– Sometimes I try to do a trend review at the end of the year, but that clearly wasn't happening in 2019. Instead, please enjoy these links on the biggesttrends of 2019as well asthedecade. One "trend", if you can call it that, that I'd like to leave behind is influencer drama. I'm not big on influencers anyway and frankly, I don't care what they're fighting about. It's irritating that it gets press coverage when there are so many other topics that need attention.
– We can't have a trend roundup without looking ahead to the following year, so here aresomeforecasts. I'll also throw in my prediction that merch will continue to be huge among beauty brands. Along with color-changing cosmetics and the crystal-themed beauty trend, it's yet another topic I want to cover in 2020.
The random:
– The next installment of Makeup Museum Musings will be on either inclusivity or the definition of museums. This piece at Jezebel came in handy for background research for both topics.
– As a Gen-X'er who started having problems sleeping a few years ago, I need to buy this book ASAP. You might also remember the author as the woman behind the long-gone '90swoman.com, where I wrote a guest post on '90s beauty well before the resurgence we're experiencing now.
– One good thing from 2019 was the arrival of Baby Yoda. Makeup Museum staff is worried that I think he's cuter than they are so I have to make them extra cookies as reassurance.
And here's a summary of the year on the personal front. Usually I try to keep the personal stuff to a minimum, but since the Museum is a one-woman show, my personal life inevitably affects Museum business. In 2019 the following took place:
– My father had a massive stroke in March and has not recovered the way we were hoping. We had no illusions – we knew recovery would not be a straight line and that he wouldn't be the same – but nearly 10 months out he has shown little improvement from the initial episode and is still severely limited physically and cognitively. It was a bad stroke to begin with, but my father had the added misfortune of developing every conceivable complication and setback. He is currently getting a second chance in another acute rehab facility, but if he is not able to do basic movements by the end of his stay (such as transferring himself from bed to wheelchair, etc.) he will require full-time care.
– Speaking of home, my parents no longer have one. My mother was not thinking clearly (obviously seeing your formerly healthy and totally independent partner of over 50 years go downhill so quickly and then not improve is beyond devastating) and over the summer sold the house she and my dad owned for 43 years. This was my childhood home and where I spent every Christmas, even as an adult, so my eyes swelled shut from crying so much on Christmas Eve as we spent it in the hospital rather than the house.
– As a result from a nasty fall and broken arm a week before Christmas of 2018, my mother required surgery in June to repair the damaged nerve as she had lost use of her left hand. We are glad the surgery went well and she has regained full use of her hand, but that fall back in late 2018 was definitely an omen of worse things to come. Plus, having surgery while also taking care of one's spouse who is recovering from a severe stroke is not exactly good timing.
– A few weeks after my mother's surgery my grandmother died. My father did not attend the funeral and it's unclear if he fully understood that his mother passed away.
– This isn't a big deal, but it upset me nonetheless. My favorite band put out a terrible album. Maybe if my dad hadn't had the stroke I wouldn't have taken it so hard, but there seemed to be a parallel between what happened to him and what happened to the band. It's like they've been replaced by an imposter. Sure, we get glimpses of how they used to be, there are some moments where they're recognizable, but for the most part they're shells of their former selves. Every time I look at my dad I think, "That's not him, where is he?" So the same with Sleater-Kinney – it didn't sound anything like the band I knew and loved for so many years. I bought tickets for a DC show before I heard the album and ended up not going. The unique energy and pure magic they made was entirely absent. And now that their drummer left they will never be the same…again, just like how my dad will never be the same.
– Finally, as one last fuck-you from this miserable year, a group of rather unethical entrepreneurs decided it would be a hoot to steal the Museum's name and proclaim to be the "world's first" museum devoted to makeup. And there are a slew of other copycats starting cosmetics museums but all claiming to be the first and only makeup museum, which is obviously ridiculous as even my museum isn't the first! And it certainly isn't the only one either. I found out about most of these entities back in March, literally the day before my father had the stroke – another premonition. Given his health issues I was unable to deal with the situation swiftly which only made it worse. I may elaborate on the whole disaster at another time in a separate post but for now I'm waiting until I get more information from my attorneys. I am also in the process of hiring a PR firm. If anyone knows of a good social media strategist do let me know.
TLDR; the Curator got her ass kicked repeatedly and thoroughly in 2019 and that's why things around the Museum were so quiet. I don't know what's going to happen in 2020, but even though I feel like I've already lost, I know I'm not giving up on the Museum without a fight so I am going to try my best to explore the topics and exhibitions I’ve been wanting to cover. And by the way, if anyone tells me that it could be worse and that I should be grateful for the things I didn't lose in the shitshow that was 2019, they will be met with a forceful punch to the throat. I am grateful and well aware of how much worse things could be – in fact, because I fully recognize this could very well be the year or decade that I lose another close family member, my home, my job, my collection, I'm terrified of what's to come on this dark timeline I can't seem to escape. I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop…and at the same time I’m throwing myself full force into Museum projects while I still have the opportunity.
Please tell me you had a better 2019 than I did! Despite my sad ramblings, I hope you stick around and continue to support the Museum in 2020 and beyond.
Welcome to the 2019 edition of Curator's Picks and Pans! It's been a bad year for me and the Museum, but at least there was some great makeup! And some not so great too but again, they were a welcome distraction.
