Isabell Gerhart

My friend Ginger lost one of her teeth on Oscar de la Renta's showroom floor. In mid century America, only the most serious buyers were invited into the exclusive Manhatten showrooms of the designers who defined the styles of the period. Ginger's childhood was filled with visits to those very showrooms, and as the portrait to the left, painted of her at the Plaza Hotel suggests, her life paralleled that of the fictional character Eloise.

"I remember the designers, of course, but mostly, I remember the models who would take me in the back when my parents needed to talk business, and offer me a snack. Of course, the only thing they had to offer was TAB."

Ginger's parents, Norwin and Isabell Gerhart, 2 of the biggest buyers of couture at the time, traveled to New York from Texas several times a year. The glamorous couple were known as the fashion king and queen of Houston. They took New York by storm with their business savvy, style and Texas sized personalities. Their store, ISABELL GERHART, was a Houston mecca for fashion savvy socialites.

The Gerharts ignited their fashionable reputations when the Shamrock hotel opened in Houston in 1949. It was THE event of the century and is still said to be the biggest social gala ever held in Houston. The Gerharts made the decision to bring the dresses to Houston for the elite who were to attend the event. The fashion houses in New York were filled with speculation about the "chick from Houston buying all those dresses". The event put ISABELL GERHART on the map of exclusivity that skyrocketed the store to success.

The Gerharts hosted spectacular parties in their home with orchestras and guest lists that read like a who's who of important designers of the 20th Century. Ginger, along with her siblings Gary, Greg and Ann, would peek from the top of the stairs and watch their parents hold court with Diane von Furstenburg, Diane Freis, Bill Travilla, Michael Novarese, Harve Bernard, Tina Leser, Ceil Chapman, Halston, Adele Simpson, Pauline Trigere, Carolina Herrera, Randolph Duke, Claire McCardell, Oscar de la Renta, and many more fashion icons of the time. As Ginger's childhood collection of pencils illustrates,their parents also knew Christian Dior, Caroline Roehm, Mary McFadden, Geoffrey Beene, Bob Mackie, Leonard, Louis Feraud, Nicole Miller, Pattulo Jo Copeland, Gloria Sachs, Albert Nipon, Victor Costa, Wragge, Reiko, and many other fashion greats.

"These people were like movie stars," remarked Gary Gerhart,
"I loved talking to Bill Travilla because he had great stories about celebrities and living in Hollywood. He lived in a compound with wild animals and had pictures of himself with tigers and monkeys."
Travilla even held a photo shoot at the Gerhart's private family ranch. Gary remembers thinking that Samuel Winston looked like Alfred Hitchcock and that Oscar de la Renta, though soft spoken and quiet, always smiled and was particularly kind to them as children.

Ginger remembers Pauline Trigere as the epitomy of sophistication and Tina Leser as being especially outgoing and always dressed in bright colored mu-mu's. Leser was a frequent visitor and designed several dresses for Isabell personally. The Gerhart siblings all had stories about Michael Novarese and spoke with a special fondness as they recounted several stories of him visiting them and staying in their home.

Isabell and Norwin Gerhart helped define the fashion world in
Texas and their couture salon was the ultimate in luxury and service.
"I probably met every couture designer from 1955 until 1993."
Ann Gerhart told me. She reminded me that it wasn't only the designers who could lay claim to the title of celebrity as she recounted the story of Isabell sitting next to Farrah Fawcett on the airplane on a trip to New York. "When Farrah found out who she was, she asked her to help her get in to see a designer in New York." Isabell agreed and accompanied Farrah to one of the exclusive designer showrooms.
"It always amazed me how well mom was known. I can't tell you how many times someone would see my name and say, 'Ann Gerhart? Are you related to Isabell?"

I met Isabell and Norwin in the 1980's. Norwin had a quick, dry wit and still dressed as sharply as I assume he did as a younger man. Isabell reminded me of Gena Rowlings and Zsa Zsa Gabor rolled into a texas beauty queen. I was instantly drawn to her. At the time, she had just returned from Caroline Herrera's showroom and was describing being served tea in mis matched antique tea cups. I hung on her every word.

