On average, the Museum receives one inquiry a week. It doesn't seem like much, but if it's something that can't be identified easily or a broad question about historic trends, they can take up quite a bit of time. Here are a handful of inquiries I worked on over the past year or so.

First, we have some questions about wartime makeup. One of the Museum's Instagram followers asked about this lovely set she had purchased on eBay. She suggested it may have been a kit provided to service women during the war.

Elizabeth Arden service kit, 1940s-1950s

The following week, by pure coincidence, another person got in touch with an identical kit in red.

Elizabeth Arden Service Kit, 1940s-50s

As it turns out, the hunch from the tan kit's owner was spot-on: this is Elizabeth Arden's service kit, which dates to about  1939-1956. I don’t think the company provided them for free, but it seems like the kit with Stop Red was recommended specifically for the women in the Auxiliary Fire Service in the UK, at least initially. A book called the Home Front Pocket Manual contains an excerpt from the Nov. 1939 issue of a British publication called Britannia and Eve, and it mentions the set.

Elizabeth Arden Service Kit - excerpt from Britannia and Eve

The kit was sold in Canada starting around 1942 and continued to be sold there into the 1950s, but was advertised just as a regular travel kit for the “busy” woman, not service women. It also looks like the red leather was not available until 1942. In any case, it's a compelling piece of wartime women's history – kits were actually created to help women adhere to the "beauty is your duty" motto.

Calgary_Herald_Mar_15__1956

National_Post_Dec_4__1943

Elizabeth Arden Christmas ad, Harpers Bazaar UK, 1940

So this was mostly solved…except for the number that appeared on both kits. If anyone knows what "R.D. 1941" means please get in touch. The only possibly relevant thing I found was "Reserve Decoration" which is an award for the Royal Navy Reserve in the UK, but it doesn't seem like that would be appropriate to put on this particular kit.

Elizabeth Arden Service Kit, 1940s-50s

Next up, a vintage enthusiast and YouTuber, Katie May, asked about the use of gravy browning as leg makeup during the war. As silk and nylons were scarce, liquid leg makeup was sold as a substitute for stockings.

A selection of vintage leg makeup. Collection of the Makeup Museum.

But in the UK, where shortages were even more dire and cosmetics prohibitively expensive, more women tried to DIY liquid stockings through a number of substances. According to some sources, ladies tested out a bunch of things to mimic the look of stockings. Along with gravy browning, cocoa, wet sand, tea, iodine, walnut juice and brown shoe polish were all experimented with. Katie wanted to know how the gravy was applied and whether it was a widespread trend. I'm afraid I couldn't turn up much concrete information given the limited access I have to resources, not to mention I know very little of where to begin looking for sources on WWII history in the UK. This BBC archive provides a brief 1st person mention of the stockings, but my findings consisted mostly of newspaper snippets and book excerpts, which may not be reliable and don't provide exact figures as to how many women were actually partaking in the practice.

Liverpool_Echo_fall__1941
So it's really difficult to say how widespread DIY leg makeup was, at least on a regular basis. It must have been so cumbersome to mix and apply, and it definitely was not waterproof. Even the expensive pre-made leg makeup sold by cosmetic companies were not necessarily waterproof formulas despite their advertising. The gravy browning in particular was rumored to attract dogs and flies.
Hartford_Courant_1941_Guardian-1944
I can't envision women applying it themselves or going to the leg makeup "bars" to have others apply it every day, but maybe they did. It was a very different time; one woman remarked that it was "embarrassing" to go without stockings, so perhaps the social stigma was strong enough to force women to try DIY alternatives, and the cosmetics shortage in the UK was a lot worse than in the U.S.  As for face makeup, the same ideas apply – I'm skeptical of how widespread DIY makeup was, but it seems most women in the UK could not afford cosmetics during the war even if they were readily available (which, again, they weren't…lots of shortages. While the UK government believed that cosmetics boosted morale so they didn't completely stop producing makeup, it was still difficult to obtain.) I must point out that men enjoyed making fun of us silly, shallow women's efforts to keep up with the constant societal expectation of beauty. And of course, they always had it worse. I can't roll my eyes hard enough at these clippings.
The_Guardian_Sept.-July 1941
In any case, some sources state that beetroot juice was substituted for lip makeup and blush, shoe polish or soot (!) for mascara, and starch for face powder (NOT flour, as proposed by the sexist windbag above). Some women melted down whatever was left of their existing lipsticks and mixed them with Vaseline to make a balm. The two sources I found to be most useful on DIY makeup were 1940s Fashion by Fiona Kay and A People's War by Peter Lewis. Madeleine Marsh's book Compacts and Cosmetics (p.124) and Geoffrey Jones's Beauty Imagined (p. 136) also have brief mentions of DIY wartime makeup. Finally, I also recommended to Katie that she reach out to Kate Thompson, who has written several historical fiction novels about women who worked at the Yardley cosmetics factory in the UK during the war, and my understanding is that she's done quite a bit of research into WWII makeup. Anyway, Katie bravely tried out the gravy browning and a bunch of other homemade wartime beauty substitutes! Kudos to her for re-creating these unusual and rather messy cosmetic practices.

Next, an antique store owner asked about some old cosmetics sales kits by the name of Velens that she had come across. I didn't turn up much on the brand's products, but here's what I was able to find. The company was founded in 1930 by a Swedish ex-pat named Leo B. Selberg. Selberg had a background in chemistry and previously worked for Luzier, another cosmetics brand at the time. The Velen's Educational Cosmetics name was copyrighted that same year, as well as something called "Paul Velen's Color Harmony Chart". As it turns out, a man by the name of Paul Velen (based in Kansas) had actually come up with all the formulas prior to Selberg's involvement. The relationship between Selberg and Velen isn't clear; however, from newspaper clippings it seems that before moving to Missouri, Selberg socialized frequently with an older brother of Paul, A.R. (Reuben) Velen, so I'm assuming they knew each other. Paul also had a degree in chemistry, although what inspired him to start a beauty business remains a mystery. Maybe Leo approached Paul about being the owner of the business while continuing to sell under the Velen name and keeping the formulas, but it doesn't seem like either of them were too involved/hands on with the line. Selberg sold Velen's in 1959 to a company called Greer and Associates, but I couldn't find any mention of Velen's Cosmetics after 1955 so it may have been on its last legs by that point anyway. Paul Velen died in May of 1969 at the age of 68; Selberg in 1979 at the age of 83. There was also a man named Albert Colborn who served briefly as Chairman of the Board of Velen's Cosmetics from 1930-1933 and started his own beauty company called the Modernistic Beauty Service in 1933, but I couldn't turn up much about him other than his obituary.

Velens Cosmetics jarsAnyway, the Velen's line wasn't used for training at beauty schools but rather for demonstrations in salons to sell to salon customers. In fact, it was almost exclusively sold in salons with some direct sales (door-to-door/traveling) agents, not in department or drug stores. The "educational" part of the name meant that beauty salon employees would "educate" their clientele on the best products for them and how to apply them. It looks like it was sold primarily in the Midwest and Texas, with some salons as far away as California and New Hampshire, which is why it's a little surprising there aren't more records or product photos. So this was quite a find and an interesting tidbit.

Velens powder samples
Velens salesbook
 
Skipping ahead to the late 1950s, the Museum received a few questions about Helena Rubinstein's Mascara-Matic. First, someone sent in a box with some adorable packaging, which was released for the holiday season in 1958.

