THE ARTIST AND HIS COSTUME
The world has the habit of deriding that which it does not understand.
It is the most primitive way of bolstering one's limitations. How often
the woman or man with a God-given sense of the beautiful, the fitting,
harmony between costume and setting, is described as poseur or poseuse
by those who lack the same instinct. In a sense, of course, everything
man does, beyond obeying the rudimentary instincts of the savage, is an
affectation, and it is not possible to claim that even our contemporary
costuming of man or woman always has _raison d'être_.
We accept as the natural, unaffected raiment for woman and man that
which custom has taught us to recognise as appropriate, with or without
reason for being. For example, the tall, shiny, inflexible silk hat of
man, and the tortuous high French heels of woman are in themselves
neither beautiful, fitting, nor made to meet the special demands of any
setting or circumstance. Both hat and heels are fashions, unbeautiful
and uncomfortable, but to the eye of man to-day serve as insignia of
formal dress, decreed by society.
The artist nature has always assumed poetic license in the matter of
dress, and as a rule defied custom, to follow an inborn feeling for
beauty. That much-maligned short velvet coat and soft loose tie of the
painter or writer, happen to have a most decided _raison d'être_; they
represent comfort, convenience, and in the case of the velvet coat,
satisfy a sensitiveness to texture, incomprehensible to other natures.
As for the long hair of some artists, it can be a pose, but it has in
many cases been absorption in work, or poverty--the actual lack of money
for the conventional haircut. In cities we consider long hair on a man
as effeminate, an indication of physical weakness, but the Russian
peasant, most sturdy of individuals, wears his hair long, and so do many
others among extremely primitive masculine types, who live their lives
beyond the reach of Fashion and barbers.
The short hair of the sincere woman artist is to save time at the
toilette.
There is always a limited number of men and women who, in ordinary acts
of life, respond to texture, colour or line, as others do to music or
scenery, and to be at their best in life, must dress their parts as they
feel them. Japanese actors who play the parts of women, dress like women
off the stage, and live the lives of women as nearly as possible, in
order to acquire the feeling for women's garments; they train their
bodies to the proper feminine carriage, counting upon this to perfect
their interpretations.
The woman who rides, hunts, shoots, fishes, sails her own boat, paddles,
golfs and plays tennis, is very apt to look more at home in habit,
tweeds and flannels, than she does in strictly feminine attire; the
muscles she has acquired in legs and arms, from violent exercise, give
an actual, not an assumed, stride and a swing to the upper body. In
sports clothes, or severely tailored costume, this woman is at her best.
Most trying for her will be demi-toilette (house gowns). She is
beautiful at night because a certain balance, dignity and grace are
lent her by the décolletage and train of a dinner or ball gown. English
women who are devotees of sport, demonstrate the above fact over and
over again.
While on the subject of responsiveness to texture and colour we would
remind the reader that Richard Wagner hung the room in which he worked
at his operas with bright silks, for the art stimulus he got from
colour, and it is a well-known fact that he derived great pleasure from
wearing dressing gowns and other garments made from rich materials.
Clyde Fitch, our American playwright, when in his home, often wore
velvet or brocaded silks. They were more sympathetic to his artist
nature, more in accord with his fondness for wearing jewelled studs,
buttons, scarf-pins. In his town and country houses the main scheme,
leading features and every smallest detail were the result of Clyde
Fitch's personal taste and effort, and he, more than most men and women,
appreciated what a blot an inartistic human being can be on a room which
of itself is a work of art.
PLATE XXX
Souvenirs of an artist designer's unique establishment, in
spirit and accomplishment _vrai Parisienne_. Notice the long
cape in the style of 1825.
Tappé himself will tell you that all periods have had their
beautiful lines and colours; their interesting details; that
to find beauty one must first have the feeling for it; that
if one is not born with this subtle instinct, there are
manifold opportunities for cultivating it.
His claim is the same as that made in our _Art of Interior
Decoration_; the connoisseur is one who has passed through
the schooling to be acquired only by contact with
masterpieces,--those treasures sifted by time and preserved
for our education, in great art collections.
Tappé emphasises the necessity of knowing the background for
a costume before planning it; the value of line in the
physique beneath the materials; the interest to be woven
into a woman's costume when her type is recognised, and the
modern insistence on appropriateness--that is, the simple
gown and close hat for the car, vivid colours for field
sports or beach; a large fan for the woman who is mistress
of sweeping lines, etc., etc.
Tappé is absolutely French in his insistence upon the
possible eloquence of line; a single flower well poised and
the chic which is dependent upon _how a hat or gown is put
on_. We have heard him say: "No, I will not claim the hat in
that photograph, though I made it, because it is _mal
posé_."
[Illustration: _Sketched for "Woman as Decoration" by Thelma
Cudlipp_
_Tappé's Creations_]
In England, and far more so in America, men are put down as effeminate
who wear jewelry to any marked extent. But no less a person than King
Edward VII always wore a chain bangle on his arm, and one might cite
countless men of the Continent as thoroughly masculine--Spaniards in
particular--who wear as many jewelled rings as women. Apropos of this, a
famous topaz, worn as a ring for years by a distinguished Spaniard was
recently inherited by a relation in America--a woman. The stone was of
such importance as a gem, that a record was kept of its passing from
France into America. As a man's ring it was impressive and the setting
such as to do it honour, but being a man's ring, it was too heavy for a
woman's use. A pendant was made of the stone and a setting given it
which turned out to be too trifling in character. The consequence was,
the stone lost in value as a Rubens' canvas would, if placed in an art
nouveau frame.
Whether it is a precious stone, a valued painting or a woman's
costume--the effect produced depends upon the character of its setting.