact change their skin tone through powder rather than lipstick. I guess we should give them credit for going against the conventional wisdom that lipstick is the most important factor in makeup-outfit color harmony.
What's especially amusing about the ads is that Pond's wasn't actually applying differently colored face powders or even clothing to the models – it's very obvious it's the same series of photos artificially colorized.
Companies were still not finished with the lipstick wardrobe concept in the late '50s and early '60s. However, the shade ranges expanded considerably as cosmetic chemistry and technology improved. Compare, for example, the range of Coty's shades in 1961 vs. the lineup they offered a decade prior.
Pastels, corals, bright pinks, orange and iridescent shades were now considered as essential as different reds were in the 1930s and '40s. "Lipstick wardrobes should contain pale pastel tints, brilliant vibrant tones, medium shades and iridescent colors," notes one 1961 article. Another from 1962 states, "Every woman should own a lipstick wardrobe that includes a shade of coral that best becomes her, one of the pink-to-rose tint, and a clear red, which is the safest choice when in doubt" and a year later, "One color is never right for every costume. The lipstick wardrobe should always include at least an orange, a pink and a pure red lipstick."8
With more colors to choose from for both eyes and lips, pre-made wardrobes now included 5-10 mini lipsticks in addition to the usual 2-5 item sets. Experimentation and play also became a bigger part of the makeup-clothing color conversation. Whether this was due to the increased volume of available colors for which the established coordination rules didn't apply, or companies trying to shift away from rules so that customers felt more emboldened to buy a multitude of colors, or simply feeling the need try a new(ish) marketing tactic is anyone's guess.
The copy for Revlon's Colorkins, Tussy's Lipstack and Pond's Angel Face lipstick wardrobe utilized traditional color coordination sales tactics (i.e., the need to have a variety of colors conveniently on hand) as well as encouraged the customer to experiment. They also were proponents of mixing shades.
Despite these developments, some of the advice remained much the same as twenty years prior. The March 1961 issue of Glamour contained a feature on how to coordinate with the seven "happy colors" of spring. (Apologies for the wrinkled condition of these pages…not sure how they managed to get crumpled while sitting in storage.)
The color chart at the end of the feature is simply mind-boggling – even more complicated than what was outlined in the Redbook article. With the consideration of no fewer than 6 accessories along with makeup and outfit, were women really free to experiment? Obviously these were intended just as suggestions – indeed, as all makeup advice should be – and it's highly doubtful any woman followed this chart, or for that matter any other color-coordination advice, to the letter. As with the faux pas of not blotting one's lipstick properly on special lipstick tissues or handkerchiefs, clashing colors were not as big of a misstep as the marketing for such color coordination would lead one to believe. Yet I find it troubling that a chart detailing how to organize the colors of 8 different components was even conceptualized. Perhaps if women were kept busy figuring out what to wear with what they wouldn't notice how few rights they had, or be too exhausted to take action if they did. I'm not suggesting makeup-outfit color coordination was a nefarious plot devised by the patriarchy to distract women from fighting for equality, but there is a strong implication that they were expected to put at least a moderate amount of effort into their appearance. As we'll see in part two of this post, charts like this don't exist in mainstream magazines these days.
In conclusion, it seems that the attempts of both the fashion and cosmetic industries in the first part of the 20th century to ensure color harmony between makeup and clothing was little more than a cash grab. First, the shades from the 1930s through the early '50s really weren't all that different. Colors were more or less recycled from year to year, just given different names. Secondly, some customers were genuinely curious to learn what colors suited them and switched makeup based on their outfits purely for fun, in which case the advice and pre-made sets were of use to them. But the main narratives surrounding color coordination pushed by both industries – that women needed more than one shade of powder, lipstick and blush in order to really pull off any fashion color, and that they also needed to change seasonally – are false. Given the cost of owning multiple shades and outfits, it seems doubtful many customers bought into the hype and scrupulously followed the prescribed makeup-fashion color guidelines. If pre-made color coordinated sets were popular, most likely it was due to the simple appeal of being able to grab several shades conveniently packaged in one set rather than hours of careful outfit planning – at least one color from the set is bound to work, right? Perhaps also back then, with a limited selection of shades, it was more important to select the few colors that went best with one's coloring and wardrobe. These days, with the literally thousands of colors on the market and an array of custom-blending options, it's far easier for consumers to buy just one lipstick/powder that can be worn with all different color outfits. No one needs 10 lipsticks or powder (or any makeup, for that matter, but that's a whole other story) specifically for various clothing colors when a "my-lips-but-better" lipstick and translucent powder will suffice. This is to say nothing, of course, about the fact that there is no need to color coordinate between clothes and makeup at all. If you want to wear a cool purple lipstick with a warm red dress, go for it.
I don't know when part two will be arriving as I've neglected to follow up on a couple of other posts that need a second act, but stay tuned for more on fashion-makeup color coordination, which will cover the mid-1960s through today. In the meantime, what are your thoughts? And how many lipsticks do you own?
1Not all that significant, but worth mentioning is that in 1924 Bourjois disguised ads for their Peaches and Peaches and Cream face powders under the headline of "Does Your Makeup Match Your Costume?" and being appropriate for "the real outdoor girl" and to "give a 'health, vim and vigor' effect," respectively, making it possibly the first time a cosmetic company advertised dress-specific makeup.
2"Possibilities in Makeup," The Baltimore Sun, August 16, 1931.
3"Blonde or Brunette Can Try New Shades: Just Change Your Make-Up to Suit the Frock is Timely Hint to Timid Shopper," The Akron Beacon Journal, April 5, 1933.
4"Cosmetics Style Show Demonstrates Color for All Types: Lord & Taylor and Elizabeth Arden Collaborate in Costumes and Makeup in Special Blends," Women's Wear Daily, November 18, 1931.
5"Arnold Constable Promotes Vivid Makeup for White Summer Costumes: Coordination of Costumes and Cosmetics Stressed in Window Series Devoted to White Sportswear Accented by Bright Sun Tan Makeups," Women's Wear Daily, May 15, 1936.
6All of these tips came from the following articles:
"Match Makeup to the Costume!", Viola Paris (syndicated column), July 1930.
"Make the Tale Your Mirror Tells Please You," Helena Lundh, Winnipeg Tribune, May 31, 1931.
"A New Makeup Scheme for Winter: Smart Cosmetic Aids Must Blend Harmoniously with the Color of the Costume," Antoinette Donnelly (syndicated column), November 1931.
"Makeup Should Match Costume to Give Effect," Alicia Hart (syndicated column), September 1932.
"New Makeup Tone Said to Suit All Types," Jacqueline Hunt (syndicated column), October 1937.
"Match Makeup with Costume," Juliet Shelby (syndicated column), March/April 1938.
"Let Makeup Blend with Your Dress Colors for Spring Wear," Jacqueline Hunt (syndicated column), February/March 1939.
7"Beauty Expert Gives Spring Beauty Hints", March 28, 1941
8"Lipstick Hue Is the Key to Beauty," Abilene Reporter-News, June 9, 1961; "Key Lips, Nails to Fall Colors" by Alicia Hart (syndicated column), October 1962; "Say It With Lips" by Solange Bertrand, Baltimore Sun, March 31, 1963.
You might remember I became obsessed with finding information on the Baby Doll makeup range back in the spring of 2017, when I came across their fabulously psychedelic and colorful ads from the late '60s. While I managed to acquire several of the original ads, I still couldn't find much on brand itself, other than it was exclusive to Woolworth's in the UK and obviously geared towards younger women/teenagers. Fortunately, UK-based Makeup Museum volunteer Emma Berger stepped in to do some research! In addition to what she uncovered on her own, she also had the brilliant idea to email the curator of the Woolworth's Museum, Paul Seaton, who provided additional information. Here's what Emma and Paul had to say about the brand. (Images in this post are the Museum's unless otherwise noted.)
Baby Doll was launched in May of 1967 at all 1,100 Woolworth's locations in the UK. The supplier of the line was a company named E.R. Holloway, a family-owned business. Based in Lavenham, Suffolk, Holloway was a principle supplier of affordable cosmetics following WWII. The ‘Evette’ brand was one of the market leaders in the 1950s, coinciding with shoppers having more spending money and cosmetics becoming more socially acceptable. Later, the company realized there was a vast, largely untapped teenage market that wanted to emulate actresses and models like Twiggy. Holloway conducted some market research by assembling a panel of teenage girls, who indicated that they would like inexpensive, fun makeup with bright colors, especially for nail polish and lip gloss. They found the Woolworth's current makeup offerings to be boring and old-fashioned, and they also didn't want to be "stuck waiting behind older ladies" so they also wanted their own counters.
Judging by the ads, E.R. Holloway delivered. I don't know about the quality of the makeup, but the prices appeared to be a pittance for the incredibly colorful and fun product line. According to the Sharon Kane, author of the Sweet Jane blog, the eye-catching ads appeared in UK magazines like Jackie, RAVE and Photoplay magazines. It's unclear as to what prompted the choice to use illustrated girls vs. photographs of models, but I think the decision was appropriate, as it aligned with the Baby Doll brand vision – supplying plenty of colors to choose from and encouraging "playtime" with makeup – and also helped them stand out from their competitors.
The use of illustration was fairly unique for the time as by the late 1960s illustrations had become scarce in cosmetic ads. By that point, most companies had shifted towards using photos for the bulk of their marketing – gone were the days of hiring artists and fashion illustrators who ruled advertising from the 1920s through the '40s. The ads can also be considered a precursor of sorts to the Stila girl illustrations some 30 years later.
The ads are also representative of their time in their mentions of sun, moon and stars as in the ad below, or numerology as in their Lucky Numbers ad. Remember that flower children were pretty fascinated with astrology and other pseudo-science, so it makes sense to incorporate these aspects as they appealed to the hippie demographic.
Obviously I'm smitten with the print ads, but the radio commercials were a hoot. The spots aired on Radio Luxenbourg and used Woolworth's Embassy Records commercials as a template, given their success with a younger crowd. I tried to put together a little video using the clip that Paul so kindly shared. I couldn't get Typepad to upload it so I had to (shudder) put it on YouTube and link to it. Ugh.
Paul mentioned that Holloway took a "shared risk" approach with Baby Doll by financing the counters and product development in exchange for Woolworth selling the products in all their stores for at least two years and for continuing to carry the Evette line. Consumers were pleased with Baby Doll, at least according to one anecdote shared by Brenda Hendley for Yours magazine. “When working as a Saturday Girl in Woolworths in the late 1960s I was lucky enough to be on the make-up counter when they launched Baby Doll Cosmetics. As a 15-year-old girl, this range was so exciting. It had lilac, green and blue nail varnish, brown eyeshadow and pale pink, lilac and peach lipsticks, instead of the usual red and orange nail colours worn by our mothers. Even the posters were exciting with illustrated dolly girls in the arms of handsome men. To my mother’s horror, I went out that weekend sporting lilac nail polish and lilac lipstick to match my lilac mini dress. I can still remember how excited and glamorous I felt.”
Paul confirmed Baby Doll was a successful line, but Holloway may have ended up competing against it by launching Tu, another youth-oriented range, in the 1970s. Tu was popular in both the UK and Canada and was "less fashionable" meaning that perhaps Baby Doll's only flaw was that it was too niche. Rainbow colors are great but if that's all a makeup line offers, only a certain demographic – mostly teenagers, and adventurous ones at that – would have purchased it back then. From the look and sound of it, Tu was an affordable line for younger clientele, but sold more versatile (read: safe) color and products that would be suitable for daily use. Baby Doll, by contrast, had very few neutral shades and textures; unfortunately I don't think yellow lipstick and pink mascara would be considered everyday wear even among younger women. In any case, you can see displays from both the Tu and Evette lines over at Karen Waddy's blog, Made in Lavenham.
Some brief additional thoughts: first, I would give my eye teeth to know who illustrated these ads! I've pored over the ads to see if there was any artist signatures but no luck. Sharon Kane suggested that Caroline Smith may have been responsible for at least some of the ads and I think that's as a good a guess as any. I actually contacted Smith through her website and am hoping for a reply. Update: I heard back from the artist and she confirmed the Baby Doll ads are her work! How very exciting to finally have this makeup mystery solved!
You can sort of see them in this ad which dates to 1969 and does not use the amazing illustrations, instead opting for the typical close-up photo. I think the line definitely loses a bit of its appeal. As noted earlier, without the unique ads, Baby Doll resembles a pretty run-of-the-mill makeup line that doesn't really stand out from other youth-oriented UK brands (although "she didn't tell her ugly sisters either" cracks me up.)
