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aenigma – Images and stories from the movies and fashion

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Fashion

Elsa Martinelli – Italy’s sassy Audrey Hepburn

1967. Elsa Martinelli models Paco Rabanne. Photo by Willy Rizzo. Read more.

Along with Sophia Loren, Gina Lollobrigida and Claudia Cardinale, Elsa Martinelli was one of an elite bevy of super-glamorous Italian actresses who roamed the silver screen preying on their co-stars and audiences alike in the 1950s and ’60s. What they had in common was that they all managed to become household names for moviegoers in the US and internationally as well as in their native country.

But there are differences. The first is obvious to anyone even glancing at their photos. Elsa’s Italian counterparts were all maggiorate – buxom, earthy beauties who proved to be one of Italy’s great export successes. Elsa Martinelli’s looks on the other hand – high cheekbones, a lost-urchin face and a boyish figure – led to her being compared to Audrey Hepburn. As the sixties began to swing and fashions changed, Elsa’s chic style led to her being cast in a number of the hip movies of the day, leaving her contemporaries looking distinctly outmoded.

The other main difference is less easy to define but goes some way to explaining why Elsa didn’t make it big on screen in the way the others did. She looks gorgeous in her movies and her acting is fine but ultimately she lacks screen presence. She’s not the kind of actress around whom a director could really build a film and so it’s perhaps no coincidence that she was never cast in a Roman Holiday, a Funny Face or a Breakfast at Tiffany’s.

None of which prevented her from becoming a member of the international jet set, shuttling between Europe and the US, her career embracing fashion as well as film, and her friends and acquaintances including the likes of Aristotle Onassis, Maria Callas, Jacqui Kennedy, Gunter Sachs and Rudolf Nureyev. Indicative of her lifestyle is an article in the 18 February 1972 edition of The Daily Mirror, a UK newspaper, that reports that:

Actress Elsa Martinelli was called to police headquarters before dawn yesterday to answer questions about a drugs scandal that has shocked Rome. The move followed the arrest last week of playboy, Paolo Vassallo. Over half an ounce of cocaine is said to have been found in the battery of his car. Since then drug squad detectives have been questioning an international set of nightclub owners, businessmen and show business personalities. Miss Martinelli, a frequent visitor to a club owned buy Vassallo, was allowed to leave the police headquarters after an hour. She said last night: “I have nothing to be afraid of.”

Her life had started off in a very different milieu.

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Elsa Martinelli wiping her face between takes during the shooting of Rice Girl

Elsa Martinelli takes a break

August 1955. At La Graziosa, a farm in Casalino, the Italian actress wipes her face between takes during the shooting of La risaia (Rice Girl). Photo by Emilio Ronchini.

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Elsa Martinelli stretches out on a swing sofa

Elsa Martinelli relaxes

Around 1955. In the dappled shade, Elsa stretches out on a swing sofa. The photo was distributed by Italy’s News Photos, an agency based in Rome.

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Elsa Martinelli lying on her side, head on hand, wearing an oversize knitted sweater

Elsa Martinelli poses on a couch

1957. On the back of the photo there are three agency stamps: Pictorial Press (London), Ifot (Copenhagen) and Billed Sentralen (Oslo), but no other information. However, there is a shot of her wearing what looks like the same sweater on Flickr, attributed to Peter Basch and dated October 1957. And another by Pierluigi Praturlon.

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Elsa Martinelli, Yves Saint Laurent (centre) and Bettina (right) at the couturier's Spring/Summer Collection

Elsa Martinelli with Yves Saint Laurent and Bettina Graziani

1966. Elsa Martinelli and Bettina Graziani congratulate Yves Saint Laurent after the presentation of his Spring/Summer Collection. The photo comes from Associated Press.

From rags to riches

To be a big movie star, you have to come from a pretty grim background, right? Well that does seem to be the case with many of the stars featured on aenigma and Elsa Martinelli conforms to that adage. She doesn’t exactly have it easy as she grows up. The story of her childhood and adolescence is recounted by Bill Strutton in New Style for Italian Stars, an article in the 19 December 1956 edition of The Australian Women’s Weekly:

1958. Elsa Martinelli, rally winner. Read more.

Miss Martinelli’s success story is a real Cinderella one. She was born in Trastevere, the worst slum quarter in Rome. Her father was a railway worker who earned four pounds a week. At 12 she was already working, running messages for stores. “My eight sisters and I, we sleep all in the same room,” she said. “At 14, I take in washing. At 16, I become a fashion model.” It happened magically. On a sudden lavish whim, Elsa decided to buy herself a fine dress. She walked into the most elegant shop in Rome. Behind her she heard a woman’s voice exclaim, “But how beautiful you are!” She turned. It was Teresa Getti, the owner of the shop. “Would you like to be a mannequin?” It was as simple as that.

Elsa became the main wage-earner in her large family. She says, with a gay, sparkling wink, “Since little Elsa made good, the family eat good. I was good at washing clothes, and good at showing clothes. Now I am 21 and I want to be good at being an actress. But” – the eyes flashed – “I want to keep my clothes on to do it!”

With her career as a model on an upward trajectory, the glamorous Elsa naturally attracts a host of suitors and it doesn’t take her long to get hitched. Six months after Bill Strutton’s piece, an article appears in the 8 June 1957 edition of UK newspaper The Daily Mirror under the title, Elsa wed her count – in secret:

Elsa Martinelli, 22, the girl from the slums who became one of Italy’s top film stars, was married in secret yesterday. Her husband – the first – is handsome, wealthy Count Franco Mancinelli Scotti, 27, who comes from an ancient and aristocratic Italian family. He owns tobacco plantations in Southern Italy. The couple have often been seen out together since they met two years ago at a winter sports resort. They were married at a civil ceremony in the tiny independent State of San Remo. There may be a church service later. Only a friend of the Count and Elsa’s agent were present. At the moment Elsa is technically under sentence of eighteen months’ gaol for calling three police officers “an unmentionable name” in a car parking incident here. Here appeal against the conviction is expected to be heard soon. Till then Elsa is at liberty. After that – who knows?

In one fell swoop she’s made it out of the slums and into the jet set. Her marriage to the count produces a daughter but Franco’s mother is so furious about the marriage that she expels him from the ancestral palace in Rome. Perhaps that’s one of the pressures that leads the couple to divorce in 1960 and go their separate ways. But let’s return to Elsa Martinelli’s career.

1960. Elsa Martinelli wears a strapless dress. Read more.

Elsa Martinelli – model and movie star

Elsa’s account in The Australian Women’s Weekly of becoming a model implies that she made the transition to modelling overnight. That’s not the case. She embarks on her modelling career in 1951 but at that stage it’s a part-time occupation, not enough to pay all the bills let alone provide a comfortable lifestyle. So in 1953, she’s also working as a barmaid when she’s discovered by Roberto Capucci, an up-and-coming designer who asks her to model his first collection and introduces her to the world of high fashion.

It’s perhaps at one of his shows that she comes to the attention of Eileen Ford, co-founder of Ford Models. The agency provides the platform she needs to fulfil her potential and in no time at all she becomes one of the top models in Paris and New York. You can find a photo of her modelling at a fashion show at Romanoff’s restaurant in Los Angeles at Getty Images. And that’s not all:

She’s known as ‘The Witch’ – and she’s magic, too! 

Italian beauty Elsa Martinelli has become known as “The Witch,” after Count Rudy Crespi described her “as flat as a plank with hair like a witch.” … As well as being Italy’s top fashion model, Elsa has shown promise as a film actress.

News travels fast. That’s a snippet from that August 20, 1955 edition of The Mirror, a newspaper published in Perth, Australia. Interesting that it draws attention to her unconventional looks. And yes, she’s already embarked on a career as a movie actress. So how does she make the leap from fashion to film?

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Elsa Martinelli rests her chin on the fingers of her hand

Elsa Martinelli in pensive mood

1955. In this fashion shot, Elsa Martinelli seems to be pausing for a moment’s elegant reflection. The photographer is Elsa Haertter, who built her reputation by turning fashion into reportage. Date and attribution are from a copy of this photo found on Flickr.

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Elsa Martinelli steps off a jetty on Lake Garda

Elsa Martinelli models a gown by Jole Veneziani

1955. Jole Veneziani was an Italian fashion designer whose clients included Marlene Dietrich and Maria Callas. The setting for this shot is Lake Garda. Date and details are from a copy of this photo found on Flickr. Photo by Elsa Haertter.

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Elsa Martinelli models an evening gown in a frescoed setting

Elsa Martinelli models an evening gown

Around 1955. In this fashion shoot, Elsa Martinelli appears to be posing in a palazzo that’s open to the public, judging by the roped-off frescoes.

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Elsa Martinelli turns her head as she stands in an opera box

Elsa Martinelli models an evening ensemble by Fernanda Gattinoni

1955. Fernanda Gattinoni was an Italian fashion designer who designed costumes for the rich and famous in Italy and abroad. Her clients included Ingrid Bergman, Ava Gardner and Gina Lollobrigida. She won an Oscar nomination for Best Costume Design for Audrey Hepburn’s attire in War and Peace (1956). Date and details are from a copy of this photo found on Flickr. Photo by Elsa Haertter.

Kirk Douglas (or his wife, depending on which version of the story you read) spots her on the cover of LIFE magazine. Except that’s not possible – Elsa doesn’t feature on the cover until the November 25, 1957 issue, which also contains a feature about her, Newest Eyeful from Italy. No, the Kirks must have been perusing the July 10, 1955 edition in which Elsa is the model featured in a fashion editorial called Promise at Portofino.

Anyway, Kirk casts her as Onahti, a Sioux chief’s daughter and the main love interest in The Indian Fighter (1955), his debut as a movie producer. It’s not her first movie role – the previous year she’s been seen in a couple of European films (uncredited in one of them) – but it’s a big step up. And it’s worth bearing in mind that the usual trajectory for Italian actresses is a good long stint in Italian films before receiving a summons from Hollywood.

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elsa martinelli indian

1. The Indian Fighter (1955)

The original trailer in high definition of Elsa Martinelli’s breakthrough movie directed by  André De Toth. Starring opposite Kirk Douglas, she’s lovely but not altogether convincing as a Red Indian!

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elsa martinelli notte brava

2. La notte brava (1959)

Elsa Martinelli and Antonella Lualdi slag each other off in Italian. No subtitles, but they’re hardly needed – I think we get the gist.

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elsa martinelli hatari

3. Hatari! (1962)

Hardy Kruger tells Elsa Martinelli that she shouldn’t take her leading man’s behaviour towards her literally in this John Wayne vehicle directed by Howard Hawks.

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elsa martinelli chanteuse

4. Elsa Martinelli chanteuse (1967)

A video of a soulful, windswept Elsa singing Je Croyais Que L’Amour.

At any rate, she’s now on the map, with The New York Times observing that, “In the brunette Elsa Martinelli, who plays the Indian lass with a minimum of words and a maximum of feline grace, Mr. Douglas has come up with a pretty photogenic newcomer.” And her unusual looks are doing her no harm at all according to Bill Strutton, writing in the December 19, 1956 edition of The Australian Women’s Weekly:

New Style for Italian Stars

Fresh from Italy comes the newest sensation of its film studios – Elsa Martinelli – to charge with her personal high voltage the star cast of a major new British film “Manuela.”

The angular and electric Elsa has shot brilliantly to fame, landing on a dizzy perch level with the adored Lollobrigida and her fabled rival, Sophia Loren. Mention these names to Elsa, and she snaps, “I do not wish to be compared with Lollo or Sophia! I do not have to do a strip-tease to be sexy.”

Just when everybody was beginning to conclude that Italy’s unique contribution to the world screen was a row of prominent prows and a vast repertoire of voluptuous attitudes, along comes the strange and compelling personality of Martinelli. She has a mobile, piano smile; an untidy hair-do with wisps straying about her neck; clothes that cloak her vital statistics; but a personality that arrests the attention the minute she stalks into a room. Along with Audrey Hepburn she heralds a new style in stars. Entirely individual, she is a person, not an exquisite arrangement of wonderful curves.

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Elsa Martinelli, half length, in a polka-dot dress, foliage in the background

Elsa Martinelli in a polka-dot dress

Around 1955. The man behind the lens is Edward Quinn. He lived and worked as a photographer on the Côte d’Azur. During the 1950s his subjects included celebrities from the worlds of show business and art. Unlike the paparazzi, his approach to his subjects was collaborative rather than confrontational.

