A while ago I received an email from a woman whose son was playing in an abandoned lot and managed to find an old lipstick tube. What was remarkable about it, she noted, is that it was double-ended. She asked if I could identify it and see if it was worth anything. Fortunately I was able to find some information and correctly identify it, although it wasn't too difficult as the brand name of Tussy was etched on one end.
Tussy was originally owned by perfume and skincare purveyor J. Lesquendieu, which in turn was owned by Lehn & Fink starting in 1929: "Lehn & Fink, a New York based pharmaceutical company established in 1875, was mainly known for household products such as Lysol disinfectant and Pebeco toothpowder. After their purchase of Dorothy Gray, they went on to acquire Lesquendieu (which included Tussy) in 1929."
When I was trying to guess the approximate date of this two-sided lipstick I obviously found Tussy ads to be very helpful. I knew it wasn't any earlier than 1940, but then I was also able to rule out 1941 through 1947 by comparing the tube in the pictures sent to me to the ones in the ads.
By summer of 1948 Tussy Two in One lipsticks had made their debut, as evidenced by these newspaper ads. Oddly enough I didn't come across any full-sized color magazine ads for these two-in-ones. These are from May 27, 1948 and June 17, 1948, respectively.
For the holiday season in 1949, Tussy expanded on the double-ended product theme and devised a lipstick and perfume tube, combining their Optimiste perfume with their lipstick of the same name.
Interestingly, Dorothy Gray, also owned by Lehn & Fink at this point, released a similar product in 1952 with their Golden Orchid perfume on one end and a lipstick on the other, which was available in four shades.
Tussy was not the first to come up with double-ended products. Two-sided perfume cases were quite popular in the late 19th and early 20th century, and in the 1920s a company named Ripley & Gowen came up with a "tango" compact (a compact with a lipstick or perfume case attached by a chain) that had a double-ended tube containing lipstick on one end and brow pencil on the other.
Brow pencil appears to be an odd choice, but I'm assuming that in order to the maintain the thin, straight brows that were in style in the 20s brow pencil was a necessity – perhaps so important that R & G saw it appropriate to make it the other item besides lipstick in a two-sided case. While others had produced double-sided products, to my knowledge Tussy was among the first companies to come up with a double-ended lipstick. And their interest in two-sided products didn't end in the late 40s, as evidenced by their "Flipsticks" that were introduced in 1962:
With the plethora of double-ended beauty items nowadays, I think it's safe to say that Tussy was a pioneer in helping to make them a commonplace product rather than a novelty. Getting back to the original lipstick that was submitted, I can't say it's worth very much given the condition, but it's still interesting from a beauty history perspective. If I found it I would definitely hang onto it.
Do you use double-ended products? I don't because I like to store everything vertically rather than horizontally and it drives me crazy that I can't see both ends!
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Now that we've covered porcelain lipstick holders, let's take a peek at the other main type of vintage holders: metal. Nearly all of the metal lipstick holders produced in the 20th century had filigree work or equally ornate details like rhinestones and faux pearls. And many were fashioned out of ormolu (if you don't know what that is, no worries – I had no idea what it was either.) According to the good old Merriam-Webster dictionary, ormolu is a "gold-coloured alloy made up of copper, zinc, and sometimes tin in various proportions but usually at least 50% copper. It is used in mounts (ornaments on borders, edges, and as angle guards) for furniture and for other decorative purposes. After the molten alloy has been poured into a mold and allowed to cool, it is gilded with powdered gold mixed with mercury. It is then fired at a temperature that evaporates the mercury, leaving a gold surface. Ormolu was first produced in France in the mid-17th century, and France remained its main centre of production."
Some of the heavy hitters in terms of brands included Sam Fink, Matson, and Florenza.
There's very little information on Sam Fink, but if you see a goldtone lipstick holder with a cherub on it, chances are it's a Sam Fink. The company was active from the 1950s through the '70s. I'm not sure whether the company's signature design was an angel or if there just happens to be a large proportion of them for sale currently, but quite a few Sam Fink pieces have this figure.
Florenza was a jewelry company founded in 1949. Lest you think their pieces have some kind of Italian flair, the company name had nothing to do with the city of Florence but was a riff on the founder's mother's name. Florenza manufactured slightly higher-end pieces that were sold in department stores like Bloomingdale's and Lord & Taylor. Unlike their competitors, Florenza offered a multitude of finishes for their lipstick holders beyond plain gold. These are two of their "French white" items, which were actually enamel that sometimes had a metallic finish.
