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.
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.
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.
The colorful, abstract enamel piece on the front is quite striking.
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.
(images from ebay.com)
(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?
Once again I stumbled across something very interesting but also completely unrelated to what I had been searching for. In this case, it was an 1890's ad for Harriet Hubbard Ayer's Récamier Cream. I was intrigued by it since it reminded me of a painting that I had looked at in my art history days in college, but couldn't quite place it.
Fortunately, Cosmetics and Skin refreshed my memory. The image for Ayer's ad was taken from this 1802 painting of Madame (Juliette) Récamier by François Gerard.
(image from carnavalet.paris.fr)
Known for her great beauty, graciousness and tact, Madame Récamier was the Napoleonic era's "it girl", ruling French society from the late 1700s until her death in 1849. New York-based entrepreneur Harriet Hubbard Ayer saw an opportunity to capitalize on her beauty approximately 40 years after her passing. This is the summary of the skincare line's origins from Cosmetics and Skin: "In 1886, Harriet Hubbard Ayer founded the Recamier Manufacturing Company at 25 Union Square, New York. Incorporated in 1887, the company’s product range addressed most of the beauty concerns of the day. The cosmetics were restricted to skin-care and did not include decorative products such as rouge or lipstick – these were still considered to be ‘paints’ and therefore unsuitable for general use in polite society. The company therefore produced, marketed and sold ‘toilet preparations’ rather than ‘cosmetics’…The recipes for her skin care products were claimed by Harriet to have come from a French countess said to be a descendant of Madame Jeanne Françoise Julie Adélaïde Récamier, a well known beauty from Napoleonic times. The recipes that Madame Récamier’s used had supposedly been handed-down to the countess and she sold copies to Harriet. The concoction of this story was a great marketing idea by Harriet as it gave her company a name, a visible symbol of beauty, and some supposed ‘beauty secrets’ from France, the centre of fashion and beauty at the time. Another version of the story states that on a trip to Paris, Harriet visited a certain M. Mirault who made the Parma Violet Perfume she used. M. Mirault had a formula for a skin salve his grandfather had made for Julie de Récamier and he sold it to Harriet for a ‘tremendous price’. A third explanation for the origins of the cream came in 1889 when Harriet was sued by Lutie Frenzel. Lutie suggested that the French-made cream had been analyzed by a New York chemist and subsequently copied." That's the story in a nutshell, but there's also quite a thorough history of Ayer's use of Madame Récamier's name and reputation to sell skincare in Annette Blaugrund's wonderful biography of Ayer, "Dispensing Beauty in New York and Beyond: The Triumphs and Tragedies of Harriet Hubbard Ayer" (which I have just added to my book wishlist!)
Anyway, as you can see from the ads below, the Récamier line encompassed a variety of products, from balm and cream to powder and soap. There was even a lotion designed remove "moths [moth patches] and freckles".
(images from cosmeticsandskin.com)
What I'm curious about is how Madame Récamier established her reputation as a legendary beauty and the most charming, courteous socialite of her time. Was she really that gorgeous, her skin that flawless? What was it about Madame Récamier that resulted in an enterprising beauty mogul essentially exploiting her name to sell skincare nearly 40 years after her death? I just had to find out more about this woman's mystique. Here are some historical accounts.
From "Madame Récamier: With a Sketch of the History of Society in France" (1862), p. 11:
"It is probable that the keen appetite for all social enjoyment, sharpened by the long privation caused by terror, war, and famine, much increased the effect that Madame Récamier's beauty produced. The few survivors from those days can scarcely find words to express the rapture she excited in a large and mixed public. By the revolution all distinctions of rank had been not only abolished but forgotten; every one pushed on pell-mell to see the beauty; and some few remember being half crushed to death in the Tuileries by the suburban crowds who would have a look at her."
From "The Memoirs of the Duchess of Abrantes" in The Atheneum (1832), vol. 31, p. 391:
"She was a compound of ingenuous gracefulness, talent and goodness, harmonized by that delicacy which alone forms the charm of loveliness. I have often discovered a resemblance between her and the Madonnas of the pious Italian painters; but this resemblance was purely intellectual. It proceeded not from regularity of features, but from that soul which animated her eyes and beamed forth from under her long eye-lashes, and from the high and intellectual forehead, blushing under its fillet of leno, the only head-dress with which, for many years, she set off the charms of her countenance. In the smile which so often separates her lips of rose, you might perceive the innocent joy of a young and ravishing creature, happy to please and be loved – who saw nothing but bliss in nature, and answered the salutation of love which met her on all sides, by an expression of silent benevolence…in England Madame Récamier encountered the same enthusiasm. There was always a crowd wherever she passed. The charm, whose power I have before expressed, has the same magic influence among all nations."
My favorite description comes from "The New Monthly Magazine" (1859), p. 455:
"She was at once graceful and exquisitely modelled, her neck was admirable in form and proportion, her mouth small and vermilion, her teeth pearly, her arms charming, albeit somewhat spare, her chestnut hair curled naturally, her nose was delicate and regular, especially French…her walk was that of a goddess on the clouds. Such was Madame Récamier at eighteen years of age. The appearance of a young person so pre-eminently beautiful in public caused, as may be imagined, a prodigious sensation…she was declared la plus belle à l'unanimité."