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Elsa Martinelli, seated, wearing a fur stole, cigarette in hand

Elsa Martinelli relaxes with a cigarette

Around 1955. The man behind the lens is Georg Michalke. He photographed countless European stars and starlets in Rome during the 1950s and ’60s. Many of his pictures of Sophia Loren, Brigitte Bardot, Claudia Cardinale and other glamour queens were used for postcards for the German market.

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Elsa Martinelli, half length, wearing a white sleeveless top, raises her gaze

Elsa Martinelli at the Venice Film Festival

1956. A caption on the back of the photo explains:

NEW FACES AT VENETIAN FILM FESTIVAL
A/5217 – Elsa Martinelli, 21, born in Rome. 4th of seven sisters, Elsa started her career as photographic model. Went to the United States and played there her first part in a western with Kirk Douglas. Back to Italy, her last interpretation “Donatella” won a prize at Berlin film festival.

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Elsa Martinelli stands by the sea front at Cannes, the wind blowing her hair and light, knee-length dress

Elsa Martinelli at the Cannes Film Festival

May 1958. Elsa Martinelli pauses on La Croisette, the street that runs along the sea front at Cannes, during a photo shoot with Jack Garofalo. Other photos from the shoot such as this one can be found at Getty Images.

In spite of the likes of Audrey Hepburn and Elsa Martinelli, the 1950s continue to be dominated by the cult of curvaceousness, not least in Italian cinema where Elsa’s figure is probably one of the reasons she fails to make a real impact. The other is that she’s not the protégé of any of the industry’s movers and shakers, unlike Sophia Loren with Carlo Ponti, Claudia Cardinale with Franco Cristaldi, Silvana Mangano with Dino De Laurentiis and Rosanna Schiaffino with Alfredo Bini. Meanwhile, Gina Lollobrigida owes her career success in no small part to her husband Milko Skofic.

But come the 1960s, the eyes of movie directors and fashion editors begin to turn towards a more playful, elfish, slender look, as couturier Cristóbal Balenciaga observes in 1963 (quoted here in the 2 July 1963 edition of the Thanet Times, a regional UK newspaper):

Bosoms are out
If slim Italian beauty Elsa Martinelli of M.G.M.’s “The V.I.P.s” is anything to go by – and a stunningly convincing argument she presents – then the age of the pneumatic pin-up is on its way out. “It is the age,” says Paris fashion-setter Balenciaga “of the thin girl. In are elbow capes, padded jackets and short hems. Dresses may have deeply cut armholes above which shoulder seams are widened; stiff faille capes point down low at the back of slender low-cut dresses. Bosoms are out.”

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Elsa Martinelli, head and shoulder, against an op art background

Elsa Martinelli in The 10th Victim

1965. Elsa Martinelli as Olga in Elio Petri’s sci-fi fashion thriller, La decima vittima (The 10th Victim). Photo by Tazio Secchiaroli.

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Elsa Martinelli, only her head visible over the edge of a bath, laughing

Elsa Martinelli enjoys herself

1965. It looks like Elsa is having a laugh in the bath. Who knows? The photo is printed on Paris Match paper and has an International Magazine Service stamp on the back.

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A photographer’s helper climbs a ladder to put the finishing touches to Elsa Martinelli’s hair in a scene from Maroc 7

Elsa Martinelli prepares for a shoot

1967. This photo comes from London Express News and Features Service. A caption on the back reads:

21. PICTURE SHOWS: A photographer’s helper climbs a ladder to put the finishing touches on Elsa Martinelli’s hair before the high fashion model is photographed. It’s a scene from the Italian Actress’s new film, “Maroc 7.”

Photo by Willy Rizzo.

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Elsa Martinelli in a sexy mini dress poses in front of a blow-up photograph

Elsa Martinelli in Maroc 7

1967. Elsa Martinelli as Claudia, a fashion model, in Gerry O’Hara’s slick, frothy British caper involving a jewel thief and a Moroccan intrigue. This photo comes from the Photofest agency.

Arguably the sixties are Elsa Martinelli’s heyday. She continues to be in demand as a top model, she’s cast in a number of the decade’s hip movies including Roger Vadim’s racy vampire drama Et mourir de plaisir (Blood and Roses, 1960), Elio Petri’s pop futurist sci-fi extravaganza La decima vittima (The 10th Victim, 1965) and Christian Marquand’s wacky sexploitation fantasy Candy (1968).

Around 1970. Elsa Martinelli and Willy Rizzo at a party. Read more.

A woman of her times

Elsa Martinelli is a child of the sixties in the sense that she espouses the period’s mores and is prepared to stand up for her rights as a woman. In an article in the 3 March 1963 of the UK’s Sunday Mirror titled Now Elsa Martinelli defends ‘bed-without-wed’ – Brazen hussy or a modern St. Joan of sex-equality?:

Elsa Martinelli, in the most uninhibited interview I have had since Jayne Mansfield invited me to massage her thigh, agreed that either description could fit her. For Elsa, although still married to Italian Count Franco Mancinelli Scotti, now admits she is living as the wife of photographer Willi Rizzo.

She told me: “I no longer care who knows about this. Millions of women separated from their husbands are legally forced to live under the same circumstances, or go for the rest of their lives without love. In Italy alone there are more than two million. It is a terrible injustice. But in Italy, of course, there is little justice for women. The men make the laws, and Italian husbands are the most selfish in the world.  If I go back to Italy now I can be put in prison. But I will not be a hypocrite. And I am not afraid. Already I have signed to make my next picture in Rome. Maybe I will go to prison.”

…Elsa warmed to her theme of hypocrisy as she continued: “Willi and I became lovers the second time we met in 1960. It was in St. Tropez. Do I think that is shameful? No, of course not. I only wish it had been the first time we met, but it was not possible. It is hypocrisy to pretend that there is any difference between making illegal love at the first, fifth or fiftieth time of meeting. If divorce was possible then Willi and I would have been married right away. There’s the hypocrisy of booking into separate hotel rooms in some countries. It’s no secret that we have unlocked adjoining doors. And if the maid knocks in the morning Willi goes back to his own bed. She knows what we know, but the pretence must be kept up.”

Elsa went on: “That is why our permanent home is in Paris. France is the only country where a man can go to an hotel with a woman who is not his wife, and they care only that they have passports. I suppose it is called living in sin, but I don’t agree. Living without love is the sin.”

Willi is Willy Rizzo, one of the top photojournalists at Paris Match. In 1968 he moves to Rome and “makes an honest woman” of Elsa Martinelli. They have a shared interest in furniture design which, for Willy, becomes a second successful career alongside photography.

According to IMDb, by the 1980s, Elsa was active as an interior designer in Rome while still making sporadic screen appearances, primarily in TV series. Described by the newspaper La Repubblica as “an icon of style and elegance,” Elsa Martinelli died on July 8, 2017 in Rome at the age of 82.

1966. Elsa Martinelli and Hélène Rochas at an event. Read more.

Want to know more about Elsa Martinelli?

Primary sources include LIFE magazine, The British Newspaper Archive and Trove.

The best collection of photos is Sophia’s photo stream on Flickr.

Of the two default sources, on this occasion IMDb has more to offer than Wikipedia. More interesting are the obituaries in The Guardian, The New York Times, Variety, and Irenebriation; also La repubblica (in Italian).

Offline sources are:

Elsa Martinelli’s autobiography, Sono come sono. It is, of course, in Italian.

Réka Buckley’s Elsa Martinelli: Italy’s Audrey Hepburn, published in the Historical Journal of Film, Radio and Television, Vol 26, No 3, August 2006.

Other topics you might be interested in…

Claudia Cardinale – up for a challenge
Monica Vitti
Monica Vitti – a sad childhood, a glittering career and a bitter old age
Princess Ira von Fürstenberg – celeb, fashion model, movie star
Veruschka and Rubartelli – a fashion legend

Filed Under: Fashion, Photographers, Stars Tagged With: Count Franco Mancinelli Scotti, Eileen Ford, Elsa Haertter, Elsa Martinelli, Fernanda Gattinoni, Ford Models, Jole Veneziani, Kirk Douglas, Willy Rizzo

Françoise Dorléac – what might have been

Around 1965. Françoise Dorléac in a bodystocking.

Sexy, stylish and sparky, full of joie de vivre, Françoise Dorléac was, in the words of Vogue magazine, a “gamine fatale.”  Add to that cocktail her distinctive husky voice and ability to come across totally naturally on screen and it’s no surprise that she didn’t have to wait around for her career as a movie star to achieve lift-off.

During that short career, she made 21 films as well as working as a catwalk model for Dior in her teens:

A photographer asked if I would model for some fashion pictures and I said fine. A producer saw my pictures in the press and hired me for a small role for a film during the school holidays.

Perhaps it was her brush with the fashion world that led her to obsessively cultivate her image, aiming to “keep a certain class, but look erotic”:

I want to dress so that everybody tries to dress like me, and nobody can. I love it when you are completely dressed and you look naked. I wear chain belts to look fragile, like a slave. Every time I go out, even if it’s six o’clock in the morning, when nobody can see, it’s still important.

But she was always going to be an actress. Her parents, Maurice Dorléac and Renée Simonot, were both actors themselves (Renée was born Deneuve but adopted Simonot as her stage name). The latter was one of the first to enter the field of dubbing American films for the French market, becoming the voice of, among others, Olivia de Havilland, Sylvia Sidney, Judy Garland, Donna Reed and Esther Williams.

Françoise first appeared on screen in the movie short Mensonges (1957) but her career proper began in 1960. It took off in 1964 with François Truffaut’s romantic drama La peau douce (The Soft Skin) and Philippe de Broca’s spy spoof That Man from Rio. Those two movies showcase both her range and her potential as an actress and make her premature death all the more poignant.

1966. Françoise Dorléac and Donald Pleasance in Cul-de-sac.

Françoise Dorléac – from dead end to dead

I first came across Françoise Dorléac many years ago starring opposite Donald Pleasance in Roman Polanski’s weird and wonderful black comedy, Cul-de-sac (1966). In case English is not your first language and you’re unfamiliar with the phrase, a cul-de-sac is a no-through road or dead end.

In her third appearance in a non-French film, Françoise is cast as Teresa, a bored and hedonistic wife with little time for or interest in her weak and pathetic husband George, played by Donald Pleasance. As the film opens, a couple of sinister crooks with overtones of Laurel and Hardy arrive on Lindisfarne, the remote island on which George and Teresa have made their home. He is simultaneously indignant and cringing, she is self-obsessed and capricious. The subsequent action plays out through a series of grotesque twists and turns, the product of director Roman Polanski’s fertile and lurid imagination, seemingly inspired in part by the plays of Samuel Beckett and Harold Pinter. 

According to Françoise:

Polanski is completely preoccupied with film; he doesn’t think about the actors as human beings at all. But I do not mind it; he is a brilliant director.

She’s right. It’s quite a movie and deservedly wins the Golden Bear award at the Berlin International Film Festival.

A year later, she jumps into the Renault 10 she’s been renting during her fortnight’s break in Saint-Tropez. She needs to be back in London for the English-dubbed premiere of Les Demoiselles de Rochefort (more on that later). It’s 60 miles to Nice Airport, from which she’ll catch a plane to Paris Orly and then a connecting flight to London. But she’s left it late, she’s in a rush and as she heads for the airport a light drizzle begins to fall.

Less than ten miles to go and after a long dry spell the road surface is slippery. Françoise pulls out to overtake the car in front of her and as she pulls back across the road she loses control of the car, it goes into a spin and crashes into a signpost at the side of the road. By the time the driver of the car she’s overtaken has pulled over to help, it’s too late. The Renault is already on fire and the heat too intense for him to get near. He sees Françoise beating her fists against the driver’s window in a desperate attempt to escape before the car explodes. She was just 25 years old.

When the police arrive, they find among the wreckage the bodies of a young woman and a small dog, and in a charred handbag among the luggage in the boot the burnt remnants of a driver’s license and a chequebook.

1960. Françoise Dorléac (right) with her younger sister Catherine Deneuve.

Françoise Dorléac, Catherine Deneuve and François Truffaut

Arguably the two most important people in Françoise Dorléac’s life are her sister Catherine Deneuve and director François Truffaut.