First up are my picks, i.e. the items with what I thought had the best concepts and design.
1. Mikimoto holiday 2019 collection: I haven't even written about this one yet – I hope to get a post up early in the new year – but as with last year's holiday collection as soon as I laid eyes on it I ordered without batting an eye. This year Mikimoto partnered with artist/illustrator Brecht Evens, who created even more mermaid-laden and fantastical underwater scenes than last year's collection.
2. Paul and Joe x Doraemon: I must admit I was totally unfamiliar with Doraemon, a wildly popular manga character from Japan, when I first heard about this collection. It was a perfect fit for Paul & Joe given the founder's love of cats as well as her penchant for quirky, playful prints and collaborations (see the 2016 Warner Bros. collaboration.) I hope to write about it sometime in 2020.
3. Chanel Eiffel Tower Illluminating Powder: I don't have much to say about this other than it was released in honor of the opening of Chanel's first beauty-only boutique in Paris. The embossing was so lovely and intricate, and the exclusivity made it impossible for me to resist – it was only available at Chanel boutiques in France and and the French website (I acquired it through ebay). Plus it's a fabulous piece to have if I ever want to revisit the Museum's fall 2015 Paris/French-themed exhibition.
As the Museum continues to expand its vintage holdings, for the first time I'm including my top vintage acquisitions.
1. Stila paint cans: The picture shows the Museum's entire collection since I was too lazy to weed out exactly which ones I got this year, but back in February I bought 20 rare vintage (okay, maybe not quite vintage yet but very close) paint cans on ebay from a former collector who didn't have room. I was sad for her but glad I could give them a good home. Plus they really added something extra to the Stila girl exhibition.
2. Volupté Petite Boudoir: among my many weaknesses are novelty compacts and palettes. I had been coveting this adorable vanity-shaped compact for ages, so when I saw one in excellent condition at a great price I pounced. For photography purposes (and because I love miniatures) I purchased some mini makeup items as accessories.
Here's an ad for it from one of my collector's guides, in case you're curious.
3. Yardley Glimmerick eyeshadow set: Another I haven't gotten around to sharing, but I was so pleased to get this one in fantastic shape and still with with the insert.
And now for the more lackluster releases this year.
1. Madonna by Too-Faced: A hugely successful brand collaborating with a pop culture icon seems like a surefire hit, but dear lord was this unimaginative. I'm truly shocked at how boring this was. Between the flamboyance of Jerrod Blandino and Madge's propensity to push boundaries, I expected way more not just in packaging but the entire concept.
2. Revlon x Mrs. Maisel: Another squandered opportunity, and much like the Estée Lauder Mad Men collaborations, a good idea but poor execution. You would think The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel would be a goldmine for inspiration. Midge worked at the Revlon makeup counter so the brand makes sense, but why the packaging didn't get a fabulous retro/vintage treatment I'll never know.
3. Guerlain Rouge G Wild Glam case: Maybe it's sour grapes because I can't afford it, but I wasn't a fan of this one. It's a cool design, but not $290 cool! I honestly have no idea what Guerlain was thinking.
If I'm going to pay 300 bones for a lipstick case (and I've done it before, embarrassingly enough) it better at least have some sort of handmade element or utilize precious materials. As far as I can tell, neither of those things came into play here. It's just plain old rhinestones (not even Swarovski – I mean COME ON) and a silver-toned case, not real silver plating. And it wasn't handmade by a jeweler, just designed by one. It does say the rhinestones were "hand-set", but I'm skeptical. Plus this other rhinestone-encrusted case is within a normal price range, costing a mere $36. Finally, I'm confused by the snake motif, as it doesn't have any significance for Guerlain that I'm aware of. It felt like a very uninspired piece overall.
And those are some makeup highlights and lowlights of 2019. (I was going to do picks and pans for the past decade but immediately got overwhelmed, so I'm keeping it simple.) What do you think of these choices? Please visit the archives and let me know!
Clé de Peau continues their streak of beautiful and inspired holiday collections. This year's theme, Kimono Dream, is an homage to two venerable Japanese art forms: the kimono and bijin-ga ("pictures of beautiful women"). Obviously a deep dive into the history of both of these is way beyond this blog post, but as usual I'll provide a condensed version. First, let's take a look at the collection itself.
Each piece is packaged in a sturdy paper sleeve. Remove the sleeve, and the package opens to reveal a bijin-ga painting featuring a woman wearing a kimono. The intricate folding is reminiscent of how the traditional kimono is held in place with an obi, the decorative sash worn around the waist, as well as tatou, the folded paper used to wrap and store silk kimonos to protect them from humidity. The patterns on the sleeves are inspired by obi patterns as well. The unfolding aspect of the packaging is gorgeous and highlights traditional Japanese art, but it's also perfect for the theme Clé de Peau wanted to express, which was revealing women's inner beauty. Each painting represents one of four traits: passion, strength, charm and gentleness.
It's a bit contrived, but I appreciate that Clé de Peau took the time to align the products with the traits they wanted to convey and write little descriptions for each. Here's the one for the lipsticks, which symbolize passion. "Intense. Dynamic. Instantly revealing the passion within. Represented by plum, and evergreens pine and bamboo, against bright red silk. Despite your elegant façade, the force of your passion is unmistakable. A signal of powerful emotion that can’t be concealed."