After reading these I decided I wanted more visuals since, as they say, the proof is in the pudding (or in this case, the portrait.) While some portraits depict idealized representations of their sitters, I think these give a fairly realistic picture of Madame Récamier. We'll start with a close-up from the Gerard portrait. Rather lovely, yes?
Here she is in 1807, painted by Firmin Massot:
(image from gogmsite.net)
Back in time to a portrait painted around 1798:
(image from flickr.com)
And of course, we can't forget Jacques-Louis David's iconic portrait of Madame Récamier, which inspired both a sofa style and a rather unsettling Surrealist work by Magritte. (Interestingly, this is an unfinished portrait. Madame Récamier had commissioned David to paint her portrait, but after finding that he worked too slowly for her taste, she had David's pupil Gerard to repaint the portrait.)
Given all we've seen and read, I think if I had existed in Ayer's time, I would have bought the Récamier cream in a heartbeat if it meant even approximating her skin. Alas, the claims for Ayer's skin "preparations" were debunked by the Boston Journal of Health in 1902. There were even accusations of harmful ingredients such as "corrosive sublimate," which was made from mercury.
Despite the fact that Ayer's Récamier line fizzled out by 1920, the original Madame Récamier continues to inspire today. Take, for example, the moody, slightly goth twist on the lady's look at Kinder Aggugini's spring 2010 show. I especially love it with the modern Empire silhouettes.
(images from vogue.com)
While the eyes and lips took a dark turn, the skin was still perfect and glowing – exactly how you'd imagine Madame Récamier's healthy, youthful complexion. The disheveled hair, I think, is a nod to Madame's crop of wild curls.
(images from wwd.com)
I also think we see a little bit of Madame Récamier in Ladurée's line. While Ladurée does not verbally refer to Madame Récamier, there is a picture of her from Gerard's portrait at their website. Additionally, the overall style is reminiscent of the beauty ideals of the Napoleonic era, ideals which Madame Récamier shaped and was the undisputed leader. The brand story states, "[Les Merveilleuses were] beautiful 'goddesses of liberty' who lived in Paris after the Revolution in the late 18th century and pursued their own beauty depending on a unique and individual sensibility. In the 18th century young Parisian women cast off the post-revolution reign of terror and strict morals, aspiring for freedom and liberation. They remained loyal to France and believed in their senses without losing the pride of the aristocrats who lived in the period of the monarchy. Merveilleuses (French) refers to a 'marvelous,' eccentric and elegant woman." This description, combined with the illustration and small picture of Madame Récamier, definitely point to her continuing influence.
(images from lm-laduree.com)
What do you think? Would you have wanted to be in Madame Récamier's circle? I must agree that she's rather exceptional beauty-wise, and while I tend to see modern-day socialites as vapid and/or pretentious, I think I would have wanted to hang out with Juliette. I also think she may have been disappointed at her image being used to sell skincare, but would have, no doubt, been rather polite about it. 🙂
Or at least, it did. In June 2014 the Northpark Neiman Marcus in Dallas opened an in-store Estée Lauder shop, and to celebrate the occasion, showcased nearly 60 of the company's limited-edition compacts. I'm not too keen on the idea of having a compact exhibition in a retail setting, as it's simply an attempt to get people to buy things rather than appreciating the pieces on display and the history of the company. I also didn't think too much of the cases and clear cylindrical mounts, which came across like those you'd find in a run-of-the-mill jewelry store. *cough tacky cough cough*
(image from theperennialstyle.com)
(image from dallas.culturemap.com)
Having said that, at least these items got out of storage for a bit – most of them had probably never been seen by the public since they were originally released. (In 2001 Estée had an exhibition of their solid perfume compacts at another Neiman Marcus in Florida, but not their powder ones.) Also, this lucky lifestyle blogger who attended the event got exclusive access to ads and photos from the Estée Lauder archive, so go check them out.
I had high hopes for these items to keep traveling, so after not finding any additional information I emailed Estée Lauder regarding the current whereabouts of this alleged museum. I received no response, which is pretty obnoxious. If customer service reps don't know about it they could try to find out from the higher-ups, or if the company is no longer maintaining this little project they could have at least replied with that. I mean, someone there must know what happened to it! I guess I'll just have to keep my eyes peeled to see if it ever pops up in other stores at some point.
Have you spotted this museum near you? What do you think of the displays' aesthetics?
I spotted this makeup mirror on one of the 204 design blogs I follow in Feedly and was instantly smitten. It's a very simple design but rather genius.
Created by Hungarian designer Viktor Pucsek, this modern vanity consists of a rectangular mirror upon a tripod easel. There's a thin glass shelf at the bottom of the mirror for beauty items. More details: "The supporting structure is made from slim rods finished in solid ash that are hinged to the mirror top without any seams. The backing of the mirror is made of a laser cut copper sheet. For storage there is a shelf provided made from beautifully crafted tampered glass, and for the perfect lighting there is a lamp that can be easily clipped and adjusted to everyone's needs."
