It is not an exaggeration to say that the concept of American fashion would not be what it is today without the designer Claire McCardell, who is credited with inventing the idea of American sportswear with her pragmatic approach to clothes in the 1940s and ’50s. “Most of my ideas come from trying to solve my own problems—problems just like yours,” she wrote, “I like to be able to zip my own zippers, hook my own eyes. I need a dress that can cook a dinner and then come out and meet the guests.”
In 1956 she released What Shall I Wear?, a book of fashion advice for women of all ages that is being reprinted later this month (with a foreword from Tory Burch!). Considering the enduring appeal of her style and point of view, it’s not surprising that her advice rings just as true in 2022 as it did back then. (“Like every woman in the world, after your first trip to Santa Fe, you are going to have a turquoise and silver period.” I haven’t been to Santa Fe, but I know in my heart that she is absolutely right.) McCardell’s lighthearted tone means that even the parts of the book that are painfully out of sync with today’s world—lots of advice about dressing for your husband and the neighborhood wives—are an invitation to laugh rather than roll your eyes (or at least do both). My favorite bit: “If you have a taxi lover in your home, be sure to have plenty of spindly heels to give him an excuse to take a taxi. Think of it: Your shoes can soothe his conscience.” You simply cannot argue with that! Here are the most important lessons from McCardell’s book:
Know your audience.
“If your maiden aunt finds a ladybug on the lapel of your suit unamusing, don’t blame the maiden aunt. Blame yourself. You have worn the ladybug for the wrong audience.” McCardell writes this early on in the book, and she’s absolutely right. We all know what sort of things we can get away with wearing, whether we are at work or with friends (or even which friends we are with). Do we want to blend in or be the talk of the evening? These are all things we take into consideration when getting dressed, but doing the mental calculation at the time of shopping would also likely save us from spending on those things that end up in the closet with the tags still on because they never seem quite right when you put them on. What is thrilling to me is that even back then McCardell was not one to tamp down flourishes of creativity or eccentricity; instead the message is simple. Wear the weird thing where the weird things will be appreciated! Of course, if you wanted your maiden aunt to be unamused by your outfit, well, that would be dandy too.
Know your setting.
“Take advantage of where you are going to wear it. If you go to Venice, where the sea is the color of the scene, be sure to bring a wardrobe of blues and greens along. Or deliberately wear dark red because it looks lovely with turquoise.” McCardell speaks at length about the importance of color, the way introducing a bright color that you’ve never worn before can be the equivalent of a makeover, and the importance of considering color along with fabric (“turquoise in satin and turquoise in jersey are two entirely different stories”). I just love the idea of thinking about color as it matches or contrasts with your intended surroundings. Perhaps this is most obvious when we purchase clothes for a vacation because we more easily think of ourselves as dressing for a fantasy (the idealized vacation version of ourselves), but why not bring that same energy into our everyday dressing? It’s exactly the reason why seeing one of Christopher John Rogers’s creations out in the wild in the city can be so thrilling—an oasis for the eyes!
Earrings are the essential accessory.
“In an increasingly hatless society, earrings play an important role because they give you a dressed-up look at the top to harmonize with your long gloves, your cocktail-hour shoes.” McCardell spotlights the importance of wearing the right gloves and the right hats for each occasion, things that are no longer part of our daily uniform, but this sentence vindicated my somewhat recent obsession with earrings. After I get dressed every morning, there are times where I change earrings a few times—gold or silver, chunky or studs, dangling, mismatched: There are so many possibilities!—and I find that they do play an important role in balancing out whatever is being worn underneath them. Now that we are a hatless society, though (beanies don’t count!), I am considering whether it is time to bring a jaunty little everyday hat into my wardrobe, perhaps like the ones Ashley and Mary-Kate Olsen showed at The Row’s resort collection.
“If the shoe hurts, give it away.”
I still have to constantly remind myself of this one; I thought perhaps you could use the advice too.
Create a signature.
“You, too, can start a trend. For yourself. Something that can identify you, be just for you.” Although it is a book of advice, McCardell is never prescriptive. She may describe the contents of her fur closet or her collection of brooches but will very plainly let you know these are the things that work for her and the reader may, nay, should look to themselves to know exactly what needs to be added or subtracted from their wardrobe. At one point she suggests tying a red shoelace around one’s neck, and well, I would be lying if I said that I didn’t ask myself, Do I need a red shoelace to tie around my neck? So far the answer is no, but, you know, the important thing is to ask the questions and give yourself an opportunity to expand your repertoire!
Dress with intention.
“I think a closer look will tell you that one universal statement can be made about any well-dressed woman. ‘She has spent time on her clothes.’ Not a lot of money necessarily. Not where she shops—nor whose label she wears. But time (plus energy and patience and imagination)—all her own.” Although a designer herself, McCardell is keen to note that a high-end label or an expensive piece is not, by itself, the goal of a well-thought-out, personalized wardrobe. She talks about little belts made from discarded fabric, her penchant for fur that looks like it’s been attacked by moths, and a little jacket that she got during a vacation in Mexico. These things don’t necessarily have value by themselves, but the way they interact with other pieces in her wardrobe, and the way she wears them like they are all valuable (because to her they are), make her a well-dressed woman. “To feel luxurious, you must look luxurious,” she declares at one point, but I also think the reverse is just as true. To look luxurious, you must feel luxurious.