HR holiday mascara
I couldn't find a magazine ad, but there were a couple of newspaper ads. A year later Rubinstein released another holiday edition of Mascara-Matic with a Christmas ornament design on the box. As far as I know the "harlequin" style in the photos sent in to the Museum was only released in 1958, and it doesn't seem like Rubinstein released any other holiday edition boxes of Mascara-Matic except for 1958 and 1959.
 
Vancouver_Sun_Dec_16__1958
Baltimore_Sun_Nov_30__1958
 
Bismarck_Tribune_Dec_16__1959
Then another person wrote in asking about the value of an original Helena Rubinstein Mascara-Matic, believing that the one she had found was from its first production run and worth a whopping £3,000 according to this Daily Mail article. It's hard to say with certainty whether any Mascara-Matics are from the first run. Perhaps those had the patent number and everything after that was marked "waterproof" or did not have any markings around the middle. However, the one I purchased for the Museum has the patent number but also came with a refill, and refills were not sold until 1958, a year after the mascara's debut. Even if the one the person had was original, it's not clear where the figure of £3,000 comes from. The Museum does not do valuations, but I will say Mascara-Matics, either with patent numbers or marked "waterproof" typically sell for about $50 so I can't see an original being worth 60 times more, unless there was proof it belonged to a celebrity or something like that. There was also a listing for one with a patent number at eBay – from what I can tell it was unsold with a starting bid of £49.95. If it was in fact sold, again, I can't see it going for £3,000 even in mint condition.
Helena Rubinstein Mascara Matic. Collection of the Makeup Museum
 
Lastly, another vintage store owner inquired about a skincare kit sold by blender brand Osterizer. (There are larger photos of the jars at Etsy.)

Osterizer beauty set, 1971-1975

Based on the coupon included in the photo and some newspaper ads it was sold between 1971 and 1975. It looked like quite the gimmick. There wasn't a ton of information on it, but it seems Oster was trying to cash in on the "natural" cosmetics trend of the late '60s/early '70s and sold these kits for those who already had a blender and wanted to make their own organic skincare with fresh ingredients. 

The_Los_Angeles_Times_Wed__Aug_1__1973_

But who really needs brand name pink jars and labels for homemade cosmetics? One could go to any craft store and get their own supplies. And while Google didn't exist back then, the recipes would have been pretty easy to find as well. I'm just a bit astounded at what they were trying to sell, as it really seems to be a cash grab. Anyway, it's a fascinating bit of beauty history and definitely an expression of the era.

 
Which one of these were you most intrigued by? While I'm not the best at solving makeup mysteries I do enjoy receiving them, so please don't hesitate to send any objects or questions to the Museum!

I'm always so honored to hear from people wanting to know more about the (usually) vintage objects they come across. While the volume of inquiries can be a bit overwhelming sometimes, it's so interesting to see what's out there and I enjoy expanding my knowledge. For this installment of MM Mailbag, I'm looking at a few inquiries that I managed to partially solve.  I wish I could have answered with 100% certainty, but at least I found a little information.

First up is a metal clutch containing a multi-use compact. The submitter lives in California and was cleaning out a house of a family member who had passed away when she stumbled across these items.  At first glance I thought the compact was physically embedded in the clutch somehow, but they're separate.

Mondaine compact

Vintage Mondaine compact

The compact was easy to identify. It appears to be one by Mondaine, a compact manufacturer in the 1930s that was better known for their book-shaped compacts. Here's another example of it. (The interior has the same layout and products as the one that was sent to the Museum…I'm just too lazy to add photos.)

Mondaine compact
(image from worthpoint.com)

The metal clutch, however, was trickier. I couldn't make out the monogram or figure out what the "Mitzah" engraving was, but my best guess is that someone selected a clutch to put the Mondaine compact in, had it engraved and presented it as a gift – maybe for a birthday, or perhaps a wedding anniversary given the June date. Or maybe someone just had an old engraved metal case and decided to put the Mondaine in there to store it.  They may be totally unrelated.

Antique? metal clutch

So I wasn't able to definitively conclude anything about the metal case. But it's certainly pretty and I wonder what the story was behind it.
 
Update, 6/4/2021: Some incredibly exciting news! Sarah Jane Downing (yes, THE Sarah Jane Downing who wrote Beauty and Cosmetics, 1550-1950), kindly reached out and provided some information on the mysterious "Mizpah" engraving on the metal clutch. Here's what she had to say:
"During the 19th century the Regency taste for sentimental jewellery developed into an obsession by the Victorian era and there were many pieces (in the UK at least) that bore the inscription 'Mizpah' or 'MIZPAH' which I suspect is the inscription on the clutch. This would substantiate your theory that it was sent as a gift to a loved one. Mizpah was a derivation from a Hebrew word meaning something akin to 'watchtower' which was used in jewellery to mean 'the Lord watch between me and thee', an innocent religious reference used to convey a far greater depth of meaning. This could be used in mourning jewellery to refer to the distance of a loved one sadly departed or as an early form of sweetheart gift for a loved one far away. It was also a wonderfully romantic way to exchange tokens with a secret or forbidden love without fear of accusation or discovery!"
How fascinating is that?! So now I really do wonder whether the clutch was intended as a wedding keepsake. Thank you so much, Sarah, for sharing this amazing bit of history!
 
Next up is an antique store find. It's a round metal compact featuring a peacock or pheasant perched on a cherry blossom tree. The characters on the front appeared to be Chinese and the submitter seemed to think it was someone's name.  The only other marking it had was the word "lovely" (in English) on the powder puff in the compact (no photo of the puff was provided.)

Vintage Chinese compact

I posted it on Instagram stories because I know a few very supportive Museum friends read and speak Chinese. I must give a huge thanks to Mimi of Makeupwithdrawal and Mina of Citrine's blog for kindly translating the characters for me! As it turns out, the first character means "beautiful" and the second means "peak" or "summit", so they believed the inscription is the name of the company that made the compact. Also, Mimi thought the compact dated to the 1960s or later, as simplified Chinese was standard by the '60s. How the English word "lovely" got on the powder puff I'm not sure, but perhaps it belonged to a different compact.

Vintage Chinese compact detail

Unfortunately I don't know of any vintage Chinese compact companies or makeup brands – I'm only familiar with 21st century ones – but it's a pretty design even if we don't know exactly who made it.

Next up we have the opposite problem: the company was identified, but it's a strange find that I'm not entirely convinced is even a cosmetics object. It's made of velvet (unusual for a powder box) and paper (unusual for a compact). After a little digging I learned that it's a box by Tanfani & Bertarelli, who supplied papal jewels and religious accoutrements – basically they were the Vatican's official supplier of decorations starting in 1905. From the few documents I found online (ads and receipts) it appears Tanfani and Bertarelli were at the address listed on the box from at least the 1920s to the early 1960s. The company changed its name in 1967 so we know it dates prior to that. I asked the husband about the font of the company name since he's a graphic designer, but he indicated it's pretty generic so I'm not sure what decade it's from.

