Lisa Chaney - Coco Chanel - An Intimate Life

He refused, saying he was doubtful she would ever sell it. And with the war making raw materials difficult to obtain, he was unwilling to run the risk of wasting a consignment. Why didn’t she make it up, and if her outfits sold, come back to him for more? Gabrielle’s insistence was useless — Rodier was adamant. His reluctance to weave for this woman, who wanted to make into outerwear for her wealthy customers this humble material that had even failed to sell for use as underwear, was reasonable. Of course, with hindsight, we know that Gabrielle proved Rodier wrong.

At first, she used Rodier’s natural cream and gray jersey; then, when he saw that she really could sell it, they collaborated to create some beautiful new colors, as noted above. They also developed corals, Madonna blue, what was described as “old-blue,” and various greys. By 1916, when Women’s Wear Daily heralded the fact that Gabrielle was “the one to bring jersey into prominence,” Vogue described her salon as “The Jersey House.” (Gabrielle wasn’t the only designer to use the fabric, but she was undoubtedly the most innovative, and the one who transformed it into a high-fashion textile.) War shortages and high prices meant that through Gabrielle’s triumphant lead, jersey would overtake more familiar materials such as twill-woven serge, now in great demand for the armed forces’ uniforms. In the summer of 1916, Vogue revealed Gabrielle’s growing influence when describing the promenade of one of the most distinguished streets in the world:

The Avenue of the Bois de Boulogne presents a rather animated appearance. There is the brilliancy of all the Allied uniforms, starred with decorations of all kinds, and there is the measured clank of swords… There is the sprinkling of the new frocks… against the background of neutral-tinted garments which are affected just now. There is the subdued woolen glow of jersey cloth… the liking for jersey has… developed into a passion — a veritable craze. Everyone goes clad in jersey; in palest gray, in beige, in white, and in all shades of blue. Bordeaux jersey is smart… and for young girls there is a red… the modish jersey frock is exceedingly simple in line… [jersey] is cool looking and indescribably chic.

Although jersey was to be the material Gabrielle used most commonly during the war for day clothes, she would also make inspired use of a small number of other fabrics, such as suede for hats as well as coats and jackets, sometimes embroidered with decorative bands. For afternoon and evening, she created dresses of satin, velvet and tulle. On occasion, these were embroidered with cotton, silks or beads. At their best, her clothes were astonishingly beautiful in their masterly unification of fabric, simplicity of design and decoration. In November 1916, Vogue gave a hint of impatience that Gabrielle’s apparently limitless capacity to design using the previously downmarket jersey was clearly not shared by the readers, when it informed them that “it has been rumored lately that women were growing tired of jersey, but Chanel is master of her art, and her jersey frocks are as complete and as daintily finished as frocks of more thoroughly patrician stuffs.”

In another report, Vogue described Gabrielle’s decoration of her thoroughly unpatrician jersey, in a “cloak of this thick warm tissue, in yellow, trimmed with grey rabbit.” Here Gabrielle had once again launched one of her remarkable reversals of tradition. For fashionable women, fur had always been one of the accepted means of demonstrating luxury, and the more rare and expensive, the better. Not only had Gabrielle been promoting a textile that in other hands was regarded as entirely downmarket, she now turned another notion on its head: she attached rabbit, that most plebeian of furs, to many of her outfits. And rich and fashionable women flocked to buy them. Gabrielle had the excuse of the war, but selling these downmarket fabrics at upmarket prices, her motivation was complex. She would say:

I had decided to replace expensive furs with the humblest hides. Chinchilla no longer arrived from South America, or sable from the Russia of the czars. I used rabbit. In this way I made poor people… and small retailers wealthy; the large stores have never forgiven me… Like Lycurgus I disapproved of expensive materials. [This is an exaggeration, but the essence is correct.] A fine fabric is beautiful in itself, but the more lavish a dress is, the poorer it becomes.

And then she made one of those singular Chanel remarks: “People confuse poverty with simplicity.” 1Nowadays we immediately comprehend this notion in dress, but it was Gabrielle above all others who would teach us to understand it.

Bearing this idea in mind, the clothes she made with jersey were perhaps the first Gabrielle created that were truly original. And while, as the century progressed, she was to go on and initiate many of the crucial elements in the modern woman’s wardrobe, her influence was to become more far-reaching than simply being first. By the end of the First World War, it would be Gabrielle more than any other designer who had revolutionized women’s dress. But concentration on a length, a style or a type of material is not always the most significant aspect of her originality. What women wore was only the most visible aspect of more profound changes Gabrielle would help to bring about. Through her own extraordinary and unconventional example, she was to become instrumental in forging the very idea of modern woman.

Gabrielle always understood fundamentals and would say, “Eccentricity was dying out; I hope… that I helped kill it off. Paul Poiret, a most inventive couturier, dressed women in costumes.” And she went on to describe the varieties of make-believe she thought that people indulged in, so that “the most modest tea party looked like something from the Baghdad of the Caliphs. The last courtesans… would come by, to the sound of the tango, wearing bell-shaped dresses, with greyhounds and cheetahs at their side.” She said this was all very pleasant but warned against “originality in dressmaking, you immediately descend to disguise and decoration, you lapse into stage design.” 2

She concentrated on the silhouette, the structure and architecture of clothes. In making it clear that she believed simplicity of line counted above all and that decoration and ornamentation were the secondary elements of what one wore, Gabrielle had a more accurate finger on the pulse of her times than many of her competitors. Understanding better than most what those times were about — Poiret had very daringly revealed the foot! — it was Gabrielle more than anyone else who was responsible for lifting the hemline above the ankle. Already she was loosening the waistline; in time, she would drop it below the waist.

She had done away with the decoration that life in the past could support, the details that had become obsolete. But in doing this, as in her own life, Gabrielle was also attempting to clear away the games and the pretenses about women. In making clothes fit for the women of a new and mechanical age, she declared, “I had rediscovered honesty, and in my own way, I made fashion honest.” 3

Meanwhile, in that summer of 1915, with some reservations, Antoinette arrived in Biarritz to help her prospering sister. She was now twenty-eight, and unmarried, and worried that living and working far from Paris would make finding a husband even more difficult. As for Adrienne, Gabrielle’s stalwart, this time, she remained obdurate: she could not come to Gabrielle’s aid just yet. She was on tenterhooks, awaiting permission to visit her lover at the front. When that permission finally came, the demure Adrienne was shocked, apparently at being asked by the soldier checking her visitor’s pass if she was Baron de Nexon’s wife. Embarrassed, she admitted that she wasn’t, upon which the soldier waved her through, telling her that the colonel didn’t like wives; they made a man soft. Girlfriends, they were a different matter!