The eyeshadow quad was my favorite piece – I loved the striking black kimono shown on the woman contrasted with the delicate embossing on the shadows. "Strong, essential, with a flash of feminine red. Peonies and daffodils bloom in the snow, showing determination and vitality. A woman at one with her inner strength. Noble, dignified, the plum tree signifies resilience. You look outward at the world, through confident eyes."
Next is the face powder, signifying charm. "Evoking prettiness and innocence. Symbolized by the peacefulness of wisteria and chrysanthemum against soft salmon-pink. Inspired by the simplicity of flowers, you rest sweetly in softness."
Finally we have the face oil, which embodies gentleness. "Your open, unbounded heart. Fresh blue silk accented with vermillion and soft pink. The serenity of a goldfish in water. Cooling, refreshing, harmonious. Surrounded by gentleness, you are wholly embraced."
There was also a matte liquid lip color, but that didn't seem to be included in the four traits. Nevertheless it is stunning and the packaging was different than the others so I had to include it!
I couldn't resist sharing the embossing on the outer boxes. Such a nice little touch.
Now here's where the real history and collaborations come in. First up is the kimono Clé de Peau commissioned exclusively for the holiday collection. Fortunately for me (less work, haha!) the company did a fantastic job explaining the partnership and kimono-making process. "The kimono commissioned by Clé de Peau Beauté, created in collaboration with Tachibana, an embroidery and dyeing studio in Kyoto that plays a role in preserving kimono culture.1 Crafted using a valuable dyeing technique called Surigata-Yuzen, which uses dozens of stencils to dye different patterns, layering one color over another. Since Tachibana’s foundation in 1947, its colorful works have been captivating kimono fans. Founder Zenzo Sodesaki (born in 1911) learned the basics of making kimono at Chiso, a traditional Japanese textile producer and one of the oldest yuzen coloring companies in Kyoto. Current representative Yohei Kawai is the third generation, following Zenzo Sodesaki and second generation president, Kenichi Kawai." The red and pink colors were chosen specifically to match Clé de Peau's two holiday lipstick shades.
After the pattern is determined and sketched, it's time to stencil. The Clé de Peau kimono used a particular technique called Surigata-Yuzen. I'll let Clé de Peau describe the process in a nutshell. "The Surigata-Yuzen method uses dozens of stencils to dye patterns onto kimono silk, layering one color over another to produce a gradation. Every gradation is done by hand, adding another layer to the painstaking art of the kimono…For each color, dyeing is repeated in different tones, the layers achieving a complex and extraordinary beauty." A whopping 34 stencils were used for Clé de Peau's kimono.
Tachibana's bowtie website provided a little more insight into the process. "Dedicated professionals hand-carve patterns to create the stencils, which were at one time made simply of layered paper but are now mixed with resin to give them strength. Hoshi-awase, the positioning of the stencils, is one of the most important parts of the dyeing process. All of the stencils in a given pattern have small holes called hoshi. By aligning the hoshi of each stencil at the exact same place, dozens of stencils can be positioned on the fabric with great accuracy. Senshoku is the process of dyeing a pattern on fabric using brushes with colors. Various-sized brushes are used according to the size of a pattern. Once part of the fabric is dyed, a stencil is moved to the next place on the fabric. Stencils are accurately aligned using the hoshi holes. Pattern dyeing is followed by a process called noribuse, in which the whole pattern is covered with rice glue before dyeing with ground colors."
Next, the entire kimono was hand-dyed with a brush via a process called Hikizome. Hikizome is used not just for kimonos but can be applied to all kinds of textiles – pillows, curtains, towels, etc. I believe this is true for yuzen as well, but once again I'm not certain.
The last step is to wait for the dye to dry in its own good time. According to Clé de Peau, "To make a kimono is to live by the laws of nature. So as not to alter the natural drying process, temperature condition is maintained the same throughout the year. The fate of the color finish is in the hands of nature, as the outcome is never the same." This aspect of the process fascinates me, especially for the Clé de Peau collection. The company wanted very specific colors that perfectly matched their two lipstick shades, so given that the drying is left to nature, how could they know for sure the color would turn out the way they wanted?
Obviously it doesn't really matter, but it's interesting to consider that no one can predict the exact color. That makes the control freak in me rather anxious, but I can also appreciate the respect for nature. While I enjoyed reading about the kimono production process, I would have liked to see a little guide on how to fold and secure a kimono and how the obi fits in, as this aspect of the kimono was emphasized in the collection's packaging. Oh well.
Now let's take a look at the amazing paintings by Ayana Otake, which graced the interiors of the packaging. Again, I didn't have to do much digging to get some information about Otake, for Clé de Peau also provided a brief bio. "Born in Saitama in 1981, Otake-san grew up surrounded by traditional culture and kimono. In 2007, she graduated in the Japanese Painting from the Department of Painting at Tokyo University of the Arts. She has produced works for galleries and department stores in Tokyo, and also practices bookbinding and package design." I would have liked to interview Otake to hear more about the Clé de Peau collaboration – I'm always curious to know how companies and artists find each other – but looking at Otake's other work as well as finding out a little about the tradition of bijin-ga will have to suffice.