(images from n3stproject.com)
The idea of makeup as art has a long history – which I won't go into now because it would be an entire book – but I view this table as a modern continuation of the theme. Just for fun I rounded up some ads and items that portray the application of makeup as traditional painting.
(image from cosmeticsandskin.com)
(image from library.duke.edu)
I swear the word "niggardly" is not a racial slur!
(image from library.duke.edu)
(image from collectingvintagecompacts.blogspot.com)
Volupté released some palette-shaped compacts starting in 1940 (at least, that's when this ad is from – too bad I couldn't find a larger pic so we could see the text.)
(image from pinterest.com)
(image from etsy.com)
Don't you love these Avon palettes? They were used as salesperson demos. I wish stores today had testers in cute packaging like this!
(image from pinterest.com)
(image from ebay.com)
Here's a sketch for an ad by famed fashion illustrator René Gruau for skincare and makeup brand Payot, ca. 1951:
(image from arcadja.com)
I wonder if this 1980 Dior ad (and this crazy palette hat from the fall/winter 2007 couture collection) took its cue from that illustration, even though it wasn't created for Dior.
(image from hprints.com)
More recent examples include Chanel's Les Gouaches set and Stila's Masterpiece palettes from 2013. I can't remember exactly when the Gouaches set came out (I want to say 2002) but I do know that 1. I bought it hook, line and sinker specifically because the pigments looked like real paint tubes and I could pretend I was an artist while doing my makeup, and 2. I REALLY regret getting rid of it. Back then I wasn't collecting and swapped it on Makeupalley because I never used it. Little did I know I should have held on!
(image from ebay.com)
(images from pinterest.com)
As you can see, the general concept of makeup as art, along with the depiction of makeup as paint applied from an artist's palette are not new. However, I feel as though the idea came full circle with Pucsek's mirror design. We had one part of the equation (makeup colors literally shown as a painter's palette) but needed an expression of the counterpart, which is the face-as-canvas idea. In the case of this design, the mirror stands in for the canvas through directly reflecting it (i.e., one's face). The description of the mirror bolsters this argument: "Figuratively a canvas which we can paint(ed) on to show the person we would like to be, identify ourselves with and the eyes we would like to see the world through."
In terms of practicality, I can't say I'd have any use for this as my foundations alone take up way more space than that shelf could accommodate, but if you have a small stash and want to feel like a true artist every day, this is a beautifully minimal way to apply and store your makeup. It also seems like a very rudimentary setup, so I bet it's possible to go the DIY route…but I don't think would look nearly as elegant. It may be a moot point anyway, as I'm not sure it's actually for sale.
What do you think? Do you pretend you're a real painter when applying your makeup, or at least, find the idea appealing? I definitely do…I can't paint or do anything remotely artistic, really, so makeup gives me a chance to explore and be somewhat creative. I especially love playing with all my various brushes and seeing how they perform with different products and textures.
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For St. Patrick's Day I originally thought I'd do a quick round-up of vintage compacts adorned with clovers and such. I was searching for a particular vintage Stratton compact, one that has more traditional lucky symbols, and came across this one instead. It was so delightfully strange I simply had to shove aside the other compact I was looking for to investigate this one further.
(image from etsy.com)
Here's another from a later date (ca. 1950s).
(image from etsy.com)
If you're all, "WTF am I looking at?", don't worry, I was too. Apparently the little fella on the front of these compacts is known as a billiken, a symbol of good luck. Both of the websites that list these compacts for sale point out that the Stratton compacts with a billiken on the front are very rare, and are on page 103 of Mueller's Overview of American Compacts and Vanity Cases. So off I went to consult my copy.
Okay, so the billiken was created by an art teacher in 1908 and is a lucky figure. That's a start, but not enough information for me. So I went searching and found myself down quite a bizarre rabbit hole. The billiken was created by Florence Pretz in 1908 after it appeared to her in a dream, while she found the name in an 1896 poem called "Mr. Moon: A Song Of The Little People" by Canadian poet Bliss Carman. The billiken represents "things as they ought to be." Buying a billiken for oneself brought luck, but receiving one as a gift brought even more good fortune. Pretz explained to the St. Louis Post-Dispatch, "I concluded if there is a chance that we shape our own lives, and my clay was mine to fashion as I would, I might as well make an image, which embodied hope and happiness to sort of live up to."
I found her original design patent at the Virtual Corkscrew Museum (the fact that a corkscrew museum exists is proof that a makeup museum is a completely normal and valid idea, yes?) Such a weird-looking little creature, what with the pointy head, prominent ears and compact body – not quite human but not animal-like either.
(image from bullworks.net)
And here's a sketch.
(image from slu.edu)
The billiken's popularity skyrocketed less than a year after the patent was filed and took off as a novelty across the U.S., its likeness appearing on all kinds of ephemera from basic figurines to salt shakers and belt buckles. St. Louis University even adopted the billiken as their mascot, which they still use today.
(image from stltoday.com)
The craze also spread to Alaska, where billikens were carved from whale bone/teeth or walrus ivory and sold as souvenirs. They're still made today, of course from different materials.
