*Thank you to the lovely folks at CJRU 1280AM for giving me not one, but two overviews on how to record in the booth, and for lending me a USB key so I could actually take my audio home!
Carty, Victoria. “Textual Portrayals of Female Athletes: Liberation or Nuanced Forms of Patriarchy? Frontiers: A Journal of Women’s Studies 26.2 (2005): 132-155.
Chisholm, Ann. “Acrobats, Contortionists, and Cute Children: The Promise and Perversity of U.S. Women’s Gymnastics.” Signs 27.2 (2002): 415-450.
Daniels, Elizabeth A. “Sexy Versus Strong: What Girls and Women Think of Female Athletes.” Journal of Applied Developmental Psychology, vol. 33, no. 2, 2012, pp. 79–90.,
Facciotti, Gabriele. “Ranking the Winter Olympic Sports.” bostonglobe.com, John W. Henry, 7 Feb. 2018
www.bostonglobe.com/sports/2018/02/07/ranking-winter-olympic-sports/LwGmJLILwpcRr8rylZmHEN/story.html.
Feder, Abigail M. “”A Radiant Smile from the Lovely Lady”: Overdetermined Femininity in “Ladies” Figure Skating” TDR 38.1 (1994): 62-78.
Feder, Abigail M. “Big Girls Do Cry: Femininity and ‘Toughness’ in the Kerrigan-Harding Affair.” TDR, vol. 38, no. 3, 1994, p. 17.
Graydon, Jan. “”But it’s more than a game. It’s an institution” Feminist Perspectives on Sport.” Feminist Review 13 (1983): 5-16.
Grindstaff, Laura and Emily West. “Cheerleading and the Gendered Politics of Sport.” Social Problems 53.4 (2006): 500-518.
Kim, Kayoung, and Michael Sagas. “Athletic or Sexy? A Comparison of Female Athletes and Fashion Models in Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Issues.” Gender Issues, vol. 31, 29 Mar. 2014, pp. 123–141.
Koivula, Nathalie. “Gender Stereotyping in Televised Media Sport Coverage.” Sex Roles, vol. 41, no. 7-8, 1999, pp. 589–604.
O’Neill, Tracy. The Case Against Fancy Figure-Skating Outfits. 19 February 2014. The Atlantic Monthly Group. 5 February 2018. www.theatlantic.com.
Skillen, Fiona. “It’s Possible to Play the Game Marvellously and at the Same Time Look Pretty and Be Perfectly Fitâ: Sport, Women and Fashion in Inter-War Britain.” Costume, vol. 46, no. 2, 2012, pp. 165–179.
Tseelon, Efrat. “Erving Goffman: Social Science as an Art of Cultural Observation.” Rocamora, Agnes and Anneke Smelik. Thinking Through Fashion: A Guide to Key Theorists. London & New York: I.B.Tauris & Co., 2016. 149-164.
Tynan, Jane. “Michel Foucault: Fashioning the Body Politic.” Rocamora, Agnes and Anneke Smelik. Thinking Through Fashion: A Guide to Key Theorists. London & New York: I.B.Tauris & Co., 2016. 184-199.
Wissinger, Elizabeth. “Judith Butler: Fashion and Performativity.” Rocamora, Agnes and Anneke Smelik. Thinking Through Fashion: A Guide to Key Theorists. London & New York: I.B.Tauris & Co., 2016. 285-299.
Wughalter, Emily. “Ruffles and Flounces: The Apologetic in Women’s Sports.” Frontiers: A Journal of Women’s Studies 3.1 (1978): 11-13.
AUDIO
Royalty free music provided by YouTube Creator Studio Audio Library
Barbier, George. “Mme Ida Rubinstein Dans ‘La Dame Aux Camelias.’” Gazette Du Bon Ton, Lucian Vogel, 1923, plate 19. courtesy Royal Ontario Museum and Archives
I chose to examine an image from a 1923 edition of the Gazette Du Bon Ton (hereafter referred to as Gazette). The central image is of a woman wearing an elaborate black dress, standing in front of a yellow wall and a round mirror, framed on either side by blue curtains. The woman is holding a bouquet, and flowers trail down the front of her gown. The image is captioned: “Mme Ida Rubinstein dans la Dame Aux Camelias, Robe de Worth”.