Otake specializes in a modern version of bijin-ga. "Ga" means "picture" and "bijin" means "beautiful person", but is nearly always translated to "beautiful woman". Like kimonos, bijin-ga has an incredibly rich and long history. Part of me feels guilty for reducing it to a few paragraphs, but mostly I feel that since I'm not a Japanese art expert, I need to reign it in.
The genre of bijin-ga originated in the late 17th century and was popularized towards the end of the 18th century via ukiyo-e (woodblock prints). The women depicted at the outset were prostitutes, but over time bijin-ga expanded to include women from all walks of life. This website hosted by the Atsumi International Foundation explains the early origins of bijin-ga. "[W]ith the changes in society related to the rise of the merchant class, there was a new interest in depicting daily activities and pleasures of contemporary life. Popular entertainments were used for subject matter in paintings and then an interest developed in the beauty of personal appearance and form of women, including their clothing. Women of the brothels and pleasure quarters were predominately represented, and bijinga became a principal genre of the new *ukiyo-e 浮世絵. Single female figure portraits developed in the Kanbun 寛文 era (1661-73) with the Kanbun beauty *kanbunbijin 寛文美人. Typically, a yuujo 遊女 (courtesan or licensed prostitute) in a standing position was depicted in the bijinga of early ukiyo-e. Bijinga gradually broadened to include tea shop waitresses, the daughters and wives of tradesmen, etc. Nishikawa Sukenobu 西川祐信 (1671-1751) and Suzuki Harunobu 鈴木春信 (1725-70) produced pictures of women of various social classes, in addition to courtesans."2
In addition to portraying a variety of women, bijin-ga gradually expanded in the late 19th century to emphasize a woman's inner beauty as well as outer. "During the Meiji Era (1868-1912), portraits of beautiful women — which later became known as bijinga — evolved to focus on not only physical beauty, but also inner beauty. During this time, many artists excelled at bijinga, including Kiyokata Kaburaki (1878-1972), who was acclaimed for emotionally rich portraits; Shinsui Ito (1898-1972), who depicted real women rather than models; and Uemura Shoen (1875-1949), a female artist who brought a sense of dignity and refinement to the women she portrayed." As we'll see, I think Uemura Shoen's work in particular is a precursor to Otake's in that her paintings seek to express not just internal beauty but perhaps an inner monologue. The women in both artists' paintings appear very contemplative – I'd love to know what's going on in their heads. I'd also propose that both artists' perspectives are more feminist than they appear at first glance.
Anyway, the shin hanga ("new prints") art movement of the early 1900s cultivated further evolution of the bijin-ga genre. As the century progressed, the women portrayed became fully liberated from the earlier negative connotations, and the emphasis on capturing their internal beauty and positive traits became the primary attribute of modern bijin-ga. Otake's work continues the tradition of bijin-ga on a very basic level in that her paintings are of beautiful women; however, they have a thoroughly modern sensibility. Gone are the perfectly coiffed and made-up ladies of the old bijin-ga, as Otake shows women in a more natural, relaxed state – half-dressed with loose hair, lounging in bed or on the floor. There's a greater sense of intimacy and introspection in these scenes, as well as personal agency. These women don't seem to be waiting for anyone, they're simply enjoying some time alone.
As far as I know Otake created original works for the Clé de Peau collection rather than recycling existing pieces. They tie into the collection not just through the inner beauty aspect but also by Otake's particular process, as her technique mimics one the methods used for kimono production. In the video below, she says: "When I'm not painting I look at greenery and try to be in touch with nature as much as possible…If it isn't sunny or a dry day, I can't work. So I look to the weather. Nothing beats natural drying. And authenticity is not about going against nature, but to live with nature, which I think is important." Otake notes that while sometimes she uses a dryer to speed up the drying time of her paintings, she usually "messes up". Her respect for nature and allowing it to complete her paintings serves as a parallel to letting the kimono dry naturally according to the weather, without any other intervention.
Overall, this is another winner from Clé de Peau. The intricacy of the packaging echoes the labor involved in the traditional kimono-making process, while the paintings serve as an updated version of a centuries-old artistic genre – it's a perfect marriage of old and new. I admired that for this collection, instead of doing a straight-up artist collaboration as in years past, (nothing wrong with those, of course!) they honored waning cultural traditions to raise awareness and educate people, a concept perhaps borrowed from Sulwhasoo's Shine Classic compacts. Finally, I loved all the details: the folding of the packaging, the fact that the paintings were on the inside to represent inner beauty, dyeing the kimono the same colors as the lipsticks, even the embossing on the boxes all came together to form a cohesive collection. I must congratulate the design team, as every last detail served a purpose. They were stunning, sure, but they also weren't superfluous – every single one contributed to the theme. I will say I'm scratching my head as to the whereabouts of Clé de Peau Creative Director Lucia Pieroni, as she doesn't seem to be as involved with this collection as in previous years, but the collection itself turned out beautifully.
What do you think of this collection? Which painting was your favorite?
1For further reading on the history and cultural meanings of the kimono I'd recommend Kimono: A Modern History.