(image from liveauctioneers.com)
(image from 1stdibs.com)
Finally, the Royal Order of Jesters, a group belonging to the larger entity of Freemasons, adopted the billiken as their symbol in 1911. The billikens associated with the Jesters differ from other figures as they're usually wearing crowns.
(image from phoenixmasonry.com)
This lapel pin especially makes me think that the billiken on the Stratton compact was related to the Royal Order of Jesters, as the design is nearly identical.
(image from fratline.net)
And Stratton did make other Freemason-themed compacts.
(image from etsy.com)
(image from ebay.co.uk)
I guess what I'm still trying to figure out is how the billiken ended up on the Stratton compacts. Were these part of a custom order for the Royal Order of Jesters? What kind of relationship, if any, did Stratton have with the Freemasons and their associated bodies? Or did Stratton simply decide to put a billiken on their compacts at several points throughout the early 20th century since the billiken was so wildly popular and appearing on nearly every object one could think of? I really can't answer any of these with any certainty. Plus, if the billiken on the Stratton compact is somehow related to the Royal Order of Jesters, it doesn't make a lot of sense to put it on an item primarily used by women. Near as I can figure, the Royal Order of Jesters is your typical boys' club (with some rather sordid, remarkably misogynist moments throughout their history to boot, though I don't know if can trust the sources I linked to.) However, according to the British Compact Collectors Society, Freemason compacts were in fact "presented as gifts on Masonic Ladies’ Nights, when wives of Masons were invited for a special dinner." So maybe the ROJ had similar ladies' nights in the U.S. and these were gifts?
I also found this compact, which just leads to more questions.
(images from etsy.com)
Unlike the Stratton billiken compacts, this one is unmistakably related to the Royal Order of Jesters given the initials on the billiken's crown. No maker is listed but the shape, embossing and the handle are all identical to these enameled compacts. So I'm wondering if this was just a generic compact and you could have it customized. In this case, I'm guessing someone belonging to the Royal Order of Jesters had it made and inscribed with the year they were inducted, given the "78" on the billiken's feet. But again, why a compact? I can only assume it was a gift, since I don't think women can be members of the ROJ.
Anyway, I don't think I'll ever get to the bottom of how a billiken that looks similar to the one used by the Royal Order of Jesters ended up on a vintage compact, but I'm glad I at least found a very interesting, if not totally weird, piece of history. And I always welcome learning about benevolent beings such as the billiken, as we could use a little more good luck and positivity in this world.
Had you ever heard of a billiken? And have you ever dreamed up a totally mythical creature? I have – a few months ago I dreamed of flying rabbits that were called angel bunnies. Their wings were not like feathered bird wings but covered in soft white fur, like the rest of their bodies. They were so cute and fluffy and they only came out at night…I wish they existed, or that I at least had some artistic skill so I could sketch them! Who knows, maybe if I file a patent for them the way Ms. Pretz did with billikens, they could be the next craze sweeping the U.S. 🙂
As I've said before, I think Valentine's Day is kinda dumb so the husband and I don't celebrate it, but I do love any sort of holiday-themed makeup. Vintage compacts are especially fun to browse for V-day, as there's no shortage of lovey-dovey designs.
If I had to guess, I think Elgin's heart-shaped compacts were originally created for Valentine's Day (and eventually marketed for Mother's Day and Christmas), since the earliest ad I've seen for them was from February 1947. I'm greatly amused by the fact that this one appeared in Esquire magazine. Clueless men, here's what to get your girl for Valentine's Day!
(image from elgintime.blogspot.com)
I always love it when I can find the item that I spotted in a vintage ad.
(image from etsy.com)
Here's another ad from February 1948. While it seems to be targeting women, it does mention the compacts as Valentine's Day gifts.
(image from pinterest.com)
(images from ebay.com)
Some other Elgin compacts that would have been appropriate for Valentine's Day:
(image from rubylane.com)
(image from worthpoint.com)
(image from etsy.com)
It looks like some of them had space for engraving so you could customize them.
This one is my favorite. Like I said, I'm not really into Valentine's Day crap, but this is precious. It really hits all the love notes – Cupid, flying hearts, and "I love you" in several languages. At least, I think that's Cupid…he doesn't have wings, which is a little odd.
(images from etsy.com)
If I had been more organized I would have gotten one for the Museum in time for V-day. Fortunately there are lots of this particularly design floating around so I can still get it.
What do you think of these? And do you celebrate Valentine's Day? (I won't judge if you do!)
In honor of the birthday of Edouard Manet (1832-1883), today I thought I'd share this 1949 Lancôme ad that refers to one of the artist's most famous works. It looks like Lancôme released a lip color inspired by Manet's 1863 painting Olympia.
