Picture Play Magazine (Mar-Jul 1929)

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17 D Badly* ? ship in feminine fashions, this article points out evidence to prove that overdressing is the rule is nearly a lost art along the Boulevard. garet Reid Corinne Griffith is a sartorial oasis in a desert of bad taste. We are speaking in generalities, with occasional catty examples, just for fun. Now for comparison of fashions with what is seen along our Boulevard. To begin, the waistline, as you know, perished ignominiously two years ago. That is, everywhere except in Hollywood. Here it prevails, even predominates. Even coats, if they are not gored to fit and reveal the form, have tight, little belts. This can be traced, circuitously, back to the era of the movie flapper with the Mack Sennett figure. Nothing is so flattering to youthful contours as the brief, straight-line dress, belted tightly just a trifle above the natural waistline. The hair was boyish-bobbed and wind-blown, hats cloche and rakish. At the time this mode began there zvas a recognized waistline, so this exaggeration was legitimate — and they did look cute, those first flappers. Long since, however, the waist has been abandoned for more unusual lines, and still the Hollywood flapper stays, increasing in such profusion as to institute a tiresome uniform. Take nineteen of any twenty studio flappers, line them up face to the' wall, or for that matter, facing you, and I defy you to distinguish one from another. All meticulously the same — high-belted dresses, no sleeves, tight coats trimmed, maybe, with the passe monkey, fur. small hats still sliding off the back of the head, although that chapcau custom is a two-year-old memory. A recently added offense to sesthetics in this type, is the present coiffure. Greta Gar bo has a lot to account for. It's her fault. Greta's shoulder-length bob is beautiful — on her. But Greta's bob on our flappers, dressed in the aforemen Photo by Louise Dorothy Sebastian wears what Hollywood considers a very conservative street dress, but it is only suitable for a formal tea. tioned fashion, is little short of droll. They wear it, anyway, hanging untidily down to their shoulders. Below their little hats it makes a long, indeterminate fringe around their necks. "Garbo — or nothing," is their battle cry. The outcome is, in all cases, the latter. Another type we harbor is the ingenue — or quaint. And how quaint ! This genus wears the good, old, tight bodice and full skirt, in the evening the skirt being long and voluminous. They wear huge, floppy hats, with roses on the under brim, and now and then the brim is a conspicuous poke in shape. Believe it or not, some of them wear gingham, and their hair in long curls. One little player even wears a narrow, satin ribbon around her wrist, with a tiny bunch of fresh flowers tucked in it. She looks adorable. They all do. And extremely dowdy. Then there is the picturesque. This is adopted by the taller, more arresting stars. Here we find the tricorn hats, the half-length veils, the very low necks, the indiscriminate drapes and laces. At any rate, it is encouraging to note that in the last few months long skirts are being confined to evening gowns. Before that they were quite likely to appear at bridge luncheons. This type is gorgeous, eye-filling. It attracts instant attention. But it is highly dramatic, and consequently incongruous at anything so undramatic as a conventional soiree. Also still with us is the siren, the vamp. Sinuous, black-haired wenches, hoping to catch the eye of casting directors, follow this bent. Rouge is discarded,