Picking up from where I left off in part 1 of this post, I am curious to know why these types of holders are unpopular now. Or at least, not liked enough that any company would manufacture any in these styles. Perhaps it's just a matter of trends and popular opinion – the taste for ornate display pieces has simply disappeared in favor of more practical, space-saving options. Or could it be that as women gained more freedom in the latter part of the 20th century, unabashedly feminine items were considered a liability to the feminist movement. I'm not claiming that feminism killed the lipstick holder, but maybe it helped shift the original aesthetic to something that would appeal more to the "liberated" woman. As more women entered the workforce, a sensible lipstick organizer would make sense in helping them get out the door on time rather than fussing with an overly-designed holder. It seems very likely that in reaching for a lipstick one would knock over a figurine or one with a large element in the middle, like the third Sam Fink and the Matson holders shown in this post. And maybe women wanted to shift away from wearing makeup to look pretty or viewing it as a luxury – toned-down makeup became the norm for working women who wanted to appear nothing but professional, and they wanted something equally plain to contain their products. (I can't back any of this up, of course…just speculating here.) Fortunately, nowadays we've moved beyond the functionally sound but dully designed acrylic holders. I think Anthropologie strikes a nice balance between elegant and utilitarian in their lipstick holders.
What's your preference? Do you enjoy the gaudiness of the gold filigree holders, the super girly porcelain figurines, or a basic acrylic lipstick organizer? Or a combination of modern design and retro style, as represented by the Anthropologie lipstick holders? To be honest, porcelain figurines creep me out, I find clear plastic holders extremely uninspired, and the more modern ones just don't have the same appeal as true vintage holders. So I'm partial to the old-school filigree metal lipstick holders – I love how over-the-top they are!
I was doing a lot of scouring on E-bay for vintage compacts and came across a slew of other vintage beauty items, that, sadly, have waned in popularity. Lipstick holders were a mainstay of many women's vanities from roughly the 1930s through the '70s. These often ornate accessories seem to have been replaced nowadays with more utilitarian lipstick "organizers" made from clear plastic. I'm not sure why – I'll explore possible reasons in part two of this post – but for now I want to give a very quick rundown of how past generations of women stored and displayed their lipstick.
From what I've found, there were generally two types of materials used for lipstick holders in the 20th century: porcelain and metal. Part one of this post will cover the former. According to this article, the three largest and well-known producers of porcelain lipstick holders were Josef Originals, Enesco and Lego Imports.
Josef Originals was created by Muriel Joseph George in 1945. Originally the ceramics were produced in California, but when rival companies began selling cheap knock-offs, Josef Originals merged with pottery distributor George Good. The new Josef Originals figurines were then produced in Japan from 1959 through the 1980s, when the company was acquired by Applause, Inc. and the figurines ceased to be produced. Most of the lipstick holders were made in the '60s and '70s, and in the latter decade the company introduced a lineup of mermaid (!) and fairy figurines.
Enesco was founded in 1888 and remains one of the leaders in porcelain production (this is the company that produces Precious Moments figurines). These are a bit more rare and hard to find than Josef Originals.
Lego Imports (not to be confused with the little toy blocks) is also still in existence today. Primarily known for its head vases, the company also made lipstick holders in the same style.
While The Examiner article cites the pieces produced by these three companies as being the most desirable lipstick holders to collect, I found another source that manufactured lipstick holders of equal or nearly equal quality, or at least, popularity. Norcrest Fine China was founded in 1958 in Portland, Oregon by Japanese-American businessman Bill Naito, whose father Hide, established a gift shop there in 1921 that sold porcelain wares and other trinkets. While the business was headquartered in Portland, the items were manufactured in Japan and shipped to the U.S. (You can read more about the history here.) The company closed in 2004.
Like the metal holders we'll see in part two of this post, ceramic lipstick holders largely fell by the wayside in the late 20th century. I'm still awestruck by how overtly feminine they are – not only do they overwhelmingly come in pink or other "girly" colors, the spaces for the lipstick are often gathered in the folds of an enormous hoop skirt. I know it's a lipstick holder and thus, an object that is geared towards women, but the markers of femininity in these vintage holders are incredibly exaggerated…and are perhaps one of the culprits behind their disappearance from most women's vanities in the late 20th century? We'll explore that in part two. Stay tuned!
I spotted these Christmas-themed soaps at Beautyhabit and just had to get some for the Museum (plus they were on sale!) I loved the retro Scandinavian illustrations. According to the company's website, these are original designs from the 1930s! In case you're wondering, "God Jul" means "Merry Christmas" in Swedish.