(image from hprints.com)
Here's the original painting:
(image from wikipedia)
It's not surprising a French cosmetics brand referred to a well-known work by an equally well-known French painter; however, I am curious to know why they chose Olympia. The woman in the painting was Victorine Meurent, who served as Manet's model for many of his works. Meli at Wild Beauty wrote an excellent post on Victorine and how scandalous the painting was considered when it debuted at the Paris Salon in 1865. As she points out, not only was Victorine posing as a prostitute, she was daring to confront the viewer with absolutely no shame: "…she was staring straight at the viewer – without a hint of embarrassment or coquettishness. Once again, Manet had painted the viewer into an awkward encounter. Even in modern times we expect our whores to project either seduction or shame, so Victorine’s matter-of-fact expression is startling in any age. But in 18th century Paris it hinted at a moment many had never seen – and those that had probably pretended they hadn’t. This might be a 'backstage' moment – before the courtesan greets a lover, and it’s almost too revealing in its frankness – we see the courtesan’s youth, beauty, cynicism, and business acumen all at once." Indeed, the bold, thoroughly non-traditional presentation of a prostitute (or even a reclining nude, for that matter) that brings to the forefront the harsh reality behind the trade was cause for an uproar in 1860s Paris. So this goes back to my question of why Lancôme chose to use Olympia, given that critics, having no idea what to make of the depiction of this woman, called her everything from a "grotesque India rubber" to an "ape on a bed." Olympia seems to be a highly unlikely candidate for a beauty icon, but as Meli notes, perhaps her unconventional looks and fearless gaze were being celebrated by 1949.
In any case, this ad offers another bit of intrigue. I noticed that the packaging for the lipstick is referred to as a "carquois", which translates to "quiver". If you look really closely at the lipstick on the right in the ad you can see a Cupid holding a quiver of arrows. Interestingly, Lancôme released their Fleches (Arrows) fragrance in 1938, the ads for which also feature Cupid and arrows, so maybe the theme of the "carquois" was borrowed from the perfume. But that's not the only thing: the "carquois" is also listed as a "shaker". Another Lancôme ad, this one from 1951, uses this name for a particular case. (Side note: I like how the curved shape of the lipstick on the left is still in production today for their L'Absolu Rouge line.) Apparently you could choose which jewelry-inspired case you wanted to house the new Rose Printemps shade (this assumption is based on me typing the ad copy into Google Translate, which we know isn't all that accurate).
(image from hprints.com)
Why is this notable? Well, for spring 2016 Lancôme is introducing their "Juicy Shakers", a new "two-phase" formula consisting of oil and pigment that requires shaking before application. I imagine it's similar to YSL's Volupté Tint in Oil but more fun to use – I like the idea of jiggling my lip stuff around in a cute martini shaker-like package.
(image from chicprofile.com)
Lancôme seems to have taken a great deal of care in coming up with the name/idea, as they filed a trademark for it nearly 2 years ago. I doubt any of their people used the Olympia ad or other vintage Lancôme ads that refer to the "shaker" when naming this new product, but it's a very interesting coincidence nonetheless.
So, two separate and quite fascinating ideas provided by Lancôme's Olympia ad. Which do you find more intriguing, the use of a rather scandalous work or the fact that Lancôme previously had the idea over 60 years ago to house one of their lip products in a so-called shaker?
A few months ago I was digging my blotting sheets out of my makeup bag at work and realized that it was a total disaster. Not that I had too much stuff crammed in there, but that the bag itself was an embarrassment. Should a Makeup Museum curator really be walking around with this horribly beat-up bag? (The paper stuck to the front is an old receipt…how it got there I don't know but I could never get all of it off.)
The corners were totally cracked. It's a wonder things weren't constantly falling out.
When I dug out my blotting sheets I also noticed I needed to part ways with my beloved Paul & Joe mirrored blotting sheet compact. I loved it and they don't make these particular compacts anymore, but the thing is a mess – completely faded, stained and torn.
There was also this very worn powder compact. I loved Prescriptives but dear god, this needed to go.
In addition to my makeup bag, I came to the conclusion that the compact mirror on my vanity could use a refresh as well. There is a huge wall mirror for the vanity, but it's a few feet from where I sit – even leaning over I can't get as close as I'd like. And sometimes I need to get really up close (like when I'm not wearing my contacts) so I use a small compact mirror so I don't have to stand up to move to the wall mirror. I know it sounds weird, but having a compact mirror is a lot more convenient. For years I had been using yet another decrepit Prescriptives compact. Again, should a Makeup Museum curator's vanity have such a bland, worn-down compact mirror?
I decided I needed some upgrades, post-haste. First order of business, the bag. I knew I definitely wanted to continue with a clear bag, as it makes it so much easier to find things. After much research I got this one at Sephora. It's actually part of a really cute set. I found the medium-sized one to be just right. I absolutely adore the looks of Truffle Clarity clutches or pouches, which Sabrina at the Beauty Look Book brought to my attention (she knows the good stuff!), but I think even the smallest ones might be a little too large to fit well in my purses. Even though the Truffle site has super-helpful pictures with the bags filled, I still couldn't quite visualize how they would look. (I am notoriously bad at estimating size/volume). Still, I may just buy one anyway because they're so pretty – I'm especially loving this lemon and silver one. Anyway, if you're in the market for a clear makeup pouch I think either this Sephora set or Truffle are your best options.
