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.
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.
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 perfumeblogs 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.
The earliest mention of the product that I found was October 1923.
Here are some from 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.
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?
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. 😉
By March 1932 Po-Go had expanded to include lipstick. I don't know what a "Frenchy" case is but it sounds very fancy.
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!)
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.
Speaking of the puff…OMG. So. Cute.
You can see how tiny it is – our blush nowadays are supersized in comparison.
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.
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.
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!)
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?
The life of a makeup museum curator is insanely glamorous. For example, a lot of people go out on Friday nights, but not me – I have way more thrilling plans. I usually browse for vintage makeup at Ebay and Etsy on my phone while in bed and am completely passed out by 8pm. EXCITING. It was during one of these Friday night escapades that I came across a fabulous box of vintage lipstick pads and naturally, that sent me down quite the rabbit hole. Today I'm discussing a cosmetics accessory that has gone the way of the dodo: lipstick tissues. This is by no means a comprehensive history, but I've put together a few interesting findings. I just wish I had access to more than my local library (which doesn't have much), a free trial subscription to newspapers.com and the general interwebz, as anyone could do that meager level of "research". I would love to be able to dig deeper and have more specific information, but in lieu of that, I do hope you enjoy what I was able to throw together.
The earliest mention of lipstick tissues that I found was January 1932. It makes sense, as several patents were filed for the same design that year.
While they might have existed in the 1920s, I'm guessing lipstick tissues didn't become mainstream until the early 30s, as this December 1932 clipping refers to them as new, while another columnist in December 1932 says she just recently discovered them (and they are so mind-blowing they were clearly invented by a woman, since "no mere man could be so ingenious".)
In addition to the tear-off, matchbook-like packages, lipstick tissues also came rolled in a slim case.
This lovely Art Deco design by Richard Hudnut debuted in 1932 and was in production at least up until 1934. I couldn't resist buying it.
By 1935, restaurants and hotels had gotten wind of lipstick tissues' practicality for their businesses, while beauty and etiquette columnists sang their praises. Indeed, using linens or towels to remove one's lipstick was quickly becoming quite the social blunder by the late 30s.
Kleenex was invented in 1924, but it wasn't until 1937, when the company had the grand idea to insert tissues specifically for lipstick removal into a matchbook like package, that these little wonders really took off. You might remember these from my post on the Smithsonian's collection of beauty and hygiene items. The warrior/huntress design was used throughout 1937 and 1938.
Kleenex started upping the ante by 1938, selling special cases for their lipstick tissues and launching campaigns like these "true confessions", which appeared in Life magazine (and which I'm sure were neither true nor confessions.) With these ads, Kleenex built upon the existing notion that using towels/linens to remove lipstick was the ultimate etiquette faux pas, and one that could only be avoided by using their lipstick tissues.
These ads really gave the hard sell, making it seem as though one was clearly raised by wolves if they didn't use lipstick tissues. Or any tissues, for that matter. Heaven forbid – you'll be a social pariah!
Look, you can even use these tissues to cheat on your girlfriend! (insert eyeroll here)
Not only that, Kleenex saw the opportunity to collaborate with a range of companies as a way to advertise both the companies' own goods/services and the tissues themselves. By the early '40s it was difficult to find a business that didn't offer these gratis with purchase, or at least, according to this 1945 article, "national manufacturers of goods women buy." And by 1946, it was predicted that women would be expecting free tissue packets to accompany most of their purchases.
Needless to say, most of them consisted of food (lots of baked goods, since apparently women were tethered to their ovens), and other domestic-related items and services, like hosiery, hangers and dry cleaning.
Naturally I had to buy a few of these examples for the Museum's collection. Generally speaking, they're pretty inexpensive and plentiful. The only one I shelled out more than $5 for was the Hudnut package since that one was a little more rare and in such excellent condition. Interestingly, these have a very different texture than what we know today as tissues. Using contemporary Kleenex to blot lipstick only results in getting little fuzzy bits stuck to your lips, but these vintage tissues have more of a blotting paper feel, perhaps just a touch thicker and ever so slightly less papery. It could be due to old age – paper's texture definitely changes over time – but I think these were designed differently than regular tissues you'd use for a cold.
Anyway, Museum staff encouraged me to buy the cookie one. 😉
I took this picture so you could get a sense of the size. It seems the official Kleenex ones were a little bigger than their predecessors.
Wouldn't it be cool to go to a restaurant and see one of these at the table? It would definitely make the experience seem more luxurious. I certainly wouldn't feel pressure to use them for fear of committing a social sin, I just think it would be fun.
I figured having a restaurant/hotel tissue packet would be a worthy addition to the Museum's collection, since it's another good representation of the types of businesses that offered them. I'd love to see a hotel offer these as free souvenirs.
Here's an example that doesn't fit neatly into the baked goods/cleaning/hotel categories.
This one is also interesting. Encouraging women to be fiscally responsible is obviously more progressive than advertising dry cleaning and corn nut muffins, but it's important to remember that at the time these were being offered by Bank of America (ca. 1963), a woman could have checking and savings accounts yet still was unable to take out a loan or credit card in her own name. One step forward, 5 steps back.
I was very close to buying these given how cute the graphics are, but didn't want to spend $20. (I think they're now reduced to $12.99, if you'd like to treat yourself.)
Plus, I already have these DuBarry tissues in the collection.