This brings me to my last point: it's strange that you can still buy objects from what I believe were Baby Doll's UK-based competitors at the time, Yardley, Mary Quant, Boots 17, Miner's and Rimmel, but not a single relic from Baby Doll besides the ads still exists that I've seen. I'm very curious about Baby Doll's sales compared to other brands, as they had a very similar outlook in terms of a more playful approach to makeup and were primarily intended for the youth market. Why these brands had longevity while Baby Doll, despite its distinctive ads, did not is interesting. Perhaps the facts that Mary Quant already had significant name recognition as a modern fashion brand and that Yardley hired some of the biggest models of the time for their makeup campaigns had something to do with it. Additionally, while Holloway was an established company, it didn't have quite the pedigree of Rimmel (established in 1834) or the reach of Miner's and Boots 17. It's a shame, honestly, as I believe Baby Doll was the most creative and fun line out of all of these. Okay, I have a weakness for Quant's crayons and basically all of Yardley's packaging (especially their paint boxes and novelty items), but I think Baby Doll is my favorite for the ads, colors and overall vibe. If I had been around back then I would have bought the whole line.
HUGE thanks to Emma and Paul for researching and gathering this history and permitting me to post it here! And if anyone has additional information or memories they'd like to share about Baby Doll I'm all ears.
While hunting for vintage Christmas makeup a few months ago I stumbled across a brand from the 1960s called Holiday Magic. This won't be a complete history either of the brand or the man who founded it, but it's one of the most compelling (for all the wrong reasons). Buckle up because you're in for a truly wild ride!
In 1964, a California salesman by the name of William Penn Patrick (b. March 31, 1930; d. June 9, 1973) noticed a neighbor having a garage sale of organic fruit-based cosmetics called Zolene. Sensing a new business opportunity, Patrick bought the entire stock for $16,250 (or about $137,000 today). Re-branded as Holiday Magic, Patrick proceeded to start selling them as a multi-level marketing business (MLM). Now, MLMs for cosmetics and other goods had been around for many years prior to Holiday Magic, such as Avon, Mary Kay, Watkins, Fuller Brush, etc. While their ethics are murky – on the one hand it gave people jobs and products that they otherwise wouldn't have access to, on the other they require fairly unsavory tactics – they are not technically against the law. But Holiday Magic wasn't just your average MLM: it was possibly the biggest pyramid scheme prior to Bernie Madoff.
Within a year of its launch, Holiday Magic had made Patrick a millionaire, and by 1967, the company was allegedly earning $6 million per month. The makeup products were quite average – nothing appears to be innovative about them. There was the standard eyeshadow, eyeliner, mascara, brow pencil, lipstick and blush. I would have had my own photos but I have no idea what happened to the objects I purchased from eBay, which sadly has become the norm these days. (It looks like tracking information was prepared but the package never was actually mailed. I've contacted the seller numerous times and have yet to receive a reply, let alone a refund. I guess William Penn Patrick is still working through others to scam customers from beyond the grave.)
While the makeup itself wasn't all that groundbreaking, the fruit-based skincare was fairly ahead of its time. The two women who founded Zolene, Helene Fly and Zoe Swanagon (hence the company's moniker, a combo of their first names), were committed to using fresh ingredients without preservatives, and did a lot of research on skincare recipes that had been circulating quite literally for centuries. They were even writing a cosmetics history book!
A lot of their products remind me of LUSH or 100% Pure's offerings. And I really wish I could find them, I love the Mid-Century Modern star packaging. Anyway, Zolene continued to supply Holiday Magic with its concoctions until 1967 when the founders became aware of Holiday Magic's business practices. But the company's lack of innovative makeup did not deter it from making a fortune for Patrick. In pyramid schemes, profit is not made by selling products but rather recruiting more salespeople – the products themselves have nothing to do with how the money is made, so it doesn't matter if they're any good. According to The Snapping Point, a website about business scams, the four characteristics that separate pyramid schemes from MLMs are:
the only way for consultants to make a profit is to recruit other consultants.
consultants are required to ‘inventory load’, or constantly inventory to profit.
consultants are operating in a ‘saturated market’, or a market where there are more sellers than buyers.
consultants are required to sell products for a fixed price (‘price-fixing’).
This book explains it in more detail. Basically, the only way for sales reps to make money was not by selling products but through essentially "buying" more sales people, convincing them to make an "investment" in the company. Unlike regular MLMs, where by the majority of product purchased by sales reps is actually sold to customers, in pyramid schemes most of the product does not reach them. In Holiday Magic's case, in 1967 it was estimated that 55% of their product was not distributed to customers, with sales reps having entire garages full of makeup. In 1973, an FTC attorney stated that he could find no evidence of products being sold directly to customers, only to "master" and "general" distributors, while the former president of Holiday Magic, Benjamin Gay, testified that less than 10% of products sold to distributors ever reached customers. "There could be sawdust in those jars. The cosmetics were there as a front," he said. The way in which Holiday Magic's hierarchy was arranged, Holiday "girls" could invest $18.91, "organizers" $109.71 to $501, "master" distributors $4,500 (plus a $250 training fee that was never mentioned until the investor signed the contract), and "general" distributors $8,750, plus training fees.
In addition, Patrick was known for other aggressive, highly immoral practices that went beyond pyramid selling. While Holiday Magic did not officially go bankrupt until 1974, as early as 1967 the company was charged by the California State Attorney General's office for "false and misleading advertising" in which the ads claimed distributors could make roughly $2200 a month (or $18,600 nowadays) working full-time. In retaliation, he took out full page newspaper ads attacking the state attorney general. Basically, any time the company faced a legitimate lawsuit, Patrick would double down and countersue, claiming that his constitutional rights were being violated. But the coup de grace was Leadership Dynamics, a "training institute" for Holiday Magic representatives established by Patrick and then-company president Gay in 1967. Sales agents were not required but "encouraged" to take a training course for a mere $1,000, while those higher up on the pyramid were required to take courses there. However, Leadership Dynamics was not so much training as it was torture; according to a 1972 exposé entitled The Pit, among the many cult-like techniques used to humiliate and brainwash sales reps were severe beatings, being locked naked in cages or tied to a cross, forced to sleep in coffins and, of course, racial slurs hurled at the Black attendees. I'm not sure how much of the book is true, but several newspaper articles as well as an article in Newsweek detail the abuse and numerous lawsuits brought about by attendees who supposedly sustained serious injuries.
The exceedingly punchable face of William Penn Patrick.
Patrick also dabbled in politics, running against Ronald Reagan in California's 1966 gubernatorial race as an "ultra-conservative Republican" with the slogan "Stop the Commies at Cal". Gee, color me shocked that a money-hungry narcissist was the complete opposite of liberal. His political views are not surprising; many rich white mediocre men truly believe the conservative myth that success is due to hard work (bootstraps!) and brilliance, rather than their own privilege, dumb luck or directly screwing over other people. Indeed, as one former Holiday Magic employee reminisced in 2016, "The whole organization (or lack of) was absolutely bizzare [sic], run by a bunch of frat boys with not a business degree among them. But they had a Phd in pyramid schemes." A couple of other tidbits:
In 1967, as president of the "Victory in Vietnam Committee" he attempted to run a recall campaign against an Idaho Democratic Senator, because you know when Democrats win an election it's because they stole the race (insert eyeroll here). When the AFL-CIO organized a boycott of Holiday Magic, Patrick promptly sued them.
His wife, Marie, was going to be a doctor but abandoned her plans shortly after marrying him to work as a teacher, largely to support them both after Patrick's string of failed businesses. Once Holiday Magic achieved success, she began attending meetings with Patrick because "otherwise, I'd never see him".
On September 24, 1972, one of Patrick's vintage planes, an F86 Sabre piloted by the general manager of Spectrum Air (another company owned by Patrick) crashed into an ice cream parlor shortly after takeoff. The pilot escaped with a few broken bones and scratches, while 22 on the ground died, including 10 children. Patrick wasn't directly responsible, but the fact that he allowed it to be flown speaks volumes about his complete disregard for others.
On June 9, 1973, Patrick died in a crash while performing stunts on another one of his vintage jets, a WWII plane called a P51 Mustang that, again, any regular citizen should not have had a license to own, let alone fly. He also managed to kill a colleague who was in the plane with him, a 30 year-old director of Holiday Magic in Finland named Christian George Hagert. SMDH.
A few months after his death and a spate of lawsuits in multiple states, as well as a $5 million suit from Avon, Holiday Magic's new president, along with Patrick's widow, announced that the line would be sold "along conventional marketing lines" and get rid of the pyramid aspect of their sales. They also promised a "fair" method of reimbursing roughly 3,000 of the Holiday Magic distributors in California who had been swindled. The SEC's ruling earlier that year claimed that 80,000 individuals had been bilked out of $250 million, so it's not clear what happened to the other 77,000 people who were ripped off. In May 1974 there was a class action settlement of over 31,000 members that established a trust fund of approximately $2.6 million, but that's pennies compared to the actual amount investors lost. Even in 1980 people were still writing to their local paper about the various lawsuits that had been filed and whether they'd get their money back.
But the big issue I wanted to highlight in this sordid tale is the fact that Holiday Magic seemed to have actively sought out Black communities in the U.S. to recruit distributors. While some other MLMs such as Avon, Fuller and Watkins targeted Black sales reps and customers, in their cases it seemed to be more a matter of expanding their market reach and at least supplying steady jobs rather than overtly preying on marginalized people. (Stay tuned for more about Black people's roles in various MLM cosmetic companies.)
I really wish I could find some numbers to further support my theory, but it appears the scheme disproportionately affected Black and other POC investors. "The real tragedy is that Holiday Magic appeals to minority people who want to get rich," remarked SEC staff lawyer Louis F. Burke. Patrick bragged in 1968 that 2 of his top 6 distributors in the U.S. were Black, but even if that were true, it's not necessarily a good thing. As a former distributor noted, Holiday Magic's setup was "like being thrown into a dark pit. The only way you can get out is to drag another person into the pit and step on his shoulders." For the most part, Black customers would only be further disenfranchised if they bought into Holiday Magic. As if that's not bad enough, the company didn't even attempt to formulate any products for deep skin tones. As one wise Black would-be Holiday Magic salesman pointed out in 1975, the line was intended for white people: "Holiday Magic packaged cosmetics for fair-skinned people. Now why in the world would I want to sell light lipstick to Black women?" At least Avon tried to come up with products that would be suitable for Black customers.
(images from ebay)
In the UK, it's estimated that the West Indian community lost £33 million in the early 1970s, and 26 people committed suicide after losing everything. These figures are somewhat corroborated by a British publication called Grassroots, which in 1974 reported that Holiday Magic targeted "almost exclusively West Indian and Asian communities" in the Midlands region. It's incredibly heartbreaking considering that people were taking out second mortgages on their homes to sink £1,000 into becoming a Holiday Magic distributor, only to end up paying at least double that in the long run and ending up far worse off financially than they were before. Note: I know nothing about this Grassroots publication and have no idea how reliable it is, but I don't think their claims are completely baseless.
It was obvious early on that Patrick was going beyond an MLM and into pyramid scheme territory along with the other illegal sales tactics, yet Holiday Magic was being advertised nationally in well-known publications as late as 1969, and still being sold in pyramid form through 1973. (A new Holiday Magic line with a less deceptive sales model was sold through the mid-'80s.) Perhaps it was a combination of systemic racism and his unbridled wealth that Patrick's sham wasn't stopped before it did so much damage. Maybe if he targeted only wealthy white people he would have been shut down sooner? Then again, Madoff did just that for about the same amount of time.
Anyway, despite what the show's creators say, I think the short-lived TV series On Becoming a God in Central Florida was based mostly on Holiday Magic – even more so than Amway. Everything, from the cult-like behavior and "motivational" mantras spewed by Patrick to the garages full of product and targeting of BIPOC communities has an uncanny resemblance to Holiday Magic.
Thoughts? Had you ever heard of this brand? I promise I have a much more positive story on the way. 😉
Sources: In addition to the links throughout this post, here are some newspaper articles used.
"Holiday Magic Inc. Offers Tasty Cosmetic Products," Asbury Park Press, September 17, 1967.
"The Real William Penn Patrick," Daily Independent Journal (San Rafael, CA), December 28, 1968.
"Cosmetics Firm Files Suit Against Competitors," Harford Courant, May 18, 1972.
"'Torture Training' Basis for Suit by Students," Associated Press, August 16, 1972.
"22 Die as Ex-Fighter Jet Hits Ice Cream Parlor," Chicago Tribune, September 25, 1972.
"Patrick Hit With $5.2 Million Suit," Daily Independent Journal, October 19, 1972.
"Holiday Magic Hit With Two Big Suits," Daily Independent Journal, February 22, 1973.