It is largely thanks to Françoise’s initiative that Catherine becomes an actress. In her second feature film, Les portes claquent (1960) the producers need to find someone to play Françoise’s character’s younger sister. Who could be better than her younger sister in real life, she suggests. So Catherine makes her screen debut. But why does she have a different surname?

It was impossible for me to have the same name as my sister Françoise. Or at least, that’s what my family said at the time… If I had to do it again, I wouldn’t make that decision! I love my mother dearly but I don’t like her maiden name. It’s hard to pronounce. I prefer my real name.

Françoise and Catherine make an intriguing pair and you can judge for yourself by watching Jacques Demy’s 1967 tribute to the Hollywood musical, Les demoiselles de Rochefort (The Young Girls of Rochefort) in which they co-star as twin sisters.

For all their similarities, according to Catherine, “[Françoise] used to say that the two of us together would make one complete woman because we were so different.” To put it another way, they’re like two sides of the same coin.

Françoise is effervescent, spirited and adventurous, while Catherine is cool, reserved and cautious. Their mother remembers Françoise throwing herself at everything “with passion” while describing Catherine as a “tender, fragile little girl who loved candy.” Their clothes reflect their personalities. Françoise is into the metallics and prints so fashionable around the mid-1960s, Catherine goes for a more sophisticated, classic look. In a 1966 interview Catherine declares:

1969. François Truffaut goes out with Catherine Deneuve. Read more.

She claims she always looks like she has nothing in the closet and I look like I have six closets. She wears casual things but she has 100 casual things and I have three subtle things.”

But appearances can be deceptive. Underneath her extrovert character, Françoise has her insecurities: “I find that with each picture, I become less confident about my ability to do good work.” It’s only at the insistence of her mother that in 1965 she finally moves out of the family home. Even then, it’s only to an apartment across the street, which her mother finds for her.

François Truffaut collaborates with Françoise on just one film, La peau douce, but that belies his significance to her. Initially, things look far from promising:

I met Truffaut and realised how good it would be to make a film with him. The trouble was I disliked him on sight and it wasn’t long before he told me the same. In fact, he found me unbearable. We had a few tense months together before we realised our first impressions were wrong and found the beginnings of mutual discovery.

In fact they become lovers for a while and subsequently remain close friends.

Truffaut draws from Françoise a truly wonderful performance as Nicole, an air hostess who has an affair with Pierre (Jean Desailly), a publisher and literary celebrity. To achieve that, he encourages her to relax (he reckons her movements are too jerky) and slow down, not least in terms of the way she talks. The film is a perceptive and tender depiction of its characters’ dreams, insecurities and vulnerabilities. The story is of deep personal significance to Truffaut, whose marriage is breaking up and who has himself embarked on an affair with Françoise. Afterwards, the pair remain close friends. On its release, La peau douce appeals more to critics than to audiences but its reputation has grown over time and it is definitely worth looking out.

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francoise dorleac la peau douce

1. La peau douce (1964)

Pierre (Jean Desailly) is mesmerised by Nicole as she takes to the dance floor.

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francoise dorleac donald pleasance cul-de-sac

2. Cul-de-sac (1966)

The entire film – from Criterion, no less. Don’t miss this one!

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francoise dorleac catherine deneuve documentary

3. Les demoiselles de Rochefort (1967)

A behind-the-scenes documentary. Although it’s mostly in French, you can view English subtitles by clicking on the CC button at the bottom of the image.

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francoise dorleac catherine deneuve demoiselles

4. Les demoiselles de Rochefort (1967)

A trailer for the movie.

Françoise Dorléac – a tribute

It is Truffaut who should have the last word about Françoise Dorléac. She clearly made a huge impression on him and, following her death, he wrote movingly of her in Cahiers de Cinéma. I’ve done my best to translate his words into English, but there are subtleties, plays on words here that pretty much defy translation. So in one particular case, I’ve added the original French should you wish to see it.

1960. Françoise Dorléac, 17, in her dressing room at the Théâtre Antoine. She’s been cast as Gigi in the eponymous play by Colette. Photo by François Gragnon.

Her name was Françoise

I ask for permission to post one or two photos of Françoise Dorléac who died on 26 June last year in a car accident en route to Nice Airport. For the public, it was just a news item, all the more cruel because it involved a very beautiful 25-year-old girl, an actress who had not yet had time to become a star. For everyone who knew her, Françoise Dorléac represented more, the kind of person one meets only rarely in one’s life, an exceptional young woman whose charm, femininity, intelligence, grace and incredible moral force made her unforgettable to anyone who spoke for an hour with her.

Her strong, even bossy, personality, was in contrast to her fragile and lithe physique, which had the quality of seaweed or a greyhound. Françoise Dorléac was, in my opinion, an actress insufficiently appreciated. In her thirties she would have won the hearts of the general public – they would then have adored her in the same way as did all those who had the chance to work with her.

The challenge for a young actress is to transition smoothly from girl to woman, from juvenile to adult roles; I believe that Françoise Dorléac, a precocious woman, mature beyond her years, her face and figure already blossoming and her looks, as we say in the trade, made to last [son visage et son corps déjà construits et, comme on dit dans les studios, construits en dur et pour durer], was the only young actress one might have expected to get better and better.

Ever since she was a teenager, she took two cold showers a day, asserting that “You prepare for your forties in your twenties.” When she was impatient to find roles and make films, I tried to convince her that she had nothing to fear from the passage of the years and that time was on her side. I told her that we would make a film every six years and I booked her appointments for 1970, 1976, 1982.

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Françoise Dorléac with Jean-Pierre Cassel

Françoise Dorléac with Jean-Pierre Cassel

1961. Françoise Dorléac and Jean-Pierre Cassel co-star in La gamberge (from which this is likely a scene) and Arsène Lupin contre Arsène Lupin. Cassel falls in love Françoise and remembers the affair as “a terrible, destructive passion.” There is an International Magazine Service copyright stamp on the back of the photo.

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Françoise Dorléac in That Man from Rio

Françoise Dorléac in That Man from Rio

1964. In Philippe de Broca’s L’Homme de Rio (That Man from Rio, 1964), Françoise Dorléac stars opposite Jean-Paul Belmondo. It’s a spoof spy movie apparently inspired by the Tintin comics and proves to be a big box-office success.

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Françoise Dorléac at the 1964 Cannes Film Festival

Françoise Dorléac at the Cannes Film Festival

May 1964. Françoise Dorléac at the Cannes Film Festival. There are Reporters Associés and International Magazine Service copyright stamps on the back of the photo. There is a copy of this photo at Getty Images.

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Françoise Dorléac in a floral dress

Françoise Dorléac in a floral dress

1964. There is an International Magazine Service copyright stamp on the back of the photo. Photo by Chris Kindahl/Dalmas.

Every time I wrote to her, I put on the envelope “Mademoiselle Framboise* (Raspberry) Dorléac”* to make sure she would read my letter with a smile. Françoise Dorléac was resolute, bordering on obstinate, she was principled, her interviews were rich in aphorisms, and she was demanding in matters of life and love. She could suddenly cast a very severe look in the direction of someone who raised her suspicions.

Until then, only smiles, laughs and giggles and that’s what makes June 26 last year unacceptable, those great cascades of laughter cut short.

* Probably inspired by Bob Lapointe’s 1960 song Avanie et framboise, whose opening lines are:

Elle s’appelait Françoise
Mais on l’appelait Framboise

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Françoise Dorléac does a tree-top fashion shoot

Françoise Dorléac does a tree-top fashion shoot

13 April 1966. Two assistants help Françoise Dorléac to climb a tree in which she is going to pose for a fashion shoot.

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Françoise Dorléac does a tree-top fashion shoot

Françoise Dorléac does a tree-top fashion shoot

13 April 1966. The theme of the shoot seems to be jumpsuits. It is for Dim Dam Dom, a French TV show that focuses on the latest fashion and music trends.

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Françoise Dorléac does a tree-top fashion shoot

Françoise Dorléac does a tree-top fashion shoot

13 April 1966. The jumpsuit she’s wearing here is a rather wonderful print redolent of the period.

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Françoise Dorléac does a tree-top fashion shoot

Françoise Dorléac does a tree-top fashion shoot

13 April 1966. The photos are by Philippe Le Tellier. There are other photos from this shoot at Getty Images.

Want to know more about Françoise Dorléac?

The most compelling account of Françoise Dorléac’s life and death is in The New European. For online facts and figures head over to Wikipedia. Other sources include IMDb, Cinema Scholars, Vogue, Pure France and The Famous People.

If you can understand French, you could take a look at a 50-minute documentary about Françoise Dorléac and listen to François Truffaut talking about her.

In print there are:

  • Elle S’Appelait Françoise by Catherine Deneuve and Patrick Modiano
  • a chapter on Françoise in The Continental Actress 
  • an article, Françoise Dorléac A shooting star of Sixties French cinema, by M Anderson in Film comment, Volume 41 number 4 (2005).

Other topics you might be interested in…

Anna Karina and Jean-Luc Godard
Anna Karina and Jean-Luc Godard – fiction and friction
Claudine Auger wrapped in fur
Claudine Auger – young, beautiful, trapped, could be dangerous
The sixties – sex, drugs, rock and roll and a whole lot more

Filed Under: Crew, Fashion, Films, Stars Tagged With: Catherine Deneuve, Cul-de-sac, François Truffaut, Françoise Dorléac, Jacques Demy, La peau douce, Les Demoiselles de Rochefort, Philippe le Tellier, Roman Polanski

Paolo Roversi – the beauty of intimacy

1997. Tasha. Photo © Paolo Roversi. Read more.

It’s more than 40 years since Paolo Roversi launched his career as a fashion photographer. He quickly developed a distinctive personal style, which he has continued to evolve gradually and subtly over time.

His images are simultaneously contemporary and timeless. His techniques are arguably anachronistic – he’s best known for his use of large-format polaroid film, the antithesis of the reliance on digital post-production that dominates today’s photography. And his influence has been greater than might be expected for someone who bucks the trend, is defiantly himself and doesn’t seek the limelight.

Some years ago, I was at a panel discussion at London’s National Portrait Gallery. On the panel was Paolo Roversi, who talked eloquently about the early work of Irving Penn, the subject of the session and one clearly close to his heart. In the audience was a large group of art-college students. Their questions and observations pointed to just how highly the upcoming generation of photographers and fashion designers regarded Paolo’s work.

Perhaps that’s because it’s different, perhaps because it has real integrity. Paolo has a clear vision from which he is prepared to diverge only so far in order to accommodate the wishes of art directors and other clients. And over the years he has made time to put together a striking portfolio of personal work alongside the commissions that appear in magazines and elsewhere.

The world of Paolo Roversi

One of the most striking aspects of Paolo’s photographs, perhaps the most striking, is their mood. It’s difficult to put into words but if I were to choose just three adjectives to describe them, they would be intimate, romantic and fantastical.

Those adjectives could suggest images that are soft and pretty but insipid and wishy-washy. That’s not the case. In the best of them there’s a fierce intensity that seems to come from the relationship between photographer and subject. As Galen Schlick observes in a discussion on photo.net:

He is very much interested in creating an atmosphere with his subject and sometimes I have witnessed him unable to achieve this and other times I have witnessed the way he can bring a calm to a model just by a touch. He very much puts his subject first because he believes if he can’t get that atmosphere of peace in his subject then he will definitely be unable to get a photo that expresses his emotions.

Natalia Vodianova by Paolo Roversi
2002. Natalia. Photo © Paolo Roversi. Read more.

This makes for an interesting comparison with two of the great post-World War II fashion photographers: Richard Avedon and Irving Penn, who might serve as reference points here. Every photographer working with a sitter has to find a way to get them into the right frame of mind for a shoot and there are many ways of doing so.

The relationships Avedon built with his sitters were absolutely crucial to the images he created. He was an arch manipulator, sometimes an unscrupulous one, and came to a shoot with a strong agenda. He could also be very confrontational and take shots at rather than of his subjects. And sessions were typically noisy, energetic and exciting, with the photographer leaping about all over the place.

Penn, by contrast, would create an atmosphere of calm in his studio. His relationships with his sitters were much more formal and detached than Avedon’s, with the photographer instructing his subject exactly how to pose. Although the photographer could be difficult to please, there was no need for the subject to arrive at his studio in a state of trepidation.

The atmosphere that Paolo creates in his studio appears to be much closer to that of Penn than Avedon in its tranquillity. But the importance Paolo attaches to his relationships with his subjects is more akin to Avedon. Plus, he is invariably kind to them – he talks about giving rather than taking a photograph.

