singing the red carpet blues
How social media changed celebrity style forever.
In 1976, a very bronzed and svelte-again Elizabeth Taylor strode down the onstage staircase at the 48th annual Academy Awards to close the ceremony with a sincerely loopy salute to the US Bicentennial, which ended with her beseeching the bewildered audience to join her in a sing-along of “America The Beautiful”. All that saved this bizarre finale from ranking as an All-time Awkward Oscars Moment – right up there with Rob Lowe’s legendary 1989 duet with Snow White to the tune of “Proud Mary” – was that Taylor looked sensational. Her brilliant poppy-red strapless gown, designed by her new best friend, Halston, showcased the streamlined allure of the most influential American designer of the ’70s.
Burned as it was into my brain for decades, the gown would have been a prime candidate for my 2011 book,
100 Unforgettable Dresses. But a six-month search produced no useable photos. We found grainy stills and onstage shots, but where was the full-length photo we now routinely see posted within seconds of any star air-kissing Ryan Seacrest? There weren’t any. The “red carpet” as we know it didn’t exist in 1976.
Sounds as inconceivable as a world without Spanx, right? Oscars night, that annual armchair pilgrimage to fashion mecca – with its arrhythmic, occasionally rapture-inducing procession of gowns, jewels and shoes – has ignited trends, sparked careers for designers as well as stars, and launched magazines, TV programs and even networks. Last year’s telecast alone attracted several hundred million viewers around the world and generated 3.9 billion “tweet impressions” within a 7.5-hour time frame – roughly one for every two people on earth.
With appetites that voracious, it’s no wonder the traditional red-carpet season that once stretched from the Emmys to the Golden Globes to the Grammys and ended with the Academy Awards has expanded to include the People’s Choice Awards (what are those for, again?), not to mention all those acronyms – VMAS, CMAS, SAGS, BAFTAS. Add to that the daily sartorial fix provided by celebrity Starbucks runs, courthouse appearances and morning-show drop-ins (the red carpet, it seems, is neither red nor a carpet anymore), and you have a nearly non-stop parade of heavily documented and disseminated fashion moments. Question is, what effect does all that muchness have on the impact of a single, stunning dress? Will women still sigh for, crush on and memorise (not to mention buy) a truly killer gown – when they know there are endless options just around the corner?
“WITH COUTURE, THE CANDY STORE DOESN’T OPEN FOR EVERYONE. DO YOU HAVE A RELATIONSHIP WITH US? DO YOU FIT THE BRAND?”
When The Academy Of Motion Picture Arts And Sciences began unrolling a red runner in 1961, its presence was functional, marking a direct path to the ceremony. Photos of awards-show arrivals at the time were still mostly black and white (the first in-colour Oscars telecast wasn’t until 1966). With the exception of Audrey Hepburn’s lifelong friendship with Hubert de Givenchy, most fashion designers courted society doyennes, not actors. Indeed, it was common for stars to be dressed for events by their movie studio’s costume designers. The aquamarine satin gown Grace Kelly wore to accept her statuette in 1955 – deemed by many to be the best Oscars dress ever – was created by Paramount costumer Edith Head. The only reason there are great photos of Kelly wearing it is that Life magazine shot her in it days after the ceremony.
It wasn’t until 1989 that Giorgio Armani changed things forever by dressing a 30-year-old Michelle Pfeiffer, then fresh off Dangerous Liaisons, for the Oscars. Years before, when Armani had first approached the actress about wearing his designs to events, she had said, “Why do I want someone to dress me? I can dress myself. And who is Giorgio Armani?” But the charming designer prevailed, and the Armani cocktail suit Pfeiffer wore to the Oscars signified a designer-geared shift in red-carpet dressing – not that there are many photos of her, either. “Back then, the red carpet wasn’t even wide enough to get a full head-to-toe shot,” says Wanda Mcdaniel, Armani’s long-time executive vice-president of entertainment industry communications.
Nevertheless, Armani’s idea proved prescient. The designer backed Hollywood’s collective revaluation of stardom: actors were choosing “clothing that enhanced... not costumes,” he noted in one interview – “exactly the type of revolution I was endorsing in the fashion world.” Armani had a hunch the public would relate better to his “real” clothes on these “real” folks, as opposed to models. Recruitment was swift and impressive: Anjelica Huston, Jodie Foster, Annette Bening and Julia Roberts got on board, as did countless producers, directors and agents. So many people sported the maestro’s label to the 1990 Oscars that
Women’s Wear Daily proclaimed it the “Armani Awards”. One thing’s for sure in fashion: no matter who comes up with a flashpoint idea, sole ownership doesn’t last long. The following year, Armani’s rival, Gianni Versace, staked his claim on wowza sex appeal when one of his favourite supers, Cindy Crawford, accompanied thenbeau Richard Gere to the ceremony in a red gown that plunged navelward in front and slit up past her thigh in back. This, plus Liz Hurley’s subsequent trafficstopping safety-pin gown, confirmed Versace as the decade’s go-to man for provocative ready-to-wear.