Tanfani and Bertarelli box

I'm questioning if the box was meant to be a compact given that I couldn't locate any examples of this company making cosmetics or toiletries – they seemed to produce papal jewelry/clothing and medals, so I'm wondering if this box held something else. Perhaps it held a gift or souvenir that the public could purchase at their shop. Especially since the writing on the box translates to "objects of devotion memories" whereas other boxes for official papal medals say "sacred objects" – maybe people could go in and buy a souvenir like a rosary or coin or something and this was the gift box. But it's possible it's a compact or was the gift box for a compact since souvenir compacts were popular back then, and the dimensions look similar to a compact, plus it opens the way a standard compact would. I'm not sure if there was an actual powder puff or if what's shown here is just a wad of cotton, or if there was any powder residue. Those details would help identify it as a powder box or compact with more certainty.

Tanfani and Bertarelli box

Let's take a quick break from compacts with an old lipstick. The submitter had the brand's name on the tip of his tongue but couldn't remember, so he asked me to take a crack at it. The silhouette of the case is rather common and used by a lot of brands so that's not much help, but there's an L on the cap and the fleur de lis motif would suggest a French brand. Based on other vintage lipsticks and ads, I eliminated Luxor, Luzier, Lucien Lelong, Lancome, Louis Phillipe and Lady Esther. I thought L'Oreal was a possibility based on this blush compact as it incorporates the fleur de lis, but the photos of the lipstick indicate it's a metal case, which means it most likely dates to before 1960. To my knowledge L'Oreal did not sell cosmetics (only haircare) in the U.S. until the late '60s. 
 
Lentheric lipstick?
 
My best guess is Lentheric, based on this mascara case which has a similar logo of an L and 3 fleur de lis symbols. This logo dates to the early '50s.

Lentheric mascara
(image from collectorsweekly.com)
 
Do you remember this ad from the fall 2017 exhibition?
Lentheric Pippin Red ad, 1952
 
Lentheric appeared to have undergone a lot of packaging changes, so it's unclear when the lipstick in question was made. The company had an interesting fold-out case in the late 20s/early 30s, then a black case with a gold ribbon encircling it, then during the war they shifted to plastic. This one could be a variation from the mid 1930s to early 40s…that is, again, if it's actually Lentheric. I also asked the extremely knowledgeable expert at Cosmetics and Skin to take a peek and he thought it could be Lentheric as well. So that's what I came up with but I don't know for sure. Maybe the letter is actually a T and not an L, but that didn't align with any of the brands of the time (Tangee, Tattoo, Tussy, etc.)
 

Getting back to compacts, here's one someone dug up at an old bottle dump in Western Montana. This was another that at first glimpse I wasn't sure if it was a compact. The shape and depth seemed to indicate that it could be a snuff box.

Antique E.A. Bliss compact or snuff box

The submitter thought the EA on the monogram might stand for Elizabeth Arden, but it didn't look like any of the ones from Elizabeth Arden, and as far as I know the company was never referred to as Elizabeth Arden Co. or E.A. Co. After poking around a bit I have come to believe it's the mark of the E.A. Bliss Co., which eventually became Napier Jewelry.

E.A. Bliss mark

This particular mark, with a bee at the top, was used from about the 1890s through 1917, according to a listing at Ruby Lane. (Other listings indicate the mark was phased out in 1915…either way, this piece is much older than I originally thought!)

E.A. Bliss belt buckle
(image from rubylane.com)
 
E.A. Bliss mark
(image from napierbook.com)
 
As they were a jewelry company that made tons of accessories – everything from hairpins to belt buckles – knowing the brand and the approximate dates didn't really help determine for sure whether it's a powder compact or snuff container. My hunch is that given the depth, relatively plain design and the lack of a mirror is that it is a snuff box. Ladies' powder containers tended to have more decorative details. For comparison's sake, here's a powder compact by the company from the same era. It is fairly plain, but it has a mirror and it's not as deep.
E.A. Bliss compact
(image from vivaterraboutique.com)
 
I really can't say for sure what it is, but we know it's over a century old, so it's a true antique. I'm also not certain about the materials. E.A. Bliss was essentially a fashion jewelry company (i.e., not high-end like Tiffany's) so there were a lot of gilt and silverplate accessories. So this one could be all brass or gold-plated brass. While I couldn't completely unravel the mystery of this object, I was pleased at figuring out who made it and the approximate dates. There's a whole book on the history of Napier too, so maybe there are photos or ads of snuff boxes and powder compacts.
 

The last one for today is one that I think is 99.9% solved. A very nice Museum supporter in Australia emailed to say that sometime in the late '90s she spotted a Stila compact in David Jones, a department store down under. As with my memory of a Stila mermaid, she thought maybe it was a figment of her imagination. "It was circular, with the rounded lid and relief design, and it was obviously for bronzer since it was a copper colour. This is the part that is driving me crazy: I swear it had a Stila girl on the lid! She closely resembled the girl on the Sun Gel tube (with the sun behind her) but the girl on the compact had a loose braid falling on her left shoulder instead of loose hair, and freckles. I have never seen this compact anywhere since. The only bronzer rounded relief compacts I've seen have the sun's rays or the little scattered stars. Did I imagine it?? I would so appreciate if you could please tell me if this compact exists!"

Fortunately I had good news for her. I'm not sure whether the compact in question was available in the U.S., but something nearly identical was sold in Asia and obviously in Australia where she spotted it. This one is very close to what she described, but the design does not appear to be in relief, just printed on the lid.  So perhaps there was a slightly different product with the same Stila girl image but with a relief lid.
 
Stila Sun compact
(image from mercari.com/jp)
 
There were a couple of Stila compact designs with stars and one was relief and one was flat, so it's entirely possible the same thing happened with this design. As we know, just because an image can't be located online doesn't mean an object didn't exist. But the submitter replied to my findings and after thanking me profusely (always appreciated!) she confirmed that this was in fact the compact she had seen – she was quite certain that she was getting it slightly confused with the others that had a relief design.
 

And that wraps up today's edition of MM Mailbag. I have so many more inquiries to share…recently I tried to organize all of them into several email folders and noticed that the Museum has received over 320 inquiries since 2009! No wonder I feel like I can't keep up. But your queries are always welcome, so if you have an object or topic you'd like to know more about just send it my way. 🙂 And if anyone can help fully solve the makeup mysteries outlined in today's Mailbag, I'm all ears!

I'm still a bit wiped out from the spring exhibition and it's been ages since I've shared some inquiries that made their way in the ol' Makeup Museum Mailbag, so here's a quick review of some questions that have been sent my way. 

First up is this lovely compact with a six-pointed star in blue rhinestones – perhaps a Star of David? – and matching lipstick, submitted from a reader in Australia.  Her grandmother's brother had brought it back to her grandmother during the second World War.  Without any logo or brand markings I can't pinpoint the company that made it, and after looking online and through all my collector's guides I can say I've never seen a vintage compact with this design. Obviously it was made in France, but I'm not quite as familiar with objects across the pond, as it were.  It's a beautiful set and I wonder whether it has any wartime or Holocaust significance.

Vintage (ca. 1940s) rhinestone Star of David compact and lipstick

Vintage (ca. 1940s) rhinestone Star of David compact and lipstick

The second inquiry I have to share today was another head-scratcher.  Someone had messaged me on Facebook (which I set up earlier this year but rarely use) asking about this little lady.  It's a Revlon Couturine lipstick, but her identity remains a mystery. 

Revlon Couturine lipstick

As I've noted previously, allegedly the Couturines were supposed to be modeled after actresses and other purveyors of style.  But this one doesn't seem to match any of the ones that have been identified.  The only other actress whose name I've seen mentioned is Shirley MacLaine but it's not her either, according to this photo. 