Paulo also seems to have a more improvisatory approach than both of his predecessors. While it is he who takes the lead, you sense the shoot is a genuine collaboration, with the photographer giving his subject the confidence to achieve something they will both be happy with. Something, also, that will stir the emotions rather than simply function as a record of a sitting.

Typically, his women – and most of his photos are of women – are graceful, fragile, sometimes almost androgynous. Many of them have a kind of pre-Raphaelite quality. And he has his favourites, among whom are Kirsten Owen, Guinevere Van Seenus and Natalia Vodianova with whom he works again and again over a period of years. Not for Paolo Roversi the Sports Illustrated or Victoria’s Secret type of girl. Nor are his models ever just clothes horses.

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Naomi Campbell by Paolo Roversi

Naomi Campbell by Paolo Roversi

1996. You can watch Naomi talking to Nick Knight about being photographed in a Mr Pearl corset by Paolo Roversi for a couture shoot for Vogue...

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Naomi Campbell by Paolo Roversi

Naomi Campbell by Paolo Roversi

1996. This photo features in the September 1996 issue of Vogue Italia, (Couture supplement, page 223) as part of an editorial entitled royale: “Fourreau di pizzo oro ricamato di coralli...

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Tasha Tilberg as a tzarina in Saint Laurent by Paolo Roversi

Tasha Tilberg by Paolo Roversi

1997. Cigarette in hand, chiselled and waiflike, Tasha Tilberg poses as a moody tzarina on a gothic throne. Both the fantasy and the narrow depth of field are quintessential Paolo...

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There is no sense that Paolo Roversi’s sitters are trying to act out someone else’s fantasy. They are self-possessed, they are not afraid to look the viewer straight in the eye, and they are themselves – at least a version of themselves they are comfortable with.

With the occasional exception, Paolo Roversi creates his world in the studio. Props are minimal, composition simple and colour palette typically restrained. Within these self-imposed constraints, he conjures up an atmosphere that is delicate, sensuous and dreamy. More often than not there’s a strong focus on the subject’s face, even when the face itself is out of focus. It’s an idiosyncratic, recognizable style that he can flex to embrace both his commercial and his personal work:

My work is a mixture of classical and experimental. Sometimes the classical is more important and sometimes the experimental, but when the balance between these two is good, that’s the most interesting part of my work.

Show more
1 revelation of reality

1. Photography is a revelation of reality

Paolo Roversi introduces himself and his approach to photography. It feels quite staged and he does sound as if he’s reading a script, but it’s good to hear his voice in English and the whole thing lasts less than two minutes.

Show more
2 paolo roversi on julia margaret cameron

2. Paolo Roversi on Mrs Herbert Duckworth by Julia Margaret Cameron

Paolo Roversi is drawn to the intimacy and truthfulness of Julia Margaret Cameron’s portrait. He admires the way in which she uses natural daylight to sculpt her sitter’s face and evoke a mood. For him, mood is more important than technical perfection.

Show more
3 eugene souleiman

3. Eugene Souleiman talks to Nick Knight about Paolo Roversi

Hair stylist Eugene Souleiman talks to fashion photographer, filmmaker and Director of SHOWstudio Nick Knight about working with Paolo Roversi. He’s struck by the relaxed mood Paulo creates – it enables the team to give of their best. Around 3:30 he discusses Paolo’s painterly and gestural approach to photography.

Show more
4 paolo roversi a lady in spring

4. A Lady in Spring | Vogue Italia, March 2012

For this editorial, Paolo Roversi uses images projected not just onto the background but also the model. The effect is wonderfully dramatic. You can see the results at Vogue Italia’s website.

Show more
5 painting with light

5. Painting with light | Vogue Italia, March 2013

Featured here are fashion models Mariacarla Boscono, Guinevere Van Seenus and Malgosia Bela. It’s a great insight into how Paolo Roversi uses a flashlight to paint his subject into the image. You can see the results at fashionCow.

Show more
7 looking for juliet

6. Looking for Juliet

Looking for Juliet is the concept behind the 2020 calendar Pirelli commissioned from Paolo Roversi. It comprises a short film as well as a printed calendar – a first for the company.

There’s no Romeo here, there are only Juliets who show up for a casting call, respond to questions, and reveal their own version of the character before re-enacting a passage from the tragedy, in costume.

You can see the final images on Vogue’s website and read more about the commission at WWD.

Paolo’s approach to photography

If photographers’ approaches to their work fit along a spectrum from intuitive to calculating, then Paolo Roversi is at the intuitive end. Regardless, he has a clear idea of what he’s about:

I am always in search of beauty. This I know for sure. Beauty is something that attracts me completely all of the time and pushes me far in search of something.

1986. Meg, Paris. Photo © Paolo Roversi. Read more.

Closely related but not the same thing is a quest for intimacy and fantasy. For Paolo, “Every photograph is an encounter, an intimate, reciprocal confession.” The encounter is not just about a model turning up in the studio, more importantly it’s about a meeting of minds and the joint exploration of a kind of alternative reality:

I try to look at what’s behind the subject. Photography for me is not representation, but the revelation of another dimension. By using the camera, I touch lightly on another life, opening the door to a different world.

And:

Some of these models are really muses for me. There is an exchange between us. They make all my dreaming about beauty and family and sensuality concrete because the connection is very strong.

It’s this connection between photographer and model that enables them to become collaborators in the creation of portraits:

Portraits are what interest me the most in photography. I am a portrait photographer. I treat fashion photography like a portraitist… It is the atmosphere and the mood of a portrait which brings clothes to life.

And the making of these portraits is demanding of both photographer and subject:

My photography is more subtraction than addition. I always try to take off things. We all have a sort of mask of expression. You say goodbye, you smile, you are scared. I try to take all these masks away and little by little subtract until you have something pure left. A kind of abandon, a kind of absence. It looks like an absence, but in fact when there is this emptiness I think the interior beauty comes out. This is my technique.

While Paolo believes his studio is first and foremost a mindset, which travels with him, his studio in Paris says a lot about his approach. There are many shots of it in his 2005 book, Studio. The studio itself feels cosy and intimate – not grand or high tech:

Alberta Ferretti fashion study by Paolo Roversi
1997. Alberta Ferretti fashion study. Photo © Paolo Roversi. Read more.

My studio is a rectangular room with a high ceiling, old wooden parquet flooring, and a large window facing north. It is like a tiny theatre with an empty stage, a space to be filled, a time yet to be invented, a proscenium where everything is possible, no trick disallowed, where neither seasons, nor days, nor hours exist.

For Paolo, it is a source of mystery and inspiration:

Some days, when I arrive and I find the curtain still drawn, the studio is asleep, swathed in the profound darkness. I abandon myself to this sensation of blindness in a moment of intimate meditation. I feel as I am inside the camera, my eyes the film awaiting light and new images. …

Deep mystery of beauty and darkness … then an idea begins to take shape, a dream coming to life, a memory awakening, and it is then that I open the curtain and prepare a reflector; it just takes a little light and a little courage to make a photograph. Every photograph enters the world as a sign of hope.

The office and the darkroom are both downstairs, and there is a kitchen/living room next door. He likes to get everyone together at the start of a shoot, sitting down for a meal and catching up with their stories. Echoes here of get togethers around the kitchen table recounted by Norma Stevens and Steven Aronson in Avedon: Something Personal.

Audrey by Paolo Roversi for Vogue
1998. Audrey. Photo © Paolo Roversi. Read more.

What about the shoot itself? It’s not all meticulously pre-planned. Chance and spontaneity are important:

So you never know what you’ll do in the end. And this I like. I like the accidents, the things that happen by chance. I let the life come to the picture and the creativity flow.

Is it too far-fetched to see a connection here with a verse from Leonard Cohen’s song, Anthem?

Ring the bells that still can ring
Forget your perfect offering
There is a crack, a crack in everything
That’s how the light gets in.

One of the things Paolo likes about Polaroids is that they enable him to see immediately how a shot turns out. His way of working is to pin up the prints so that everyone involved in the shoot can take a look and discuss them. He doesn’t edit them until the following day or later – often when he comes back he finds his feelings about the individual images have changed and he ends up making a different selection.

Paolo Roversi’s commercial work is mostly for fashion designers and magazines, so his views on clothes are worth noting:

I always say that the designer is the composer of the music, and the photographer plays the instrument – or is the interpreter of the piece. It’s very important for me to have this music in front of me, playing it the way I like it, and within it, to create a certain kind of woman or man. The dream of couture is very important in what I do.

And that returns us to the flexibility alluded to earlier. Look, for example, at his work for Armani and Comme Des Garçons. In the case of the former, his images are relatively conventional, albeit unmistakeably a Roversi take. In the case of the latter, his images are much freer, more abstract.

Kirsten Owen by Paolo Roversi
Before 1995. Kirsten. Photo © Paolo Roversi. Read more.

Paolo’s technique

Although he uses digital when the situation calls for it, Paolo is at heart a passionately analogue photographer:

I don’t care about the millions of pixels of a digital image. I’m interested in the primitive photographic process: the image appearing like a ghost.

He seems to be less reliant than most of his contemporaries on digital post-production. He works his magic in the studio. He uses a variety of techniques to achieve the effects he’s looking for, from coloured gels to double exposures – echoes here of Erwin Blumenfeld.

For decades, now, Paulo has been having a love affair with large-format Polaroids:

The 8×10 Polaroid was launched and they called me one night to do a demonstration in the studio. After 10 seconds I fell in love.

He’s attracted to the qualities of the film, and the fact that it allows him to see the image almost instantly. He describes the sensory pleasure he gets – from the smell of the Polaroid itself to the act of peeling back the layers to reveal the image. For him, digital, shooting just cannot compete.

Working with the large-format film led him to the Deardorff camera that he still likes to use to this day:

It wasn’t like a robust Swiss camera, it was so sensual with its wood and its folds. Then I discovered Penn, Blumenfeld; everyone was working with this camera. I like the slowness of everything, and the fact it needs a lot of light. I’ve always been obliged to work with the lens open, the highest stop, and I like that very much. I never change it.

Kate Moss by Paolo Roversi
1994. Kate. Photo © Paolo Roversi. Read more.

Slowness brings us to a second characteristic of Paolo Roversi’s technique: long exposures.

I can’t explain it technically, but when the exposure is very long, the picture of the subject is more intense. The presence is much stronger, much deeper – in the aura, in the eyes, there is something. Maybe the soul is coming into the eyes. That’s something I learnt from looking at early photographs. If you take a picture with the flash, for me it’s empty. There’s an emptiness in the presence of the person.

Another reason for liking long exposures is that they allow for an element of chance: “Always, photographs surprise me; they never turn out quite the way I imagine they might.”

Then it’s back to the tactile qualities of the shoot:

Then there is the old worn-out cable release, channelling my thoughts, my emotions, my desires towards the shutter, alive in my hand with all the tension and the pathos of the crucial moment.

His prints come in a variety of formats: silver gelatin, carbon and dye-transfer. The prints available from commercial galleries these days seem mostly to be digital versions of polaroid originals, from which he can’t bear to be parted: “I haven’t got the mentality of painters who are used to doing canvasses, then being separated from them.”

Where does Paulo Roversi fit into the history of photography?

There are echoes of some of the great photographers of the past in Paolo Roversi’s work.

1929. Louise Boulanger evening dress. Photogapher unknown. Read more.

He regularly mentions his admiration of Félix Nadar (1820–1910) – both his “feeling for light” (“le sentiment de la lumière”) and his quest for the “ultime resemblance.” As Anne Lacoste, co-curator of an exhibition dedicated to the Nadars observes:

At the time, most portrait studios were using background and a lot of accessories and focusing on the way people were dressed. Instead, he was focusing on the face, using a neutral background to try and interpret the character of the people.

Two of Nadar’s contemporaries in England also feel as if, in their different ways, they have much in common with Paolo Roversi.

Julia Margaret Cameron (1815–79) focused her efforts on portraits that were often intentionally out of focus. Nor did she worry about scratches, smudges and other imperfections – like Nadar, her interest was in capturing a more profound characterization of her subject. Unlike Nadar, Cameron spent much of her time framing her sitters as characters from biblical, historical or allegorical stories. For me, much of Paolo Roversi’s portrait and personal work has an allegorical quality and indeed this is referenced in the title of his first book, Angeli.