Funny side note: I actually found a newspaper ad for these very same tissues! It was dated July 27, 1948, which means the approximate dates I included in my DuBarry post were accurate.
By the late '40s, lipstick tissues had transcended handbags and became popular favors for various social occasions, appearing at country club dinner tables to weddings and everything in between. I'm guessing this is due to the fact that custom colors and monogramming were now available to individual customers rather than being limited to businesses.
"Bride-elect"? Seriously?
While the matchbook-sized lipstick tissues are certainly quaint, if you wanted something even fancier to remove your lipstick, lipstick pads were the way to go. These are much larger and thicker than Kleenex and came imprinted with lovely designs and sturdy outer box. This was the item that made me investigate lipstick tissues. I mean, look at those letters! I was powerless against their charm.
I couldn't find anything on House of Dickinson, but boy did they make some luxe lipstick pads.
This design is so wonderful, I'd almost feel bad using these. If I were alive back then I'd probably go digging through my purse to find the standard Kleenex ones.
I also couldn't really date these too well. There's a nearly identical box by House of Dickinson on Ebay and the description for that dates them to the '60s, which makes sense given the illustration of the woman's face and the rounded lipstick bullet – both look early '60s to my eye.
However, the use of "Milady" and the beveled shape of the lipstick bullet, both of which were more common in the '30s and '40s, make me think the ones I have are earlier.
By the mid-late '60s, it seems lipstick tissues had gone out of favor. The latest reference I found in newspapers dates to November 1963, and incidentally, in cartoon form.
I'm not sure what caused lipstick tissues to fall by the wayside. It could be that there were more lightweight lipstick formulas on the market at that point, which may not have stained linens and towels as easily as their "indelible" predecessors – these lipsticks managed to easily transfer from the lips but still remained difficult to remove from cloth. Along those lines, the downfall of lipstick tissues could also be attributed to the rise of sheer, shiny lip glosses that didn't leave much pigment behind.
While these make the most sense, some deeper, more political and economic reasons may be considered as well. Perhaps lipstick tissues came to be viewed as too stuffy and hoity-toity for most and started to lose their appeal. My mother pointed out that lipstick tissues seemed to be a rich people's (or at least, an upper-middle class) thing – the type of woman who needed to carry these in her handbag on the reg was clearly attending a lot of fancy soirees, posh restaurants and country club dinners. This priceless clipping from 1940 also hints at the idea of lipstick tissues as a sort of wealth indicator, what with the mention of antique table tops and maids.
Lipstick tissues were possibly directed mostly at older, well-to-do "ladies who lunch", and a younger generation couldn't afford to or simply wasn't interested in engaging in such formal social practices as removing one's lipstick on special tissues. Plus, I'm guessing the companies that used lipstick tissues to advertise labored under the impression that most women were able to stay home and not work. With a husband to provide financially, women could devote their full attention to the household so advertising bread recipes and dry cleaning made sense. This train of thought leads me, naturally, to feminism: as with the waning popularity of ornate lipstick holders, perhaps the liberated woman perceived lipstick tissues as too fussy – a working woman needed to pare down her beauty routine and maybe didn't even wear lipstick at all. Lipstick tissues are objectively superfluous no matter what brainwashing Kleenex was attempting to achieve through their marketing, so streamlining one's makeup regimen meant skipping items like lipstick tissues. Similarly, after reading Betty Friedan's 1963 landmark feminist screed The Feminine Mystique, perhaps many women stopped buying lipstick tissues when they realized they had bigger fish to fry than worrying about ruining their linens. Then again, one could be concerned about women's role in society AND be mindful of lipstick stains; the two aren't mutually exclusive. And the beauty industry continued to flourish throughout feminism's second wave and is still thriving today, lipstick tissues or not, so I guess feminism was not a key reason behind the end of the tissues' reign. I really don't have a good answer as to why lipstick tissues disappeared while equally needless beauty items stuck around or continue to be invented (looking at you, brush cleansers). And I'm not sure how extra lipstick tissues really are, as many makeup artists still recommend blotting one's lipstick to remove any excess to help it last longer and prevent feathering or transferring to your teeth.
In any case, I kind of wish lipstick tissue booklets were still produced, especially if they came in pretty designs. Sure, makeup remover wipes get the job done, but they're so…inelegant compared to what we've seen. One hack is to use regular facial blotting sheets, since texture-wise they're better for blotting than tissues and some even have nice packaging, so they're sort of comparable to old-school lipstick tissues. Still, there's something very appealing about using a highly specific, if unnecessary cosmetics accessory. I'm not saying we should bring back advertising tie-ins to domestic chores or the social stigma attached to not "properly" removing one's lipstick on tissues, but I do like the idea of sheets made just for blotting lipstick, solely for the enjoyment of it. I view it like I do scented setting sprays – while I don't think they do much for my makeup's longevity, there's something very pleasing about something, like, say, MAC Fruity Juicy spray, which is coconut scented and comes in a bottle decorated with a cheerful tropical fruit arrangement. As I always say, it's the little things. They might be frivolous and short-lived, but any makeup-related item that gives me even a little bit of joy is worth it. I could see a company like Lipstick Queen or Bite Beauty partnering with an artist to create interesting lipstick tissue packets. Indeed, this post has left me wondering why no companies are seizing on this opportunity for profit.