"4.2 Million Suit Names Patrick," San Francisco Examiner, March 19, 1973.
"The Magic Pyramid," Daniel Grotta, The Philadelphia Inquirer, April 8, 1973.
"William Penn Patrick, Cosmetics Millionaire, Dies in Plane Crash," The Fresno Bee, June 10, 1973.
"Quiet Helpmate at Patrick Empire Helm," Daily Independent Journal, August 1, 1973.
"20.3 Million Suit Against Patrick Firm," Daily Independent Journal, September 29, 1973.
I am forever grateful for those who approach me with makeup they no longer want or that they feel belongs in the Museum. While 2020 was another hellish year for me personally and the Museum, as well as basically the whole world, I believe a record number of donations were received. Here's a brief overview of what was graciously bestowed upon the Museum this year.
First up is a mint condition Max Factor gift set. A very nice woman in Canada donated it, noting that it was a birthday present from her father to her mother one year. According to newspaper ads it dates to about 1948. I love the suggested use for the box lids as "party trays"!
Next up is a slew of awesome ads and postcards from the '80s and '90s, donated by an Instagram buddy from Argentina. Such a sweet note too!
This next one is super interesting. Normally the Museum does not include hair products, but the donor is a fellow collector and very knowledgeable about Russian culture, having lived in Moscow for several years. This vintage hair dye was made in East Germany and exported to the USSR.
Next up are some lovely Elizabeth Arden objects. These were donated by a woman in California whose mother worked at the Elizabeth Arden counter at a department store. Here we have the Napoleonic compact which was introduced around 1953, Faint Blush, the famous Ardena patter, and some Color Veil (powder blush) refills.
Near as I can figure, the Faint Blush was a sort of foundation primer, but it seems like it could also be worn alone. I love the plastic pink rose packaging, as it's very much of its era (ca. 1963-1973).
I think the patter and the Faint Blush are my favorites from this bunch.
Then, another very kind Instagram friend and fellow collector sent a huge lot of vintage powder boxes and compacts. The Museum did not have any of these…some I hadn't even heard of and some I had only admired them from afar. I just about died when I opened the package! Clockwise from top left: a 1930s eyeshadow by a company called Quinlan, a 1920s Harriet Hubbard Ayer Luxuria face powder, a powder dispenser by Cameo (probably from around the '30s), a '20s Marcelle compact tin, an extremely rare Red Feather Rouge tin (ca. 1919), an unmarked lipstick and floral powder tin, a Princess Pat compact from about 1925, a Yardley English Lavender tin (ca. 1930s) and a Fleur de Glorie face powder compact (ca. 1923-1926). In the middle is an amazing pink plastic 1940s Mountain Heather face powder case, a line manufactured by Daggett and Ramsdell.
I love each and every piece, but my favorites are the eyeshadow compact, and an adorable Mondaine book compact (with the original box!) that was also included. Bookworm that I am, I want a whole "library" of these designs.
Not all of the donations were vintage. I was so happy to have received these two nail polishes from another IG friend. They were the result of a 2016 collaboration between Cirque Colors and the Met in honor of the latter's Manus x Machina exhibition.
I'm sure you remember the kindness of makeup artist Amelia Durazzo-Cintron, who shared her memories of working for Kevyn Aucoin back in July. For some reason she felt the need to thank ME instead, and did so by donating a really cool Black Swan makeup kit. How nice is her note?!
Another Instagram friend and lipstick fanatic has been making lipstick swatch books. These are kind of a new trend and in my opinion, far easier than taking photos of your lipsticks. Once again a sweet note was enclosed.
This lipstick swatch book is particularly lovely for its sprinkling of cosmetics trivia and important dates. (It also reminds me that I never started working on my daily makeup history calendar, sigh.) If you want one of your own you can purchase it here.
And that wraps up MM donations in 2020! I'm so incredibly grateful for these kind souls generously helping to build the collection. And while physical objects are amazing, it's the notes and messages that come with them that mean the most. :) Also, if you have a makeup object you think is historically significant, an object from the Curator's wishlist, or anything else you'd like to give, please check out the Museum's support page. I'm always looking for old fashion/women's magazines too, along with ads and brochures and such…I can never have too much paper memorabilia!
Which one of these is your favorite? What's the best gift you've ever received?
"To borrow Dr. King's phrase all I had, too, was a dream. I got into the business mainly because Black women, myself included, had been searching for cosmetics that would look good on them for years. There just weren't any." – Carmen Murphy
In an effort to dig into Black makeup history, I came across many pioneering entrepreneurs who filled the much-needed gap for Black cosmetics and hair care that haven't really gotten their due historically. I'm not sure whether this is appropriate for a white person to do – I still feel as though it's not my story to tell – but as with my article on Tommy Lewis I figured bringing awareness to bits of forgotten history even through a white lens was better than not doing it at all. If anyone would like to weigh in on how I can do a better job and not whitesplain/whitewash, I am all ears.
So with that caveat in place, let's take a look at Carmen Cosmetics and the savvy businesswoman behind it, Carmen C. Murphy. Carmen Murphy (née Caver) was born on October 20, 1915 in a small town just outside of Little Rock, AR. The second oldest of nine children in an impoverished family, she began modeling to support herself. At the age of 19 she married a pediatrician, Scipio Murphy, and they moved to Detroit. She studied Home Economics and Business Administration at Wayne University. While much larger than the small Southern town Murphy grew up in, Detroit still lacked high-end beauty services for Black women. They were excluded from white salons and the few Black salons didn't have the expertise. "No one knew high fashion. The beauticians used far too much oil and it took two weeks before [the hair] became nice and soft again," Murphy noted. In 1946 she purchased a dilapidated three-story Victorian mansion located at 111 Mack Avenue (or 188 Mack Avenue) and spent $50,000 of her own money turning it into a 24-room salon. In November of 1947, Olivia Clarke, president of the Rose Meta Beauty Products Company and the successful Rose Meta House of Beauty in Harlem, along with Rose Meta founder Rose Morgan and business manager Odessa Trotter, visited Detroit to finalize plans for opening a salon "fashioned" after the original House of Beauty in New York. On May 30, 1948, the space officially opened as House of Beauty, with Trotter serving as beauty consultant. However, I'm still confused as to the relationship between Morgan and Murphy and the latter's role in conceiving the House of Beauty. According to one article, "The business project is the brain-child of Mrs. Murphy, who has had the cooperation of Rose Morgan of the New York House of Beauty…". Could it be that Murphy had the idea of a full-service salon around the same time as Morgan, discovered the Rose Meta salon and then worked with her to develop a salon in Detroit with the same name, yet the two would be totally independent of each other? Or did Murphy purchase her building in 1946 with the intent of opening a Rose Meta-style salon from the start? In of the articles regarding the grand opening, it's referred to as the Rose Meta House of Beauty, as if Murphy's enterprise was just another location of the original salon in New York, but Murphy was actually the owner.
In any case, the House of Beauty was intended to provide "tip to toe" beauty services for Black women. The salon did $76,000 worth of business in its first year, with a staff of 35 serving an average of 200 clients per day, roughly a quarter of whom were white. House of Beauty's operation was particularly innovative for its use of an "assembly line" service where customers received everything from massages to makeup consultations in a streamlined, orderly yet relaxing fashion. Quipped Murphy's husband, "Leave my wife alone, and the House of Beauty would be as large as the Ford plant at River Rouge."
While the salon did well, Murphy was still frustrated by the continuing lack of cosmetics available for deeper skin tones. "Most of us simply would not use any makeup," she said. Murphy approached every major beauty company, including Avon, Helena Rubinstein and Revlon, only to be rejected. "They would tell you firmly that they weren't interested, and that if they sold products for N*groes, it might spoil their image in the white community." But in 1950 the owner of eponymous line Rose Laird offered to help Murphy develop and launch her own line. "She simply said, "I'll help you'", Murphy recalled. Laird assigned her chief chemist, Irving Wexler, to create formulas that wouldn't turn ashy or red on Black skin tones and that would actually match the diversity of Black skin. In 1951 Carmen Cosmetics was officially launched. Around this time the "Rose Meta" portion of the Detroit House of Beauty name was removed, perhaps due to the new makeup line. Rose Meta also sold their own line of makeup for Black women in their New York salons and it's uncertain whether they were sold in the Detroit House of Beauty, but it seems that Carmen Cosmetics would be the in-house makeup brand for the salon starting in 1951. Given the partnership with Rose Laird and the new formulas concocted by Wexler, we can assume they were products that were entirely distinct from the Rose Meta line.
Murphy began promoting her line outside of Detroit shortly after its launch. By 1953 Carmen Cosmetics had a foothold in a handful of other states. Again, notice that by 1953 the salon is referred to as Carmen Murphy's House of Beauty rather than Rose Meta. I'd really love to unravel the mystery of the relationship between the two!
House of Beauty Cosmetics booth in Ammon Center for the Pittsburgh Courier Home Service Fair, June 9-11, 1953. Photo from the Charles "Teenie" Harris archive, Carnegie Museum of Art.
House of Beauty Cosmetics booth in Ammon Center for the Pittsburgh Courier Home Service Fair, June 9-11, 1953. Photo from the Charles "Teenie" Harris archive, Carnegie Museum of Art.
In early 1957 a more extensive sales campaign for the line was launched through the Student Marketing Institute based in New York. Roughly 250 salespeople were deployed in 40 major urban markets across 17 states, targeting department and drug stores, Black salons and individual customers. The theme was "everyday beauty for every smart woman", with window displays depicting "the varied roles played by every busy woman daily." The items' retail price began at $1.25, competitive for other major cosmetics brands at the time. Six shades of face makeup were offered along with face powder, mascara, brow pencil, blush and 6 lipstick colors.
House of Beauty ad from the 1957 Picture book of business and program of annual Trade Week campaign of Housewives League of Detroit. Burton Historical Collection, Detroit Public Library.
In 1963 the salon had outgrown its original space and was moved to the Great Lakes Insurance Building at 8401 Woodard Avenue. The Small Business Administration denied Murphy a loan despite the success of the original salon, so she and her husband had to use their own savings and borrow on their insurance to open at the new location. Nevertheless, in April of that year Carmen Cosmetics made its world debut. This article is useful but cringe-worthy for the use of "oriental" to describe an Asian skin tone; however, at least it doesn't refer to Murphy as the "N*gro Helena Rubinstein", which is how she was referred to in several major articles. Ugh. What was part of the success of the Carmen Cosmetics line was that it may have been the first Black-owned line to cater to every skin tone. The formulas for other Black-owned lines were primarily intended for for Black clientele (and justifiably so), but Murphy wanted to accommodate "every female on the face of the earth." Sort of a precursor to the "multicultural" beauty campaigns and products of the '90s, yes?
Carmen Cosmetics continued using this as a marketing strategy throughout the '60s, at least when dealing with potential sales outlets.
In 1966 Rose Laird passed away, and in 1968 Murphy purchased the company for about $175,000 and named Wexler president. Early in the year the salon moved again, this time to 6080 Woodward Avenue to accommodate even more services. This brief profile from the February 1, 1969 issue from Vogue discusses the salon and highlights Murphy's role as the first Black woman to head a major cosmetics firm. While other Black beauty pioneers such as Madame C.J. Walker and Annie Turnbo Malone were well-known for their hair care products and services, and there were some Black-founded lines that offered products for deeper skintones (Rose Morgan's Rose Meta, La Jac, Valmor, and Overton's High Brown powder come to mind) Carmen Murphy was among the first to focus on providing a comprehensive range of cosmetics for Black women, and the first to land significant business partnerships to distribute it. What's also remarkable is that Murphy's business did not rely as much on direct sales as other companies that courted Black customers did at the time (Fuller, J. R. Watkins, etc.) The salespeople for Carmen Cosmetics were responsible for getting the line into stores or doing in-store demonstrations, with less emphasis on going door-t0-door to individual clients. From my understanding, there were no Carmen Cosmetics "dealers" as with Avon and the like.
From late 1968 it's unclear what happened next to the business. By then Murphy had landed a deal with Universal to supply her line to their film studios and was in negotiations with Bristol Myer (producer of Clairol) for international distribution, but it's not specified whether that arrangement went through, since according to an article from January of 1969 she was still considering it along with 2 others from major corporations. By 1971 Carmen Cosmetics was sold in Woolworth's, Kresge and Lamston stores, but an article in October of that year refers to a "big" deal that did not take place because she needed a loan to seal the final agreement, and the SBA again refused a loan. Murphy laid out how systemic racism prevented Carmen Cosmetics from expanding further. "Basically, the financial institutions do not want to see us succeed in big business. They will loan you enough to get you started, usually just enough to get you in trouble. Being refused by banks has been a blow to me. I feel that, if you become large, and if you become a real threat on the market, they decide to box you in…white people are trying to prove that we do not have the ability. Given the opportunity, we will fail. This is a planned, white, negative approach to help. We will fail, and this will come back at us for years to come…a white business woman definitely would not encounter this problem. She would have a line of credit, something we never had." Referring to the House of Beauty, she concluded: "My dream has not been fulfilled here." Although this occurred nearly 50 years ago, it demonstrates exactly why we need programs like Juvia's Place and Glossier's grant programs today. The system is still incredibly unjust, bigoted and actively preventing Black entrepreneurs from fulfilling their vision.