Revlon Couturine - Shirley MacLaine
(image from worthpoint.com)

Finally, I received an inquiry from someone asking for proof that suffragettes wore lipstick as a symbol of emancipation.  I swiftly directed this person Lucy Jane Santos's excellent article outlining how there really is no solid evidence that the ladies fighting for equality in the early 1900s regularly wore lipstick to rallies, or at least, to the big one in 1912. As she outlines in her article, it appears to be a persistent myth that most likely began circulating in the '90s both in Jessica Pallingston's book and Kate de Castelbajac's The Face of the Century: 100 Years of Makeup and Style (1995).  Just for kicks and giggles I took a peek at newspaper archives (I'm finding they're just as fun and informative as magazines) and dug up a couple of interviews with British suffrage leader Emmeline Pankhurst and a profile of her daughter Sylvia.  Their views on makeup are positively fascinating!  As it turns out, Emmeline had no moral issue with cosmetics, she just didn't find a made-up face aesthetically pleasing:  "Don’t think I am actually censoring the young girls nowadays…the very brief skirts and the overdone makeup are by no means an indication of loose morals.  They are, in often rather a pitiful way, an indication of groping toward greater freedom and they are still more a groping towards beauty…the impulse to make one's self look as well as possible is a perfectly sound impulse. It has its root in self-respect.  It is quite wrong to think that the use of short skirts and rouge are based on any violent desire to attract the opposite sex. The use of these aids [is] based on the legitimate desire to look one’s best. A woman dresses more for other women than for men.  But the too-red lips and the extremely short skirt – I must confess that I dislike them.  I dislike them because so few girls look well thus arrayed, and because older women, when thus arrayed, usually look rather ridiculous.  But let me point out one fine fact behind all this makeup.  It is not added with any idea of deception.  The woman today who powders and paints does it frankly, often in public without one iota of hypocrisy. And this, I think, is a splendid gain.” (emphasis mine)

Emmeline Pankhurst profile -Apr_18__1926_

Her daughter, Sylvia, on the other hand, did not approve of makeup at all.  "I still don't approve of lipstick and makeup.  It's horribly ugly, destroys the value of the face.  I've never used it, never shall."  Her obituary also states that she thought makeup and lipstick were "tomfooleries". 

Sylvia Pankhurst profile, Aug_3__1938_

I did also see this 1910 ad from Selfridge's.  This is what I believe to be the only reference to suffragettes wearing lipstick. I'm wondering if this is part of how the myth was generated, since even with this ad there doesn't seem to be any concrete proof that suffragettes wore lipstick.  Selfridge's advertised and sold it; whether it was widely worn by suffragettes is still up for debate in my very humble opinion.

Selfridges ad, 1910(image from @selfridges)

If you have any additional information about the things I've shared today, please let me know! Which one do you find most interesting?

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.

MM-inquiry-lipstick

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. 

Revlon-Liz-Taylor-Cleopatra

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.

Revlon-Marilyn-Monroe

Or Ava Gardner.

Revlon-Ava-Gardner

So it must be one of these ladies.

Revlon-couturines-lipsticks

Aha!  Looks like it's Jackie Kennedy (last one on the right.)

Revlon-couturine-lipsticks

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! 

Revlon Couturine lipstick cases, 1962

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.

Ad for Revlon Couturine lipsticks, December 1962

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.)

Revlon Couturine doll lipstick with white mink, ca. 1962

The chinchilla-clad lady, however, is basically new in the box.  One hundred percent museum quality!

Revlon Couturine doll lipstick with chinchilla fur, ca. 1962

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. 

Ad for Revlon couturine lipstick, 1962

There were originally 12 designs, according to this ad.  Of course, you paid a little more for the Mannequins with hats and jewelry. 

Revlon couturine lipstick ad, 1961

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.

Revlon-couturine-variations
(images from Sun Shine)

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 you know, from time to time I receive email inquiries from people with cosmetics objects they've stumbled across and would like to know more about.  I'm always flattered that people think that I know what I'm talking about and can help them, especially since most of the time I have no idea about the item in question, but sometimes I get irritated when the inquirer's sole objective is to determine how much money they can make off an object they found.  At first it seemed this way when the original owner of this very rare compact approached me, asking for more information and how much it might be worth.  As we'll see, he turned out to actually have an interest in the compact's history and wasn't after profit. 

This was an epic find indeed, easily one of the rarest and most valuable in the Museum's collection.  I now present the Ramses powder compact, which debuted in 1923.  The design shows an Egyptian woman in profile, holding a perfume bottle in one hand and a flower in the other, which she brings to her nose to enjoy its scent.  The pyramids of Giza are just barely visible in the background, while lotus flowers on each side towards the lower third of the compact bloom into an arc of leaves. 

Ramses compact, c. 1923

I'm not sure if the woman is supposed to be anyone in particular – perhaps Cleopatra – but given that the design is most likely not historically accurate, I'm not going to dwell on it too much.

Ramses compact, c. 1923

While there are other ads for the powder that show the compact, which we'll see in a second, I wasn't able to locate any originals.  I did, however, find this ad in a French publication from February 1920.

Ramses powder ad, February 1920

Ramses powder ad, February 1920

I was hoping to find some good information about the compact for the person who contacted me, and of course, the ever-thorough Collecting Vintage Compacts blog had an excellent post on the history of the Ramses perfume company so I directed the inquirer over there.  I don't wish to regurgitate all of the author's hard work on Ramses' backstory – I highly encourage you to check out the post for yourself – but I will provide the abridged version.  The Ramses brand was founded in 1919 in Paris and selected Le Blume Import Company to distribute the line in the U.S. in 1921.  By 1923 ads for the powder boxes and compacts were appearing in Vogue magazine.   As Collecting Vintage Compacts points out, the ad copy is pure nonsense:  neither the perfumes nor the powders were produced in Egypt and their formulas certainly did not date back to 1683.  How the company even arrived at that arbitrary date is beyond me.  However, with the discovery of King Tutankhamun's tomb in November 1922, the Ramses moniker turned out to be quite fortuitous given the ensuing craze for anything Egyptian – clearly the ads wanted to milk the fad for all it was worth.  The world was now swept up in the latest wave of Egyptian Revival, a style that incorporated various elements of Egyptian art and culture and encompassed design, fashion and beauty (see this compact depicting Theda Bara as Cleopatra and this ad as examples). 

Ramses ad, Vogue, June 1923

Ramses powder box

Egypt's influence on Western beauty from the Renaissance to today is a subject I'm looking to cover more thoroughly this year, either in a blog series or an exhibition (or both!) so stay tuned.  As viewed through 21st century eyes, it was clearly unabashed cultural appropriation, a white person's fantasy of "exotic", far-off lands and artifacts.  However, Egyptian inspired-beauty is such a rich topic that I can't bear not to fully explore it…especially now that I have this gorgeous piece in my hot little hands.  Anyway, Collecting Vintage Compacts notes that the Ramses powder case was made by the Bristol, CT-based Zinn Corporation, a company that produced some of the earliest and most memorable compacts in the U.S.  I find it interesting that while the powder was scented with the "Secret du Sphinx" fragrance, the compact itself shows a woman rather than the mythical creature.  Collecting Vintage Compacts speculates, as I did, that the woman could be Cleopatra, but offered the additional option of Ramses' wife Nefertari.  I agree with his conclusion that it really doesn't matter who she is – just a vague Egyptian theme was more than enough to get the point across.