Should lipstick tissues be revived or should they stay in the past? Why do you think they're not made anymore? Would you use them? I mean just for fun, of course – completely ignore the outdated notion that one is a boorish degenerate with no manners if they choose to wipe their lips on a towel, as those Kleenex ads would have you believe. 😉
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I was originally going to write a meatier post about the history of tanning that included sunless tanning, but there's actually been plenty of research already. Rather than essentially re-writing what's already out there I decided to go the more visual route and show ads for products promising to give you that sun-kissed glow for both face and body. I will include some history and links throughout, but mostly this is a way for me to share my never-ending obsession with vintage beauty ads. :)
Prior to the early 1920s, having tawny, sun-drenched skin simply wasn't desirable – at least for women. Fair complexions were associated with the leisure class, while tan skin indicated a lower social status (i.e. people who had to work outdoors). While the beauty industry was in its infancy, there were still plenty of products, such as this Tan No More powder, that promoted the pale skin ideal.
Just five short years later, however, the tan tide had turned. Coco Chanel is credited by many historians as the one responsible for making the bronzed look stylish following a cruise she took in 1923, essentially reversing the significance of pale vs. tan complexions (i.e., tans were now associated with having the time and money for a luxury vacation in a sunny paradise, as well as good health.) By 1929 products were on the market to achieve the glowing effect on the skin without the need to travel to some far-flung destination, such as this Marie Earle "Sunburn" line of makeup. (Cosmetics and Skin has an excellent history of this company. While not much is known about the founders, the Marie Earle line had some fairly innovative, if ineffective products, like breast-firming cream and eye masks.)
Interestingly, in 1928 Marie Earle was bought by Coty, so it's probably not a coincidence that Coty released their Coty Tan bronzing powder and body makeup a year later.
The 1940s saw an increase in the number of bronzers and tanning body makeup, the latter influenced partially by the shortage of nylon stockings during World War II – women resorted to painting their legs with makeup or staining them with a tea-based concoction to create the illusion of stockings. Always looking to sell more products, companies soon began offering tinted body makeup to mimic a natural tan.
By the late '40s cosmetics companies made sure women could also artificially tan their faces, as a slew of bronzing powders entered the market. I couldn't resist purchasing a few of these ads.
Once again, I fell victim to the idea that a beauty product has only been around for a few decades. But it looks like spray tans have been around since at least the mid-50s!
In the late 1950s Man Tan sunless tanning lotion – or what we call self-tanner more commonly these days – debuted, featuring a new way of getting tan without the sun. Instead of traditional tinted makeup that merely covered the skin, Man Tan used an ingredient known as dihydroxyacetone (DHA), which works on the amino acids on the skin's surface to gradually darken its color. It sounds like a harmful, scary process that relies on synthetic chemicals, but DHA is actually derived from sugar cane and is still used in most self-tanners today.*
In 1960 Coppertone introduced QT, short for Quick Tan, and many others followed. The poor models in these ads already look orange – I shudder to think of how carrot-like you'd be in person.
In addition to bronzers, around this time companies were also launching color campaigns specifically for tanned skin. These shades aren't so different from the ones we see in today's summer makeup collections – warm, beige and bronze tones abound. Both Max Factor's Breezy Peach and 3 Little Bares (get it?!) were seemingly created to complement a tawny complexion, while Clairol's powder duos and Corn Silk's Tan Fans line offered bronzer and blush together to artificially prolong and enhance a natural tan.
Meanwhile, Dorothy Gray had tan-flattering lip colors covered. This was not new territory for them, as this 1936 ad referenced a new "smart lipstick to accent sun-tan". In any case, the 1965 ad is also notable for the yellow lipstick all the way on right, which was meant to brighten another lip color when layered underneath…over 50 years before Estée Edit's Lip Flip and YSL's Undercoat.
The tanning craze wasn't going anywhere soon, as various self-tanning and bronzer formulas for body and face continued to be produced from the '70s onward. As skin cancer rates rose, there was also an uptick in the number of ads that emphasized protection from the sun over the convenience angle (i.e., the ability to get a tan in just a few hours and no matter the climate) – self-tanners started to be marketed more heavily as a healthy alternative to a real tan.
When it launched around 2004, I thought Stila's Sun Gel was such an innovative product. Little did I know Almay had done it roughly 30 years prior.
Tried though I did, I was unable to find a vintage ad for Guerlain's legendary Terracotta bronzer, which debuted in 1984. So I had to settle for these Revlon ads from the same year.
I searched all the '90s magazines in the Museum's archives, but realized almost all of them were March, September or October issues, so I couldn't unearth any fake tan ads for most of the decade. I did have better luck with finding ads online and in the Museum's archives for the 2000's, however. It makes sense as I had started collecting by then, not to mention that the early-mid aughts were the Gisele Bundchen/Paris Hilton era so fake tanning was at its peak. I just remembered that I neglected to check my old Sephora catalogs…I'll have to see if I can locate any photos of Scott Barnes' Body Bling, another hugely popular product in the 2000's.