Lady Clementina Hawarden (1822–65) is much less well known than Nadar and Cameron. She was an amateur, she didn’t promote herself, and her work was never commercialized. What’s more, pretty much all of her surviving photographs are in the archives of London’s Victoria & Albert Museum so never appear on the market. What’s striking is that she manages to create a mood that’s remarkably similar to Paolo’s – specifically her romantic portraits of her adolescent daughters, whom she was fond of dressing up to create a world of make-believe.

Despite the efforts of such practitioners as Nadar, Cameron and Hawarden, photography increasingly came to be seen and used as a medium for making accurate visual records. Then in the late 19th century the Pictorialist movement emerged to reclaim photography as a medium of fine art the Photo Secessionists in the US were the most significant part of this). Alfred Stieglitz and Edward Steichen were the Secession’s most vocal and visible.advocates. Pictorialist imagery was romantic, with lots of soft focus and references to painting. The finished artefacts often involved complex darkroom processes, unusual papers and elaborate framing. Mood and texture were defining characteristics. It was all very arty.

The First World War knocked the stuffing out of the Pictorialist movement– romanticism no longer seemed appropriate or relevant. Except… in the fields of fashion, film and theatrical revues – havens of escapism.

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Billie Dove

Billie Dove

Mid-1920s. Billie Dove vamps it up. But is she a vamp or could she be an angel? Note the soft focus and sensuous feel of the image. Photo by Roman Freulich.

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Marlene Dietrich

Marlene Dietrich

1933. Marlene Dietrich publicity still for Song of Songs. The photographer is uncredited but according to IMDb it was one of Don English, Irving Lippman and Eugene Robert Richee. The style of photography is strongly influenced by that of Josef von Sternberg, who by all accounts was totally infatuated by Marlene.

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Myrna Loy

Myrna Loy

Early-1930s. Myrna Loy, possibly in The Mask of Fu Manchu (1932). The costume, the lighting and the pose all make for a dramatically atmospheric image in tune with the Pictorialist aesthetic.

Fashion photography was dominated by the work of Baron Adolf de Meyer at Vogue and Harper’s Bazaar in the post-War years and through the 1920s and his influence is evident in a photo of an evening dress by Louise Boulanger. It doesn’t seem too far-fetched to see a thread here connecting to the work of Paolo Roversi more than half a century later.

1990s. Untitled. Photo © Deborah Turbeville. Read more.

In the field of entertainment, the closest parallel to Paolo Roversi may be Alfred Cheney Johnston, whose career peaked during the 1920s when he was in great demand for his portraits of movie and theatre actors and actresses. His most famous photos are of the Ziegfeld Follies showgirls, whom he photographed nude as well as costumed. His camera of choice was even bigger than Paolo’s (it produced 11×14-inch glass-plate negatives) and like Paolo his lighting is soft and dreamy.

It doesn’t end there. Take a look, for example, at Ruth Harriet Louise’s portraits for MGM or at the images, moving and still, of Marlene Dietrich masterminded by Josef von Sternberg, such as this example by Eugene Robert Richee for Shanghai Express (1932). Particularly during the silent-movie era, cinematographers were not averse to a bit of back-lighting and Vaseline on the lens to create a soft, romantic atmosphere for their stars.

There’s another characteristic of the golden age of Hollywood that Paolo Roversi’s work recalls. That is the relationships that developed between photographer and sitter. Think Bull and Garbo, Hurrell and Crawford, Coburn and Hayworth. These relationships were fostered by the studio system. Stars were tied to studios, and each studio had no more than handful of portrait photographers. There was a constant demand from the press, particularly fan magazines, for new images of the stars, so the same stars would end up doing sittings for the same photographers time and time again.

But there the thread breaks until the 1970s, when three female fashion photographers, each in their own way, begin to reprise the Pictorialist approach. They are  Sarah Moon, Deborah Turbeville and  Sheila Metzner.

1979. Fashion shot for Vogue. Photo © Sarah Moon. Read more.

Paolo Roversi in print

Paolo’s earliest work was published in Dépèche Mode, Elle and Marie Claire. I’ve seen a copy of the January 1978 issue of Dépèche Mode, which has a cover and editorial by Paolo. His style at that point is typical of the era and unrecognizable from what it would become by the mid-1980s.

He has worked for Vogue for decades, initially (I think) for the UK edition and subsequently for its Fren ch and Italian counterparts. Some of his most interesting shoots have been for leading fashion houses such as Comme Des Garçons, Yohji Yamamoto, Romeo Gigli, Alberta Ferretti and Giorgio Armani.

He has also published a fair number of books, many of them produced with exquisite attention to detail and in limited editions. Needless to say, those volumes are almost impossible to get hold of now. The following is by no means a comprehensive listing:

  • Una Donna, Edizione Carla Sozzani, 1989
  • Angeli, Paris, Camera Obscura, 1993
  • Nudi, Stromboli, 1999
  • Images. Cerruti, Steidl, 1999
  • Libretto, Stromboli, 2000
  • Studio, Steidl, 2008
  • Secrets, Stromboli, 2013­–2014
  • Natalia, Rizzoli, 2015
  • Storie, Skira Editore, 2017
  • Dior Images, Rizzoli, 2018
  • Birds, Stromboli, 2020
  • Studio Luce, Stromboli, 2020
  • Tris, Stromboli, 2020
Show more
1 revelation of reality

1. Photography is a revelation of reality

Paolo Roversi introduces himself and his approach to photography. It feels quite staged and he does sound as if he’s reading a script, but it’s good to hear his voice in English and the whole thing lasts less than two minutes.

Show more
2 paolo roversi on julia margaret cameron

2. Paolo Roversi on Mrs Herbert Duckworth by Julia Margaret Cameron

Paolo Roversi is drawn to the intimacy and truthfulness of Julia Margaret Cameron’s portrait. He admires the way in which she uses natural daylight to sculpt her sitter’s face and evoke a mood. For him, mood is more important than technical perfection.

Show more
3 eugene souleiman

3. Eugene Souleiman talks to Nick Knight about Paolo Roversi

Hair stylist Eugene Souleiman talks to fashion photographer, filmmaker and Director of SHOWstudio Nick Knight about working with Paolo Roversi. He’s struck by the relaxed mood Paulo creates – it enables the team to give of their best. Around 3:30 he discusses Paolo’s painterly and gestural approach to photography.

Show more
4 paolo roversi a lady in spring

4. A Lady in Spring | Vogue Italia, March 2012

For this editorial, Paolo Roversi uses images projected not just onto the background but also the model. The effect is wonderfully dramatic. You can see the results at Vogue Italia’s website.

Show more
5 painting with light

5. Painting with light | Vogue Italia, March 2013

Featured here are fashion models Mariacarla Boscono, Guinevere Van Seenus and Malgosia Bela. It’s a great insight into how Paolo Roversi uses a flashlight to paint his subject into the image. You can see the results at fashionCow.

Show more
7 looking for juliet

6. Looking for Juliet

Looking for Juliet is the concept behind the 2020 calendar Pirelli commissioned from Paolo Roversi. It comprises a short film as well as a printed calendar – a first for the company.

There’s no Romeo here, there are only Juliets who show up for a casting call, respond to questions, and reveal their own version of the character before re-enacting a passage from the tragedy, in costume.

You can see the final images on Vogue’s website and read more about the commission at WWD.

Want to know more about Paolo Roversi?

Thames & Hudson have published a small volume comprising an introduction by Gilles de Bure and a series of plates. It provides an available and affordable overview of Paolo’s work.

2001. Tasha reclining. Photo © Paolo Roversi. Read more.

Online, various biographies are available. A good place to start is the one at Hamiltons. There are also lots of articles and interviews. Those I found most useful in preparing this essay include:

  • Interview with Paolo Roversi by Susan Reich
  • Light is Life: The Photography of Paolo Roversi by Nadine Farag
  • Paolo Roversi in Conversation with Grant Scott
  • Paolo Roversi: “My life is full of pictures I didn’t take” in The Talks
  • Paolo Roversi: “Photography Is the Revelation of Another Dimension” by Angelo Flaccavento
  • Paolo Roversi – The Legend by Maria Kruse
  • Romeo Gigli on Photographic Collaborations
  • Spontaneity and Obsession: The Motors of Creativity by Alexander Strecker
  • “The feeling for light” – Paolo Roversi on photography by Diane Smyth
  • To Master the Shadows by Maria Kruse

At the time of writing this piece, Paolo Roversi’s own website URL points to pages about him and his publications at Editions Stromboli.

Other topics you may be interested in…

Hoyningen-Huene makes a portrait
The Young Look in the Theatre by Norman Parkinson
Norman Parkinson – photographer and fantasist
Mrs Alfred G Vanderbilt by Richard Avedon
Richard Avedon – art and commerce

Filed Under: Fashion, Photographers Tagged With: Alfred Cheney Johnston, Baron Adolf de Meyer, Deborah Turbeville, Eugene Robert Richee, Félix Nadar, Guinevere Van Seenus, Irving Penn, Julia Margaret Cameron, Kirsten Owen, Lady Clementina Hawarden, Naomi Campbell, Natalia Vodianova, Paolo Roversi, Pictorialist movement, Richard Avedon, Ruth Harriet Louise, Sarah Moon, Tasha Tilberg

Irene Lentz – pioneer of an American luxury fashion brand

When it comes to luxury fashion brands, the US can’t hold a candle to Europe, particularly France. Crucially, the US has no tradition of couture. But, in the mid-20th century, one US luxury brand flickered into life and burned brightly and briefly. Its name: Irene, after its founder, Irene Lentz.

Evening gown by Irene Lentz photographed by Cecil Beaton
1951. Evening gown by Irene. Photo by Cecil Beaton. Read more.

Irene grew up on a ranch. As well as establishing her own brand, she was one of Hollywood’s busiest and most influential costume designers, with two Oscar nominations and 123 credits on IMDb. Those scandalous high-waist shorts and midriff-baring top in which we first encounter Lana Turner in The Postman Always Rings Twice are down to Irene.

Irene Lentz managed to build her brand in what was, before the 1960s, a sector dominated by men. That’s a distinction she shares with a handful of talented women, notably Jeanne Lanvin, Madeleine Vionnet, Coco Chanel and Elsa Schiaparell. In the US back then, the other notable dress designer was Claire McCardell, but she was working behind the scenes and aiming for a more casual, mass market.

Irene was a master of her craft, in touch with the zeitgeist and with a flair for marketing. She’s a remarkable and tragic figure, whose story falls into five chapters.

Chapter 1 – Irene Lentz gets going

Irene Lentz is born in 1901 in Brookings, South Dakota, then, in 1910, moves with her family to Baker, Montana. Nine years later she’s on the move again, this time with her mother and younger brother to Los Angeles.

In 1921, she’s working as a full-time sales girl in a drug store, when F Richard Jones (Dick to his friends) drops by and takes a shine to her. He’s a director of silent films at the Mack Sennett Studio and helps Irene to get a job there, initially as a production assistant, later as a star. IMDb lists eight movies in which she appears between 1921 and 1925. During that time she features as one of Mack Sennett’s Bathing Beauties – a bevy of scantily-clad (for the period) eye candy who keep popping up in his Keystone comedies and at any other opportunity.

Irene Lentz photographed by John Engstead
Around 1950. Irene Lentz. Photograph by John Engstead. Read more.

During her acting stint, Irene Lentz spots an opportunity to design and sell clothes to the growing movie community and from 1924–26 studies at the Wolfe School of Design. Dick Jones is still there in the background (or perhaps even the foreground, who knows?) and in 1926 they set up their first shop, on South University Avenue.

By 1929, the business is thriving, they relocate the shop to larger premises and get married. Then tragedy strikes. The following year, just 11 months after their wedding, Dick dies of tuberculosis age 37. Irene closes the shop and leaves for Europe, where she discovers the wonderful world of Paris couture.

Irene Lentz’s account of how she got started demonstrates her skill at building a brand story. Here it is, as reported by Frederick C Othman in Behind the Scenes, Hollywood in the 7 June 1942 edition of The Press Democrat:

She left the ranch when she was 16 to study music here at the University of Southern California. Had a roommate who was too timid to attend night school classes in dress design alone. Miss Lentz went along. After two nights she knew she was going to be a dress designer herself. She finished the course, dropped the music and set up a dress shop on the university campus, with the sign, “Irene.” That’s all the name she’s had since then. Just Irene.