I remember asking her why so many stores like hers were starting to close and she said, "One of the things that people used to be willing to pay for was service. I used to send out several dresses to customers on approval, keep a register of who was wearing what to specific events, and serve husbands refreshments while their wives tried on clothing. Now people aren't willing to pay for that." She believed that American women had become accustomed to drive through service and disposable fashion.

Though they lived a glamorous life and socialized with the rock stars of the fashion industry, their family meant the world to them and as Ginger remembers, "When they were there, we knew they were really there for us." When preparing to write this little tribute to Isabell, I asked her children about their memories of all of the designers. They probably still don't understand my fascination with something that to them seemed so ordinary. But they kindly shared some of their memories with me, and their recollections had one very important thing in common; It wasn't Ceil Chapman, Claire McCardell or Christian Dior who made the biggest impression, it wasn't the clothing that they remembered. Isabell and Norwin Gerhart were the stars of their stories. They were the ones who looked the most beautiful, told the funniest jokes, and seemed to draw the attention of everyone around them. The designers faded into the background as they recalled the two people who took center stage in their lives.

Of their many accomplishments, that would be the one that would make Isabell and Norwin beam with pride.

What is Sexy?

I hear IT all the time, “Do you have anything sexy?”  I always cringe at this question and answer with,“Well, what do you consider sexy?”  Usually, I get the typical answers that include, low cut, sheer, tight fitting, short, etc.. I’m often bored with trying to find clothing that fits those requirements and to be honest, find that definition of sexy boring as well. 

How much lower, shorter, tighter, or sheerer can a piece of clothing get to keep meeting the expectations of the modern version of sexy?  When I work with celebrity stylists, it often disappoints me to discover that some are more concerned with finding something shockingly revealing than with finding something that truly defines a style.  If I show them an amazing Clare Potter or Ceil Chapman 50’s dress with extraordinary detail and uncompromised quality, they will often tell me that they love the dress, but the neckline is too high.  “Not sexy enough..”  Once again, I’m bored.   

It is always so refreshing to meet a stylist, collector, designer or everyday shopper who understands that sexy isn’t defined by a hemline, neckline, or fabric, and that a beautifully made garment from any era can look sexy on the person who wears it well.

The question of what is sexy is as open ended as the age old query, “What is art?” When I think of sexy, I think of confidence.  Confident women who don’t succumb to fashion trends or the opinions of the E! channel, exude an aura that is hard to define, mysterious, and alluring.

Grace Kelly, for example, could be sexy in dresses that might have made other women feel like librarians.  When she donned an Edith Head creation in one of her movies or at the Academy Awards, no one could compete with her style, presence and sex appeal.  She could wear sportswear and evening gowns with an equal amount of confidence and even the kaftans she wore in her latter years demanded global attention.  Grace Kelly defined sexy by being comfortable in whatever she was wearing and by maintaining her own sense of self in a world that tried to impose upon her its own expectations of what sexy should be. 

Grace Kelly refused to allow others to write the definition of beauty into the script that was her life.  She was more than a pretty face, and like Audrey Hepburn, had a unique compassion for humanity that only accentuated her beauty. When she was leaving Hollywood, she is quoted as having said something that I think characterizes a genuinely sexy woman:

"I'll tell you one of the reasons I'm ready to leave. When I first came to Hollywood five years ago, my makeup call was at eight in the morning. On this movie it's been put back to seven-thirty. Every day I see Joan Crawford, who's been in makeup since five, and Loretta Young, who's been there since four in the morning. I'll be damned if I'm going to stay in a business where I have to get up earlier and earlier and it takes longer and longer for me to get in front of a camera." 

I can only hope that everyone reading this will not only define sexy for themselves, but define their own personal style as well.  Learn what styles work with your body type, demand quality over quantity, and walk into every room with poise and self assuredness. (Perfect posture always helps). Whether it be an evening gown from the 1940’s, a 50’s party dress, or a pair of jeans and a tee shirt, wear it with the understanding that beauty and sexiness come from knowing who you are and in deciding not to reveal all of it to the world.  That kind of sex appeal is timeless, and in my opinion, NEVER boring.