As the decade came to a close, there was some discussion as to whether tanned skin, real or fake, was passé. But the continuing growth of the self-tanning market (as well as the influence of the bronzed Jersey Shore cast) showed that the infatuation with tanning wasn't slowing down. The Paris Hilton era segued seamlessly into the Kardashian age, which also contributed to the popularity of the bronzed look. Companies are still trying to keep up with the demand for bronzers and self-tanners. For the past 5 years or so, Estée Lauder, Lancome, Clarins, Guerlain and Givenchy have released new bronzing compacts at the start of the summer, and just this past year Hourglass and Becca released a range of new bronzing powders. Meanwhile, established products like Benefit's Hoola bronzer and St. Tropez's self-tanning line are being tweaked and expanded.
In terms of advertising bronzers and self-tanners, I think cosmetics companies do a damn good job. The products themselves certainly look tempting, but one also can't deny the sex appeal of the glowy, bronzey look of the models (not to mention that a tan makes everyone look like they lost 10 lbs). Who doesn't want to resemble a sunkissed goddess lounging about in a tropical paradise? It's largely this reason, I think, that the tan aesthetic persists. As usual, Autumn Whitefield-Madrano offers an insightful exploration of why tawny skin continues to be in vogue so rather than me rambling further I highly encourage you to read it in full. As for me, well, I've largely given up on self-tanning. It was messy, came out uneven no matter how much I exfoliated and how carefully I applied it, and still didn't look quite like the real deal. I do, however, still use bronzer once in a while (mostly as blush, but occasionally in the summer I'll dust it all over my face) and have been tinkering with temporary wash-off body bronzers. I don't consider bronzer a staple by any means – most days I fully embrace my pasty self – but the fact that I own 6 of them is proof of the long-standing allure of the tan and how effectively the products required to achieve it are marketed.
What do you think? Which of these ads are your favorite? And are you down with the tanned look or no?
Hello! It's been a while since I last posted as work nearly killed me recently, but I wanted to get something up today to 1. show that I haven't died from stress, even though I thought I might; and 2. put up some summer fun in honor of what is easily one of the Curator's favorite days of the year, the solstice. With that in mind, I present Anna Sui's summer makeup collection. It's been a long time since I purchased anything from this line, but as soon as I saw this collection I knew I had to have nearly all of it.
The two nail polishes will not belong to the Museum's collection – I will be using them. As a matter of fact, this week I'm wearing S 105 (the lighter aqua blue) and it's beautiful. It's almost as legendary as the ultimate mermaid nail polish.
I adore all the sea critters since they are friends of mermaids. Side note: when I was little I was infinitely fascinated with jellyfish in addition to mermaids. There's just something about their movement, shape and their very biology that I find incredibly interesting. They're such simple creatures on the surface – they don't have eyes, noses, or even a central nervous system – yet some of them actually glow in the dark, while the sting of others can be deadly. I find the way they move to be strangely beautiful, and I hope to make a trip to the National Aquarium soon so that I can be totally mesmerized. (I really have no excuse for not getting there – it's literally less than a 20-minute walk from my home).
You would think the white plastic border and iridescent effect on in the middle of the case would look tacky and/or juvenile, but I honestly think it works here. It reminds me of all the different tones you see in the ocean as the sun hits it.
And I just remembered I didn't take a picture of the inside of the palette, which has the same motifs (coral, starfish, seahorse, jellyfish and bubbles) but rendered in a vintage illustration style. To my eye it almost looks like wallpaper. You'll see it in a couple days in the summer exhibition. 😉
The gold powder case has blue-green jewels that belong in a mermaid princess's crown. As fun and blingy as it is, I couldn't bear to put the powder inside because then you couldn't see the lovely seashells embossed on it so I'll be displaying these separately.
Even the eyeshadow has a jellyfish!
Bet you thought this was the first time a jellyfish appeared on a makeup compact. I did too, until I remembered the number one rule that beauty historians need to keep in mind: no matter how new and exciting something in the makeup world seems, it's probably been done before. And I was right! Here are two vintage compacts that feature my favorite invertebrates.
Unfortunately I don't know the brand or even the approximate date of this one, but I'm guessing it's from the '40s or '50s.
This one is a Stratton, probably from around the '50s given the rectangular shape, purse clasp and the horizontal lines on the unmarked back (you can see a similar compact around the 3 minute mark in this very helpful video on dating Strattons.)
Naturally I'd give my eye teeth for both, in addition to all the vintage mermaid compactsI'm hunting down. As for the Anna Sui collection, I thought it completely nailed the "magical aquarium" theme described on the website.
So what do you think of Magical Aquarium and the vintage compacts? Do you have a favorite?
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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.
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."
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. 🙁
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.
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.)
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.
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.)
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.
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.
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. 🙂
LOL at "gifty!" These old ads crack me up sometimes.
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.
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 was eagerly scrolling through Instagram (which has, incidentally, become my favorite social media platform – please join and follow me, it's so much fun!) and came across a familiar image from one of the many vintage ephemera accounts I follow.
I knew it was makeup-related, but couldn't recall which company had used something that looked just like this lingerie mannequin. Was it Too-Faced? The Balm? Nope. I racked my brain but just couldn't place it. It wasn't until I started packing for a weekend at my parents' house that it dawned on me.
Aha! I believe I found the original source for Benefit's Luscious Lana, especially given that Benefit refers to her as a lingerie model. In an alternate version of the makeup bag she has the rose up by her head, but not in the original green bag. I'm guessing Benefit used a reproduction mannequin of the Flexees one since her face is a little different. Naturally this serindipitous find got me interested in trying to track down other vintage mannequins to see whether they figured into Benefit's packaging and advertising, and I found another lingerie mannequin that appeared on many of Benefit's old catalogs. Apparently both this model and the one used for Lana were mannequins meant to be displayed on a store counter top, so they're pretty small – not life-size or anything, which makes them cute rather than creepy. Both also appear to be from the 1940s or so.