In 1974 Murphy retired as the House of Beauty's owner, and there's basically no readily available information regarding what happened to the Carmen Cosmetics line or the salon after that. There was a brief mention in a November 1975 issue of Black Enterprise so we know it was still being sold then, but that was about it. I contacted 4 organizations in Detroit and no one was able to locate business records for House of Beauty or correspondence for Carmen Murphy. Nor could anyone find her obituary. She was still alive in 1995, when she received an award for her founding of H.O.B. Records (House of Beauty Records), but had passed by 2010 which is when a video of her receiving the award was uploaded. She had two sons, Scipio Jr. who tragically died quite young from polio in 1950, and Robert, an accomplished pianist and music teacher who is also deceased. Her nephew (her sister's son), Van Cephus, was a jazz musician who sadly died by suicide in 2014. From the comments on the aforementioned video it looks like there are a couple of surviving relatives, but obviously I don't feel comfortable reaching out to them for any information they might have.
So as not to end on a complete down note, I want to highlight Murphy's other achievements. Throughout her career she continued to give back to the Black community. In 1958 she started H.O.B. Records initially to fund gospel recordings. She then set up a practice room in the salon's basement for up and coming musicians to use. H.O.B. Records quickly became the launchpad for dozens of talented musical groups.
With the cooperation of the Detroit Board of Education, Murphy also spoke at local schools about proper grooming. "All the poverty programs usually come to us for beauty and good grooming touches before they finish. I want young people to take pride in their appearance. Many haven't had the opportunity to dress properly, to act properly or to wear the right things. I want to teach them to take an interest in themselves and the world around them," she said. On the one hand, I suspect, sadly, that "properly" and "the right things" are code for white standards of beauty and decorum. On the other, it's wonderful that Murphy was providing underprivileged Black youth with some of the tools that would aid them in advancing their social and economic status. Along those lines, in late 1969 she began supplying Carmen Cosmetics to American Airlines for use in their Grace and Glamour program, which helped "young girls build confidence through good grooming habits and proper makeup techniques." The program provided mini flight kits containing Carmen Cosmetics to be used by the girls, which they were permitted to keep. The Grace and Glamour program doesn't exactly sound like a bastion of feminism, but it's important to keep in mind that there were very few opportunities available for disadvantaged Black girls at the time. And it seems that at least some of the girls enjoyed the products and the makeup process.
By 1971, Murphy had served as a volunteer driver for the Red Cross, was a lifetime member of the National Association for N*gro Women and NAACP, a member of the African Art Committee at the Detroit Institute of Arts, the women's auxiliary of the Detroit Symphony, the Booker T. Washington Trade Association, the YWCA and the Detroit Roundtable of Catholics, Jews and Protestants, Inc.
As there are still many loose ends to tie up regarding Ms. Murphy – namely, any sort of correspondence, business records, or obituary – I'm contemplating the idea of hiring a private researcher to see if they can find any official business records and additional photos, but it's going to depend on their fees. I saw tons of article "snippets" on Google books and a New York Times article that I was unable to access as well, so there's more information out there. Also, there are plenty of online articles about Rose Morgan but obviously I'd like to do a really in-depth profile of her and also see if I can find anything about her business relationship with Carmen Murphy.
Thoughts? Feedback? I'd really like to do more profiles of early Black beauty lines and makeup artists…let me know who you think needs more attention or if I should keep my white mouth shut.
UPDATE, February 2021: I was thrilled when Carmen Murphy's granddaughter Laura got in touch and shared some memories of her grandmother, along with photos of the Carmen Cosmetics line! Laura visited her grandmother over Christmas and summer breaks during her youth and was able to provide some insight on Ms. Murphy's style, the salon's closure and the products. "She had an image that she HAD to maintain for herself…very feminine, stylish, slim, well-coiffed and manicured. I don't remember a specific beauty regimen, but of course she used her own products and supplemented them with masks, scrubs and lotions made by other companies. She was the first person to introduce me to a loofah and a pumice stone. LOL. Even in her later years, she had to at least have on lipstick whenever we went out (even to the pharmacy or grocery store)…Since I was so young when the House of Beauty closed, I'm unfortunately not sure how and why her business ended. She was quite a visionary, and had some very forward-thinking ideas about make-up and fashion for women of color. But I'm told she made some bad business decisions and trusted the wrong people (who took advantage of her). She was able to survive for several years off of the reputation she'd built in Detroit and the patronage of her loyal customers. After [the salon closed] the things I remember most were the ladies who would come to the house to buy her products when I would visit for the summers. She would have me go to the basement to fill the product orders and if the customers paid in cash, she'd sometimes give me a dollar or two. I didn't recognize the value of what she had achieved until much, much later when she no longer had those things."
Here are some photos from Laura of the actual products! "The Silking Oil was primarily applied to the scalp, but could also be applied directly to the hair to promote moisture retention. The Toning Lotion and Foam Cleanser are pretty self explanatory. The bulk of the packaging that I remember looked like the Silking Oil – pale pink with the 'Carmen' logo on it. (The product packaging changed a couple times, so the items I have were from the last change.) She had cream and liquid foundation and pressed powder in pink compacts, and she named the shades after types of furs – I only remember Sable and Russian Sable, which were the most popular."
She also provided photos of what she believes is Carmen's first House of Beauty. "You can't see the products close up, but they give you an idea of the different types of packaging on the shelves (and yes that is THE Mary McLeod Bethune)."
How amazing! Laura, thank you so much for this incredible update and all the photos.
Sources: As with my previous post, I linked throughout to relevant sources and pulled the rest of the story together from various newspaper and magazine articles, so those additional sources are listed below.
"Why Herb Martin Keeps Chugging Along, Just Like…er…uh…Horatio Allen," Detroit Free Press, October 24, 1971.
Mary Ellen Kirby, "Beauty: Skin deep, then some to Carmen Murphy," Detroit News, October 21, 1968. Article provided by the Charles H. Wright Museum archives.
John L. Dotson, Jr., "Black is beautiful: Carmen Murphy's beauty salons bring cosmetics to N*gro women," Newsweek article featured in the Kenosha News, January 8, 1969.
Not sure how I missed Mimi Choi's fantastic makeup optical illusions on Instagram, but I'm grateful to Jen of Coffee Sundays for introducing me a few months ago. One look in particular caught my eye: Choi's hilarious "twin", Knee-Knee.
And with that, I decided I had to find out the history of knee makeup in modern times.1 As usual this post will be heavily reliant on newspaper archives, sigh…I wish I could find more sources, especially since, as we'll see, newspapers are not always truthful. Anyway, knee makeup been around much longer than you would think. Flappers used rouge (blush) to decorate their knees, an are that was more exposed than ever despite the fact that hemlines were just below the knee (the '20s version of a miniskirt). They'd either roll their stockings down or (gasp!) forgo stockings altogether – made it much easier to do the Charleston. Adding some blush further drew attention to the knees, emphasizing the rebellious nature of the new fashion. Side note: I'm dying to figure out the shift from the word "rouge" to "blush". I'm old and even when I was a kid I remember cheek color always being referred to as blush. I wonder how and why mainstream makeup vocabulary changed. But that's a project for another day.
Knee rouging became full-on knee painting by the mid-1920s, although it had been reported in Paris in 1920. Unlike knee rouge, it doesn't seem as though makeup was actually used – at least one article discusses regular oil paints and another mentions watercolor – but the average woman as well as traditional artists engaged in the practice. The designs ranged from incredibly detailed portraits and landscapes to simple flowers and butterflies.
One could argue that knee painting was a good way to pique the interest of boys. Teenage girls would paint the initials of their boyfriends or desired boyfriends, while one woman, who wasn't keen on the idea of carrying a portrait of her fiance in a locket, had his likeness painted on her knee instead.
But like regular knee rouging, it was also a demonstration of creativity, provocation and rebellion, which led to either encouraging men to further sexualize women's bodies or a total backlash against the practice. "And, my, here comes a beauty; I watch as it walks by – a painting like that always seems to catch my eye. As one sees a comely miss with both knee-caps ablaze, studying art becomes a treat to all of us these days," a 1925 poem reads. One housewife by the name of Clarice Wilson, well aware of her husband's hatred for the new dogs she recently acquired, painted them on her knees for a passive-aggressive dig. Her husband, Arthur X. Wilson, retaliated by painting the likenesses of two of the most attractive women in town on his own knees. While adult women may have been mildly shamed for knee art, teenagers were soundly punished. Seventeen-year-old Mary Bell was spanked by both of her parents for painting Clarence Darrow and a portrait of a monkey on her kneecaps and a high school basketball team (from Baltimore!) was nearly expelled for showing school spirit via knee painting. (Click to enlarge.)
Between the 1920s and 1960s there was scant mention of knee makeup. Besides a couple of 1939 articles and a nostalgic look back in 1957, knee makeup simply wasn't on the radar.
Yes, I shamelessly stole the title of my post from this article.
But the craze for knee painting returned with a vengeance in the '60s, albeit with a slightly different flavor. Makeup artists were now finally starting to be considered "real" artists on par with traditional painters, which is reflected in their leading the way for knee makeup and the use of cosmetics rather than oil paint or watercolor applied by a regular artist. Possibly the first documented instance of knee makeup from an actual makeup artist came from William Loew, makeup director for Charles of the Ritz. In late February 1965 he painted a pair of eyes on a model's knees for a party. Touted as the "latest in pop-op beauty" and inspired by the emerging pop and optical illusion art of the time, Loew declared the pop-op movement in fashion and beauty as a step forward for women's freedom from relying solely on her looks for success. I can't help but wonder if Loew had somehow stumbled across the knee art displayed during the 1920s. In any case, I'd kill to see his work in color!
By the summer of 1965 the fad had trickled down to the masses. A suburban Pittsburgh housewife and representative for Vivianne Woodard cosmetics, Mary Metzler, took responsibility for creating the look in May 1965, admitting that she devised the idea mostly to sell more cosmetics. Over the next year the trend grew, despite Loew himself claiming it was over by late 1966. Prior to his statement, by the summer of 1966 the big makeup brands were releasing leg and knee makeup kits, with the notable exception of Elizabeth Arden, whose "face designer" Pablo "refused to have anything to do with [knee makeup]".3 Estée Lauder introduced a fairly regular line with makeup, contouring powder and highlighter, but also offered an art kit complete with stick-on jeweled beauty spots (mouches).
Fabergé had their makeup director, Evan Richardson, create their "Kneesies" kit, which contained red, blue and yellow paints.
Revlon Ultima II's cleverly named Stemwear collection included both a "leg complexion" kit for those who desired basic coverage (hiding bruises and other imperfections) as well as a Leg Art kit with four colors that could be mixed: Chalk White, Chrome Yellow, Chinese Red, and Marine Blue, that came packaged in an artist's palette.
The company also enlisted fashion illustrator Joe Eula to create custom designs, which were featured in the May 20, 1966 issue of Life magazine along with the July 1966 issue of Harper's Bazaar.
While Revlon's kit was reported to be the first leg makeup kit on the market, in July 1967 one reader of the Mercury newspaper remarked that Mary Quant, widely considered the inventor of the miniskirt, had come up with the concept of body paint first, and an indelible one at that (along with "freckle paint," which reminds me that my article on faux freckles is in dire need of updating). While I couldn't find any proof whatsoever, I have a very strong feeling that Mary Quant probably offered a fun leg makeup kit.
Anyway, as it had the previous year, knee makeup soon made its way from fashion magazines to your garden-variety middle-class teens.
Glad to see these girls were not thrown out of school or spanked by their parents.
Knee makeup art morphed into painting the entire leg by the summer of 1967, with Coty and Givenchy both releasing leg paint kits in shades meant to mimic colorful stockings.