AGE OF INNOCENCE

We sold a Harvey Berin dress at the Vintage Fashion Expo in Santa Monica over the weekend. I came back from lunch and Sarah proudly proclaimed, "We sold the blue floral Harvey Berin!" "Oh..great." I said, unenthusiastically. A few minutes later, Sarah asked, in unbelief, "You aren't crying are you?" "Of course not.well, okay, maybe a little." I should have been thrilled; we'd sold a valuable piece that would make most clothing dealers celebrate. Okay.I know it sounds ridiculous, but this was one of those dresses, (like the purple Nettie Rosenstein dress I sold in October), that I took with me and displayed carefully with one of our dress price tags, and proudly talked about to anyone who showed an interest. I guess I didn't really think about actually selling it! It was so fantastic that I used to take it out just to look at it and imagine to what event the owner might have worn it. The dress had a fitted bodice and full tea length skirt. The crisp cotton pique floral print was lined with a stiff tulle underskirt and the waist was cinched with a blue grosgrain sash. The label indicated that it was from the early sixties and designed by Berin's famous designer, Karen Stark. I felt sad that I didn't get to see the person who bought it and hoped that Sarah reminded them of the importance of the piece.

I pride myself in being introspective and socially conscious, and here I was crying over a dress! Was I really that superficial and materialistic? I was mortified at my response to something so unimportant in the grand scheme of things. But then I realized that I wasn't just reacting to the sale of a dress, but to the loss of a generation. I was mourning the bygone era of my mother's generation, when women wore dresses and called their purses "pocket books." I was sad that I couldn't put that dress on a mannequin and imagine an auburn haired beauty dancing at a "supper club" to Frank Sinatra tunes.

I used to love it when my mother would whirl into my room before going out, smelling like Shalimar and wearing a dress that made her look like Vivian Leigh. She would kiss me goodnight with that waxy red lipstick and tell me to "sleep tight and don't let the bed bugs bite." I didn't think that it was possible for anyone to be more beautiful!

I was too young to understand that a lot of the women in the 50's and 60's took valium to dull the pain of unhappy marriages and amphetamines to stay unreasonably thin. I had no idea that even though Audrey Hepburn looked so glamorous with that famous cigarette holder, smoking was going to be declared dangerous, or that the fatty foods we ate would eventually give America the title of "the fattest nation on earth. " I didn't understand sexual harassment, oppression, or divorce. I didn't know that the drinks in pretty glasses served to the very happy guests at my parent's parties were going to lead many of them into alcoholism, or that the bug killer sprayed by the Orkin man every week in our home would be declared a carcinogen. I just knew that my mother swooped in like a movie star and smelled like heaven.

So maybe it's not the generation I will miss, but my own innocence and ignorant oblivion. So that pretty little Harvey Berin dress went out of our booth taking a lot with it; I hope the new owner appreciates its true value!

TWIRLING

When I was a little girl I loved to twirl. I would watch with amazement as the layers of fabric floated in rippled waves through the air. That was the true test of a good dress, its twirl capacity! I can still feel the slippery polyester of my first mini skirt and the smooth buttery velvet dress I wore to my first Christmas party.

Instead of learning the art of couture sewing (I never made it past my beginning sewing class and a drawstring bag), I learned to recognize ingenuity and fine craftsmanship in the creations of others. This treasure hunt has become my passion and it gives me great pleasure to see others appreciate the beauty and timeless appeal of well designed apparel.

From the time I started my journey through 20th Century fashion history, I've been in awe of Ceil Chapman's brilliant ability to sculpt fabric, Nettie Rosenstein's complex but perfectly simple little black dress, Gilbert Adrian's masterful draping , and the revolutionary mid century designs of Claire McCardell, Tina Leser and Clare Potter.  I've seen Howard Greer gowns transform women into modern day Jean Harlows and Pucci shift dresses make young women feel like superstars.

Even now, when I try on a dress, with a full circle crinoline lined skirt, and no one is looking...I still twirl!