“The campus shop was a great success from the beginning,” she said. “The dresses were cheap, and I do think they had a certain flair, but the real reason for my rushing trade was the fact that my store was the only place on the campus where the girls could smoke. Cigarettes were strictly against the rules everywhere else. So I always had a shop full of prospective clients, smoking. The place was so full of smoke so much of the time that my doctor wouldn’t believe it when I told him I didn’t smoke.”

The coeds smoked and bought dresses and received one of their major thrills when Dolores Del Rio walked into the store and bought an evening gown for $45.

“I never did learn how she heard about me,” Irene said. “But she was wonderful. Many a woman would not have told a soul where she’d bought that dress. But Dolores told everybody she knew. After that I got plenty of movie trade.

“One of my best customers was Lupe Velez. She refused to try on dresses in the fitting room. She tried them in the front room, by the plate-glass window. She always had a gallery.”

What a great account and love the sketches of Dolores and Lupe – the two Mexican superstars pretty much at the peak of their popularity. But, interestingly, no mention of Irene’s acting exploits or, indeed, of Dick Jones. Perhaps she feels that these would detract, or at least distract, from the narrative she wants to promote.

Irene’s tale of how “one day I discovered my passion and, through a combination of dedication and luck, built a business” is a kind of blueprint for so many subsequent start-ups. Notable practitioners are the likes of Markus and Daniel, the eponymous creators of Freitag, and Phil Knight whose memoir, Shoe Dog, recounts his adventures as founder of Nike.

Dolores Del Rio, a loyal Irene Lentz customer
1937. Dolores Del Rio, a loyal Irene customer and adovate. Photo by A L Whitey Schafer. Read more.

Chapter 2 – Irene goes into couture

Following the death of her husband, Irene Lentz goes to France for five weeks and while she’s there she visits the salons run by the Paris couturiers. She returns to the US, her head spinning with ideas. In 1931 she opens Irene Ltd on Sunset Boulevard and it’s a big hit. Within two years, it’s being eyed up enviously by the guys at Bullocks Wilshire, a Los Angeles department store that’s the pinnacle of style and opulence. They’re attracted by both the quality of her product and her stellar clientele.

There’s clearly synergy here and they persuade Irene to move her operation to the department store and open up a kind of French salon. This is a ground-breaking development – the first designer/retail store partnership of its kind. From now on, her clothing label, copied from a logo created by Dick Jones, simply reads “Irene.” Could her original inspiration have come from Gilbert Adrian Greenburg, known simply as Adrian, at MGM?

As a customer, the service you receive is as lavish as the clothes you’re buying. You can see Irene’s original creations modelled in-store. As at the salons in Paris, the team you meet for your fitting includes the designer herself as well as a tailor and a pattern cutter. You also get to have shoes and jewellery picked from elsewhere in the store to complement your ensemble.

The Irene brand already has a following in the film community and the move to Bullocks raises its profile, prestige and prices – one of those tailored suits will set you back $400–700. For the remainder of the decade, Irene Lentz continues to build her clientele among the stars and wealthy wives of studio executives as well as landing commissions from production companies to design the wardrobes for their movies. One of the first is Flying Down to Rio (1933), whose leading lady, Dolores del Rio, insists that Irene design her costumes.

Other divas whose film wardrobe she ends up designing include Constance and Joan Bennett, Carole Lombard, Loretta Young, Hedy Lamarr, Claudette Colbert and Ingrid Bergman. By the late-1930s she is travelling to Paris for the spring fashion shows. And by 1941, even British Vogue refers to Irene’s “Californian elegance.”

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irene lentz picking peaches

1. Irene Lentz in Picking Peaches

A chance to see Irene on the silver screen as a flapper. In this scene from Picking Up Peaches (1924), her co-star is Harry Langdon.

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irene lentz for lana turner

2. Irene’s scandalous costume for Lana Turner

Lana in a two-piece by Irene is as sizzling as the steak her co-star John Garfield is supposed to be keeping an eye on in this scene from The Postman Always Rings Twice (1946).

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irene lentz by lavoi

3. Irene by Greg LaVoi Lookbook

This is Hollywood costume designer Greg LaVoi's Fall 2013 Lookbook Video for his Irene by GV line, taking its inspiration from her creations.

Meanwhile, at a party thrown by her customer, fan and friend, Dolores del Rio, Irene Lentz meets Eliot Gibbons. This is no coincidence. During the 1930s, Dolores is the wife of Cedric Gibbons, the head of MGM’s art department (after their divorce in 1940, he will be seen out with, among others, Carole Landis before getting hitched to Hazel Brooks). Eliot is Cedric’s brother.

Eliot, an erstwhile assistant director, is working as a writer of short stories for newspapers and screenplays for movies. He’s also a keen aviator. So, when Irene expresses an interest in becoming a pilot, he offers to help her finish her required flying hours – a great pretext for spending lots of time together. On New Year’s Eve 1934 he proposes to her and they tie the knot in 1936. The flying lessons continue and, ironically, she gets her private pilot’s license just a couple of days before civilian flying on the West coast is prohibited following the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor in December 1941.

A member of the wardrobe team makes final ajustments to Ava Gardner’s gown by Irene
1949. A member of the wardrobe team makes final ajustments. Ava Gardner’s gown is by Irene. Read more.

Chapter 3 – Irene Lentz goes to the movies

That attack also proves to be the catalyst for a career change. For a while, Irene has been unhappy with her financial arrangements with Bullocks. She’s been contemplating her next move, including setting up her own manufacturing company. But with the US being drawn into World War II, that seems too risky. So, she’s open to new ideas and approaches.

Louis B Mayer is also in a quandary. He’s facing a raft of departures from his wardrobe team including Adrian, his head costume designer. Irene Lentz is ideally qualified to rescue the situation: she has the talent, she has the profile and she’s not going to be drafted. Encouraged by his wife, one of her many friends and clients, Mayer proposes that Irene join MGM and run its costume department. She accepts but on her own terms.

On arrival, Irene quickly assembles a team around her. The challenges they face are formidable. A multitude of warring individuals and factions to finesse. A hectic and dynamic schedule that requires working all hours. And constant changes of stars, directors and producers that disrupt the best-laid plans.

Easter Parade (1948) is a case in point. When Charles Walters replaces VIncente Minnelli as director, songs have to be rearranged, Judy Garland’s opening scene reworked (so the original costumes for it are no longer needed) and two of Judy’s key ensembles have to be changed. Further wardrobe modifications are required when Ann Miller replaces Cyd Charisse. Then Gene Kelly gets injured and Fred Astaire steps in. Cue further changes to the dance sequences and costumes.

1943. Marlene Dietrich as Jamila in Kismet. Costume by Irene Lentz. Read more.

Another challenge is dealing with stars’ anxieties about their clothes. The studio is full of starlets desperate to impress and established stars worried that their careers may be on the slide. Irene’s combination of empathy and decisiveness are just what’s needed to reassure them.

In spite of all the distractions, though, there are movies for which Irene manages to get her ideas through. In the case of The Postman Always Rings Twice (1946), one of those ideas is to associate Lana Turner’s character with a colour, as a composer might with a musical theme. So, Cora wears white in every scene except two.

Finally, in June 1949 Irene falls victim to MGM’s internal politics, her departure apparently triggered by her nemesis, Katharine Hepburn (read on for more on her), outraged by Irene’s failure to show up for a fitting. She still seems to be hanging on in there, though, in early 1950, when Doris Koenig’s Vagabondia column in the 2 March edition of Monrovia Daily News Post reports that:

She Is now an executive designer of MGM Studios, besides having her own wholesale manufacturing business – Irene Inc.

So far as her studio is concerned, Irene has no last name. Her driver’s license lists her as “Mrs Eliot Gibbons,” but she has built “Irene” into such a trademark that if you ask the studio operator for “Mrs Gibbons” you draw a blank. Ask for “Irene” and you will be connected with her office…

Consistency is one of the hallmarks of great brands!

Diamond-print suit by Irene Lentz
Early/mid-1950s. Diamond-print suit by Irene Lentz. Read more.

Chapter 4 – Irene goes into ready-to-wear

Back in July 1946, Neiman Marcus let Irene Lentz know that, alongside Christian Dior, Salvatore Ferragamo and Norman Hartnell, she has been chosen as a recipient of their Award for Distinguished Service in the field of fashion. It gets her thinking. She’s sick and tired of dealing with internal politics and having to compromise her designs: “I want to create designs that reflect my taste, rather than cater to those of a director or producer.” She’s also got to the point where she’s established the reputation, the relationships and the team to make her ambition to set up her own manufacturing company realistic.

The one thing Irene lacks is financing. With the help of Harry Cohn at Columbia, she assembles a group of over 20 luxury department stores including Bergdorf Goodman (New York), Marshall Field (Chicago) and Neiman Marcus (Dallas). She keeps 51% of the ordinary shares of Irene, Inc while her backers take the other 49%. As part of the arrangement, the stores get exclusives to her designs.

In 1947, Irene Lentz reveals her plans to begin designing her own range of clothes as well as continuing to work at MGM – she has negotiated a new contract to facilitate this. This time around she will be turning her attention to ready-to-wear rather than couture – “…marketing genius. Upscale stores could offer clients the Irene garments that stars loved,” says Mary Hall, founder The Recessionista.  In its Apr 1, 1948 issue, Vogue US, announces the launch:

NEW DESIGN

It is not news that Irene is a designer. Of all the women who design in America today, her clothes have had, in one sense, the widest public: she makes the screen-life clothes for stars of Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer where she is head costume-designer. But now the news is that Irene has turned her strong, fresh hand, again, to clothes for private lives, and her first ready-to-wear collection is now in several shops across the country. Consciously limiting her sphere, Irene makes no attempt to cover every phase of her new public’s life; she refuses to touch casual clothes, sports clothes. Instead, she makes the strict but feminine day-suit she is famous for, turns out beguiling afternoon print dresses, establishes her formal evening clothes as events.

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Pale grey suit with shutter neckline by Irene Lentz

Pale grey suit with shutter neckline by Irene Lentz

Late-1940s/early-1950s. The jacket's nipped-in waist seems to show the influence of Christian Dior’s New Look but its structured shoulders and the narrow skirt appear to be moving away from it....

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Check silk day dress with black taffeta trim by Irene Lentz

Check silk day dress with black taffeta trim by Irene Lentz

Late-1940s/early-1950s. The setting for this shoot may have been Irene’s boutique at Bullocks Wilshire. A paper label on the back of the photo reads:

5170 Check silk day dress...

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Brocade-trimmed suit by Irene Lentz

Brocade-trimmed suit by Irene Lentz

Early/mid-1950s. Irene’s trademarks were hand stitching, exquisite buttons and luxurious fabrics such as the brocade for this suit. An Irene garment was not cheap, but it was high quality and...

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Check suit by Irene Lentz

Check suit by Irene Lentz

Early/mid-1950s. Irene suits were designed and constructed to show off a woman’s waist. She used plaids, stripes and seaming to help achieve the effects she was looking for. It’s possible...

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For 15 years Irene continues to head up her own business, latterly being persuaded to design costumes for a select number of leading stars.

Chapter 5 – Irene Lentz throws in the towel

On 15 November 1962, with rave reviews from her latest show ringing in her ears, Irene Lentz heads for Hollywood’s Knickerbocker. It’s not a propitious place. In the early 1940s when it was still glamorous, actress Frances Farmer was tracked down there by police and sent to a mental institution. Later in the 1960s, William Frawley of I Love Lucy fame, will be dragged there to die after he collapses from a heart attack on the street.

Irene checks in to the now-faded hotel under an assumed name. That night she consumes two pints of vodka, tries to slit her wrists, then jumps out of an 11th-floor window. Hours later, her body is found on an awning. She has left a brief note: ““I am sorry to do this in this manner. Please see that Eliot is taken care of. Take care of the business and get someone very good to design. Love to all. Irene.”

Early/mid-1950s. Dark suit by Irene Lentz. Read more.

Why? Why? Why?

When you come across a tragedy like this, you search to make sense of it. How could such a talented woman do this to herself? But then how could the likes of Alexander McQueen and Kate Spade follow in her footsteps? Well, in one sense you can never know what’s going through someone’s mind when they make that decision.