Ramses ad, Vogue, August 1923

Another version of the compact sported silver edging, a beautiful contrast to the warmth of the brass.

Silver edged Ramses compact
(images from Collecting Vintage Compacts and Ruby Lane)

I also spotted some ads in newspapers.  They're not as visually striking as the Vogue ads so I'm not including them here, but they did come in handy for indicating the original retail price of the compact, which was $1.00.  The latest ads I could find were from 1925 and both the perfumes and powder were heavily discounted, which indicates Ramses was a flash in the pan. 

But why?  You would think given the era's craze for Egyptian-inspired design, combined with the slight French flavor (another huge selling point – this was a time when companies actively tried to give their lines and products authentic French or at least French-sounding names) the Ramses company would be able to get more a little more mileage out of their products.  Collecting Vintage Compacts unraveled the mystery.  As it turns out, the perfumer behind the Ramses brand, one Léon de Bertalot, had begun quite a shady scheme to sell another one of his fragrances.  In 1914, 5 years before he launched Ramses,  de Bertalot named one of his fragrances Origan.  As we know, Coty's L'Origan (launched in 1909) was wildly popular, pulling in roughly $3 million in sales in 1921 alone.  De Bertalot decided to capitalize on the company's success and began using the Coty name to sell his own Origan, essentially passing it off as a real Coty product.  Coty, rightfully so, cracked down on this very quickly.  On May 15th, 1923 a French court found de Bertalot guilty of "unfair competition", and a few days later the U.S. Treasury mandated that any inauthentic products bearing the Coty name were unable to be imported unless they specifically spelled out that they were not affiliated with Coty in any way.  Since the Ramses brand had nothing to do with Coty I don't know if the Treasury's mandate applied to Ramses as well, but I'm sure the 6-month jail sentence and fine of 100,000 Francs handed to de Bertolot essentially meant the Ramses brand was out of business.  Hence the price markdown of their products by 1925 – I'm guessing stores in the U.S. were trying to offload any leftover stock that was originally imported two years prior.  The Le Blume Import Company, in turn, was no longer allowed to distribute any perfumes from any company whatsoever.  However, it did import dusting powder tins and glass jars using the Ramses name in the late 1920s.

1929 newspaper ad for Ramses dusting powder

Ramses1

Ramses2

Green Ramses powder box
(images from Vanity Treasures and Etsy)

Getting back to the original inquiry that was the impetus for this post, here's the story of how the compact got into my hands from the person who emailed me originally (we'll call him C.)  He had found it for $10 in a thrift store (!) but given the unique design, figured it was worth more.  After looking through all my collector's guides and not turning up anything, I directed C. to Collecting Vintage Compacts and asked him to please let me know when/if he decided to put it on the market.  Obviously I also indicated my great interest in obtaining the compact, but lamented that it was most likely out of my price range.  Well, don't you know C. actually wrote back telling me that he was going to put it up for sale on Ebay, but said that while he'd like to get a good price for it (that's only fair, who wouldn't?), he believed that the Museum was the rightful place for the compact, given its rarity and my passion for lovingly researching and preserving these sorts of items.  Thus he kindly offered to sell it to me directly and negotiate on price.  In the end I think we both got a great deal – he got way more than what he had originally purchased it for and roughly the amount he would have gotten for it if he had put it up for public sale, and I got an amazing find at a fair price for which I was able to avoid an ugly bidding war. 

Ramses compact, c. 1923

After reading the Ramses history at Collecting Vintage Compacts and browsing the Museum's site, C. seemed genuinely interested in the compact and in the Museum's mission, so I was very happy to see he wasn't just in it for profit and was willing to work with me to ensure the compact went to a great home instead of merely to the highest bidder.  :)  I really appreciated it, as so many people who ask about value just want to know how much they can get for an item and have absolutely no consideration for the object's history or the Museum, which, as a reminder, is funded entirely out of my own pocket.  Not that anyone is obligated to donate rare and valuable items, of course, but they could follow C.'s example and be open to selling their item to me at a price that works for both of us.  I know if I came across an object I have no interest in but that other collectors might – say, a rare Barbie Doll – I'd seek out someone who would truly treasure it and give them first dibs.

Ramses compact, c. 1923

What do you think?  And yay or nay on a series/exhibition on Egyptian-inspired beauty?

I much prefer email for inquiries but am always excited to receive them in any format, so when someone Tweeted at me last year to request any information on the vintage item below I eagerly began searching.  The person who sent the Tweet thought it might be Rimmel, but the name Po-Go was not a Rimmel product as far as I could tell.

Vintage Po-Go Rouge

Online searched proved fruitless – I couldn't find any reference to Po-Go rouge whatsoever…until a few months ago when I was researching lipstick tissues at newspapers.com and spotted an ad for Po-Go Rouge in the very bottom corner of an article.  I was so excited to have found something even though it was roughly a year since the poor person had originally Tweeted at me.  I found some basic information, but let me just say up front that definitively dating the various Po-Go Rouge pots I came across in ads and elsewhere proved rather difficult, if not impossible.  Still, I was able to get some clues and can narrow them down to the span of a few years.  Come with me on my research adventure!

I forget what I typed in to Google, but miraculously I came across another specimen at the Museu del Perfum.  Fortunately this item has the back label displayed.

Vintage Po-Go Rouge
(image from museudelperfum.net)

So from there I typed in all sorts of phrases, but the one that got the results I was looking for was "vintage Guy T. Gibson, inc. New York".  Via several perfume blogs I discovered that Guy T. Gibson was established in 1921 by a perfume importer, J.S. Wiedhopf.  The Vintage Perfume Vault explains:  "As a young man, Wiedhopf worked for the Alfred H. Smith Company, who were the only stateside importers of Djerkiss perfume. After he learned the business and perhaps sensing there were more lucrative opportunities, Wiedhopf struck out on his own. In 1921 he started his own business, Guy T Gibson Inc. There he began to import the exclusive Parisian brand Parfums Caron, which he sold to American customers in his New York retail shop. Soon Wiedhopf began offering perfumes under his own label, although the scents were actually being manufactured and bottled by Gamilla in France."  Wiedhopf's perfume brand was known as Ciro, and rarely came up when advertising Po-Go Rouge.  Why Wiedhopf chose a totally different name for the company and why he decided to sell imported rouge along with perfumes I don't know, but as of April 1922 he had set up shop at 565 Fifth Avenue, as shown on the Po-Go label above and this office space ad below.

Straus building ad, April 1922

The earliest mention of the product that I found was October 1923.

Oct. 1923-first-mention-pittsburgh

Here are some from 1924. 

Po-Go Rouge ads, 1924

This one is notable for being one of two ads I could find that actually mentions that Po-Go and Parfums Ciro are both imported by Guy T. Gibson, Inc.

Parfums Ciro ad, 1924

The shade name listed on the one from the perfume museum is Vif, the first mention of which I found was in 1927.  However, what leaves me scratching my head is that the packaging also seems to be different starting in 1927.  The full Paris address is listed on the perfume museum's item, which is consistent with the labels we saw in the 1924 ads, but there was no mention of the Vif shade until 1927…and you'll notice the label below has changed to simply "Paris, France".  So how did a container that is presumably dated 1924-25 hold a shade that wasn't introduced until 1927?