2This author points out that while they were euphemistically labeled as "courtesans", the prostitutes depicted in early bijin-ga had rather tragic lives. "Often the images were published with the prostitutes' names. Such prints were usually commissioned by high-ranking oiran as a kind of advertising posters. In today's print descriptions by ukiyo-e dealers or auction houses, the women shown on bijin prints are usually named 'courtesans'. The life for these 'courtesans' was not so beautiful. They were kept like slaves in these licensed quarters." Yikes.
I'm so very excited to announce the Makeup Museum's special exhibition in honor of Stila's 25th anniversary! I was too overwhelmed to do a full history of the brand, so I decided to just focus on the famous Stila girl illustrations. If you've been following me for a while you know that the Stila girls were sort of the gateway drug for my interest in collecting makeup and seeing cosmetics packaging as art. For such a milestone anniversary I knew I wanted to pay tribute to them, even though the year is almost over (thankfully – it's been miserable for a number of reasons), especially given that I've been itching to put together a special exhibition for them since at least 2016. I also wanted to try something totally new for the Museum in terms of exhibitions. Technically all of them are online, but instead of putting things on shelves and taking photos, I wanted it to have a more "real" online exhibition feel. I've been doing a lot of thinking the past year or so about how to improve the exhibitions even though I'm so limited in what I can do, and I was really inspired by the Kanebo Compact Museum website, and once the husband showed me Squarespace I was sold. Well that, and the fact that he kindly offered to design the entire exhibition site for me. ;) So I set up a domain there which, if this exhibition is well-received, will serve as the space for the Museum's special exhibitions going forward. The seasonal ones will remain here if I decide to keep going with them. Looking ahead, I think I'd rather focus on more specific topics than general seasonal trends. Not that I can delve too deeply into particular themes given the never-ending lack of resources, but I still want to at least try to do slightly more in-depth exhibitions even though they won't be exactly how I want them. I'm looking at them as a starting point for bigger things.
Enough of my blabbing about the basic stuff, I want to give some more details about the exhibition itself. It came together nicely, or at least, it was the one I worked most on with the possible exception of Sweet Tooth (still want to revisit that one!) I really wanted to get interviews with the key people behind the illustrations, so I put my crippling fear of rejection aside and boldly contacted Jeffrey Fulvimari (Stila's original illustrator), Caitlin Dinkins (illustrator during Stila's early aughts heyday) and Naoko Matsunaga (who took over for Dinkins in 2009). While I was disappointed at not hearing back from two of the three, if only one responded, I was glad it was Jeffrey since I've been following him for a while on Instagram and I love his approach to art and his personality. He is quite the character! It ended up giving me so much confidence I reached out to the grand poobah herself and my curatorship namesake, Jeanine Lobell. Yes, I actually DM'ed the founder of Stila on Instagram and asked if she'd be up for an interview. And…and…are you sitting down?? You really need to. Okay, now that you're sitting and won't have far to fall in case you faint, I can tell you that she agreed to do it!!
Not only that, she actually answered all of my interview questions!! You have no idea how ecstatic I was to finally be heard by a major industry figure. Took over a decade but I finally made contact with a big name! So that was most exciting, easily one of the most exciting things to happen in the Museum's 11-year history. And her answers were really good too, I've incorporated them throughout the exhibition so make sure to read through.
As for the items, I didn't take photos of everything in my collection because again, too overwhelming. The Museum has over 130 Stila items, nearly all of which feature the girls. I mean…
The photos I did take have purposely plain backgrounds because I wanted the emphasis to be on the illustrations. I tried to have a good mix of memorabilia and the makeup itself. I even had to iron a few items.
I also included a couple photos of things that I don't actually own but are important in getting a full picture (haha) of the illustrations. I'm pleased with how the sections are arranged, and I must thank my husband for organizing them so perfectly in addition to designing the whole site. I'm thinking of adding a section called Soundbites, a repository of quotes from the both the beauty community and general public telling me why they like the Stila girls or really anything related to the brand, so be sure to email me or comment here. I really wish I could have an app that would "Stila girl-ize" the user, i.e. you upload a picture of yourself and it would automatically generate a Stila girl style illustration of you, just like this. And of course, if the Museum occupied a physical space I'd definitely hire an artist to do live drawings at the exhibition opening – how fun would that be?
So that about wraps it up! Please take a look and tell me what you think of the new exhibition format!
I'm not sure where I was from May through September of 2011, but I totally missed the news about an exhibition on the history of makeup at the Couven Museum in Germany. Sponsored by Babor, the exhibition displayed cosmetic items from antiquity through today, with an emphasis on the late 20th century. From the website: "This exhibition takes a tour through the history of seductive cosmetics from antiquity to the present day. In cooperation with Babor Cosmetics, an internationally operating Aachen family business, a selection of objects and paintings relating to the culture of cosmetics will be on show. Visitors will also get an insight in the fast-moving yet highly characteristic trends of fashionable beauty and cosmetics from the 1950s to the present day."
I tried to translate as much as I could from the brochure. It seems like it was a bit light on the historical aspects and a little heavy on the business/advertising side – there seemed to be a LOT of guest speakers from Babor for the various panels and Babor representatives hosting tours and workshops for an additional fee – but the topics were pretty interesting: body care in ancient Greece, Cleopatra's bathing routine, and an exploration of beauty ideals through the centuries.