As with Lana the face on this one is ever so slightly different.
While the features on this mannequin aren't as strikingly similar to the previous two, she still may have served as inspiration for Benefit's Beautiful Bermuda Betty, who appeared in various catalogs and a bag. The downward-looking pose, hairstyle and smoky eye with thin arched brows look alike, although not identical.
I dug a little more but still couldn't find any original sources for Gabbi Glickman, who is probably Benefit's 2nd best known mannequin mascot. I did unearth a pair of mannequin heads that are identical, but there was no information provided about them.
The one I was most interested in finding though was the mannequin used for Simone, the dark-haired beauty sporting a lavish gold dress who is probably Benefit's most recognized mascot. Full-sized Simones reside in Benefit's headquarters in both San Francisco and Canada, and she appeared as the cover girl for most of the aforementioned catalogs.
I did find a mannequin that looked just like Simone, but I had no idea what company it was for or approximately when it was made. This was displayed at a Chanel event but I don't think it was an official Chanel advertising piece.
It also doesn't look like a regular vintage mannequin but rather a reproduction. Looking at both this and Benefit's other mannequins in their offices, I'm wondering if they're using a mix of authentic vintage pieces and reproductions.
Why does Benefit rely so heavily on mannequins for their marketing? One reason is that in their early days, the company couldn't afford to pay real spokespeople and models, so the mannequins served as a stand-in (this was also the reason Stila used illustrations). Second, Benefit founders and Jean and Jane Ford always had an affinity for vintage fashion and beauty items.* In a 2011 interview, Jean explained: "Over the years, Jane and I have collected vintage pieces for inspiration…we have vintage mannequins, compacts, posters, handbags and lots of old magazines. There is something very romantic about the past. For our packaging, we use both modern and old-fashioned images and styles to create fun products that women will want to carry in their bags or display on their vanity." Indeed, using retro designs in a modern way has proved to be a dynamite strategy for the company. I don't really see it as nostalgia for the past, per se, but rather an appreciation for the overall style and occasionally more kitschy aspects of selling femininity, such as those countertop display lingerie mannequins. Sometimes I look at old makeup ads and burst out laughing – to modern eyes, the cheesiness and over-the-top tone are genuinely funny. Benefit seizes the opportunity to celebrate the sillier side of vintage beauty and fashion and infused it into their entire brand.
Welcome to the Makeup Museum's spring 2017 exhibition! As you may know, for the past few months I've been hopelessly under the spell of anything holographic/iridescent/prismatic, and I think this morphed into an obsession with all the colors of the rainbow. (Or it could be Desus and Mero's nightly rainbow feature seeping into my subconscious.) Duochrome makeup is obviously different than rainbow makeup – I see the former as having color-shifting principles, while the latter is vibrant yet static – but I'd argue that they're all on the same…spectrum. (Sorry, couldn't resist). What I mean is that merely colorful makeup is different than holographic, but they share similar qualities. Generally speaking, I was inspired by the broader notion of color play and the endless possibilities a variety of colors can provide. I've always loved vividly colorful makeup because as we'll see, over the years it's become synonymous with fun and self-expression, which is basically my makeup credo. From 6-hued rainbow highlighters and a set of primary colors to create unique shades to more subtle gradient palettes and sheer lipsticks, makeup that encompasses the whole spectrum allows for a great amount of experimentation. Even color correctors offer the opportunity to play. I wanted this exhibition to express the joy and creativity that a wide range of colors can bring, especially when viewed as a collective whole such as a rainbow.
While I could have probably could have done an entire rainbow-themed exhibition, there were some new, non-rainbowy releases that were simply too good not to include, plus I thought they added a nice balance to all the color. Also, did you notice the labels? I got the idea to make them a gradient rather than all one shade, but my husband, super smarty pants that he is, chose the exact colors and how to arrange them. I think this is the first exhibition where I had to determine where everything was going prior to printing the labels. Usually I just print them out and figure out placement of the objects later since I can always move the labels around, but this time I had decide on placement first since moving things would mess up the gradation effect.
Let's take a closer peek, shall we?
Top shelves, left to right.
I spotted this 1970 Yardley set on ebay and knew it would be perfect.
The box isn't in the best shape but aren't the graphics so cool?!
I love that the insert encourages you to have fun and experiment. It's a stark contrast to actual ad for the product, which, underneath its seemingly feminist veneer, is horrifically ageist.
I tried cleaning up the tubes but I scrubbed too hard on the yellow one, which resulted in a few cracks. I forget these things are over 40 years old and that plastic doesn't necessarily remain durable for that amount of time.
The similarity between the eye makeup for Dior's spring 2017 collection campaign and an ad from 1973 is striking.
My heart skipped a beat when I saw that Addiction would be featuring the work of Swedish artist Hilma af Klint on their compacts this spring. Af Klint's work really spoke to me and I'm so happy Addiction helped spread the word about her.
Second row, left to right.
These lipsticks are so delectable!
I know it's just a fake flower with highlighter dusted on top, but it still makes me swoon.