Then I rounded up some ideas for compacts. And here's where the old stuff comes in…I didn't want anything new, surprisingly. I feel as though vintage compacts have so much more personality than most of today's (at least the standard, non-collectible ones). So vintage hunting I went. I selected this Stratton compact from Etsy for my makeup bag. I think it has the perfect amount of wear – not so much that it looks like trash but just enough to know it's vintage. I also like the scalloped edges and the combination of silver and gold.
My current project is to determine whether I can somehow remove the old powder that's in there and replace it with Makeup Forever's High-Def pressed powder, but I highly doubt it'll fit. Guess I'll cross that bridge when I come to it. As for the blotting sheets, I thought it would be pretty funny to contrast the sophistication of the Stratton compact with something totally off the wall, like these Dinoplatz sheets.
Truth be told, I haven't found any blotting sheet compacts that measure up to the Paul & Joe ones. Bobbi Brown makes a nice one, if a little boring. And obviously Paul & Joe still makes adorable blotting sheets and Boscia has some pretty patterns (I'm partial to the peppermint sheets since they smell yummy!), but they're stored in a flimsy cardboard container that gets worn quickly. Tatcha sheets are lovely but also in a cardboard container that's not much sturdier than the others. And none of these are actual compacts with mirrors. Even though I don't really need a mirror since I have one in the Stratton compact, I just got so used to having a mirrored blotting sheet compact that not having one seems strange. So Dinoplatz it was. I just hope the plastic doesn't get too dirty. We shall see.
For the other compact, I decided my vanity was in desperate need of some bling. I set out to find one of the gaudiest, shiniest, rhinestoniest (okay, that's not a word) vintage compacts I could find. I settled on this Dorset one, which I found on Ebay. It's heavier than you would expect.
My vanity is fairly minimal and modern so it looks pretty cool sitting there in the plain acrylic box with the rest of my basics (foundations, primers, etc.). It's like the other makeup is having an elegant soirée, all dressed in tasteful, black or neutral shades and talking softly, and in walks someone's very eccentric aunt, dripping with multi-colored fake gems and outfitted in gold lamé from head to toe. All heads turn as she holds court, loudly spouting some wild, unbelievable story in her own hilarious way. Now that I think about it, maybe one of the reasons I was drawn to this compact is that I did have a fairly crazy aunt who, at one family get-together, wore blue Ked sneakers, a leopard print fur coat, stirrup pants, tons of costume jewelry and insanely heavy makeup…and let me tell you, that was normal compared to the stuff that came out of her mouth! I remember her fondly though, so perhaps that's why I chose this one – it's her compact equivalent.
Anyway, I feel as though I have accomplished my mission of overhauling these basic items to be more fitting for a curator of a Makeup Museum. What do you think?
I've always been fascinated with the zodiac, so I'm drawn to any products that feature the 12 signs. And obviously since I love makeup I have a special affinity for compacts with zodiac imagery. There's also something deeper going on – perhaps because of my ever-present need to create order out of the cluttered chaos that is my brain, I like anything calendar-related, whether it's the 12 months of the year or the 12 zodiac signs. Twelve is such a nice neat number, and each month or zodiac sign signifies a particular time of year, making it easy to recognize its passage. And January seems like a good a time to talk about the 12 months/zodiac signs as they all start in January. But enough of my ramblings and onto a very cool find. I stumbled across this while looking for vintage compacts for my own personal use (more on that next week).
I liked the strange cartoon character representing the Aquarius sign and thought the little rhyme on the back of the compact was genius. I also appreciated both the traditional zodiac symbol above the rhyme and the corresponding element (water, earth, wind, fire) beneath – such great details. But what really caught my eye was the artist's signature on the lower right. I definitely wanted to see more work by this S. MacNiel, and I also wanted to find out how he ended up doing these illustrations for Elgin.
(images from etsy.com)
I set about finding as many images of these compacts as I could. Here's Aries:
(image from onegiantyardsale.com)
Taurus:
(images from worthpoint.com)
Gemini:
(image from onegiantyardsale.com)
Cancer:
(image from worthpoint.com)
Leo:
(images from ebay.com)
Virgo:
(images from worthpoint.com)
Libra – no pictures of the back, but the seller included the rhyme: "Libra people love nice things/Lollypops and diamonds rings/ They're happiest when they have bought/A lot of stuff they hadn't ought."
(image from ebay.co.uk)
I couldn't find a photo of the actual compact, but here's an ad from a Pittsburgh newspaper from May 7, 1948 for Scorpio – based on the ad copy, they were playing these up as a Mother's Day gift. What I was confused about is why these were advertised in 1948 and the date near MacNiel's signature on the compact is 1940.
(image from news.google.com)
I was determined to reconcile the dates, so I went digging in search of information on man of mystery S. MacNiel. I found out the S. stands for Stanley, and MacNiel was a Scotsman who traveled the world but ended up in New York City. In 1940 he published a book of cocktail recipes based on zodiac signs. This wood-bound book fetches hundreds of dollars at various auction sites. The cover image is bizarre, but I have to admit quite creative. Grapes for hair, orange slices for ears, lemons for eyes, cherry nostrils, and I particularly love the way the cocktail glass becomes her mouth.