The police suggested that Irene was “despondent over business problems and her husband’s illness.” According to her business manager, “Irene had been under a terrific strain. She had been in ill health for about two years.” What more can we say?

She was a woman operating in a man’s world – a fundamentally lonely undertaking. What’s more, she was working in an incredibly stressful environment with all sorts of budgetary, scheduling and interpersonal pressures quite apart from the need for relentless creativity – a killer in itself. On the surface, Irene was self-confident, but under the surface she had her insecurities. This example from Irene – A Designer from the Golden Age of Hollywood: The MGM Years 1942-49 is shocking in its brutality:

On August 2 1944, Irene and Virginia Fisher, her sketch artist, had a meeting with Katharine Hepburn to discuss the sketches for Without Love. Nothing Irene showed Hepburn seemed to meet with her approval. Before leaving, Hepburn quickly listed her ideas, reiterating sharply that she would return the following Monday and hoping Irene “will have designs that are in keeping with my character in the story.” It was the first time that Virginia saw Irene, who was always self-assured, physically shake. “Intimidation couldn’t describe what I witnessed. Irene was terrified by Hepburn’s stinging remarks,” Virginia confided.

Hedy Lamarr in The Heavenly Body
1943. Hedy Lamarr in The Heavenly Body – gown by Irene. Read more.

In the early days there was Dick Jones, and he seems to have been something of a buttress and a Svengali for her as well as the love of her life. They really do seem to have shared a dream. It’s probably no coincidence that reports of Irene hitting the bottle begin to emerge in the early-1930s – soon after his death. The problem got worse and worse as time went by.

Irene’s motives for marrying Eliot may have been praiseworthy but they proved to be a poor foundation for marriage. Around the time of her engagement, she told friends “I felt a need to take care of him.” Then, a year after their wedding, she had a skiing accident, which caused a miscarriage. She was devastated and never forgave herself.

On the other side of the marriage bed, it’s quite likely that Eliot – also an alcoholic – felt outclassed and overshadowed by his brother. World War II might have provided a distraction for him, but within a month of his return rumours began to circulate that he was going out with other women. Shortly before Irene’s suicide, he suffered a stroke (from which he recovered).

If by that time Irene Lentz had fallen out of love with her husband, she had fallen into love with Gary Cooper, according to her friend Doris Day. In her biography, Doris Day: Her Own Story, she remembers:

Irene designed the clothes for several of my pictures so I got to know her very well. She was a nervous woman, introverted, quite unhappy, and at times she drank more than was good for her. She had an unhappy marriage to a man who lived out of the state and only occasionally came to visit her. One time, toward the end of a long evening, when she had been drinking quite a bit, she confided in me that the love of her life was Gary Cooper. Irene was a very attractive woman, a lovely face, and when she talked about Cooper her face glowed. She said he was the only man she had ever truly loved. There was such a poignancy in the way she said it. It really broke my heart.

After that, she several times confided in me about Cooper. I got the impression that she had never mentioned him to anyone before me, and she was so happy to declare her love for him. Thinking about it now, I cannot honestly say whether Irene’s love was one-sided or whether she and Cooper had actually had or were having an affair. But the way she loved him touched jealousy in me, for I had never loved a man with that much intensity.

Cooper had died the year before Irene’s suicide.

Want to know more about Irene Lentz?

If you’re serious about Irene Lentz, you have to get hold of Frank Billecci and Lauranne Fisher’s Irene – A Designer from the Golden Age of Hollywood: The MGM Years 1942-49. Although it’s mostly about her years at MGM, it contains a well-researched chapter on her life up to that point. It has been the main source for much of this piece.

Online sources I have consulted include:

  • Various articles at Newspapers.com
  • Various articles by Mary Hall at The Recessionista
  • California Couture: Irene at Bullocks-Wilshire by Mary Hall for HuffPost
  • Irene Lentz by Hollis Jenkins-Evans for Vintage Fashion Guild
  • The Chic Life and Tragic Death of a Revered Costume Designer by Elizabeth Snead for The Hollywood Reporter
  • A sequel for Irene Lentz fashion line by Vincent Boucher for the Los Angeles Times.

Other topics you may be interested in…

Andrea Johnson, John Robert Powers model.
Andrea Johnson – forgotten supermodel of the 1940s
The Fashion Flight – California comes to Paris
Wilhelmina modelling a chiffon evening dress
Wilhelmina – glamour and tragedy

Filed Under: Behind the scenes, Crew, Fashion Tagged With: Cedric Gibbons, Dolores del Rio, Eliot Gibbons, Irene, Irene Gibbons, Irene Lentz, The Postman Always Rings Twice

Norman Parkinson – photographer and fantasist

Norman Parkinson – “Parks” to his friends – was one of fashion photography’s great storytellers. Stories and fantasies were at the heart of both the man and his work.

Irving Penn described his pictures as “like remarkable stills from a film of an interesting life.” And towards the end of his life, talking about the Brighton Pavilion (his favourite building), Parks told The Observer magazine:

Model wearing pith helmet and slip with her foot on a roaring lioness photographed by Norman Parkinson
1955. A typically dipsy image that could only be from the fantastical imagination of Norman Parkinson. Read more.

George IV was a great eccentric and an enthusiastic man, full of fantasy. If you are going to be an artist of any kind – even a photographer – you have to major in fantasy.”

Eccentric, enthusiastic and fantasy are all words that sit comfortably alongside the name Norman Parkinson.

Norman Parkinson – the man

He’s born Ronald William Parkinson Smith in 1913 in London. In 1934, age 21, he opens his own studio with fellow photographer Norman Kibblewhite, calling it Norman Parkinson – a combination of two of their given names. Kibblewhite leaves shortly afterwards and Ronald Smith becomes Norman Parkinson.

He cuts a striking figure. For starters, he’s over 6 feet 5 inches tall, which means he stands out from the crowd, literally, and has a bird’s eye view of his subjects. As if that’s not enough, he further draws attention to himself by the way he dresses. He recalls that back in the 1930s:

I had the mistaken idea around that time that I was a bit of an artist – an idea that I have attempted to dispel over the past forty years – and dressed even more outrageously than I do now. I affected sandals, rather a lot of leather and suede, and a mid-calf length cape affair, made from blood-red Harris tweed. … On my head I wore a peaked cap that Locks had made for me. Aware of my interest in fashion, when my father died he left me the hounds-tooth trousers that my grandfather was married in. A peculiar bequest you will rightly say, particularly if I mention that, for reasons known only to my grandfather, the moth had entirely devoured the crotch.

The Young Look in the Theatre by Norman Parkinson
1953. The Young Look in the Theatre featuring and photographed by Norman Parkinson. Read more.

Norman Parkinson’s flamboyant dress sense evolves over time but never leaves him. For example, the Kashmiri wedding hat presented to him in 1957 by Sultan Wangnoo becomes the first in a long line of signature headgear. He is, as his tailor, Mr Wyser of Wyser & Bryant observes, “a man who wants to be noticed.” So, even across a crowded room, your attention is drawn to the commanding figure with a military-style moustache and eccentric get-up. You can’t help being intrigued. Who is this man? Is he a bit up himself? Is he worth getting to know or better stay clear?

The moment he opens his mouth, your doubts evaporate. He’s well spoken (not surprising, given he went to Westminster, a posh boys’ school), debonair, witty, charming… He comes across as an English gentleman through and through. Jerry Hall, one of the models he “discovers,” reckons he hams up his Englishness but… “In fashion no one cares about the truth as long as it’s a good story. Everyone just wanted things to be fun and exotic.” That suits Parks just fine.

He’s been a photographer ever since he left school, though during the 1940s he’s had a go at combining it with being a gentleman farmer in Worcestershire in the West Midlands of England. He’s discovered that photography, and specifically photographing beautiful women, is his calling, and there are limited opportunities for that on or even from a farm.

Not to be deterred, once he’s established himself as a leader in his field and feels secure personally and professionally, he makes his home in Tobago. There he farms pigs and creates the Porkinson Banger – served on Concorde and marketed as the world’s first supersonic sausage. To get to work as a photographer, all he has to do is hop on a plane. No problem.

Jean Shrimpton photographed in 1964 by Norman Parkinson
1964. Jean Shrimpton reads a letter. Photo by Norman Parkinson. Read more.

So what’s it like going on a shoot with him? Well, he’s quite a ladies’ man and he’s adept at weaving a spell to bewitch his models into entering his world of make-believe. No one is more aware of that than Wenda Rogerson, the subject of some of his most famous shots and the love of his life, whom he marries in 1951. Writing in Photographs by Norman Parkinson, the monograph that accompanied his 1981 one-man show at the National Portrait Gallery, she observes that:

Every sitting – however seemingly mundane – is capable of holding within it the magic he is always striving to find. Brought up in an age when fairy-tales were still read aloud to children by the warmth of the nursery gas fire, he has never lost his belief in magic. Indeed he talks about the existence of gremlins in his camera. The princes and princesses, the good and the bad fairy, appear, a little disguised, from the filed recesses of his imagination again and again.

And on another occasion:

Parks has got a little bit of hypnotism about him. Women will do anything for him and he loves their company, adores them…

If that sounds a bit airy fairy, his friends and colleagues are pretty much unanimous in remarking on his sense of humour – being around Norman Parkinson is a blast. For him taking pictures is a pleasure, not a stress. He also has a great sense of spontaneity and adventure. According to Jerry Hall:

Parks was up for anything – he was like a young person, even though he was quite aged – everything was a new discovery for him, which was exciting because you felt that you were collaborating, you felt free. I was so excited when I was working with him; I would go to bed thinking, what will I do tomorrow?

Model with a bouquet of flowers by Norman Parkinson
1963. Earnest enquiry. Photo by Norman Parkinson. Read more.

Finally, Parks is a great raconteur who comes up with stories that put his subjects at ease and help them understand what he wants to get across in his shoot. Jerry Hall again:

…there’d always be a story. I enjoy a story, too, and you’d always have to have it in your head. So when I was sitting on Marie Antoinette’s bed, it was all about it being a ghost of Versailles. He just had a way of making you feel very confident and alive and special. There was such a connection. I think part of what made his pictures so amazing was that he had an idea he’d worked out in his head, something slightly poetic, and he also had an intensity of focus and all the technical ability

Bottom line – Norman Parkinson is a highly skilled technician, whose art conceals art. He can create the most complex images with scarcely any apparent effort. He’s charming, entertaining and inspirational. He has a wonderful wit and imagination, a clear vision for each shoot, and a steely determination to go with it. In short, when he goes on an assignment, he knows what he wants and he knows exactly how to get it, come what may. There’s an iron fist inside that velvet glove.

Norman Parkinson – the photographer

Norman Parkinson’s career stretches over more than half a century in a field where novelty and originality are at a premium. That’s an extraordinary achievement. Here is a brief overview…

The 1930s. Norman Parkinson begins his career apprenticed to an old-fashioned portrait/court photographer. These are the days of the Season, when debutantes queue at the gates of Buckingham Palace to be presented to the King. Within a few years, Parks has his own studio and is working on commissions from Harper’s Bazaar. His remit is to emulate the work of Martin Munkacsi in the magazine’s US edition – to develop a more photo-journalistic style of fashion photography by shooting his subjects informally, in movement and outdoors. This in contrast to the prevailing style, as embodied by the likes of Cecil Beaton and George Hoyningen-Huene. He soon discovers this is his metier, on one occasion suggesting that:

A studio is like an operating theatre. You go there to get a part of yourself removed.

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Pagan Grigg carried over a puddle by Dick Orme photographed by Norman Parkinson

Out in the country

Around 1959. Pagan Grigg is carried across a puddle by a carefree Dick Orme. They're clearly lovers wrapped up in a world of their own. A classic example of taking the model out of the studio and snapping the clothes "in action." Pagan Grigg had an exceptional career and you find out more about her on Flickr. Photo by Norman Parkinson.

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Pagan Grigg, silhouetted in front of a window, photographed by Norman Parkinson

Sign language

Around 1960. Pagan Grigg, silhouetted in front of a window, signals to her suitor. A pre-arranged tryst or a surprise visit? In such an elegant dress, she must be expecting someone. Photo by Norman Parkinson.

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Pagan Grigg charming the older man photographed by Norman Parkinson

Charming the older man

1959. Pagan Grigg flirts with her elderly admirer. Is she just being the hostess with the mostest or could there be more to this seemingly innocent encounter than meets the eye? Photo by Norman Parkinson.