Po-Go Rouge, 1927

Anyway, the earliest mention of two more new shades (Saumon and Cardinal) was in February 1930.  I just had to include an ad from June 1930 as well even though the text is the same.  How cute is that girl with her little paint palette?!  I'm always looking for ads and packaging that take the "makeup as art" literally, since I think it would make a great exhibition and/or book. 😉

Po-Go Rouge ads, 1930

By March 1932 Po-Go had expanded to include lipstick. I don't know what a "Frenchy" case is but it sounds very fancy.

Po-Go Rouge ads, 1932

I suppose the reason Wiedhopf branched out into blush and lipstick in addition to perfumes was to capitalize on the already entrenched obsession with French beauty, judging from the ads.  (That would make a fantastic paper or even a whole book, no?  While I was browsing these old newspapers I stumbled across a great news article from February 1923 that talks all about how the fashionable Parisian women are wearing their blush and lipstick and how Americans are so uncouth by comparison…proof that our obsession with "French girl beauty" goes back way longer than we would assume!)

Po-Go Rouge ad, February 1933

Po-Go Rouge ad, May 1934
Now you know I was on the hunt for a Po-Go Rouge of my very own.  I've been having excellent beauty luck lately (knock wood it sticks around) and this was just another incredibly fortuitous find.  It's in pretty darn good shape too – a little wear on the outside but the product itself is totally intact and the puff is unused. 

Vintage Po-Go Rouge

Vintage Po-Go Rouge

Speaking of the puff…OMG.  So. Cute.

Vintage Po-Go Rouge

You can see how tiny it is – our blush nowadays are supersized in comparison.

Vintage Po-Go Rouge

For this lovely addition to the Museum's collection, I was actually able to date it within a few years.  First, you'll notice that the shade name on the back is Saumon, which, as we saw previously, wasn't introduced until 1930.  Additionally, the early Po-Go packages (ca. 1923-25) had the shade listed on the side. 

Po-Go Rouge ad, 1925

Next, the label on the front has done away with the "Paris, France" and replaced it with "Parfums Ciro, Distributor, New York", while the one on the back also lists Parfums Ciro instead of Guy T. Gibson, which was what the Museu del Perfum rouge label listed.  The Vintage Perfume Vault notes that Wiedhopf officially changed his company's name from Guy T. Gibson to Parfums Ciro in 1936.  This would explain an ad from the same year which notes that Po-Go Rouge is from Ciro.

Po-Go Rouge ad, March 1936

Finally, while Parfums Ciro lasted until the mid-60s, the last mention of Po-Go Rouge I could find in newspapers was from September 1942.  So basically, the Po-Go Rouge I have must date between 1936 and 1942 or thereabouts.  I will say that the puff in the one I have looks markedly different than the one in the 1936 ad, but consistent with the one that was Tweeted and in other previous ads, so I'm not really sure what that means.  In any case, after all this I was dismayed that I couldn't give an exact date for the Po-Go Rouge that was brought to my attention via Twitter, since the biggest clues are the sides and back of the container and the top is too blurry to read.  The text does seem too long to be "Paris, France", so my best guess that it's either very early (with the original Paris address), or after 1936 with the Parfums Ciro label like the one I have, since the text for both of those extend further on each side.  Another clue is the indentation on the front, which is consistent with the one from Museu del Perfum – this may mean it's on the earlier side since the later one I have doesn't have a pronounced indentation.  The color is also a little strange, as both mine and the one from Museu del Perfum are reddish, while the one that was shared with me online is pink.  I'm not sure whether the color has faded significantly or if the container was damaged, but perhaps it was yet another hallmark of a very early version of Po-Go.  This 1929 ads highlights "the gay red box", so it wasn't pink at that point, and the ad copy also implies that there was one colored box for all shades, i.e. different shades weren't packaged in different colored boxes.  (Still love this Parisian artiste!)

Po-Go Rouge ad, 1929

So that's really the best I can do without seeing the back label or making out the print on the lid.  Alas.  While I didn't get exact answers for the request, at least I had a ton of fun poking around newspaper archives and comparing packaging, two of my favorite things!  I did reply excitedly to the the submitter on Twitter and it doesn't seem she's online very much now, but hopefully she'll see this post eventually if she goes back on social media. 

Do you agree with my assessment? 

For the majority of inquiries I receive -  say, around 75% – I'm ashamed to admit that I can't provide any information.  I do enjoy researching them but I loathe not being able to give a definitive answer on the item or brand people are asking about.  Recently I receive an inquiry from a woman who was, sadly, going through her deceased mother's belongings and came across 4 gorgeous compacts that she wanted to know a little more about.  While I was still not able to provide solid information for a couple of them, I was able to delve a bit more deeply into 2 of them.  I guess 50% is better than my usual rate for inquiries!

First up is this lovely gold-tone number with a sunburst pattern on the front and a basket weave pattern on the back. 

Vintage Melissa compact

Fortunately the puff was still in there so I could see the brand.  The Melissa company, according to the British Compact Collectors' Society, dates from around the 1950s-70s.  Says one researcher: "Melissa is thought to have been based in Acton, London W3 from the early 1950s, but I found that by 1962 the company had premises in Arundel Road, Uxbridge, Middlesex.  In 1970, the company was still listed at this address in a telephone directory, but by 1972 another company occupied the site.  A local trade directory of 1976 listed Searchlight Products, so possibly the firm was still trading at this later date, but I have been unable to find out at what date it ceased manufacturing compacts." 

Vintage Melissa compact

Next up is a "sweetheart" black enamel compact, so named for their popularity among WWII soldiers who gave them as gifts to their loved ones during wartime.  Without a maker's mark I couldn't identify the brand, but from what I could make out the insignia in the heart looks a bit like the "prop and wings" motif from the U.S. Air Corps.  I asked the submitter if anyone in her family was in the military and she confirmed that her father was in the Army Air Force during WWII.  What a sweet gift for her mom. 

I'd love to write a comprehensive history of sweetheart compacts, but it's such a huge project that it will have to wait for when I have time…like, maybe when I'm retired.  🙁

Vintage sweetheart compact

Vintage sweetheart compact

For these last two a little more information was available.  Zell was a leading compact company from the '30s-'60s and was  one of the "5th Avenue" lines, along with Rex, Dorset, Columbia and Dale.  Zell had some quite novel compact designs early on, including the "First Nighter" – a compact with a flashlight that was released in the '30s (can you believe that?!)  But Zell was primarily known as a solid brand that offered understated, stylish designs as well.  The compact in question is an elegantly striped square piece with rounded edges.

Vintage Zell compact

Vintage Zell compact

I tried to find a little more information from my local library about the company, but came up mostly empty-handed.  I learned through a few meager news clippings that the company was founded by David H. Zell, who passed away in 1944.  While his widow Sophie was technically President, it was the Vice President, one of their sons Daniel D. Zell, who was really running the show, given this clipping (not to mention numerous patents in his name.)

1951 clip

After I scoured the historical newspapers, I decided to try old-fashioned googling to at least try to find when the Zell company was founded and when it went out of business.  I didn't find those dates, but I did unearth something quite interesting and bought it immediately.

Zell compact ad 1946

Well, look what I spy!  It's the very same compact!  The ad indicates that this particular style actually had a name:  it was called the "Countess".  Here it is up close in case you couldn't make it out.  (The one above is the "Aristocrat" and the one below is the "Princess".  Ooh la la.)