I can't believe he mentions Mussolini as a Leo of note. Uhh…
(images from read-em-again.com)
The book might not have been strange at all if our buddy Stan was a known author and artist, but he didn't seem to have a defined career. He was described as a "lecturer and leader of the Ambassadors of Good Cheer," whatever that is. (I googled and didn't find much – may have been something alcohol-related.) The book's introduction doesn't give much of an idea of what he actually did for a living either. MacNiel says, "For twenty years I was a Vagabond Cocktail Collector. During those years of travel I found great interest in the native foods and beverages of the countries I visited. If a native beverage, of whatever concoction, was palatable to me, I acquired the recipe. Thus, after several trips around the world, 'wining', and 'dining', I began to feel sufficiently well-acquainted with cocktails and other drinks from the four corners of the globe to tell others about them." So he's very well-traveled, but what did he actually do? How did he get into illustration and design? I do like the title of "vagabond cocktail collector" though. That must have been a pretty sweet gig.
Anyway, equally peculiar was MacNiel's creation of a very ornate jeweled brooch in the shape of the head of the "fruit lady" that appears on his cocktail book's cover. I don't know why the patent spells his name incorrectly. I also have no idea why he made this piece of jewelry.
(images from trifari.com)
The brooch (a.k.a. a "fur clip" – fancy!) was apparently sold at Saks in New York and, like MacNiel's book, sells for hundreds of dollars.
So that's interesting, but what does all this have to do with the compacts? And what about the fact that the book was released in 1940 and the compacts seemingly weren't released until 1948? Well, here's the connection: the same rhymes that appear on the back of the compacts are in the book under each sign. The illustrations are different but the rhymes are the same. Compare the rhyme at the bottom of this page with the Virgo compact above.
(image from winkbooks.net)
So my best guess is that he patented everything in 1940 (see his copyright for "Zodiac Humor" that year) and in 1948 allowed use of his illustrations and rhymes for the compacts, so they weren't created specifically for Elgin. Also, he lent his work not only to Elgin, but to several other endeavors as well: tiles (that could be used as trivets or wall decorations), cocktail glasses and napkins. This article in a Brooklyn newspaper from April 15, 1948 sheds a little light on the various zodiac collections, but still doesn't explain what Mr. MacNiel did for a living other than he was a "man of varied careers". It does mention that he once hiked across the entire U.S. in 90 days and took credit for introducing mens' shorts as casual wear in the States. Near as I can figure, given these facts and his seemingly endless globe-trotting, he was simply a nomadic (possibly often drunk) jack of all trades who wasn't content doing one thing or being in one place very long. (Why is his name is spelled wrong again?)
(image from newspapers.com)
Additionally, it looks like in 1953 MacNiel licensed his images to be used for a set of mugs produced by a ceramics company called Rossini Japan.
(image from ebay.com)
I also searched for some tiles in hopes of unearthing more images that would have appeared on the compacts, and I found some I couldn't find in compact form: Sagittarius, Scorpio and Pisces.
(image from liveauctioneers.com)
(image from pinterest.com)
For the life of me though, sadly I couldn't find any images of Capricorn. I guess 11 out of 12 isn't bad, but that's going to drive me crazy. Hopefully one will surface eventually.
While I've figured out the release date of the compacts and a little more about the person behind the illustrations, I'm still not sure how the collaboration came about, i.e. whether MacNiel approached Elgin or the other way around. I also wonder whether he was an Aquarius, since the character for that sign seems to be Scottish (given the kilt and bagpipes) and is labeled as the "Connoisseur" while examining a drink in his hand. We know MacNiel was Scottish and considered himself a cocktail expert, since he mentions mixing "thousands" of drinks as research for his book, so perhaps the Aquarius fellow is meant to be a self-caricature. Unfortunately I can't find a date of birth anywhere for him. But overall, I was pleased with my detective work and I love these compacts, silly and cartoonish though they are. And MacNiel sounds like a hoot – I would have loved to have a drink with him.
What do you think of these? My collector's itch is definitely acting up and wants me to start hunting down all of them…if I ever come across a Scorpio one I'm going to pounce for sure!
Update, 11/15/2015: The Makeup Museum's fall 2015 exhibition was already devoted to Paris, but in the wake of the recent tragic attacks there, I want to dedicate the exhibition now to peace and healing in the city. Paris, your lights will never be dimmed!
In case you hadn't already guessed, in lieu of a regular seasonal exhibition this fall I'm whisking you away (virtually) to Paris! Much has been written about the allure of French beauty, from makeup artists giving some quick advice to entire books. Indeed, the constant stream of how-to articles on achieving the highly coveted French girl look demonstrate that many women the world over – especially us Americans – are more or less obsessed with how French women beautify themselves. There's even a whole skincare line to ensure one can achieve the seemingly effortless, "je ne sais quoi" French women possess. But this exhibition isn't about French beauty per se, since, as I pointed out, there are entire books on the subject and it would be too broad of a topic to tackle currently with the Museum's rather meager resources. Additionally, some consider the "typical" French beauty ideals to be rather offensive or completely baseless and false. My premise is much simpler: I wanted to focus on how Paris, the epicenter of French fashion and style, is represented in beauty product packaging and advertising. Whatever your stance is on the notion of French beauty, the fact remains that items with scenes from Paris are still quite appealing to most beauty consumers (or at least, popular with the brand's marketing department). So grab some croissants, macarons, or [insert French treat of choice here] and gaze upon the many lovely depictions of the City of Light.