Still haven't figured out a name for this little lady.
If you remember that popular video that was making the rounds a little while ago, it showed a Charles of the Ritz powder bar.
If I ever display this again I'll update the label. Turns out Charles of the Ritz tried to bring back the service in August of 1988, but I don't think it stuck around long. Perhaps they couldn't compete with the likes of Prescriptives, who was by that point leading the way in custom blending? (Sidenote: I'm tickled at how the article is written by Linda Wells, who was just 2 years shy of launching what would become the world's best-known beauty magazine, and how it also cites Bobbi Brown and refers to her as simply a "makeup artist." Little did they know that Bobbi's own line would be taking the makeup world by storm in another 3 years.)
Third row, left to right.
I'm not sure why Guerlain used a rainbow for this spring's campaign and not for their summer 2015 Rainbow Pearls, but they look good together.
Ah! I was so excited when this set popped up on ebay I could hardly contain myself. This is probably the best representation of late '60s/early '70s beauty. It doesn't have the insert but overall it's in great condition. I don't know whether this particular set is specifically the pastel version mentioned in the ad (which is a printout of an original from 1973 – forgot to put that on the label, oops) or the regular non-pastel crayons, but I was overjoyed to finally get one into the Museum's collection.
In doing a little background research for this exhibition I came across some interesting things. I couldn't possibly pull together a comprehensive history of colorful/rainbow-inspired makeup, but here's a quick look back on some of the highlights. While color correcting powders existed early on in the modern beauty industry, it seems as though the more colorful side of makeup wasn't popularized until the early '60s. Ads for collections featuring a robust range of vibrant shades included words like "fun", "play" and "experiment", thereby associating color variety with happiness and creativity.
This 1967 ad not only depicts a spectrum of color, it encourages the wearer to create different looks by adding varying amounts of water to the pigments. I'm assuming you could adjust the opacity this way.
While I love the Yardley Mixis set and the classic Mary Quant crayons, I think this brand is my favorite representation of late '60s beauty, at least in terms of advertising (you can see more here). It's so crazy and psychedelic…looking at this makes me want to dance around in a field with flowers in my hair, LOL. Sadly I was unable to track down any original makeup or ads from this line, which I believe was exclusive to Woolworth's in the UK.
More recently, rainbow-inspired beauty has had its moments. The models at Peter Som's spring 2013 runway show sported pastel rainbow eye shadow, while later that year, Sephora's holiday collection brush set featured iridescent rainbow handles. For summer 2015 MAC released a collection with basically the same finish on the packaging, and come November, Smashbox's collaboration with artist Yago Hortal offered an eye-popping array of shades. I'd argue that 2016 was the tipping point for the rainbow beauty craze, with fashion designers leading the way. These runway looks helped set the stage for the likes of ColourPop's rainbow collection and Urban Decay's Full Spectrum palette, both released last year, along with MAC's Liptensity collection, which brought a whole new dimension to color perception. While it wasn't a rainbow-themed collection per se, Liptensity's "tetrachromatic" formulation ushered in a new way of thinking about and playing with makeup pigments in much the same way rainbow makeup did.
It doesn't look like rainbow makeup is going anywhere soon, as evidenced by the stunning looks Pat McGrath created for Maison Margiela's fall 2017 show, along with products like MAC's Colour Rocker lipsticks and Kat Von D's Pastel Goth palette. Even Sephora's typography got a rainbow makeover. (While the gradient rainbow style was used more to convey holographic makeup/highlighters, it represents exactly what I meant earlier – rainbow makeup and holographic makeup may be distant cousins, but they definitely belong to the same family).
Then there are these magazine features from the March 2017 issues. (Yes, I still tear out magazine pages. Yes, I'm aware there's Pinterest and that we live in a digital world.)
That was long! Phew, I'm tired. Actually I'm not, since looking at a bunch of different colors together energizes me. As a matter of fact, I tend to get a little overstimulated, which is why I do most of my makeup shopping online – in-store browsing at all those colors displayed on the counters is very bad for my wallet.
Update, 4/3/2020: I realized I never addressed rainbow makeup as it pertains to the LGBTQIA+ community. In addition to rainbow makeup's role as a way for people to explore more colorful cosmetic options, it also functions as an important extension of the rainbow symbolism created by and for the community over 40 years ago. One questionable trend, however, has been the rise of companies slapping rainbow packaging on some of their regular line items in order to "celebrate" (co-opt?) Pride month. By and large, it’s a positive development as the products raise visibility for LGBTQIA+ rights and most of them donate the sale proceeds from these items to various charities. They also call attention to makeup’s significance for the LGBTQIA+ movement, both past and present. On the other hand, sometimes it feels like a shameless cash grab with the main focus being the product instead of meaningful action or change. If you’re on the market for new makeup and want to feel good knowing that your purchase helps a marginalized population, go for it – no one should be embarrassed to buy them. I personally cannot get enough of rainbow packaging and purchased several items just for the colorful designs on the boxes. But the motivations of some of these companies are questionable, i.e. are they really committed to the cause or just once a year when they put rainbows on their packaging and call it a day? One thing is for certain though: although the Museum is committed to LGBTQIA+ rights year round, I look forward to the rainbow looks Pride month brings (and obviously I think people should feel free to wear rainbow makeup year round as well.) Pride looks exemplify the raison d’etre of rainbow makeup by demonstrating the joy playing with color can bring and the freedom to wear it.