I'm not sure whether I would have made the effort to travel internationally to see it, since it does sound more commercial than educational and it seemed to be relatively small-scale (I have the sense it only took up one or two rooms), but it's at least nice to know there was another cosmetics-related museum exhibition.
I'm working away on various exhibitions of my own so I hope to have more in-depth content soon. In the meantime, have you ever been to Germany? I need to go, if only just to experience the Lipstick Museum in Berlin…but that's a post for another time. 😉
As you know, from time to time I receive email inquiries from people with cosmetics objects they've stumbled across and would like to know more about. I'm always flattered that people think that I know what I'm talking about and can help them, especially since most of the time I have no idea about the item in question, but sometimes I get irritated when the inquirer's sole objective is to determine how much money they can make off an object they found. At first it seemed this way when the original owner of this very rare compact approached me, asking for more information and how much it might be worth. As we'll see, he turned out to actually have an interest in the compact's history and wasn't after profit.
This was an epic find indeed, easily one of the rarest and most valuable in the Museum's collection. I now present the Ramses powder compact, which debuted in 1923. The design shows an Egyptian woman in profile, holding a perfume bottle in one hand and a flower in the other, which she brings to her nose to enjoy its scent. The pyramids of Giza are just barely visible in the background, while lotus flowers on each side towards the lower third of the compact bloom into an arc of leaves.
I'm not sure if the woman is supposed to be anyone in particular – perhaps Cleopatra – but given that the design is most likely not historically accurate, I'm not going to dwell on it too much.
While there are other ads for the powder that show the compact, which we'll see in a second, I wasn't able to locate any originals. I did, however, find this ad in a French publication from February 1920.
I was hoping to find some good information about the compact for the person who contacted me, and of course, the ever-thorough Collecting Vintage Compacts blog had an excellent post on the history of the Ramses perfume company so I directed the inquirer over there. I don't wish to regurgitate all of the author's hard work on Ramses' backstory – I highly encourage you to check out the post for yourself – but I will provide the abridged version. The Ramses brand was founded in 1919 in Paris and selected Le Blume Import Company to distribute the line in the U.S. in 1921. By 1923 ads for the powder boxes and compacts were appearing in Vogue magazine. As Collecting Vintage Compacts points out, the ad copy is pure nonsense: neither the perfumes nor the powders were produced in Egypt and their formulas certainly did not date back to 1683. How the company even arrived at that arbitrary date is beyond me. However, with the discovery of King Tutankhamun's tomb in November 1922, the Ramses moniker turned out to be quite fortuitous given the ensuing craze for anything Egyptian – clearly the ads wanted to milk the fad for all it was worth. The world was now swept up in the latest wave of Egyptian Revival, a style that incorporated various elements of Egyptian art and culture and encompassed design, fashion and beauty (see this compact depicting Theda Bara as Cleopatra and this ad as examples).
Egypt's influence on Western beauty from the Renaissance to today is a subject I'm looking to cover more thoroughly this year, either in a blog series or an exhibition (or both!) so stay tuned. As viewed through 21st century eyes, it was clearly unabashed cultural appropriation, a white person's fantasy of "exotic", far-off lands and artifacts. However, Egyptian inspired-beauty is such a rich topic that I can't bear not to fully explore it…especially now that I have this gorgeous piece in my hot little hands. Anyway, Collecting Vintage Compacts notes that the Ramses powder case was made by the Bristol, CT-based Zinn Corporation, a company that produced some of the earliest and most memorable compacts in the U.S. I find it interesting that while the powder was scented with the "Secret du Sphinx" fragrance, the compact itself shows a woman rather than the mythical creature. Collecting Vintage Compacts speculates, as I did, that the woman could be Cleopatra, but offered the additional option of Ramses' wife Nefertari. I agree with his conclusion that it really doesn't matter who she is – just a vague Egyptian theme was more than enough to get the point across.
Another version of the compact sported silver edging, a beautiful contrast to the warmth of the brass.
I also spotted some ads in newspapers. They're not as visually striking as the Vogue ads so I'm not including them here, but they did come in handy for indicating the original retail price of the compact, which was $1.00. The latest ads I could find were from 1925 and both the perfumes and powder were heavily discounted, which indicates Ramses was a flash in the pan.
But why? You would think given the era's craze for Egyptian-inspired design, combined with the slight French flavor (another huge selling point – this was a time when companies actively tried to give their lines and products authentic French or at least French-sounding names) the Ramses company would be able to get more a little more mileage out of their products. Collecting Vintage Compacts unraveled the mystery. As it turns out, the perfumer behind the Ramses brand, one Léon de Bertalot, had begun quite a shady scheme to sell another one of his fragrances. In 1914, 5 years before he launched Ramses, de Bertalot named one of his fragrances Origan. As we know, Coty's L'Origan (launched in 1909) was wildly popular, pulling in roughly $3 million in sales in 1921 alone. De Bertalot decided to capitalize on the company's success and began using the Coty name to sell his own Origan, essentially passing it off as a real Coty product. Coty, rightfully so, cracked down on this very quickly. On May 15th, 1923 a French court found de Bertalot guilty of "unfair competition", and a few days later the U.S. Treasury mandated that any inauthentic products bearing the Coty name were unable to be imported unless they specifically spelled out that they were not affiliated with Coty in any way. Since the Ramses brand had nothing to do with Coty I don't know if the Treasury's mandate applied to Ramses as well, but I'm sure the 6-month jail sentence and fine of 100,000 Francs handed to de Bertolot essentially meant the Ramses brand was out of business. Hence the price markdown of their products by 1925 – I'm guessing stores in the U.S. were trying to offload any leftover stock that was originally imported two years prior. The Le Blume Import Company, in turn, was no longer allowed to distribute any perfumes from any company whatsoever. However, it did import dusting powder tins and glass jars using the Ramses name in the late 1920s.