I particularly loved the copy on the back of this elf soap:
Additionally, while I haven't tried them, they are supposedly "filled with mandarin, cinnamon, almond, vanilla, orange and cloves – all the scents that we associate with the Swedish Christmas."
Victoria Scandinavian Soaps has a long and quite interesting history. The company was founded in 1905 in the Swedish port city of Helsingborg and primarily focused on making candles. In 1914 Victoria began producing soap, and by 1924 it was the official soap company of the Royal Swedish Court (and still is today). The website even has a little museum that not only tells the company's history but also includes some really great vintage ads and packaging.
This "Iwana" soap was a special edition in the 1920s and named after one of the company's employees.
I thought this soap from the '50s was neat – the sphinx apparently has Cleopatra's face.
This 1940s ad is for Cremosin, which was first introduced in 1924 and is still sold today:
Which one is your favorite? And have you ever been to Scandinavia? I'm dying to visit precisely because of cool design like this.
Image from geoffpowellart.co.uk
Happy Thanksgiving! While you're waiting for the turkey to cook or pies to bake, distract yourself till it's time to feast with these online collections of vintage compacts. And if you're not in the U.S., simply enjoy. 🙂
P.S. – If you're in a shopping mood, check out Vanity Treasures.
Oftentimes I'll be researching a topic for a blog post and stumble across something else entirely that leads me to concoct a new blog post. This was the case with today's round-up of vintage ads which feature some form of disembodiment. (In case you're wondering, this idea came up as I was scouring ads for my previous post on cultural appropriation in cosmetics ads.)
It's common nowadays to see close-ups of models' faces or heads or any other body part by itself to advertise a new beauty product. However, these images never strike me as odd or somehow detached from the rest of their bodies, whereas with some vintage ads I got a decidedly eerie, surreal impression.
Let's take a look at these ads, starting with lips.
In the case of Max Factor and Du Barry, I can sort of see the use of lips by themselves in order to showcase the various shades that the lipsticks come in, but they're still markedly different than what we see today. The other two ads for Pond's and Letheric are downright strange – in the case of Pond's, a pair of lips is just floating on the right side, while in Letheric multiple pairs of lips are patterned diagnonally across the ad, almost like wallpaper.
Next up we have hands – or rather, ads for nail polish.
Some of these by the better, more skilled fashion illustrators aren't so creepy, like these Dior and Elizabeth Arden ads from 1957.
But in most other vintage nail polish ads, the hands seem to be severed at the wrist.
In the case of Guerlain, an assortment of white, ghostly hands float against a charcoal background, almost like they're made of smoke. Interestingly, the company is using disembodied hands rather than lips for a lipstick ad (although they did go that route as well for their original Rouge Automatique circa 1936.)
Here's where things get really weird. Dura-Gloss depicts not only bodiless hands but ones growing out of the center of a flower (1945 and 1951):
Then we have the ATTACK OF THE GIANT HANDS! They're coming after planes and puppeteering women from above. Not only are the hands/fingers coming out of nowhere, they're in a clearly disproportionate scale to everything else in the ad. I understand the need to highlight the product that's being sold, but why do it in such a strange way?
And as we saw with lips and hands, we have twofers here as well, except in this case it's disembodied heads and hands. The ad for Naylon nail polish (1948) on the right is one I find to be especially disturbing – given the pin on the lower right and the envelope on the lower left, is this supposed to be a bulletin board with the woman's head trapped in some sort of sheet that's pinned to it?
So what does all this mean? We see disembodiment in contemporary ads, and many argue that it objectifies and dehumanizes women. So are these vintage ads relentlessly sexist as well? Many of them appear long before feminism's second wave, and thus also before most women were able to hold a position of authority in many fields, including advertising, so the argument could be made that male ad executives simply reduced women to their parts to sell beauty products.
However, I do think there's a big difference between today's images and these vintage ads. I think the impact of surrealism was more far-reaching than we recognize. For example, here we have a 1931 Guerlain lipstick ad showing a floating, upside-down woman's head. This would seem creepy…if we didn't consider that the illustrator, Jacques Darcy, was most likely referencing Surrealist artist Man Ray.
Coupled with the tag line, "The lipstick of your dreams", this image shows a strong surrealist bend, as the surrealists were fascinated with the subconcious mind and dreams especially. And could Man Ray's Observatory Time: The Lovers (c. 1931) be partially responsible for all the floating pairs of lips we see in advertising over the next 2 decades?
