Forties vs Seventies
Never have women looked better than they did in the disciplined lines and restricted materials of wartime, insists Drusilla Beyfus
The Forties don’t immediately spring to mind as a source of best-dressed British womanhood. But, if the accolade is liberally interpreted, there’s a sound case.
The decade divides sartorially into austerity measures followed by – tra-la! – Christian Dior’s New Look.
The ordinary British woman never looked better than she did when kitted out to serve her country. Many a female who enlisted in the WRNS, ATS, WRAF and Women’s Land Army stood a chance of being healthier, better fed and in better shape in the Forties than her counterpart did in previous years.
I’m not alone in believing that the British female seems at home in the strict lines of uniform; particularly so in the case of service dress. English roses bloom in the peaked caps and berets that set off the kit, in masculine-style tailoring, in neat shirts and collars, and in the drill of the carefully knotted necktie.
What upped the standard of dress was that war service uniforms tended to call on the very skills – tailoring, sobriety of design and appropriateness of style – that British designers excelled at.
In the wider perspective, social change worked in favour of liberating women’s choices, despite severe shortages and coupon-led clothes rationing. Second World War conditions heralded the end of the historical link between dress and social-class distinction in this country. It was conceivable that châtelaine and lady’s maid put on the same hat.
The introduction of Utility clothing in 1941, restricting the amount of fabric used, turned into a case of less is more. Audrey Withers, then editor of Vogue, recollected that the scheme ‘did a great service to British fashion, which had been far too elaborate and fussy for its health and was forced to look for the attractions of simplicity’. And shoddy standards of clothes manufacture got a bashing in new government regulations.
Pepping up the appeal of Utility clothing formed part of the war effort of London-based couturiers. Backing the
cause was the newly formed Incorporated Society of London Fashion Designers. Among the cast: Edward Molyneux (chairman) a master hand, and the royal dressmaker Norman Hartnell, with Hardy Amies, Victor Stiebel and Digby Morton. Hartnell supervised the design of Berketex Utility clothes. In soft colours, the dresses in the range were slim-cut, square-shouldered, with open-collar necklines and hemlines dropped to just below the knee – classic forms that could do a turn today.
Hardy Amies adapted his pre-war bespoke suits with, according to expert opinion, ‘no great loss of style’. Digby Morton – whose tweed jacket-and-skirt outfits had form as ‘something that could be worn with equal ease at Goodwood or the Ritz bar’ – tackled the kit for the Women’s Royal Voluntary Service.
Other factors contributed to my pick of the war-torn Forties. A national determination existed not to give up on the battle of personal maintenance. A Yardley advertisement caught the mood in more ways than one: ‘Never must we consider careful grooming a quisling gesture.’ Resourcefulness was the order of the day. Your coupons bespoke and no dress for the date? Try running one up in coupon-free furnishing fabric. Morale was steadied by the dress sense of the royals. The post-war spectacle of Princess Elizabeth’s wedding dress in 1947, designed by Norman Hartnell, restored the good name of sumptuous fabric and embroidery. There is a caveat to my Forties fest: the generation of young women who in civvies were still doomed to dress like their mothers.
With the end of the conflict in Europe, women in this country had had enough of being clad in moral fibre. High-end fashion commentators welcomed the return of seasonal collections, claiming, ‘Paris hats are as out of date as last year’s bombs.’ From 1947 onwards, Dior’s romantic New Look resurrected the ideal of a feminine silhouette. Bosoms and hips were back in vogue.
The greater part of the Seventies (my daughter’s favourite decade) was a betwixt-and-between period. The decade lacked the mould-breaking creativity of the Sixties and, with the exception of Vivienne Westwood, had not yet anticipated tomorrow’s moves. Experts have drawn attention to the importance of decoration in Seventies dress design. Still, allowing for lovely prints, embellishment is rarely a strong suit in the British woman’s wardrobe. Amid all that Seventies confusion, some fashion retailers stood out: places such as Biba and Browns. In fact, I associate the metropolitan Seventies more with bestdressed shops than best-dressed women.
Journalist Drusilla Beyfus was a Daily Express columnist in the 1940s