Zell ad close up

When I originally researched this inquiry I guessed that the compact in question was from the '50s, as that was the height of Zell's popularity and, in my opinion, gold-tone compacts.  But I was wrong.  The promotional ad is from 1946, so it must have been released if not that year then around then. While I'm still a little miffed at not being able to put together a full history of Zell, I'm glad I could at least identify this particular compact.  It was complete luck but I'll take it.  🙂

I saved the most interesting one for last.  I couldn't for the life of me recognize the brand, as the photo of the mark on the back was too dark and small.

Lucien Lelong tambourine compact

Thankfully the submitter included a picture of the puff.  I recognized the concentric L-shapes as the logo belonging to Lucien Lelong, a famed French couturier turned perfumer and cosmetics manufacturer.

Lucien Lelong tambourine compact

The design of the compact is truly fascinating.  The intricate, regal birds are reminiscent of motifs found on royal crests, and I can't say I've ever seen a compact with little rings attached to it.  Off I went to find more information and found a few ads so I could give a date of when this compact was released.  Known as the "tambourine" compact, it looks like it first appeared in September 1948. The rings could be simply decorative and just there to be "pleasant sounding", or perhaps Mom could attach some charms to them – seems they were really pushing this as either a Valentine's Day or Mother's Day gift.  It may also have waned in popularity by 1950, given the price drop from the original $5 to $0.99.  As a side note, my mind is always blown by the retail prices of vintage pieces!  They seem so inexpensive, but according to this online calculator a $5 compact would cost approximately $52 nowadays.  Still, that's a reasonable price for a nice compact…and it would be only $10.13 on sale.  🙂

Lucien Lelong Tambourine compact ad, September 1948

LOL at "gifty!"  These old ads crack me up sometimes.

Lucien Lelong Tambourine compact ad, February 1949

Lucien Lelong Tambourine compact ad, May 1950

I was really curious to know why Lelong decided to introduce this compact, as it didn't seem to have a connection to any of the company's fragrances or couture.  I did come across this "Ting a Ling" perfume bottle which also had rings attached and was released around the same time as the compact. 

Lucien Lelong Ting a Ling perfume
(image from collection.cooperhewitt.org)

But as you can see, it has bells, whereas I didn't see any Tambourine compacts with bells.  According to the New York Times ad above, the compact was a replica of a vintage French tambourine, which, when I first laid eyes on that description, sounded like utter marketing garbage.  However, thanks to extensive information provided on Lelong by the Fashion Institute of Design and Merchandising, it's entirely possible that the design was indeed inspired by a vintage tambourine.  Lelong employed the services of noted artist Peter Fink to create novel, unique packaging for his perfumes and lipsticks, such as the Ting a Ling bottle and Full Dress lipstick mentioned in the ad above, so it's probable that Fink came up with the tambourine compact design as well.  As for the notion that the compact was specifically a French tambourine replica, that's also credible given Lelong's love for his home country.  So maybe the advertising isn't a complete pile of crap spun by unscrupulous marketing directors.*  ;)  Anyway, I was happy that I could find a name and date for this compact.  This is definitely one I'd love to add to my collection, but they are rare (read: expensive, especially when in good condition) and tend to get snatched up immediately.

In closing, I'd like to thank the person who took the time to share these items with me.  Since I was able to provide a couple tidbits, this was one of the few inquiries that didn't end with me getting very upset at finding zero information.  Plus, all of the compacts are great from a design standpoint.  Even if I didn't find a single thing about them, I would have just enjoyed looking at them.

What do you think?  Which of these is your favorite?

 

*Eh, it probably is. Another newspaper ad from December 1948, which I didn't clip since I refuse to upgrade to the "premium" subscription of newspapers.com (they're such jerks – this stuff should be free!), and my local library didn't carry the particular newspaper, notes that the tambourine is an "exact replica of a g—y's tambourine".  Oof.  That would be pretty unacceptable language now, not to mention that it makes me doubt how inspired the design was.  Or it could also be a matter of marketing to different geographic areas – perhaps the advertising people thought that "French" would be more appealing to what they perceived to be a high-fashion East Coast crowd so they used it in the ad that ran in the New York Times, and changed the description to the g-word for simple Midwestern folks, whom they assumed had less stylish taste than New Yorkers and may have been put off by anything described as French (the g-word ad was found in the Indianapolis Star.)

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I received a rather intriguing inquiry from someone trying to identify an object that once belonged to his deceased aunt.  I was up a creek initially but luckily the interwebz allowed me to unravel the mystery. 

First, the object in question.  It's obviously a nail buffing stone, but beyond that I had zero information…

Kopp & Joseph Youpla nail buffing stone

Kopp & Joseph Youpla nail buffing stone box

Kopp & Joseph Youpla nail buffing stone

Kopp & Joseph Youpla nail buffing stone

…until I found this print.  I totally can't remember what search terms I typed into Google to pull this up, but I'm glad I came across it.

Kopp & Joseph nail stone ad by Alfred Boeld, ca. 1911(image from fineartamerica.com)

According to the description, "Stein der Weisen" means "Philosopher's Stone".  The man on the right is turning the woman's nails into gold using this seemingly magical nail buffer.  I wasn't familiar with the lore of the Philosopher's Stone, but the stone apparently possessed alchemic properties, hence the transformation of this lady's nails into gold.  The artist for the ad was Alfred Böld; unfortunately I couldn't find any sort of official bio for him.  This site says that he worked primarily as an advertisement artist and was active till about 1926. 

Just for fun, here are the other two works of his I was able to find online. This one, also from 1911, is for something Google Translate calls "head washing powder", which I'm assuming is shampoo.  In any case it's lovely.

Alfred Böld ad, 1911
(image from artnet.de)

The other image was a poster from 1912 for…well, I have no idea.  Google Translate gave me the exact same words I typed in to translate.  Some kind of event or festival, I guess, since it has specific dates.

Poster by Alfred Bold, 1912
(image from plakatkontor.de)

It's a shame there's not more on Böld, as I'm liking the few works by him that I could access.  To my delight there was more information available on Kopp & Joseph, which I stumbled across in this book (which honestly seems like a depressing read.)  The nail buffing stone was a quite popular item, and the company not only made cosmetic items but was also a wholesaler for them (see p. 80).

Here's a picture of their storefront in Berlin around 1927.  It's so pretty, I wish drugstores still looked like this.

Kopp & Joseph storefront, Berlin, ca. 1927
(image from lempertz.com)

What I couldn't figure out is how a German item ended up being sold in the U.S. market and for approximately how long it was sold here.  The original ad dates from 1911, and the person inquiring informed me that his aunt was born in 1912, so the nail buffer had to have been sold in the U.S. at least through the 1930s (I highly doubt she was purchasing such an item as a child.)  At my request, the inquirer kindly unwrapped the insert that I had spotted inside the box so I could hunt for more clues.

