Vintage Powder Room

Pretty in pink, and adorned with a stunning blonde in a classic pin-up pose, the Mannings stockings box piqued my interest about 10 years ago. I almost passed on it, because it was such a departure from the face-powder boxes and hair-net envelopes that I generally acquire. However, at $20 it was an inexpensive opportunity to broaden my collection in a meaningful way—meaningful, because I believe that the social evolution of modern women can be charted in part through their choices in makeup and lingerie. Think of the early days when women rearranged their internal organs with corsets so tight that they routinely fainted and you realize lingerie indisputably and dramatically altered the lives of women during the 20th century.

The 1920s saw profound social and political changes, particularly for women, and the garter belt originated during that time as an alternative to the restrictive corsetry that had been worn previously. Ironically, it was another call for movement (literally) that resulted in the garter belt being replaced by pantyhose. Allen Gant, a textile manufacturer, was inspired to create pantyhose after hearing his wife complain about the discomfort of wearing a garter belt while pregnant.

With the help of his colleagues, Gant developed the world’s first commercial pantyhose, a product called Panti-Legs, which debuted in 1959. Panti-Legs enjoyed modest success until the miniskirt became popular in the 1960s. Fashion icons Twiggy and Jean Shrimpton popularized pantyhose after being photographed wearing the new style of stockings with their miniskirts. It was the miniskirt that sounded the death knell for the routine garter belt, because the fasteners spoiled the smooth silhouette of the garment and it would have been considered tasteless for the garters to show.

As I hold the Mannings stockings box I reflect on feminine traditions, many of which have become lost to us over the decades. Slipping into your lingerie, whether it’s a lacy bra or a slip, is a powerful daily ritual and an affirmation of womanhood. The subtle brush of silk on your skin as you move through your day should bring a smile to your face because lingerie speaks the secret language of women—and everyone is entitled to her secrets.

I found the 1920s Gimbel Hair Net in an online auction over seven years ago and paid $8.99 for it. The delicate floral design in the upper corners is typical of the period, and the depiction of women playing sports reflects the mania for physical activity that characterized the era.

Over the past few decades, female athletes have embraced fashion as more than just an opportunity to endorse sportswear for a paycheck. In 1976 Olympic skater Dorothy Hamill won a gold medal for her performance on the ice, but it was her cute bobbed hairstyle dubbed the “wedge” that stole the show and started a fad.

In recent years tennis phenoms Venus and Serena Williams have pushed the fashion envelope on the court many times. Serena’s black lycra catsuit caused a sensation at the 2002 US Open; and Venus ignited a media firestorm when she appeared at the French Open in 2010 in a red-and-black outfit that appeared to be part corset and part French maid’s costume. The Williams sisters have received both kudos and condemnations for their choices in tennis wear—but they weren’t the first to shake up the world of women’s sports fashion; that distinction belongs to Suzanne Lenglen.

Suzanne Lenglen. Photograph courtesy of Wikipedia

In 1914, Lenglen won the World Hard Court Championship at Saint-Cloud; however, WWI put an end to most national and international tennis competitions for the duration, and Lenglen had to wait several years to compete on the world stage. Her turn finally came in 1920 when she faced Dorothea Douglass Chambers at Wimbledon. A seven-time Wimbledon winner, Chambers was a formidable opponent, to say the least.

Chambers took the court in the standard women’s tennis costume of the day: a voluminous skirt, long-sleeved blouse, starched collar, and a tie. Dressed like that it was a miracle she didn’t fall and break her neck.

Dorothea Chambers. Photograph courtesy of Wikipedia

Lenglen arrived courtside in full makeup, wearing a dress that fell only to mid-calf (revealing the tops of her stockings when she moved just so) and carrying a flask filled with brandy that she sipped intermittently throughout the game. Unencumbered by multiple yards of fabric—and fueled by brandy—Lenglen won the match. Her daring costume (designed by legendary courtier Jean Patou) revolutionized the way women dressed for tennis, and she was just as stylish off the court with her bobbed hair and designer wardrobe. The Gimbel hair net package serves as a reminder to me that never does a woman look more stylish than when she’s pursuing her dreams.