And everyone remembers the body painting popularized by hippies and mainstream shows likeLaugh-In. In 1968 Tussy released a Hieroglyphics paint kit meant to be used all over the body. However, this is getting a bit off track and an entire book could be written about body paint, so I'm not going to go further with the concept now. Suffice it to say that knee makeup hit its peak in 1966 and had mostly fallen out of favor in the '70s through, well, now, partially due to the fact that pants were becoming more acceptable for women's wear. Maxi skirts and bell-bottoms took over around 1970 and lasted through the decade, while trousers became equally popular to skirts and dresses in the '80s and '90s. If body makeup were to be used artistically, all-over body paint took the place of knee makeup over time. And that's the reason Mimi Choi's art got my attention – it's rare nowadays to see only one specific part of the body adorned with makeup.
While most of the knee makeup was predicated on the ideas of creativity and self-expression, the notion of attracting boys or painting a boyfriend's name or initials was frequently noted. Girls painted "available" and "need a date?" onto their kneecaps, while Metzler, self-proclaimed inventor of the trend, "It gives [girls] something to do at the beach, but most important it's the kind of gimmick that helps them attract boys. That, after all, is the primary purpose of most cosmetics." Yikes.
Then as in the 1920s, one of the reasons for knee makeup was presumably to attract guys or express one's affection for their beau, although I don't believe it was the main reason. I tend to think it was more about having fun and allow oneself to be a bit more daring than with face makeup, since the knees, despite being on display, are not as immediately noticeable as the face. As Harper's Bazaar noted, "Never before in the history of makeup has the personal creative impulse been given such wild, free and wonderful reign."
So why did knee makeup trend in the 1920s and 1960s? Some factors for these two very different decades overlap. First, knee makeup in both eras was primarily fashion-driven.2 Leg makeup were ostensibly the result of new, seemingly shocking clothing styles for women, an example of the direct influence of fashion on makeup. Freed from the burden of stockings, either by rolling them down or skipping them entirely, 1920s women realized there was room to decorate this newly acquired space. And the latest miniskirt styles in the mid-1960s placed a bigger spotlight than ever on legs, with Harper's Bazaar declaring 1966 to be "the year of the leg".
I acknowledge makeup doesn't exist in a vacuum and that there is a definitive link between cosmetics and clothing, but generally I don't think fashion affects makeup trends as much as we think. Having said that, knee makeup seems to be a clear case of fashion dictating makeup.
The other factor at play for the knee makeup fad peaking in the 1920s and 1960s besides leg exposure in and of itself was a celebration of freedom from both an expectation of modesty and clothing that restricted movement. Not coincidentally, (White) women's rights gained significant ground in both eras, and perhaps knee painting was a byproduct of women's social advancement. As fashion historian and writer Marlen Komar points out, "Whether it was the '20s or '60s, women turned to knee painting to not only flex their creativity and have a bit of fun, but also to assert their autonomy, own their sexuality, and label themselves as a new generation of modern women. Makeup bags are often more political than we give them credit for." I'm inclined to agree for the most part. Miniskirts may not have been as liberating as history makes them out to be as they were originally intended only for the younger crowd and women today continue to get blamed for sexual assault for wearing too short a skirt, but by and large shorter silhouettes were revolutionary. Knee makeup, along with shorter hems, could be viewed as another way women were enjoying their newfound freedom.
Of course, precisely because of the rebellious and assertive nature of knee art, there were detractors in both decades as well. The loudest were those who harped on the ugliness of the knee. While fashion designers hiked up hems in the name of emancipation during the '60s, others simultaneously (and hypocritically) discussed the need to make knees less offensive via makeup rather than demanding skirts and dresses get back to a lower length. Or, you know, making pants acceptable or just letting women show their legs without feeling pressured to prettify them with makeup. Knees were apparently hideous, which is exactly why any woman donning a miniskirt was automatically declared brave. (Sort of like how we talk about celebrities going bare-faced in public now.) As Gil, makeup director for Max Factor noted in 1966, "Exposing the knee is the most daring thing a woman can do. After all, let's be clear about it. The knob is terribly ugly." Says one columnist: "One cannot help wondering why this usually rather ugly thing must at all costs be displayed. But it is never worthwhile to try to figure out fashion." Another article's headline sums it up thusly: "Glorifying the Ugly: Knees Take on Decorative Look". And going back to 1925, critics claimed that not even painting could help offset the visual offensiveness of the knee. In their view, knee art was a dubious endeavor or an entirely lost cause. "Must be quite a task to make the old joints look attractive…I don't believe that painting the knees will help them any. It would take more than paint to make the average knee worth looking at."
Naturally, random men had to make their opposition heard too. One Charles Denton wrote in a 1966 opinion column for the San Francisco Examiner, "Having discerned that the knee has all the esthetic charm of a pickled pig's foot, did the style setters lower the skirt back over it? (With a thigh?) They did not! Instead they started concocting cosmetics to glamorize it. Which is about as logical as shaving your beard and then putting on a phony beard…I hardly need to tell you guys where this trend is leading. Because aside from adding to the upkeep on your favorite dame, not to mention your wife, this places yet another strain on the male psyche…the next time you're pacing the floor waiting for her to get ready to go out and you holler, 'What's taking you so long?' she'll chirp back, 'Just a few more minutes, I'm doing my knees.'" Oh, poor delicate Charles with your already fragile "male psyche"! He was not concerned about the expectation that women must attempt to make their legs look more attractive given the new short styles in addition to their normal beauty regimen, but that the extra time required for them to complete their makeup routine may inconvenience him. STFU, Charles. No one asked you.
The other thing the trend had in common in 1920s and 1960s was that it's unclear how many women actually adopted it. As the very wise author of Cosmetics and Skin told me, "One swallow does not make a spring." Despite the wealth of magazine articles in the '60s and the newspaper articles in both decades, I have a feeling it was akin to Instagram (or Tiktok, shudder) "trends" where one makeup artist or influencer does something crazy and it goes viral. All the news outlets latch onto it and declare it a trend, when it fact only a handful of people tried it or even just the one person who started it. I suspect the same thing happened with knee makeup. It may have been fun at the occasional teenage party, but by and large I doubt many women were actually wearing it, at least not regularly. "This so-called painted knee fad seems to be one of those things everybody knows all about but nobody's ever seen," was a common quip in 1925. Dovetailing on the idea of backlash, one columnist by the name of Cynthia Grey stated that it was actually men who were trying to popularize knee makeup by putting it on every front page in order to make women look stupid. "It's funny how seriously men take freak styles and how ready they are to believe that women are morons…apparently for women to paint their knee is as important as a revolution in China or a monkey trial. The implication is, of course, what fools we women are!" Additionally, the spat between the Wilsons in the article shown earlier apparently never happened, because no one by the name of Arthur X. Wilson near Carlisle, PA existed.
It was a work of total fiction that also demonstrates the hostility towards the trend and men's need to keep women in their place. The feature included two somewhat true accounts4 of girls being punished for knee makeup (although now I have my doubts about the basketball team from Baltimore) but also felt it necessary to come up with a third example that was a complete fantasy, just to "prove" how idiotic women were for adopting the trend. As for the how widespread it was in the '60s, I asked my mom, who was 21 at the peak of knee makeup in 1966 and she had absolutely no recollection of seeing it in the news, let alone in real life. I understand that's purely anecdotal, but it goes to show that even young, stylish and progressive women – the key demographic – weren't necessarily adopting knee makeup. I'm also thinking some of the newspaper coverage of the trend in the '60s may have been the suggestion of editors who needed a fun story for a slow summer news day rather than teens picking it up of their own accord. (Click to enlarge.)
Finally, the fact that I've never seen any of these kits for sale or even an actual photo, only illustrations, suggests that knee makeup was not widely used.
Anyway, while knee makeup may have had a moment in the '20s and '60s, there were differences between two decades. In the 1920s, knee rouge and painting was associated primarily with flappers and other rebellious young women. In the 1960s, knee makeup did express freedom and was intended for youngsters, but it was less about mimicking or assimilating a particular group. While some fashion observers claimed that knee makeup was mostly the domain of mods, its appeal seemed to be more widespread, reaching those who simply saw it as a fun activity rather than allegiance to a certain style or outlook. Swim parties, summer camps, 4th of July were all occasions where friends could paint each other's knees – again, at least according to the local newspapers.
Plus, while most are accustomed to applying makeup on their face, painting one's knees is trickier as you have to paint upside down. Many articles noted that it was best to use the buddy system to ensure the design came out right. In this way knee makeup helped build camaraderie in a slightly different way than regular makeup play dates. In the 1920s it seemed that a lot of knee painting was done by traditional artists. Some salons were flooded for knee painting requests and felt as though the only option was to hire an outside artist on to meet the demand, so girls like Mary Bell and salon employee Mrs. Richards may have been exceptions. The shift during the '60s from hiring a painter to either a makeup artist, DIY or having a friend do the painting switched up the dynamic, as evidenced in these photos.
Another difference was that there more emphasis on fashion in addition to art. Besides Revlon's use of a fashion illustrator to sell their kit and the trend being spotted primarily on local fashion runways and department stores, some proponents recommending matching or coordinating one's knee makeup with clothing. Helena Rubinstein recommended making your own stencils to coordinate with any outfit. (Click to enlarge.)
A third difference is that there was more acceptance for the fad in the 1960s. The average person in the 1920s generally disapproved of knee rouge or paint; not even fashion editors and other trend-setters could sway the public's opinion. But 40 years later, as long as you were young, you could get away with miniskirts and knee makeup. I guess one could argue that's progress as compared to the 1920s stance that no woman no matter her age should have painted knees, but is it really?
As the Vogue article above notes, "[Women] need [leg makeup] to make their legs look as smooth as a pair of flying silk ribbons; as unmarred by time as those of a 10-year old girl." Another fashion editor writing for the Salt Lake Tribune in May of 1966 states that knee makeup is "FUN – if one happens to be a teen or sub-teen. BAD – if one is a minute past teen. So knack your knees only according to how many years old they are. Age is one secret they can't keep." The obsession with youth might also be a function of pandering to young people in general as the baby boomer generation became front and center.
Finally, while I have my doubts that many women actually wore knee makeup art in the 1960s, the trend – or at least the idea of it – seemed slightly more widespread than in the '20s thanks to the marketing efforts of cosmetic companies and the makeup professionals employed by them, along with distribution of these ideas to a bigger audience via the ubiquity of fashion magazines. In the 1920s there was no such thing as an artistic director for a makeup brand, and companies hadn't yet grown into multi-million dollar businesses pumping out hundreds of products. Roughly forty years had passed since makeup became regularly worn; by that point there were many more products on the market than in the '20s, so companies had to go beyond the face and invent new types of makeup. It was only a matter of time before they shifted attention away from the face to the body in the hopes of generating more revenue, and short skirts gave them the perfect opportunity. Revlon, Fabergé, et al were not going to miss their chance to capitalize on and create a false need for leg makeup kits (see also: earlobe makeup). As one journalist noted in May 1966, "Cosmetics firms are about to spring a whole raft of brand new knee makeup products and ideas. The paints and brushes, powders and creams are ready and fetchingly packaged. The ad men are set to spread the word." As for the media, yes, Harper's and Vogue existed in the 1920s, but I'm guessing their circulation was much smaller than in the '60s, not to mention the slightly newer publications that been established by that point (Mademoiselle, Glamour, Seventeen, Co-Ed, etc.) People are more susceptible to buy certain products or try new trends the more coverage they receive, especially with a makeup artist leading the way and the availability of pre-made kits. Lastly, makeup technology was allegedly improved in terms of longevity. Nearly all of the advertising for leg makeup emphasizes its long-wearing nature, a sharp contrast to the messiness of the 1940s5 and prior years.
My thoughts: this was a pretty wild trend that I would love to see again. Given the sad state of my own baggy, misshapen knees I go back and forth as to whether I'd emphasize them with makeup designs, but it would be great to see on other people. It's also one of the few trends that could work on every skin tone. Of course, so-called "flesh tone" makeup for covering varicose veins or bruises probably was not available for Black or brown skin in the '60s and certainly not prior, but the bright primary colors contained in some of the kits would suit everyone. And while short skirts on women may not be as scandalous as they were decades ago, knee makeup remains an unexpected mode of cosmetic styling and body art.
What do you think? Would you ever wear knee makeup and if so, what design would you choose? You know I'd paint portraits of Museum staff members! Or maybe a mermaid on one and a shell on the other.
1Obviously there are entire books that could be written about body paint in various cultures throughout history, so I'm focusing specifically on knee painting during the 20th century in the U.S.
2While knee painting was mostly an offshoot of fashion, there was some influence from art movements in both eras. One 1925 article notes that knee painting was taking on "Cubist lines", and another in 1966 describes one young lady who painted on a Mondrian-inspired design. Knee makeup and body painting in the '60s more generally may have also been influenced by Yves Klein's Anthropométries of 1961.