I hope you enjoyed the exhibition and that you'll play with color this season, either by wearing shades so bright they hurt your eyes or simply giving color correctors a go (and everything in between). Just have fun!
I remember thinking how cute and novel these wine bottle-shaped lipsticks were when they were making a sensation back in the fall. (I do have one on the way but the package somehow keeps getting delayed so here's a stock photo for now.) I'm not a wine person – gives me a horrible headache – but I do appreciate adorable makeup packaging so this gets a thumbs-up from me. I mean on the one hand I'm not fond of wine once again being associated with a clichéd feminine stereotype (all ladies love wine, shopping, chocolate and shoes, amirite?), but on the other hand, this lipstick is just too cute.
Turns out, this isn't the first time lipstick has been designed to resemble booze. I was positively tickled when, during one of my customary Friday night vintage makeup searches on Etsy (I lead a very exciting life, I know), I came across this miniature lipstick cleverly packaged as a whiskey bottle.
It really is mini!
I'd never heard of Carstairs before, but apparently from roughly the '40s through the '60s they did a good amount of advertising for their White Seal whiskey, which is still sold today. In addition to the lipsticks, they offered mini screwdrivers and toothpicks, along with seal clock figurines and the usual print advertising. According to one (no longer active) ebay listing, the lipstick bottles started being produced around 1944 and other listings say they're from the '50s, so I guess they were used as promotional items for a few decades. Here's a photo of one in Madeleine Marsh's excellent book, which also dates it to the '50s.
I'm guessing that for the most part, the lipsticks were provided to bars and liquor stores and given away as a small gift-with-purchase, as there are quite a few full boxes of them floating around. I would have bought this one in a heartbeat because how cute would it have been to display it alongside a whole Chateau Labiotte set?
But the individual lipsticks are obviously a lot cheaper and I have many things I want to purchase for the summer exhibition, so I had to pass for now. ;) As for the lipstick itself, a company called Christy Cosmetics, Inc. was responsible for producing it. I couldn't find much information about it online, other than it was a New York-based company and was also the manufacturer of a line called Diana Deering (who was an entirely fictional character, or, as the patent puts it, "fanciful".)
I'm sure there's information about Christy out there somewhere, but as usual I lack the time and other resources to do proper research, i.e., looking beyond Google. If anyone knows anything about their relationship with Carstairs and how they were chosen to produce their promo items I'd love to hear it.
Uh-oh, we have a situation here. Once again a certain little Sailor is up to no good. "It's just my size!"
I better go get this wrapped up and into storage before he smears it all over his face in attempt to "drink" the non-existent whiskey. In any case, Happy St. Patrick's Day and I hope these lipsticks have inspired you to let your hair down and enjoy some adult beverages tonight!
Tiffany? Harry Winston? Fred Leighton? Forget about 'em. While they might be supplying the sparkling baubles for today's red carpet, back in the late '30s and '40s there was a jeweler bigger than those 3 put together: Paul Flato. I'll get to why I'm talking about a jeweler in a sec, but first a brief bio is in order. Paul Flato (1900-1999), moved from his home state of Texas to New York City at the age of 20. He opened his own jewelry store shortly afterwards and employed several designers. By 1937 he had another store on the West Coast to further solidify his status as the go-to jeweler for the biggest Hollywood stars (think Joan Crawford and Katherine Hepburn) as well as a jewelry designer for major films.
Now here's where his story goes off the rails. In 1943 he was arrested for pawning over $100,000 worth of jewels that clients and fellow jewelers had entrusted to him on consignment and served 16 months in Sing Sing. Upon his release from prison he started a lucrative business designing compacts, which was fortunate as his Hollywood career was basically over. After the compacts, Flato continued to design jewelry in the store he opened in Mexico City from 1970-1990, then returned to Texas for the last decade of his life. To my knowledge he never got back into Hollywood's good graces – I couldn't find anything about him supplying jewelry for movies/actresses after 1943 – but it didn't matter since he had already become a legend.
I had seen the Flato brand floating around previously during my various vintage compact hunts and figured one would be a good addition to the Museum's collection, but none of the designs really appealed to me. Since they can be on the pricey side I decided to hold off to see if any really caught my fancy. And as luck would have it this adorable compact and lipstick case, still in the original box, eventually surfaced. Against my better judgement I got involved in a nasty Ebay bidding war, but ultimately won (and probably overpaid a smidge).
Looking back it was totally worth it given how awesome the design is. You may or may not know I have a thing for mint green/jade/bakelite so when I gazed into this kitty's glowing mint green eyes I knew she had to be mine.
Love the matching design on the lipstick case!
I thought it would be good to discuss Flato's style a little so we can see how it translated to the compacts. I find his pieces to be whimsical and tongue-in-cheek, while still piling on the sparkle. Some examples, according to his obit in the New York Times: "Among them were a diamond 'corset' bracelet, with garters in rubies and diamonds, based on Mae West's undergarment…a compact for Gloria Vanderbilt was studded with gold and enamel angels, including an angel on a chamber pot. A pair of little brooches of gold feet with ruby toenails was originally made for Irene Castle, a play both on her maiden name, Foote, and her dancing career." Flato also drew on everyday experiences and items – his observation of fallen leaves one crisp autumn day turned into this brooch, while a basic belt buckle became a dazzling aquamarine necklace.