(I apologize in advance for the poor photos. They're bad even for me. I think it was a combination of it being totally overcast and the fact that I had had 3 glasses of prosecco before attempting to take pictures.)
Top shelves, left to right.
While I adore the ad I purchased, I must say I wish I could have tracked down these:
(image from pinterest.com)
(image from pinterest.com)
Coty wasn't the only one trying to put Paris in a bottle.
![Lancome Auda[city] palette and ad](https://makeupmuseum.org/wp-content/uploads/6a00e553d45a2a883301b7c7da59d3970b.png "Lancome Auda[city] palette and ad")
Too-Faced has just released their "Christmas in Paris" holiday line and I want every single thing in it! Alas, I had to narrow it to just one so I chose Le Grand Palais.
Remember how much I loved these Bourjois containers illustrated by Nathalie Leté?
I found a relatively rare compact on Ebay and thought this Cutex ad would go nicely with it.
Hard to tell from the photo, but this compact is actually red. There's also a black version, which is featured on page 108 of this book. Too bad I couldn't find any information on the company.
Third row, left to right.
T. LeClerc Paris in Winter powder:
Maison Lancôme Highlighting Powder:
The "Vibrant" line from Coty deserves its own post, but you'll get the gist of it from the exhibition label (I hope).
This set is too cute! While it's not officially named "Vibrant" (it says "Co-Ed Makeup Ensemble" on the box lid, which I didn't include in the exhibition), I suspect it contains the colors from the Vibrant range, since the shade names are the same as in all the Vibrant ads.
Bottom row, left to right.
You remember this set from the holiday 2014 exhibition, right?
This was quite an interesting find! Fortunately Collecting Vintage Compacts had the complete story, so I made sure to credit the author appropriately.
Another adorable collection from Bourjois.
Exhibition background
I had been wanting to do exhibitions on both New York and Paris in beauty products for roughly 4 years. Last year I got the idea of do a joint exhibition featuring both (working title was "A Tale of Two Cities: Depictions of Paris and New York in Beauty Products"). But I realized my collection had a few gaps when it came to NY. For example, I had missed purchasing the Makeup Forever Highline palette (despite my assertion that it would be good for a NY-themed exhibition) and this Sephora palette. I was also having a difficult time finding vintage NY-related pieces that were also as visually appealing as the ones I was finding for Paris. However, I did want to keep New York in the picture since I felt most of the items I had for Paris were from the same brands (Bourjois, Coty and Lancome) and I didn't want it to be repetitive. In the end, I determined that the pieces were different enough despite being from the same brand, so I abandoned the idea of including New York-themed items and decided to just focus on Paris. This doesn't mean, however, that the idea of a joint exhibition that includes New York will never be revisited. 😉
In terms of why I decided to launch this exhibition now, I was reflecting on my five-year wedding anniversary back in August and the amazing trip the husband and I took to Paris for our honeymoon, so I just had Paris on the brain. Plus, I couldn't seem to make a cohesive fall exhibition. Sometimes there's no particular seasonal theme that calls to me and I knew I had enough Paris items, so I thought, why not fall 2015?
Things I would have included but couldn't acquire
I made two collages of items that I'd give my eye teeth for. The pieces I have in the current exhibition are nice, but there are some others that would really enhance it.
First, some vintage pieces. On the left we have Bourjois Printemps de Paris powder and an ad for the fragrance beneath it. This perfume was released in 1931 and the ad is from 1933, so I'm guessing the powder is from around then too. On the right is a rare Dorin face powder from 1925. Funnily enough, Dorin still makes Un Air de Paris fragrance, although I suspect it's significantly different from the original. At the bottom we have the exquisite Guerlain Poudre aux Ballons from 1918, which I've been drooling over for quite a while.
(images from pinterest.com, hprints.com, liveauctioneers.com, and artfrancais.nl)
More contemporary items include the Fancl fall 2012 French chic collection (still kicking myself for not buying these when I had the chance – when I posted about them 3 years ago I was already envisioning them in a French/Paris-themed exhibition), the Clinique travel box which was only available at duty-free shops (grrr!), Catrice Big City collection from 2012 (again, another one I'm kicking myself for not buying and also one I had mentioned as being useful for a Paris or New York exhibition), and the lovely Kerrie Hess-illustrated collection for Lancôme, which unfortunately was only available in Australia.
Something surprising
When rounding up items for this exhibition, I was shocked to see that some of the quintessential French brands – Chantecaille, L'Occitane, Givenchy, Chanel, Dior, Yves Saint Laurent, etc. – did not have any items depicting Paris. And Paul & Joe always seems to have a Parisian theme for their collections, but there are no actual illustrations of the city on their products. I'm not saying it's the responsibility of any of these brands to have Paris-themed products, just that I found it really odd.
And that's the exhibition! Does it make you want to take a fabulous trip to Paris?