As for heads, there is a parallel between the floating, antiquity-inspired busts of some surrealists and the ones used in some Lancôme ads…perhaps this connection is the inspiration for the other disembodied heads we've seen.
Take, for example, De Chirico's Song of Love (1914) and Magritte's Memory (1945):
I'm pondering whether the surrealist interest in antiquity carried over into using comparable images in makeup ads. Of course, there are differences – Lancôme's ads obviously center on Venus, goddess of beauty, while the surrealists generally didn't specify which god/goddess they were referencing. But it's still an interesting theory.
In conclusion, it's my opinion that these vintage ads aren't actually misogynist, but came about as a result of a heavy surrealist influence, a movement that was rooted in the early 20th century, but still pervasive through the early '60s. And even today we see uncannily similar ads, ads that don't necessarily sexualize and objectify women through disembodiment but rather give off a surrealist energy. This 2012 video for Lancôme's Rouge in Love was described as "a surrealist take on a typical cosmetics ad — disembodied lips sing along to the words of the song and apply the new lipsticks to their floating pouts while the Eiffel Tower and Times Square loom in the background."
What do you think about these vintage ads? Were they at least partially feeling the effects of surrealism? Or was it that these types of illustrations just happened to be the most popular stylistically for cosmetic ads at the time?
I was so pleased I was able to trek up to NYC last Thursday to see Makeup in New York's show and vintage lipstick exhibition! It was fun to walk around and see all the packaging companies, but the main draw for me, of course, was seeing some highlights from Lips of Luxury up close and in person.
The show was held at Center 548 in Chelsea, which is an area of NYC I'm not too familiar with – we normally stick to Soho and Union Square, with occasional jaunts to where all the department stores are (uptown? downtown?):
Nice little brochures were provided when you checked in.
I eagerly searched to find where the lipstick exhibition was.
Fortunately it was on the 2nd floor so I didn't have to climb too many steps to get there!
Right up front were the Revlon Couturines!!
Behind those was that crazy Lenox lipstick holder:
Some other treasures:
Why yes, that IS a mermaid-shaped lipstick case!!
Huge dork that I am, I had brought my copy of Lips of Luxury with me in the hopes of getting either Jean-Marie Martin-Hattenberg (the author) or Anne Camilli (Editorial Director) to sign it, if they happened to be at the exhibition. And I thought maybe I could give them my card. I did in fact meet Anne, but ultimately I was too chicken to actually ask for an autograph or start plugging the Makeup Museum. My husband pointed out that it may not have been as weird as I thought to ask her to sign the book, as she was the one who, you know, helped write it. But I thought I might come off as annoying or worse, some kind of creepy stalker, so I just said I was a big fan of the book and left her alone.
Overall, I thought it was a well-curated exhibition. The selections were definitely what I would have chosen from the book. I did think, however, that the presentation could use a little work. The glass jars with the pink tops were cute, but the acrylic stands that some of the lipsticks were sitting on within them looked pretty cheap. And the jar wasn't the best choice of display vessel for the Alberto Guardiani lipstick shoe – it looked squashed in there! I also would have made the label text nicer and with thicker paper. Good typography and quality paper goes a long way. Of course, I have little room to talk since I tend to cram items onto the shelves I use for my exhibitions and the shelves themselves aren't tremendously well-made. Still, I think for a formal exhibition in a "real" public space I'd go the extra mile to make sure everything looks amazing.
After I was done drooling over the exhibition, we explored the other booths and saw what conference sessions were taking place.
On the way out I helped myself to a goodie bag.
I thought this was cool – it's all the packaging companies that attended the expo in Pantone swatchbook form.
A bag of samples of the latest and greatest in packaging:
Copy of Beauty Packaging magazine and a pencil.
Then after that we hit up Soho for some shopping. Unfortunately (or fortunately, for my credit card balance) I didn't see anything I wanted, but as we were walking to catch a cab back to Penn Station I caught a glimpse of something very exciting – the space where a new outpost of Ladurée will be!! It's supposed to open in mid-November and will be the biggest in the world!! It will definitely make staying in Soho all the sweeter once it opens, literally.
You can see more photos from the Makeup In New York show here. 🙂
When I was researching the compact from my previous post, I came across this amazing blog that's chock full of great information and drool-worthy pictures of vintage and contemporary compacts. Run by Jane Johnston, Director of Vanroe Compacts, the blog has incredibly useful articles on a variety of topics related to vintage compacts, like how to start your own compact collection (invaluable for me, as I'm still just scratching the surface of vintage makeup), how to refill a vintage compact, and brand histories.