3Richard Corson, Fashions in Makeup from Ancient to Modern Times, p. 569.
4Some articles indicated that Mary Bell painted Clarence Darrow on one knee and William Jennings Bryan on the other, but the article with an actual picture shows Clarence Darrow and a monkey…so who knows what's really going on there? The photo might not have been Ms. Bell at all. In any case, multiple accounts reveal that she did paint her knees and was spanked, so at least that those parts of the story seem to be true.
5The '40s saw a spike in leg makeup due to the war. Shortages in materials meant nylon stockings weren't readily available so women painted them on, seams and all. There were entire leg makeup kits and salons had the service readily available. And while the focus wasn't the knees but the entire leg, tips for contouring those pesky knee bulges still made it into various beauty advice columns. However, there was really no fun or creativity with the leg makeup of the '40s. By most accounts it was purely to mimic the average nylon stocking – no crazy colors or designs.
Almost as much as flowers, fruit, and butterflies, the signs of the zodiac are leading choices for modern cosmetics collections and beauty inspiration. As a new sign season (Taurus) descends today, I thought it would be an appropriate time to provide a visual history of zodiac beauty and trace the ebb and flow of its popularity in the U.S. As we'll see, the two main components of this particular category (zodiac-themed packaging and beauty tips/makeup looks based on one's sign) and the reasons behind their prevalence at certain times really haven't changed much in the past 100 years.
The story arguably begins in the late 1600s in Europe, when British satire poet Samuel Butler suggested that women used beauty patches to indicate their sun sign. As Aileen Ribeiro explains in Facing Beauty, "According to astrology, certain areas of the face were governed by the signs of the zodiac – Capricorn the chin, Aquarius the left eye, and so on – so that patches placed on the face could echo this respectable link, this time equating such sites with emotions related to love and sexual invitation; this game, perhaps not taken seriously by women at least, was played well into the eighteenth century."1 While I'd love to delve deeper to see if there were any other horoscope beauty mentions prior to then and between the 1700s to the 1900s, I've accepted that I need to fast forward to the modern beauty era. The zodiac-based beauty advice that appears in nearly every online fashionpublicationnowadays has its roots in the 1920s, when an "authority on beauty"/astrology student declared that "the planets will guide one in using cosmetics" at the American Cosmetician's Society convention.
Zodiac beauty remained relatively obscure in the '30s and '40s. Poudre d'Orsay's use of the zodiac for its face powder containers remains a mystery. As far as I know it did not appear anywhere else in their line of powders and perfumes. Perhaps it's a reference to a detail on a historic building, much like the graphics on Cedib's Arc de Triomph powder, but that's just speculation.
The May 1, 1941 issue of Vogue featured a shop that sold an "all-purpose" cream with ingredients based not on one's skin needs but their zodiac sign. This is possibly the first zodiac-specialized beauty product in the modern era.
As compact sales grew exponentially in the '30s and '40s, zodiac-themed cases offered an alternative to monogramming in terms of customization.
(image from newspapers.com)
The short-lived Ziegfeld Girls brand launched lucite zodiac compacts in 1946, which you can read more about here.
Why this Scorpio compact included a brochure for Capricorn I don't know, but it's interesting to see.
Just two years later Elgin American got in on the zodiac compact game by introducing their "Zany Zodiac" line. The illustrations and rhymes were devised by Stan MacNiel, a Scotsman and former British army captain. He was quite the character and I encourage you to check out my post on him and the Elgin line.
Advertising for both the Ziegfeld Girls and Elgin American compacts emphasize the individualization aspect of the zodiac. Despite the millions of people that share the same sign, zodiac compacts were "all about you" and "individually styled."
As monogrammed compacts gradually became less popular by the mid-20th century, so too did those bearing individual signs. A shift towards including all twelve symbols became more common.
Zodiac-themed compacts from the '50s though the early '70s tended to include all the sun signs.
Clockwise from top left: unmarked Scorpio compact (1950s), Max Factor (1971), Zenette (ca. 1950s), Wadsworth (ca. early 1950s), Kigu (ca. 1950s-70s), Stratton (1969), Le Rage (1950s)
The late 1960s, with its tumultuous social revolution and economic and political uncertainty, is when the astrology craze firmly took hold in American culture. This in turn led to not only zodiac-themed collections but a slew of beauty horoscopes.
These pre-date Fresh's zodiac soaps by nearly 50 years!
Actress Arlene Dahl, who had been penning beauty horoscopes since 1963, published her "Beauty Scope" books in 1969. I need to get my hands on a couple copies but in the meantime check out this blogger's review.
Some beauty companies took a different, less labor-intensive route than producing and marketing zodiac-themed collections: they began recommending products from their existing lineup for each sign.
As the astrology fad waned in the mid-late '70s, due in part to scientist killjoys, so too did zodiac beauty. Save for this 1978 Maybelline ad, I was hard pressed to find any other zodiac-themed makeup until the mid '80s.
Zodiac beauty got a little boost during the greed-is-good era, when makeup artist Linda Mason published a book entitled Sun Sign Makeovers in 1985. Like Dahl's series, the book offered specific beauty tips and makeup looks for each sign. Just a couple years afterwards, Mason released her own line of astrology-inspired makeup called Elements, some of which can still be purchased today (with different packaging). There was a "moodkit" for each sign and specialized kits for eyes, cheeks and lips. By the way, in looking these up and learning more about Mason I discovered that her work is exactly one of the main things the Museum is intended for: the intersection of art and makeup. If travel is ever remotely safe again I'm definitely going to check out her store/art gallery in Soho, it sounds dreamy! It's literally called The Art of Beauty.
Maybelline also tried to re-ignite the zodiac beauty flame in 1988 with individual eyeshadows. First lady Nancy Reagan regularly consulted an astrologer during her husband's tenure, a fact made public that same year, so perhaps this news snippet isn't too far off base. (The shades are listed above in a separate clip for reference.)
The '90s and early 2000s experienced a resurgence of zodiac-themed beauty. Nostalgia for '60s counterculture (in which the fascination with astrology played a big role) as well as the renewed interest in customized beauty products were the major drivers of the trend. While Estée Lauder's compacts – another you can still buy today! – were geared more towards adults, many zodiac-themed products seemed to be intended for teens.
Demonstrating that beauty trends are cyclical, the zodiac fad waned again in the late aughts and early 2010s. But around rumblings began in 2015 with Fresh's zodiac soaps and crescendoed to a roar by 2018. Both Fresh and Bite borrowed a page from Flori Roberts and collaborated with noted astrologers for their collections – Susan Miller in the case of Fresh and Tara Greene for Bite.
Wet n Wild (summer 2018), Fresh Sugar lip balm (fall 2018), Colourpop x Kathleen Lights zodiac eyeshadow palette (summer 2018) and single eyeshadows (summer 2019), Missha cushion compact (ca. 2018), Bite Beauty Scorpio lipstick (fall 2018), The Creme Shop sheet mask (fall 2018)
But wait, there's more! These are the ones not in the Museum's collection but still worth a mention. The Milk Makeup zodiac stamps are a thoroughly modern twist on the beauty patches idea from several centuries ago, no? When applied on the face I'd imagine they'd look like beauty marks, albeit ones with a highly specific design.
Besides beauty tips and products, the increased usage of social media meant that by 2018 Instagram makeup artists were sharing some very elaborate zodiac looks.
Lest you think these not-so-wearable looks are solely the creation of 21st century influencers, here's a 1984 Australian beauty pageant where contestants were challenged to come up with the most over-the-top "fantasy" zodiac makeup.
The packaging and design of all of these objects and looks are interesting in their own right, but why does zodiac makeup trend more at certain times? And why is it experiencing what may be the peak of popularity during the past 2 years? There are several reasons. First, zodiac-themed beauty tends to follow a wider cultural interest in astrology and New Age practices more generally (crystals, tarot cards, etc.). Businesses are always eager to profit from the latest fad, and the beauty industry is no exception. The "mystical and psychic services market" was worth $2.2 billion in 2019 according to this trend forecaster. As Saffron of the Beauty Critic points out, astrology-themed makeup fits within the broader context of New Age/occult-inspired beauty and wellness products we're seeing now as a result. And in the Age of Aquarius, companies introduced hundreds of zodiac-themed products. Linda Goodman's 1968 Sun Signs was the first book on astrology to become a New York Times bestseller; by 1971, astrology was a $200 million dollar a year business in the U.S.2 Even Dali got in on the action.
The interest in astrology points to larger societal shifts and is driven primarily by younger generations just as it was some 50 years ago.3 Millennials and Generation Z are reporting higher rates of stress than older generations, and are increasingly turning to astrology and other New Age phenomena to cope. As the Atlantic explained in 2018, "According to American Psychological Association survey data, since 2014, Millennials have been the most stressed generation, and also the generation most likely to say their stress has increased in the past year since 2010. Millennials and Gen Xers have been significantly more stressed than older generations since 2012. And Americans as a whole have seen increased stress because of the political tumult since the 2016 presidential election. The 2017 edition of the APA’s survey found that 63 percent of Americans said they were significantly stressed about their country’s future. Fifty-six percent of people said reading the news stresses them out, and Millennials and Gen Xers were significantly more likely than older people to say so. Lately that news often deals with political infighting, climate change, global crises, and the threat of nuclear war. If stress makes astrology look shinier, it’s not surprising that more seem to be drawn to it now." Case in point: this "stress-busting" insert from a recent Sephora Play! box detailing what beauty products will help with relaxation based on one's sign.
The decline of organized religion and the expansion of the Internet's capabilities are also factors in astrology's revival.3 In 1972 one journalist cited two key reasons for the surge in astrology's rise: "fear in an uncertain time and the failure of orthodox religion to give meaning to problems."4 The same can be said for today's environment. Jessica Roy, writing for the L.A. Times in 2019, details the shift away from traditional religion and the resulting turn towards astrology. "Today, young people still seek the things that traditional organized religion may have provided for their parents or grandparents: religious beliefs, yes, but also a sense of community, guidance, purpose and meaning. But it can be hard for young people to find those things in their parents’ religions. So they’re looking elsewhere. On top of that, a lot of younger people feel alienated by mainstream religion — by attitudes toward LGBTQ people and women, by years of headlines about scandals and coverups, or by the idea that anyone who isn’t part of that religion is inherently bad or wrong…Before the internet, people who held beliefs outside the mainstream — religious, political or otherwise — lacked a public way to connect with one another. With social media, divinatory practices like astrology, crystals and tarot have been able to take up space in a public conversation. It helps that they all look great on Instagram…Young people have grown up contending with a major recession, climate change and a more general awareness of seeing a political and economic system that many feel hasn’t benefited them, so it’s not surprising that they’re pushing back against those systems at the same time they’re exploring nontraditional religious beliefs and finding ways to integrate it all."
As for modern technology, the New Yorker further lays out how the Internet and social media allowed astrology to be more accessible and at a much faster pace than before. "[Astrology] promises to get to answers more quickly. For centuries, drawing an astrological chart required some familiarity with astronomy and geometry. Today, a chart can be generated instantly, and for free, on the Internet. Astrology is ubiquitous on YouTube, Facebook, Instagram, and Twitter, and in downloadable workshops, classes, and Webinars. A new frontier has opened with mobile apps." While the Internet has radically changed, well, everything, in 1970 some of the first computers were being used to generate horoscopes, with companies pouring millions into new technology just as they are now for the same reason – increased speed of delivery to meet demand.
The second major factor in zodiac beauty's ubiquity is customization. Consumers like to think they're getting a product made or intended just for them. Customization in beauty is trending more heavily than ever before, from nearly every company offering engraving services to personal consultation apps. And astrology is a fairly simple way to advertise a seemingly individualized product. In an interview with WWD, Fresh's chief marketing officer highlighted the trend of "customization and personalization" in the industry. She also noted that "the collaboration was particularly successful in China, which she attributed to Chinese Millennials and their obsession with the zodiac." It's a great point about Chinese zodiac beauty products as there's been an equally explosive rise in lunar new year-themed beauty products in the past few years, many of them depicting the animal corresponding to the year. (See also Shiseido's Chinese zodiac figurines.)5 I think the growing interest in C-beauty is also partially responsible.
The customized aspect of zodiac-themed beauty parallels the personalization options in astrology and other New Age trends. One doesn't have to become a certified astrologer to enjoy horoscopes; they can pick and choose whatever suits them. Roy again: "[Millennials] dabble, they find what they like, they take what works for them and leave the rest…spiritual practices appeal to the commitment-wary: You can get a little into crystals or astrology or tarot, or a lot into it. You can buy a few rose quartzes or light a few candles and if it’s meaningful for you, keep it; if not, it’s not like you went through a full religious conversion."