Another prominent motif in Flato's work was hands, according to this site: "Hand imagery had always been of interest to Flato, who notably used antique hand sculptures to display jewelry in ads that appeared in Vogue and Harper’s Bazaar during the 1930s." Here are some quite literal examples.
Not only that, but Flato's own battle with hearing loss at a young age inspired a series of sign language pins.
This same playfulness mixed with a healthy dose of sparkle carried over to Flato's compacts. I liked that he created designs that were different from his jewelry line but still maintained his signature style. It looks like Flato filed the patent for the compacts in February 1948 and they were available for sale later that year. Interestingly, this wasn't the first time Flato had the idea to design compacts, as evidenced by this 1940 patent for a compact, cigarette case and lipstick combo.
The ones shown in the ad above are fairly common. I wouldn't mind adding the seashell one to my collection. ;) There's also a patent for it too, which is pretty cool.
It's not just a key design; it's a key holder! Yes, you could have the key on this compact custom filed to fit your door. Personally I'd be petrified of losing it – my keys need to stay on a ring – but you have to admit there's some innovation there.
This one definitely shows Flato's sillier side. Would you like one of his "scatabout" pins while you're at it? You know, to anchor your lapel flower? Fashion sure has changed!
The kitty one I have seems to be relatively rare. In my searches I did see one other in a beautiful tiger-eye colorway instead of the green, but I can't seem to find the photo of it now. In any case, I'm pretty pleased with this acquisition as I do think it's one of Flato's better compact designs.
What do you think, both of Flato's jewelry and compacts? Most of them aren't my style but I appreciate them nonetheless. If his jewelry is really striking your fancy you can always buy this lovely catalog of his work.
Well well well, what have we here?
To be honest, I really have no idea. All I know is that when I searched for vintage Shiseido on Ebay, I came up with a spate of white porcelain animal figurines. Some other things: 1. they represent the animals from the Chinese zodiac; 2. there were a few different designs of each animal; 3. I went into a frenzy trying to collect all of them (unsuccessfully), and; 4. they were produced, or at least sourced, by a company named the Connor Group for Shiseido. What I'm struggling with is why they were made and for whom they were intended. I'm also not certain about the exact dates of the various versions, since some of the sellers listed them as being from the '70s, others from the '80s, and still more were made in the '90s, according to accompanying paperwork.
I'll go in the order of the zodiac, starting with the rat. Cute, no? Given the shiny finish (more on that soon) I'm assuming it's from 1972 or 1984, but it's impossible to say.
Next is the ox, from either 1973 or 1985.
Here's a different version of the ox, which I think might be from the '90s. I was able to save this image from the Ebay listing but unfortunately someone snatched up the figurine itself a while ago.
Tigers! This one came with a fold-out that made things even more confusing.
The style of the figurine is consistent with ones that are from the '90s, which we'll see later in this post, but the paper it came with clearly indicates it's from 1974. Plus, there's no mention of Shiseido anywhere, not in the letter or even on the figurine – the other ones with the shiny finish have "Shiseido Japan" printed on them. The seller also included the original shipping box it came in to the U.S. from Japan, but there were no clues there either.
The horse is also tricky. This one could be from 1978, given that this Ebay seller has another style. (I have one of them on the way to me). I got so desperate for answers I actually asked the seller if they had any other information. No answer yet.
This goat (or ram) is from 1991, according to the foldout it came with. But it's in a similar style to the tiger that's allegedly from 1974, and also has the same non-shiny finish and no Shiseido name printed on it. See why I'm frustrated?!
Poor little guy has a tiny chip on his nose.
Another version of the goat/ram, which was also sold before I could get my hands on it…no clue as to when it's from.
The monkey is also perplexing. This one is apparently from 1992.
And here's a different version, from the same Etsy seller who had the rabbit for sale, so maybe this one is from 1980?
And finally, a little piggy, ostensibly from 1995.
Sadly, I don't think I'll ever solve the mystery behind these figurines. I emailed both Shiseido and the Connor Group for more insight and was quite disappointed at not hearing a word from Shiseido. You would think a company that is so committed to preserving their history would be interested in hearing from someone who is equally passionate about it and get back to me. I don't think it's a matter of them not having any information either – again, since they have a whole museum and are clearly dedicated to recording all aspects of the company, I just know someone there knows something about these figurines! I bet all the paperwork related to them is sitting in a basement in Shiseido's headquarters, but no one can be bothered to do a little digging. I did get a reply from the Connor Group but they had no idea what these were and asked for more information. So I sent pictures of both the figurines and letter that came with the tiger and never heard back. Sigh. My best guess is that these were either gifts to employees or gifts for Camellia Club members – in researching the rainbow powders, I learned that the latter group had access to exclusiveShiseidoitems (um, how awesome are these Erté dishes?!) However, most of the Camellia Club gifts are labeledas such, whereas there is no such notation on the figurines or the papers they came with. Shiseido also seems to collaborate with companies for other non-makeup items, like this anniversary plate produced by Noritake, so maybe the figurines were just some random item they had for sale. Still, it drives me crazy that I don't have a definitive answer.
At least the plushies are enjoying playing with their new friends!
Do you have any idea as to why Shiseido made these figurines? And which one was your favorite?