Youpla nail buffing stone insert

This was the big break in the case, so to speak.  How an extensive history of a seemingly obscure company ended up online I don't know, but wow was I lucky it exists!  The George Borgfeldt company manufactured many things – they were particularly known for dolls and toys – but I noticed "druggist sundries" was listed among the many departments, so obviously this is the same company that produced the nail stone.  The history also says that the company was known as George Borgfeldt & Co. from 1883 through 1933, and was liquidated and changed to George Borgfeldt Corporation in 1933 and was in operation till 1961.  Given that it's listed as Geo. Borgfeldt & Co. on the inside wrapper and the date of the original German ad is 1911, I initially thought the product had to have been made between 1911 and 1933.  However, I found a 1915 U.S. patent for Geo. Borgfeldt nail items, including "enamel, polish, paste, bleach, pomade and tints for the finger-nails,"  so that means it's unlikely it was sold in the U.S. prior to 1915, as Borgfeldt would have had to secure patents and translate everything on the package into English before selling.  Additionally, the company moved to new headquarters in 1910 and stayed there until 1931. The address for this is the same as the one on the insert:  16th street and Irving Place.

Geo. Borgfeldt & Co. headquarters, ca. 1910 (image from 14to42.net)

Given what we know about the patent date and the address, that means the particular nail buffer in the inquirer's possession was sold in the U.S. between 1915 and 1931. So my initial hunch was correct – the item dates to the early '30s.  Also, since the Borgfeldt company was primarily an importer of items outside the U.S. and Kopp & Joseph operated partially as a wholesaler, my best guess as to how this nail buffer ended up being sold in the U.S. is that Borgfeldt scoped out popular items from different countries that they could get wholesale and distributed them here with their name.

The inquirer also asked about the monetary value of the nail buffer.  Unfortunately for him, most vintage cosmetic items, no matter how cool the packaging is, don't go for much.  Sure, there are some rare and in-demand items that fetch several hundred dollars, or even artifacts that go for thousands, but generally speaking these things simply don't carry a high price tag.  I found another example of a Youpla item on e-bay which sold for a whopping $7.99. 

Vintage Youpla nail polish

I'd be curious to see how the polish actually works, since the packaging is so different than the bottle and brush we usually associate with nail polish.  In these pictures it reminds me of a pack of Lifesavers.

Vintage Youpla nail polish(images from ebay.com)

Based on the price of this item, but also taking into consideration the excellent condition of the nail stone, the fact that it was a best-selling item and the packaging was based on actual artwork, I estimated it could be sold for about $20-$25 for the average person browsing vintage beauty items.  If there were someone out there who is either a rabid collector of Philosopher's Stone ephemera or one who focuses exclusively on vintage nail products, it could go for slightly more, maybe high as $50.  But I know I certainly wouldn't pay more than $35 and I'm someone who truly values the historical and artistic significance of objects like these.

To conclude, I'm so glad online searches came through, especially since when I first laid eyes on the piece I had absolutely no clue what I was looking at and was sure it would be impossible to find anything.  While I wish there was more on the artist behind the packaging, I was very pleasantly surprised to come across any information on both Kopp & Joseph and the George Borgfeldt companies.  Given the difficulty I've had with other inquiries in the past (and there are still more I couldn't answer, but those are for another edition of MM Mailbag), I was so very happy to provide some pretty good details about the item.

What do you think? 

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You all know how much I love getting inquiries, but boy do I hate it when I don't have an answer.  Today I thought I'd share 2 items that I couldn't identify.  First up is this vintage mirror that was found at a yard sale.  It's an interesting piece – I can't say I've seen a vintage mirror with an inset like that, or faux pearl and rhinestone grapes with gold leaves. 

Vintage makeup mirror

The little flower must be the brand emblem, but I couldn't seem to turn up anything that would point to the specific company that made it.

Vintage makeup mirror

I also can't even tell what decade this is from.  Given the rounded edges and ornate details similar to some vintage lipstick holders, I'd say it's from mid 1950's or early '60s, but I really have no idea.  Sigh.  I hate being so useless!

The second item is at least something that I could say with certainty is from the 1920s or '30s.  The person who wrote said it was her grandmother's, and it still was in the box bearing the name of the Illinois pharmacy where it was purchased. 

Vintage dance purse box

The colorful, abstract enamel piece on the front is quite striking.

Vintage dance purse/wristlet

Vintage dance purse/wristlet

Vintage dance purse/wristlet

Vintage dance purse/wristlet

Vintage dance purse/wristlet

I was able to find a couple of other compacts that looked identical (same clasp, chain, and wavy etchings) except for the design of the enamel piece on the front.  Alas, they were also unmarked.

Vintage dance purse/wristlet

Vintage dance purse/wristlet(images from ebay.com)

Vintage dance purse/wristlet

Vintage dance purse/wristlet(images from etsy.com)

These sorts of compact/bag hybrids, sometimes called "dance purses" were quite popular throughout the '20s and early '30s.  Unfortunately, without a maker's mark on this particular compact, I have no idea what company made it.  I'm always working on building the Museum's library, which includes collector guides – I think this one would have been especially useful for this inquiry, but I still haven't purchased it yet.

Can anyone help identify these?

Let's see what we have in the ol' Makeup Museum mailbag today, shall we?  Actually this inquiry came in about 2 years ago (I know, I can't believe I'm just getting to it now) and allowed me to learn more about Peggy Sage, a brand I wasn't all that familiar with. The person who wrote didn't provide any information about where or how she acquired this vintage manicure oil, but I could tell from her email signature that she is Dutch, so that's pretty cool that I had an inquiry all the way from the Netherlands!  She did give a picture though.

Vintage Peggy Sage manicure oil

So off I went in search of information about the company and to try to find an approximate date for the oil.  Fortunately Peggy Sage is still around and has a website, where I was able to get a little history.  Peggy Sage started in 1925 in the U.S. and was one of the first beauty companies to specialize in nail care.  It soon moved to Paris and was very popular there as well.  In the 1950s it reached peak popularity, holding its own with Cutex and other similar nail care and cosmetic brands.  In 2000 the brand was revived and now has several "concept stores" throughout France and Switzerland.  I wish I could find more about Peggy Sage herself (was she even a real person?) but there was scant information about the founder.

As for the bottle of manicure oil, I'm guessing it dates from anywhere between the early '50s through the early '60s.  I looked at a plethora of ads and it looks like that bottle shape did not appear until about 1951.  Prior to that year, the ads show a more square bottle.

Peggy Sage ad, 1940
(image from hprints.com)

Peggy Sage ad, 1943
(image from ebay.com)

Peggy Sage ad, 1945
(image from ebay.com

Peggy Sage ad, 1949
(image from hprints.com)

My theory is that a new bottle was introduced in the early '50s to distinguish the brand's new "Crystallin" finish polishes from their regular line of polishes, as the older square bottle shapes were still being used in ads.  Only ads for the Crystallin (or "Cristal", as they were known in France) polishes showed the more flared bottle.

Peggy Sage ad, 1951
(image from hprints.com)

Peggy Sage ad, 1952
(image from vintageadbrowser.com)

Peggy Sage ad, 1953
(image from ebay.co.uk)

Additionally, this ad from 1953 – most likely related to Queen Elizabeth II's coronation in June of that year – boasts several shades housed in the "new plume bottle", which is the same bottle shape as the manicure oil.

Peggy Sage ad, 1954
(image from pinterest.com)

So maybe this shape was also used for the manicure oil to distinguish it from their nail polishes, or the oil was meant to be used specifically with the Crystallin polishes.  In any case, I'm not sure when the "plume" bottle shape was retired, but it was used at least until 1960, when this Australian commercial for "Fiery Pink" aired.  So dramatic!

 

So that is what I was able to come up with.  Do you agree with my theory?  And which bottle shape do you prefer?  I have to say I'm partial to the "plume" bottle – reminds me of a fancy flared skirt.  🙂

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