Getting back to the original inquiry that was the impetus for this post, here's the story of how the compact got into my hands from the person who emailed me originally (we'll call him C.) He had found it for $10 in a thrift store (!) but given the unique design, figured it was worth more. After looking through all my collector's guides and not turning up anything, I directed C. to Collecting Vintage Compacts and asked him to please let me know when/if he decided to put it on the market. Obviously I also indicated my great interest in obtaining the compact, but lamented that it was most likely out of my price range. Well, don't you know C. actually wrote back telling me that he was going to put it up for sale on Ebay, but said that while he'd like to get a good price for it (that's only fair, who wouldn't?), he believed that the Museum was the rightful place for the compact, given its rarity and my passion for lovingly researching and preserving these sorts of items. Thus he kindly offered to sell it to me directly and negotiate on price. In the end I think we both got a great deal – he got way more than what he had originally purchased it for and roughly the amount he would have gotten for it if he had put it up for public sale, and I got an amazing find at a fair price for which I was able to avoid an ugly bidding war.
After reading the Ramses history at Collecting Vintage Compacts and browsing the Museum's site, C. seemed genuinely interested in the compact and in the Museum's mission, so I was very happy to see he wasn't just in it for profit and was willing to work with me to ensure the compact went to a great home instead of merely to the highest bidder. :) I really appreciated it, as so many people who ask about value just want to know how much they can get for an item and have absolutely no consideration for the object's history or the Museum, which, as a reminder, is funded entirely out of my own pocket. Not that anyone is obligated to donate rare and valuable items, of course, but they could follow C.'s example and be open to selling their item to me at a price that works for both of us. I know if I came across an object I have no interest in but that other collectors might – say, a rare Barbie Doll – I'd seek out someone who would truly treasure it and give them first dibs.
What do you think? And yay or nay on a series/exhibition on Egyptian-inspired beauty?
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.
While color correcting seems like a new trend, my experience as a self-taught makeup historian tells me that it probably existed decades ago. However, I had no idea that color correcting was in effect as early as 1917, when Japanese company Shiseido introduced their "rainbow" face powders. In honor of the 100-year anniversary of this cutting-edge beauty development, Shiseido released the 7 Color Powders Centennial Revival Edition (that's a mouthful!), which is essentially a re-creation of the original powders using contemporary color correcting technology and ingredients. The powders come in a gorgeous keepsake box adorned with concentric metallic rainbow lines. I am very fortunate to have such a kind and generous husband who procured this set for me for Christmas. 🙂
Does anyone know what this means?
I always get positively giddy over a numbered edition. In the eyes of a collector, numbering makes the item seem really special…even if there are 9,000 of them produced!
The box design is nearly identical to the original. Shiseido was ahead of its time back then not just for product innovation but also for packaging. Chapter 3 of an excellent dissertation entitled "Imperial Designs:" Fashion, Cosmetics, and Cultural Identity in Japan, 1931-1943" by Rebecca Nickerson sheds light on the design process. In 1915 Shiseido's founder, Fukuhara Arinobu, unofficially passed ownership of the company to his son, Fukuhara Shinzo, who had been traveling domestically and abroad to study art and photography for a number of years prior. The younger Fukuhara used his passion for art and aesthetics to form an official cosmetics division for the company and in 1916, he appointed a design team consisting mostly of artist friends he had met during his travels to create sophisticated, appealing packaging for all of Shiseido's products. The creation of such a group, focused on cohesive design and marketing, was cutting-edge for the time. Their artistic skill proved quite effective: "The design team came up with unique packaging for the face powder. Each of the seven colors was in its own original eight-sided, white satin box, and the lids were embossed with two concentric gold lines and Shiseido's camellia logo. Above the logo were the words 'poudre de riz', the French term for face powder, and below it in Roman letters, 'Shiseido, Tokyo'. The package design was simple yet sophisticated and conveyed a sense of the foreign, which was exactly what Fukuhara wanted consumers to associate with the Shiseido brand. This was Shiseido's second attempt to introduce Western face powders to Japanese consumers. While most women could not afford or had little interest in Western face powders in 1906, by 1917 consumption was on the rise and greater numbers of women were eager to embrace this new trend in beauty culture. The flood of modern Western culture, Hollywood films, and a general enthusiasm for 'Americanism' also increased demand for modern fashion and cosmetics. Shiseido was one of a number of companies to introduce similar face powders around this time, and the 'Rainbow Face Powder' succeeded in making Shiseido a visible player in the cosmetics market." (p. 103).