The red carpet’s influence became even more obvious when one glance at an ethereal Uma Thurman aswirl in lavender chiffon in 1995 suddenly alerted millions of “civilians” to the fact that Prada made more than cute nylon backpacks. A year later, Calvin Klein successfully shifted his brand image from saucy jeans and underwear campaigns (and undermined the carpet’s penchant for excess) by sliding a simple beaded slip over the town’s new golden girl, Gwyneth Paltrow – handily accessorised by the town’s new golden boy, Brad Pitt. Presto, slip dresses became an instant Calvin trademark – and the most knocked-off dress of the season.
Which is why, when Vera Wang wanted to put her business on the map, she did so not at New York Fashion Week, but by embarking on a fabled association with Sharon Stone, who famously paired a Gap shirt with a Wang ball skirt in 1998. “I didn’t have the money to do fashion shows,” Wang says. “But I saw Armani, Versace and Dolce being defined by who they were dressing. So I put my budgets into dressing a few stars.”
But it was John Galliano who irrevocably upped the ante. Before the 1997 Oscars, Nicole Kidman was known as the tall, titian-tressed Aussie overshadowed by her shorter supernova husband, Tom Cruise. But in Galliano’s shimmering chartreuse chinoiserie – embossed with hours’ worth of hand-stitched floral embroidery and a latticed back of hand-strung crystals – she commanded the night’s brightest spotlight. Every designer got in line to dress her, and the carpet got a new benchmark: the exclusivity of haute couture.
It was no longer enough for a star to wear something pretty. Now, she needed to have what no-one else had. Cate Blanchett upgraded from Armani to Armani Privé; Jennifer Lopez had Valentino recreate a gown once made for Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis. But not every actress was deemed worth the 200-odd hours it takes to craft a one-of-a-kind gown. “With
“THE ‘RED CARPET’ NOW REFERS TO ANYTIME I HAVE TO DRESS A STAR”
couture, the candy store doesn’t open for everyone,” Mcdaniel says. “Do you have a relationship with us? Are you friends with Armani? Do you fit the brand?” But while exclusivity ensured a singular moment on the red carpet, it also had its drawbacks. Clothing that out of reach is eye candy; less real-life relevant to a fashion-loving viewer. “I’ve made some amazing gowns for A-listers, but even I couldn’t think of where I would ever wear them,” Wang admits. “The dress becomes an end in itself, a fantasy piece, but I don’t think such fantasies make anyone want to go shopping.”
But there are still plenty of instances when a redcarpet look has made people go shopping – like the time Megan Fox, a sultry (if not super) star, showed up for the 2009 Berlin premiere of the second Transformers film in a scarlet Roberto Cavalli gown with a sizeable midriff cut-out at the waist. To quote the grand old ladies’ man himself: “Within three days, there wasn’t one red Cavalli dress to be had anywhere in the world.”
Take note. Fox walked a carpet at an untelevised Sunday-night event in Berlin. So how did a global buying frenzy ensue? In less than a decade, social media had forged two seismic changes in carpet coverage: first, it gave us the ability to instantly view activity anywhere in the world; second, it magnified our appetite for content – now, even with a red carpet somewhere on the planet every night of the week, we’re never satiated. “Social media is about continuous eyeballs: how many? How fast? How often?” says star stylist Elizabeth Stewart. “For me, the ‘red carpet’ now refers to anytime I have to dress an actress. If Jessica [Chastain] or Cate [Blanchett] is publicising a film with buzz, I’ll be putting her into between 150 and 200 outfits a season. Under those circumstances, any woman would need a stylist – it’s insane! And each one of those looks will get time on social media – it’s the great equaliser.”
How much can a dress resonate, when there’s the “Dress Of The Day”, “Best Of The Week” and “10 Picks For Tuesday”? It’s fun, but superlatives can be numbing. Remember last August, when Taylor Swift reported for jury duty in a low-key black jumpsuit by L’agence? That look generated the same Instagram fervour as Rihanna’s silk Alexandre Vauthier gown, one of the four looks she wore at the VMAS the night before. “People have never been able to see as much,” says Stewart. “While that can be great for raising a designer’s profile, the clothes become a fabulous blur when every appearance has equal importance.”
Social media is perhaps the most important brandawareness builder today. But not a single designer, stylist or retail executive interviewed for this story could offer proof that millions of social media hits increase actual sales. Off the record, many wonder if the “Next!” mentality that eschews lingering on a look hasn’t dulled the sheer fashion impact of main-stage red-carpet events like the Oscars and the Golden Globes. One fashion director of a luxury department store confessed that his best customer recently dismissed his recommendation of a much-anticipated autumn arrival, saying, “I’m sure it’s new, but I’ve seen it on everyone already. What else have you got?”
A few days before I interviewed Mcdaniel, a stylist had called her, frantic to dress a young actress in something “memorable, wonderful and immediate”. Had an awards show moved up a date? Were George and Amal renewing their vows and allowing in press? No. It was for a budding star’s first appearance on
Jimmy Kimmel Live!. The actress has a huge Twitter following. For now, the Oscars can wait.