Ms. Johnston seems quite knowledgeable, so I'm wondering if she can help me track down another one of these vintage Stratton compacts with mermaids on it…that's one I definitely need. :)
It's rare, but occasionally I do get inquiries from people who have stumbled across a vintage item, asking me to identify it and give an idea of what it might be worth. Sometimes I can give a definitive answer, sometimes I can't. Anyway, I thought I'd dig through my inbox and share one of these items with my readers (all 2 of you, ha) from time to time. Today I bring you a very pretty green and gold filigree vintage compact with a peacock on it that, unfortunately, I'm still not able to identify. The person who emailed me with these pictures said it belonged to her great-grandmother, who in her words was a "well-situated lady", so she thinks it may be more high-end (Elizabeth Arden or Estée Lauder).
I have searched everywhere and can't find a compact that had this same peacock on it.
Many other compacts have a similar inner lid mechanism, but that particular clasp and notch seem to be unique.
To my eye, those details most closely resemble Kigu – a London-based company with roots in Budapest. (You can read Kigu's history here.) Here are some examples of this brand's compacts:
I can't say for sure though, without seeing the top of the inner lid and the bottom of the compact – these may provide additional clues. There's also the matter of what looks to be a little knob on the upper left of the inside of the lid to help keep it closed:
None of the Kigus I've seen have that. I've also looked through the catalogs and archives at the Kigu website, and there was no peacock compact.
Since I really can't say for sure what this is, I'll throw it out to you: does anyone recognize this compact and know for sure the company that made it? I'm so curious and would love to have an answer! I suppose I could submit the pictures to Kigu and see if it's one of theirs.
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I spotted this exhibition at British Beauty Blogger a couple of weeks ago, and while it just closed, I thought it was still worth sharing. Back in May, Goldsmiths' Hall in London opened "Ultra Vanities: Bejewelled Boxes from the Age of Glamour" which featured more than 200 cosmetic cases spanning over three hundred years, the bulk of which were made in the 1920s through the '70s. To accompany the rise of the modern makeup industry, jewelry giants such as Cartier, Van Cleef and Arpels and Boucheron introduced truly beautiful cases made from precious materials: "The leading jewellery houses of the time created these unique 'nécessaire de beauté' for their fashionable clientele, who
required somewhere to keep all their essentials. Miniature marvels
with spaces for a powder compact, lipstick, comb, cigarette holder,
mirror and, occasionally, a little note pad and pencil, they chart
the changing styles through the decades, from the sleek, elegant
Art Deco period to the flamboyant 1970s, via the colourful
1950s." Exquisitely crafted using the skills of goldsmiths, enamellers and engravers, these compacts were indeed meant to be shown off.
Let's take a peek at some of these beauties, shall we? (And for a great essay on these and other pieces in the exhibition, check out curator Meredith Etherington-Smith's article in Apollo. You can also buy the book, as I'm planning on doing!) I was really blown away by the astonishing array of materials – not just gold and
diamonds, but rubies, sapphires, jade, coral, mother-of-pearl, enamel and
lacquer.
Jacques Cartier first visited India in 1911 and made many more trips to other Eastern destinations later. You can see the influence in this Chinese-inspired design from 1925.
This 1950s piece by Charlton also has a touch of "exotic" inspiration between the triangle pattern and Egyptian scarab beetle in the center (at least, that's what it looks like to me – I could be totally off.)
According to an article on the exhibition, "the minaudière was invented by Charles Arpels of
Van Cleefs & Arpels in 1934 after he saw a friend’s wife carry her
make-up and several loose items in a tin box. He designed the minaudière
to replace the evening bag."
Love this gold, sapphire and diamond stunner from Bulgari.
Additionally, the first floor rooms at Goldsmiths’
Hall were transformed into a 1930s Parisian salon, complete with exhibition partner Guerlain pumping in their signature Shalimar fragrance to heighten the experience.
While I take much pleasure in ogling all the shiny, glittering pieces in this exhibition purely as eye candy, it's important to remember that they also provide a meaningful glimpse of cultural and social history. “This unique private collection marks and celebrates a precise era in
the long history of cosmetics. As such it is interesting not solely
because of the exquisite workmanship and imagination of these boxes, nor
the miracles of miniature engineering that went into their interior
fitments but in showing the power these boxes still have to evoke a
certain golden era in the long history of human beauty and adornment," Etherington-Smith said.
I so wish I could have gone to see this exhibition! I guess the book will just have to do.
Which piece is your favorite? And could you see yourself actually carrying any of these?