The 1940s and ’50s. During World War II, Norman Parkinson spends most of his time working on a farm in Worcestershire. He does take some photographs for the Ministry of Defence, for example of the Women’s Emergency Land Corps harvesting and fruit-picking for the war effort. Apparently, he is also employed by the Royal Air Force as a reconnaissance photographer. And he finds time to work on fashion assignments for Vogue (he jumps ship from Harper’s Bazaar), capturing his models in rural settings that evoke a nostalgia very much in keeping with the wartime mood.

After the War, the sense of poetry, romance and whimsey in his photographs finds a receptive audience in a nation sick of privation. His practice flourishes and through the fifties he makes yearly visits to New York at the behest of Alexander Lieberman, US Vogue’s art director. His sense of adventure also leads to him becoming one of the first fashion photographers to take advantage of jet travel and exotic locations.

The 1960s and ’70s. In 1960, Parks is recruited by Jocelyn Stevens, who has just acquired Queen and is in the process of transforming it into London’s avant-garde fashion magazine. He’s happy to let Parks off the leash in a way that his erstwhile employers at Vogue were not. With more freedom to push the boundaries and produce quirky and original work, Norman Parkinson is reinvigorated, only to return to Vogue in 1965. He continues to shoot editorials, working regularly with the French, Italian and US as well as the UK edition.

The 1980s. In 1978 Norman Parkinson leaves Vogue for the last time, this time to move to Town & Country magazine. The glitzy style of portrait photography he purveys is completely in tune with both the decade and his sitters’ and audience’s aspirations. And he carries on working until his death in 1990.

Girl and boy in churchyard photographed by Norman Parkinson
1979. In the churchyard. Photo by Norman Parkinson. Read more.

The truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth?

That’s the official narrative, as Parks constructed it and as it appears, give or take, in most of the biographies and monographs. But Norman Parkinson is a slippery, elusive figure. It’s not easy to disentangle the facts from the fabrications he weaves around himself, particularly his past.

There are hints that what he reveals about himself may not be the whole story, that there may be another lurking under the surface. As ever, what’s not said is as interesting and potentially revealing as what is…

  • Parks’ accounts of his childhood and growing up are vague and various. Is it simply that he decided at an early stage that in order to succeed as a photographer he needed to fabricate a more appropriate name and back story?

I didn’t see how anyone could make a business out of being a high-flying photographer with the name “Smith.”

  • He barely mentions Norman Kibblewhite, another product of the Speaight studio, whose particular contribution to the partnership was his experience in film lighting. Who was he, why did the two men part ways and what became of him?
  • How and to what extent did Norman Parkinson manage to avoid active service during World War II? There’s little evidence (at least that I’m aware of) for his assertion to an interviewer that:

I used to do quite a lot of flying, doing reconnaissance, that sort of thing. Quite a lot of stuff I did ended up in magazines for the French resistance.

  • His first two wives, Margaret Banks (whom he married in 1935) and Thelma Woolley (whom he married in 1942), are pretty much airbrushed out of his narrative – neither appeared in his memoir, Lifework, or in his entry in Who’s Who. What’s the story there? The 1939 Register (a survey carried out to ensure the Government had an accurate record of the population, mainly with a view to issuing ration books), lists Ronald W P Smith as a farm labourer living with Thelma G Wooley. We catch a glimpse of them bombing through country villages in a hilarious report in the 31 October 1939 edition of the Gloucestershire Echo of a court case at which Parks was found guilty of speeding. Margaret was aware of her husband’s infidelity. As reported in the 21 January 1941 edition of the Birmingham Daily Gazette, when she filed for divorce…

The wife’s case was that in June 1939 her husband made a confession of his feelings towards a woman who had sat for him as a model. He left home five days later and Mrs. Parkinson-Smith now alleged that he and the other woman had lived together at Bushley, near Tewkesbury.

  • Was his marriage to Wenda as blissful as he paints it? The relationship clearly got off to a fabulous start with their collaborations and his adoption of her son by her previous marriage. But Parks clearly had an eye for the ladies and he would have had plenty of temptation and opportunities to get involved. So, was he as devoted and faithful to Wenda as he appears? After all, he had previous. And there are rumours that latterly she took to the bottle – that would hardly be surprising, given her husband’s long absences away from home. Was this cause or effect?
  • Was he quite so laid-back as he would have us believe? Clearly he could be wonderfully engaging, marvellous company. But there are also reports that he was perfectly capable of throwing a strop and did so on various occasions. On one such, he used his teeth to rip apart some colour transparencies that John Parsons, Vogue‘s art director, preferred to the ones he had selected.

The closer you look, the more the narrative frays around the edges, begins to unravel. And the more the questions arise.

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Evening dress by Norman Norrell photographed by Norman Parkinson

Evening dress by Norman Norrell

1963. A colour variant of this image appears in the 14 August issue of Queen magazine. The caption reads:

Red evening dress from (Norman) Norell’s new collection, just shown in New York – smooth and slinky with a kick at the hem, the kind of dress for which he is famous. … Prices range from about $3000 for an evening dress like this one… He was reported in ‘Women’s Wear Daily’ as saying that the whole of his new collection took shape while he was sketching over a meal at Hamburger Heaven.’

Photo by Norman Parkinson.

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Model photographed in a supermarket by Norman Parkinson

Supermarket fashion

Around 1963. A veritable cornucopia of sixties style – the supermarket, the packaging, the model and THAT DRESS. Just below the knee in cow-pattern fabric, oh so chic! Photo by Norman Parkinson.

Enlarge
Model posed on the alabaster Sphinx at Memphis photographed by Norman Parkinson

Print to Make a Sphinx Blinx

1963. A colour variant of this image appears in the 13 February issue of Queen magazine, illustating The Wilder Shores of Sheik. The caption reads:

Print to Make a Sphinx Blinx
Knockout flower print on a bright cotton dress with a crossover neckline. By Marcel Fenez, 6 gns, at Liberty, mid-March. Pearl and turquoise Egyptian collar worn as a head-dress, by Corocraft at Dickins and Jones.

Norman Parkinson's day book reveals the dates of the shoot in Egypt as "Saturday, 8 December, returning on Monday 17 December," and that the model is Connie Barr. In this shot she is posed on the alabaster Sphinx at Memphis. Photo by Norman Parkinson.

Parks – the English Avedon?

Norman Parkinson’s and Richard Avedon’s careers run alongside each other from the 1940s through the 1980s. Avedon, not someone given to lauding his peers, writes of Parks:

There are very few photographers who remember that photography can be an expression of man’s deepest creative instincts. You are among those who have never forgotten.

Parks and Avedon make for interesting comparison. Both have something to prove, but whereas Norman Parkinson is relaxed, Richard Avedon is uptight. And there’s no doubt that at first glance, the two men and their work seem to be poles apart:

  • With a few exceptions, Norman Parkinson is content to focus his creative powers on fashion and portraiture (the latter beyond the scope of this piece). While Richard Avedon makes his reputation in fashion photography, he grows to look down on it as a way of financing the work he really cares about – work that reveals a dark world-view and raises serious social issues.
  • In his portraits, Avedon relentlessly seeks out what he sees as the truth behind the outward appearance. Expect anything but flattery. The results can be devastating, not least for the sitter. Parks likes to show people at their best. His portraits are devoid of malice:

If you have the responsibility of using your lens to record people for history, do it well. Everybody can look a little handsome, a touch beautiful – record them that way. Don’t destroy them and make them look hideous for the sole purpose of inflating your own photographic ego.

  • Avedon sees himself as an artist with a capital A. He’s determined to raise the status of photography. Contrast that with Parks’ attitude:

There’s an awful lot of guff talked about photography, isn’t there? I mean, you consciously downplay it all the time, is it an art or a craft or a trade? It’s a trade.

Claudia Cardinale photographed by Norman Parkinson
1963. Claudia Cardinale. Photo by Norman Parkinson. Read more.

But there are also some striking similarities:

  • Both become fixated by the opposite sex and observe them almost voyeuristically from a young age. Avedon grows up in a female household, surrounded by women. Towards the end of his life (in an unpublished manuscript in the Norman Parkinson Archive), Parks reveals that among his earliest memories are those of women glimpsed through a fence next to a mulberry tree in his grandfather’s garden. In almost Proustian fashion, he remembers watching the girls next door…

…with loose dresses and a minimum of underclothes, running fawnlike everywhere. In the summer dog days I could see them lying around on the lawn … the gurgling, throaty laughter. I had a spy-hole on the world, which has fuelled my inspiration to this day. I photographed the memory of those well-observed weekend girls.

  • Avedon and Parks are both renowned for taking their models out of the studio and onto the streets and capturing them as if living their lives rather than posing as professional models.
  • They both remain at the forefront of their art (or should that be trade?) for decades. Though Avedon is undoubtedly more of a trailblazer, Parks is never that far behind. He has a sixth sense of the zeitgeist and how he needs to evolve, chameleon-like, to keep up with changing times and fashions.
  • They both combine editorial work with lucrative advertising assignments – Parks’ decision to make his home in Tobago is largely down to his desire to reduce the tax he has to pay on his advertising earnings. And they both move restlessly to and fro between magazines, notably Harper’s and Vogue, latterly forsaking those two for editors more in awe of them.
  • One senses that both are insecure individuals (but, to be honest, insecurity pretty much comes with the territory). Avedon, with his turbulent childhood and problematic relationship with his father, comes across as the more angst-ridden. But Parks has a strong need to escape his boring, lower middle class background, to create a back-story for himself (a brand, if you like) in tune with his chosen line for work.
  • Both men are inveterate storytellers, equally skilled with words and images and accomplished at bending the truth to suit their purposes. Norman Parkinson observes that “The best photographers are the biggest liars.” While in Something Personal, Norma Stevens recalls that:

Dick [Avedon] would sometimes make merry with the facts – he even joked that if he ever wrote an autobiography he would call it Here Lies Richard Avedon. He said, “There is no truth, no history – there is only the way in which the story is told.”

Nena von Schlebrugge age 15 by Norman Parkinson
1955. Nena von Schlebrugge, Uma Thurman’s mum, discovered and photographed here by Norman Parkinson. Read more.

A final word on Norman Parkinson

The most perceptive and eloquent tribute I’ve come across is by Iman, one of Parks’ favourite models, writing in the introduction to Robin Muir’s monograph:

Capturing life – energy, mood and spirit – is a talent reserved for the world’s most gifted photographers. No matter how beautiful a person may be, their photograph won’t shine unless the maestro behind the lens communicates with them, teases them, emotes with them. Photography is a collaborative process – like a dance – and Norman Parkinson was like Fred Astaire.

Celia Hammond at the beautician by Norman Parkinson
1962. All Systems Go! – Space Age Beauty Equipment To Put You Straight In Orbit. Photo by Norman Parkinson. Read more.

Want to know more about Norman Parkinson?

There are many excellent Norman Parkinson monographs, including:

  • Sisters Under the Skin by Norman Parkinson
  • Would You Let Your Daughter by Norman Parkinson
  • Photographs by Norman Parkinson by Terence Pepper
  • Lifework by Norman Parkinson
  • Parkinson: Photographs 1935-1990 by Martin Harrison
  • Norman Parkinson by David Wootton, with an essay by Robin Muir
  • Norman Parkinson: A Very British Glamour by Louise Baring
  • Norman Parkinson: Portraits in Fashion by Robin Muir.

Online, you can find the Norman Parkinson Archive at Iconic Images. There are also various articles. Norman Parkinson: the photographer who made fashion glam by Lucy Davies in The Telegraph is a good starting point. And there’s a great interview in which Jerry Hall talks to Nicola Roberts about her memories of Parks in Norman Parkinson: legend behind a lens in the FT.  Or you can watch Parks being interviewed by Mavis Nicholson in 1977.

Other topics you may be interested in…

Unknown model by Kenneth Heilbron
Kenneth Heilbron – mid-century fashion from Chicago
Mrs Alfred G Vanderbilt by Richard Avedon
Richard Avedon – art and commerce
Veruschka and Rubartelli – a fashion legend

Filed Under: Fashion, Photographers Tagged With: Celia Hammond, Claudia Cardinale, Connie Barr, Jean Shrimpton, Jerry Hall, Nena von Schlebrugge, Norman Parkinson, Pagan Grigg, Queen magazine, Richard Avedon, Wenda Rogerson

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