As noted earlier, another time that was popular for customization was the "golden age" of compacts in the '40 and '50s, where many were engraved as personalized gifts or event keepsakes. Some were even designed with spaces specifically to add monograms. Perhaps that explains why two major compact manufacturers decided to add to their repertoire with zodiac lines.
Finally, on a more basic level, the visual appeal of zodiac imagery is fairly irresistible. There are as many different ways to depict zodiac signs as there are artists. Whether it's the caricatures illustrated by Stan MacNiel for Elgin, the refined style of Poudre d'Orsay, or the minimalist approach taken by Demeter, even if customers aren't astrology fans the designs will draw them in. In looking at the Museum's zodiac collection one would suspect I obsessively read horoscope predictions and plan my life around the alignments of stars and planets, but I'm actually not into astrology. I check out my horoscope from time to time just for fun, but the reality is that I collect zodiac makeup mostly because I enjoy looking at the artwork. The fact that it's prominent in makeup history and belongs in a museum is, admittedly, simply an added bonus. The otherworldly nature of the creatures and constellations combined with the twelve symbol structure satisfies both the imagination and the need for orderliness. Plus as a former art history major, it's fascinating to see different artists' takes on the zodiac.
What object here is your favorite? Would you ever try a makeup look or product based on your sign?
1Aileen Ribeiro, Facing Beauty, Yale University Press, 2011, p. 132.
2Barbara Holsopple, "A Longing for Things to Be Put Right", Pittsburgh Press, April 4, 1971.
3It's out of print, but if you're interested I bet this book is great if you're looking specifically for a cultural history of astrology. Or at least, it was the only one I could find.
4Mary Turczyn, "What is the Occult?", Fond du Lac Commonwealth Reporter, March 22, 1972. She adds, "In a poll taken in 1967, 57% said that religion was losing its influence on American life. With religion no longer the bulwark of society, people seek answers in other areas and astrology has rallied as one of these."
5For the purposes of expediency and so as not to be all over the place I chose to focus on the modern, Western zodiac rather than exploring the Chinese zodiac in beauty products. I do wonder how far back it goes…I'm envisioning powder containers hundreds of years old in the shape of dragons and other Chinese zodiac animals. Must research!
Introduction Welcome the Makeup Museum's spring 2020 exhibition! "Soaring Beauty: The Butterfly in Modern Cosmetics" explores the many ways butterfly imagery is used across all aspects of beauty culture. For 100 years the butterfly has been an endless source of inspiration for makeup artists and collections, ad campaigns and packaging. As the butterfly is perhaps the ultimate symbol of transformation, there is no motif more appropriate to embody the metamorphosis that makeup can provide. Like flowers, various butterfly species are a favorite reference for makeup colors, textures and finishes. More broadly, butterflies represent springtime, rebirth, hope, and freedom. With "Soaring Beauty", the Makeup Museum seeks to embrace this optimistic spirit and provide a peaceful oasis in the midst of a very uncertain and trying time.
The exhibition focuses on 5 main elements of butterfly makeup, which I will examine briefly before getting to the main show. Hover over the image for information, and additional details (when available) are listed in some of the captions.
I. Color The vibrancy of butterflies' coloring and their wings' gossamer texture figure prominently in the beauty sphere. Makeup shades and artist creations include every tone from earthy moth browns and greens to bold blue and orange hues to slightly softer pastels.
Vogue Portugal September 2016. Makeup: Michael Anthony; Photography: Jamie Nelson; Model: Zuzana Gregorova; Styling: Melaney Oldenhof; Hair: Linh Nguyen
Elle Ukraine, August 2012, makeup by Lloyd Simmonds
(image from pinterest)
Quality Magazine Germany. Hair and Makeup: Hannah Burckhardt; Photographer: Marco Rothenburger; Models: Krista Tcherneva and Alena N.; Styling: Jennifer Hahn
As butterflies are largely synonymous with spring, rebirth and rejuvenation, the vast majority of butterfly-themed collections are released then and feature bright, fresh colors.
This ad is racist AF but I thought it was important to include.
However, some color stories reflect different seasons via butterflies' natural habitats. Chanel's summer 2013 collection featured rich greens and blues reminiscent of the tropical morpho butterfly, while Anastasia Beverly Hills and Colourpop's fall releases opted for warmer tones inspired by monarch butterflies and their migration in the cooler months.
II. Texture and Finish The delicate, lightweight nature of butterflies and the softness of their wings is repeatedly referenced in early 20th century advertisements for face powder.
For Australian brand Lournay, the "butterfly touch" was an integral part of their marketing for two decades.
As for finishes, butterfly-themed makeup excels at imparting an iridescent, pearlescent or metallic sheen that reflects light similarly to that of a butterfly's wing. New technologyis being developed to artificially yet seamlessly recreate the iridescent butterfly wing effect in cosmetics, among other areas.
"Inspired by the beauty of a butterfly's wing, these moisturizing lipsticks shimmer with a flash of turquoise iridescence that lights up the complexion and makes teeth appear whiter. In soft and whimsical shades of pink that flutter and float over lips, this collection of lipsticks brings a butterfly radiance to your entire look."
The fascination with butterflies' iridescent quality is also expressed in "morpho" compacts of the 1920s and '30s. These were made with real morpho butterfly wings or foil and commonly depicted tropical locales. Popularized by jeweler Thomas Mott at the 1924 British Empire Exhibition, morpho designs were also used in jewelry and other accessories.
III. Movement Butterfly beauty products embraced the notion of flight and the insects' graceful motion, at times linking them to dance or music to more fully capture the joyous, free-spirited movement of a butterfly soaring through the air. K-beauty brand Holika Holika simply titles their butterfly embossed blushes "Fly", while jeweler Monica Rich Kosann named the compact she created for Estée Lauder "Butterfly Dance". Pat McGrath's "techno butterflies" look at Dior's spring 2013 combines pastel "wings" with rhinestone details to impart a rave-like vibe.
IV. Design Butterflies proved to be a popular design element in general. As far back as the 1900s, jewelers created exquisitely detailed butterfly compacts made with fine glass and sterling silver, and many compact manufacturers incorporated the motif in their offerings. The butterfly's more whimisical side is expressed in Max Factor's acrylic "Butterfly Kiss" set and more recently, in a Jill Stuart Beauty lip gloss filled with iridescent butterfly-shaped glitter.
V. Mood and Metamorphosis Whether it's subdued or taking a more literal approach, butterfly inspired makeup is a universally recognized symbol for spring and transformation. Many companies release items embossed with butterflies or incorporate them in the advertising for their spring campaigns to express the larger ideas of hope, joy, freedom and rejuvenation.
The theme of metamorphosis is reinforced through the fusing of faces and butterflies. By adhering butterflies to the cheeks, lips and even eyes, the effect is a physical transformation intended to turn the mundane into the magical and capture the essence of the butterfly as it emerges from its cocoon.
"The Garden of Eden theme continued with the make-up – glitter eyes beneath net masks to look like delicate mythical creatures, and butterflies on the models’ lips as though the insects had just landed there for a moment." – Jessica Bumpus for British Vogue
An outstanding example of this concept is the spring 2020 runway show by Manish Arora. Makeup artist Kabuki was responsible for the dazzling, otherworldly looks. Some of the models were drag queens, emphasizing the transformational nature of both makeup and butterflies.
As noted in part 1 of the introduction, butterfly-inspired makeup usually features an array of colors found on various butterfly species. However, when combined with butterfly application directly to facial features, barely-visible makeup speaks to butterflies' undomesticated environment and conveys the human bond with nature.
Dazed magazine, June 2012. Makeup: Peter Phillips; Hair: Syd Hayes; Photographer: Ben Toms; Model: Elza Luijendijk; Stylist: Robbie Spencer
Dazed magazine, June 2012. Makeup: Peter Phillips; Hair: Syd Hayes; Photographer: Ben Toms; Model: Elza Luijendijk; Stylist: Robbie Spencer
Exhibition All of the above elements are well represented throughout the objects in the exhibition. So let's get to it!
Top row, left to right.
Let me just say that the story of Lucretia Vanderbilt makes Tiger King look tame by comparison. I tried to summarize it the best I could, but for the full story head over to Collecting Vintage Compacts.
Possibly my favorite pieces in the exhibition and one of my all-time favorites: Chantecaille Les Papillons eyeshadows and Garden in Kyoto palette.
I had to do several labels to cover the Mamechiyo and Chinese New Year collections for this shelf. I was also going to include the Lisa Kohno collaboration, but given the lack of space and the fact that there's another Shu collection in the exhibition I left it out.
I'm hoping to dig up more information on the artist behind the design on this Stratton palette, which may be tricky as his archives are located in the UK.
Second row, left to right.
I couldn't find much information on the inspiration behind Marcel Wanders' compact for Cosme Decorte. I'd love to know how he came up with the design. All I know is that the model in this video is wearing a dress made with the same pattern.
Slightly better shot of the powder so you can see the lovely little butterfly details.
I wish I could have found a little more info on the Hampden brand and DuBarry's Vanessa face powder. I remember adoring the 3D butterfly in my brief history of DuBarry but could not find any reference specifically to Vanessa.
Third row, left to right.
You might remember I featured the La Jaynees powder box in the spring 2016 exhibition. I managed to scrounge up a rouge box. No rouge, but the box is lovely on its own. Once again Collecting Vintage Compacts did an amazing brand history.
Recent acquisition, which you can read more about here.
I wish I could have cleaned up this Avon palette a little better, but I was afraid of damaging it. However, one in better condition and with the original box popped up on ebay, so get ready for new photos!
I wonder if Sears has archives that I could look at to find out anything about their cosmetic line.
Bottom row, left to right.
I have the lipstick somewhere but am unable to locate it at the moment. What I really regret is not buying the accompanying Météorites powder or pressed powder compact, but they were so pricey and at the time I just couldn't afford them.
More Shu!
I was unable to find any information at all on this powder box, but yet again Collecting Vintage Compacts had everything on the Jaciel brand.
Some more items that were included in the spring 2016 exhibition.
For the life of me I couldn't get decent pictures of them on the shelves so here are the images from my original post on them.
There was one more item I wanted to include, but couldn't fit it so I'm using a photo from when I wrote about it.
Exhibition Notes I had been wanting to cover the butterfly theme for about 8 years now. An article on butterfly compacts called "High Fliers" in the February 2017 issue of the BCCS newsletter also inspired me. I wish I could have written a deep think piece on the idea of makeup as metamorphosis or was able to do more research besides what's online, but given the current situation I kept it simple and decided to save my energy for different topics that I can tackle when the libraries reopen, which will hopefully happen in the summer. (I discovered some local university libraries may have the resources I'm looking for, but I cannot access them remotely as I'm not a student or faculty member.) But access to certain archives might have allowed some examples of runway/editorial butterfly makeup that's older than 2012 and more images featuring models of color. And I know it seems like I included every instance of butterflies in makeup that is at my disposal, but I promise it was thoughtfully edited (curated, if you will.) There were actually even more looks that I wanted to include but got frustrated at the lack of basic information about them like the makeup artist or year. As for the objects themselves, I don't think any of them are vegan or cruelty-free, even though some of the companies that made them are now cruelty-free/vegan, such as Chantecaille.
Decor Notes The husband did an amazing job of "butterflying" the Museum's logo for the exhibition poster and labels. I was going to buy a paper butterfly garland or use the mini paper butterflies I had gotten for Instagram props in the exhibition, but in the end decided it was too gimmicky (and the garland reminded me too much of a baby shower for some reason.) I figured given the current space the focus should be more on the ads and objects. But if the Makeup Museum occupied a physical space, here is some art I would include as decor. It would be like stepping into a very artsy butterfly garden!
And that wraps it up! Remember you can participate in the exhibition – find out how here. In the meantime, one easy way to weigh in is to tell me what your favorite objects, looks or ads were (either in the intro or main exhibition or both) and why. 🙂
I love when I get an inquiry to which I can actually give a solid response. A gentleman sent in this picture he had of an old lipstick and asked if I could identify it and provide any sense of its monetary value.
I recognized it immediately as one of the Revlon Couturines doll lipsticks released between 1961 and 1963. But which one? The only one I recognize off the top of my head is Liz Taylor as Cleopatra, since it's pretty obvious.
Fortunately the Revlon Couturines appear in Lips of Luxury (which I highly recommend for any beauty aficionado – check out my review here and in-person pics here.) According to the photos in the book it's not Marilyn Monroe.
Or Ava Gardner.
So it must be one of these ladies.
Aha! Looks like it's Jackie Kennedy (last one on the right.)