I was so hesitant to try to peel off one of the seals to open the box, but I managed to do so without ripping it.
For comparison's sake, here are photos of the original powders and you can see more pictures of them from the Shiseido Museum here. I think the only differences are that the new revival ones are covered in a fabric material whereas the old boxes seem to be made from cardboard (I don't think it was satin), and the camellia logo is at the top of the powder covering in the revival versions – the originals don't seem to have the logo on the inside. I'm guessing the old ones didn't have the color-coded seals on the boxes either.
Anyway, why were these so groundbreaking? Well, besides the design, colored face powder didn't really exist back then. I've mentioned this excellent paper from art historian (ahem) Gennifer Weisenfeld before, but here's another excerpt explaining why these were a breakthrough: "Tinted face powders were exceedingly rare in prewar Japan and Shiseido pioneered them early on with a series of colors under the brand name Poudre de Riz. The female entertainers (geisha) who worked in nearby Shinbashi and who were loyal Shiseido customers particularly liked the green and purple powder colors because they were thought to flatter the complexion under electric lighting." Not only did these powders have color correcting ability in less than ideal lighting conditions, Shiseido maintains they were a way for women to "match their face powder shade to their attire." This was in keeping with the shift towards more Western styles and a desire for more natural looking makeup. "Gradually, as Japanese cosmetic practices changed over time and moved toward a greater naturalism, the traditional thick white cosmetic foundation (o-shiroi) ceased to be used for daily wear." Finally, the rainbow powders, quite simply, were among the first steps in customized makeup that encompassed a much wider range of colors than were available previously. This in turn allowed Shiseido to reach a significantly greater portion of the cosmetics market, since the colors could be mixed to suit one's skin tone. Says Jessica Guerra, author of "Consumerism, Commodification and Beauty: Shiseido and the Rise of Japanese Beauty Culture" (another fantastic scholarly piece!), "Through different combinations of the seven provided colors, consumers could create their own shades and color palettes. Understandably, this would mean increased international appeal and marketability as racially diverse consumers could purchase Seven Colors Face Powder and create their own personalized shades based on preference." (p. 29). Indeed, even today Shiseido touts the customization ability of the revival powders, noting that they also give one "the freedom to experiment and create the most beautiful finish for your skin."
Shiseido hadn't completely abandoned the idea of reviving their rainbow powders until now. I couldn't read this whole article because it's behind a paywall (thanks, jerks), but apparently in late 2001 the company released a rainbow powder available only to their Camellia Club members: "Shiseido has resurrected a face powder-Rainbow Face Powder-that debuted in 1917 but in a way geared to the woman of the 21st century. The debut product featured seven colors-white, yellow, flesh, rose, peony, green, and purple-instead of the typical white to offer women the shade that best enhanced their facial features and to create an appearance more suited to the increasingly popular Western-style fashions. Renamed La Poudre Ruisselant, the face powder is sold in specially designed container with lids shaped like a camellia blossom-the symbol of Shiseido." I tried my darndest to find a photo of this "specially designed container" but only turned up a picture of the refill.
While I couldn't find a photo, I do think it's interesting to note that Shiseido tried revamping their rainbow powders previously. Maybe in 2001 the makeup world at large wasn't yet receptive to color correcting and that's why Shiseido offered the Ruisselante powder to only a handful of consumers. But as color correcting has been all the rage for the past couple of years, now is a great time to re-introduce these to the public, not to mention the fact that it syncs perfectly with the 100th anniversary of the products' debut. I love how they updated the packaging too – very similar to the original but just enough details to make it modern and special enough to commemorate the anniversary. I'm still drooling over the shiny rainbow on the box, and the numbering…well, that's like collector's catnip.
What do you think of this set? Do you color correct at all? I do but with liquid or cream concealer rather than powder. 🙂
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You might remember this neat ad for Max Factor's Italian Touch that I featured in the summer exhibition.
I also mentioned there was a really cool bust used as a store prop floating about on E-bay, but that it was pricey. Well, as it turns out I didn't have to worry about the cost because a certain very thoughtful and generous husband purchased it for me! I really don't have anything like this in the Museum's collection and I was so happy he snagged it for me. As far as store advertising goes it's pretty unique.
I've named him Enrico. 🙂
I love the sphinxes on each shoulder! Perhaps they were borrowed from the Augustus of Prima Porta.
I couldn't find a complete history of the campaign but it must have been quite large, given that I've seen ads in various languages. In addition to plain old English, I also came across French:
And Dutch. This is particularly fascinating given that the e-bay seller Enrico was purchased from was located in the Netherlands. I also would have loved to get my hands on the little set pictured in these ads to round out a sort of capsule collection of the Italian Touch campaign, but I'm pretty satisfied with the bust.
All in all, I think this is one of the strangest, yet well-planned advertising campaigns for a vintage collection I've come across. Normally I'd be creeped out by the idea of statues coming to life, but in this case I think the offbeat nature of it is quite amusing. And based on what Museum Advisory Committee member Sailor Babo has told me about his conversations with him, Enrico is totally harmless and has lots of interesting stories.
What do you think about this latest Museum gift? Big huge thanks to my awesome and supportive husband. 🙂
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!
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.
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!)
It's nice to return to Curator's Corner, hopefully I can keep it up in 2020. 