What's fascinating to me about the submitter's photo is that his doll appears to be wearing a little fur stole around her neck, whereas in the photo from the book she doesn't have one. As for the value, Revlon Couturines can fetch a pretty hefty price. Even though the photo is blurry, the one submitted to me looks to be in excellent condition. And given that she has a stole, which I'm assuming is original (the original Marilyn Monroe figurine has neckwear as well, which isn't shown in the picture in Lips of Luxury), that would probably increase the value. I think a fair asking price would be $150-$250. At the moment I don't even see any Jackie figurines for sale.
What do you think of these? This post reminds me that I really need to track down at least one for the Museum – I can't believe I don't own any. Another one (or 8) to add to the old wishlist.
Update, 2/6/2020: It only took 5.5 years, but I finally procured a few of these lovely ladies for the Museum!
I am sorry to say that I can confirm these are not cruelty-free. As a matter of fact, Revlon made it a point to highlight the "genuine" mink, fox and chinchilla used. How times have changed. I'm also wondering whether all the ones listed for sale over the years as having brown mink are actually fox fur, as indicated in the ad below. Then again, this was the only ad I saw that referenced fox fur, so maybe the brown ones are mink as well.
The white mink one is not in the best shape – there's a little bit of wear on the paint on her lips and discoloration around her "waist" – but she does have the original box. I'm suspecting the black mark is remnants of a belt, as shown here. (Apologies for changing the background in these photos but I was shooting across several days and was too lazy to retrieve the paper I had used originally.)
The chinchilla-clad lady, however, is basically new in the box. One hundred percent museum quality!
From what I was able to piece together from newspaper ads, the ones without animal fur were advertised as "mannequins" and originally released in 1961, while the chinchilla, fox and mink ones were referred to as "girls" and debuted during the holiday season of 1962. Both series fell under the Couturine name.
There were originally 12 designs, according to this ad. Of course, you paid a little more for the Mannequins with hats and jewelry.
Most of them were similar but had a few details switched up. This is especially true for the Girls series. For example, the brown mink/fox one I procured has the same color velvet at the bottom and one pair of rhinestones, but the one in Lips of Luxury has pink velvet and 4 rhinestones. The colors of the velvet and type of fur were also mixed and matched.
But one question remains. I'm wondering where Jean-Marie Martin Hattemberg, whose book Lips of Luxury I referenced earlier, retrieved his information. Obviously I don't think he just made up the idea that each Couturine was intended to be a replica of an actress or other famous woman. But I'm so curious to know how he came to that conclusion since I've never seen them advertised or referred to that way anywhere other than his book. Perhaps he knew someone at Revlon who designed them? Or maybe they were marketed differently outside of the U.S.? In any case, there's no mention of the chinchilla Couturine and several other of the original 12 dolls in Lips of Luxury, so I'm not sure who they're supposed to be. Hopefully one of these days I'll solve another makeup mystery. 😉
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As with lipstick holders and tissues, another piece of makeup ephemera has seem to gone nearly extinct: the built-in lipstick mirror. Sure, there are still some run-of-the-mill fabric and leather lipstick cases with mirrors inside, and some contemporary companies have recycled the basic designs, but no current lipstick mirrors are as novel as their vintage counterparts. Today I'll take a look (haha) at the various vintage contraptions and mechanisms that allowed for a quick lipstick touch-up. As usual this exploration is not intended to be a comprehensive history of lipstick mirrors, but a brief overview and theories as to why they have mostly disappeared from the beauty milieu as well as the reasons they were even produced in the first place.
The simplest design consisted of a mirrored tube, favored by the likes of Avon and Flame-Glo.
The second most basic and inexpensive option was the humble lipstick clip, which attached directly to the lipstick tube. The adjustable design meant that it could fit virtually any tube and was easily removable.
I purchased a couple of these clips for the Museum's collection. Here we have the "Looky" mirror, which was patented in 1957, and Compliments, which most likely dates to around the same time.
The only design flaw with these types of mirrored tubes and clip-on mirrors was that they would be easily smudged since the mirror was exposed. Enter the folding lipstick mirror and clip! Elizabeth Arden's Rolling Mirror lipstick debuted in 1959, and while I couldn't find an exact date for Stratton LipViews, they probably were released around the same time and continued to be sold until the early '90s.
Avon also made a far less elegant plastic version.
The mirror could also be protected from smudges and scratches via a sliding mechanism instead of a folding one, as shown in this fan-shaped Stratton lipstick holder.
These next few will put a spring in your step. Spring-loaded, sliding cases in which the mirror popped up when the lipstick was opened were also quite popular. Shown here is Volupté's Lip Look, which dates to 1949-1950. Elgin, Elizabeth Arden and Kotler and Kolpit offered similar cases.
Given how many came up in my search for lipstick mirrors at Ebay and Etsy, it appears that the most widely available model of the spring-loaded variety of lipstick mirrors was a silver carved case accented by gemstones. They're unmarked, meaning no particular company patented the design and choice of metal. I believe they were mostly sold in department and jewelry stores.
Despite the silver cases' ubiquity, I'd say the most recognized name-brand spring-loaded lipstick mirror was Max Factor's Hi-Society, which was heavily advertised from their debut in 1958 through approximately 1965.
You might remember I featured these in the Museum's holiday 2016 exhibition. I'm still hunting down all the designs, which actually isn't difficult given how many the company produced.
Next up is a more complex version of the folding mirror. Instead of a tube clip, this was an entire folding hand mirror with the lipstick hidden within the handle. Here's an unmarked, super blingy version. Stratton also made a bunch.
Here are some rather dainty petit point and floral versions by Schildkraut.
Finally, there are the handle inserts. This item from Revlon would appear to be a regular hand mirror, but the lipstick is cleverly hidden in the handle. It was introduced in 1950 as the "biggest news in lipsticks since swivels were born". How very exciting.
Of course, Max Factor upped the design ante with their "Doll Set" lipsticks, which were introduced in 1967.
Now that we have a good sense of the types of mirrors that were available, let's spend a little time thinking about why they were made, or at least, why the advertising claimed they were the greatest things since sliced bread. The first reason built-in lipstick mirrors were a necessity – again, according to the advertising at the time – was the ease provided by a fused lipstick and mirror. Presumably women who wore lipstick also would have also carried around mirrored powder compacts, which could be used for lipstick touch-ups. Fumbling around in your purse for a mirrored compact when you just needed to touch up your lips and not your face powder, apparently, was too difficult to handle on a regular basis. As this 1935 newspaper blurb states, "Keeping lipstick and mirror together is the biggest trouble." Oh, the horror! (Bonus points for the blatant racism at the beginning of the piece.)
Such a "harrowing experience" to not be able to find a mirror!
The second reason was that the lack of digging around for a mirror meant lipstick could be applied more discreetly, you know, for "when you want to sneak a look while the boyfriend's back is turned." (More bonus points for the weight/food shaming piece below the lipstick article.) Much like lipstick tissues, lipstick mirrors were meant to be used to avoid an etiquette faux pas.
This 1940 column takes the idea of discretion a step further. As we've seen time and time again, a woman's makeup habits are dictated by what men think. "We suspect that the bold-face manner of applying lipstick is due for a set-back as a table pastime. Recently we heard more than one rumor that men are expressing a dislike for the practice. And it is a smeary, messy looking operation for a beloved with his own dreams about a natural beauty. Better keep him, if not guessing, then not too much in-the-know about your coloring source." Heaven forbid a man actually see a woman mend her lipstick! Ladies, please keep your silly frivolous face painting to yourself so as not to ruin TEH MENZ' unrealistic expectations of so-called natural beauty. I can't roll my eyes hard enough.
Thirdly, one can't be seen with a beat-up compact. Women should always present the prettiest possible cosmetic cases when in public. Seriously though, at least this 1956 clip is straightforward in proclaiming that a lipstick mirror is merely aesthetically pleasing instead of a necessary accessory in the battles against flaunting your makeup application and a messy purse in which no separate mirror can be easily unearthed. Just a little dose of "extra glamour".
And of course, let's not forget that as part of their goal of making a healthy profit, beauty companies are forever trying to invent another superfluous gadget or product and declaring it the next must-have. Perhaps lipstick mirrors were the mid-century version of vibrating mascaras. In any case, despite the lack of popularity for the built-in lipstick mirror as well as the cynicism of modern-day makeup wearers like myself, several brands forged ahead with attempting to resurrect the lipstick mirror over the past 20 years or so.
In late 1999, with much fanfare, Givenchy introduced their Rouge Miroir lipstick designed by by sculptor Pablo Reinoso. Reinoso became Givenchy's Artistic Director for their fragrance and beauty line shortly after the lipsticks' release.
The March 2000 issue of Vibe magazine proclaimed the sleek, futuristic design to be the height of convenience: "No more knives or rearview mirrors". Wait, who uses a knife to apply lipstick?!
A year or two later, Estée Lauder launched their Pure Color lipstick line. I believe these mirrored cases came out in the mid-2000s when Pure Color lipsticks were at their height.
Guerlain's Rouge G series was introduced in the spring of 2018 and comes in a variety of collectible cases (and, duh, I'm working on acquiring them all). The mechanism is similar to Stratton's in that they won't close unless there's a lipstick bullet inside. While practical, it makes for quite the hassle to take photos of the cases only as they keep popping open. I have to tape them closed, which is a less expensive option than buying lipstick bullets to go in each case.
Finally, I spotted this folding lipstick mirror from J-beauty brand Creer Beaute, which was included in their 2018 Sailor Moon-themed collection.
Still, these designs are not nearly as common as their predecessors from the early-mid 20th century. Why did the popularity of the built-in lipstick mirror fade over time? One theory is that lipstick packaging with built-in mirrors is more expensive than non-mirrored packaging, and therefore, not as appealing to consumers. Guerlain's Rouge Gs, for example, cost $55 ($33 for the bullet and $22 for case) while their KissKiss lipsticks are priced at $37. Going further back in time, Elgin's spring-loaded mirrored case by itself was $5.50, while the price of an average lipstick was $1.10. Why pay for a mirrored lipstick case if you (most likely) already have another mirror available? Yes, you might have to dig around in your purse a bit, but at least it won't be lighter for having spent money on a lipstick/mirror combo. This theory could also explain why clip-on mirrors were seemingly everywhere, as they were the cheaper route to fusing lipstick and mirror.
Another theory for the continuing disinterest in built-in lipstick mirrors could be that for the last 5-10 years there's been increasing demand for less, or at least recyclable, packaging. While some higher-end brands are refillable, most lipsticks sold with a built-in mirror don't appear to have a refill option, and consumers may be less likely to buy a mirrored lipstick tube knowing yet another packaging component will eventually end up in the ocean. Plus, while the new designs are relatively slim, they're still bulkier than lipsticks without built-in mirrors. The majority of beauty consumers, myself included, don't want anything taking up more room in their purse or makeup bag.
Finally, I believe beauty consumers are savvier than they were in the early days of the industry and are less susceptible to marketing and gadgets. A built-in lipstick mirror may have been considered revolutionary in the '40s because swivel tube lipstick had been invented just a few decades prior, but by the '70s these mirrors may have seemed old hat. So certainly by the 21st century we know these designs are not truly a breakthrough, nor are they anything that would be considered a necessity. I featured no fewer than 6 Kailijumei lipsticks in the Museum's spring 2017 rainbow-themed exhibition, and just now noticed there were mirrors on the tubes. The fact that the mirror didn't even register with me, a person who enjoys re-applying her makeup and has spent countless hours poring over product packaging, until now when I'm actually discussing lipstick mirrors shows just how unnecessary a built-in lipstick mirror is. And again, the majority of beauty consumers is likely to be carrying a compact mirror anyway, rendering a lipstick with a built-in mirror redundant. We also know that makeup companies update older designs and market them differently to see what sticks. To cite Guerlain's Rouge G, the description at the website highlights how the user can select both the color and case to suit their individual taste. "Every woman is unique…choose your lipstick from a wide range of shades to match your look: from the most nude to the most extravagant. Choose your case from an array of styles – from the most timeless to the most trendy". Rouge G has the same basic mechanism as the spring-loaded lipsticks of yore – it's especially similar to Max Factor's Hi-Society with the array of designs – but the marketing focuses on the customizable aspects (a concept that has spiked in popularity over the last two or so years…I've been meaning to write something about the craze for nameengraving/customization) rather than the newness and convenience of a dedicated lipstick mirror.
What do you think of the built-in lipstick mirror? Would you consider it a must-have? While I certainly appreciate the aesthetics, it's nowhere near a necessity for me.
(images from newspapers.com)
(image from archive.vogue.com)
(image from archive.lib.msu.edu)
(image from tmagazine.blogs.nytimes.com)
(images from ebay.com)
(image from archive.org)