As the caption indicates, this is an illustration of Ida Rubinstein. Rubinstein was a Russian dancer and actress, active between 1908 and 1939, so the publication of this illustration falls almost perfectly in the middle of her career (Woolf, 9). She was born in 1883, and so would have been 40 at the time of this illustration; by today’s standards, she was quite old for a dancer. In the 1980s, 40 was the average retirement age for a professional ballerina, and by the 1990s the average age of retirement had dropped to 29 (“Ballet by Numbers”).
The caption also informs the viewer that this is an image of Rubinstein ‘dans La Dame Aux Camelias’, or, ‘in The Lady of the Camellias’. La Dame Aux Camelias is a ballet based on a novel by Alexandre Dumas, which tells the story of a romance that is based upon Dumas’ own life. The novel tells the story of a man named Armand Duvas who falls in love with a dying courtesan named Marguerite Gautier. Gautier signals her availability to client with camellia flowers; she wears a red flower when she is menstruating, and therefore unavailable to her lovers, while white camellias show that she is available (Dumas).
Sarah Bernhardt’s performance as Gautier was the most famous rendition of the role; she would perform in La Dame Aux Camelias over one thousand times, and it was she who trained Ida Rubinstein for the role, as they were friends. (Skinner, 146) (“Sarah Bernhardt in La Dame Aux Camelias 1896.” Flickr, Sarony, New York, 2 Jan. 2011, www.flickr.com/photos/charmainezoe/5320584303)
Rubinstein played the role of Gautier in a mid-1920s production of La Dame Aux Camelias, and this illustration in Gazette appears to be of Rubinstein in performance costume. The caption clues us into this, but we can also use Barthes’ theory of semiotics to read the other cues present in the illustration that reinforce the performance aspect. The curtains on either side, while not being the traditionally theatrical red, imply that Rubinstein is occupying a stage. She is wearing multiple pieces of elaborate jewelry in addition to the highly embellished gown, which we can read in several ways, depending on how much background knowledge we have of Rubinstein. She inherited massive wealth from her parents early on in life – knowing this, we may simply read the jewelry as a sign of her significant amounts of economic capital. However, if we approach the image without this prior knowledge, one may instead read the jewelry as ‘costume jewelry’, adding to the theatrics of the scene.
Since Gazette du Bon Ton primarily featured couture or couture-inspired designs, the gown Rubinstein is wearing is quite clearly not a performance costume (especially due to the length) (Davis, 56). However, the inclusion of tulle in the skirt may have been a way to give the gown a more balletic feel. The flowers trailing down the front of the gown and held in a bouquet by Rubinstein are another visual cue. These are camellias, intended to reference to the white camellias worn by Gautier in the context of the plot to signal her availability to suitors. The full, voluminous skirt and off-shoulder bodice are consistent with the style of gowns worn in the mid-nineteenth century (Dumas’ novel was published in 1848 and the ballet was first performed in 1852).
Re-enactors wearing gowns inspired by fashion plates from 1865 (left) and 1864 (right). (“Ball Gowns.” Lavender’s Green Historic Clothing, 2013, www.lavendersgreen.com/mid19th.htm.)
The life of Ida Rubinstein is an interesting example of intersections of capital, particularly as they were described by Pierre Bourdieu. As mentioned previously, Rubinstein inherited a significant amount of money from her parents after their deaths, endowing her with significant economic capital. Bourdieu claims that economic capital underlies all other forms, and Rubinstein’s life makes a strong argument for this. After her parents died, the very young Ida (two years old at the time) was raised by her aunt, Madame Horowitz, a “fashionable and cultivated woman” in St. Petersburg (Woolf, 3). This aunt was very well-connected, and the family mingled with the highest members of Russian society; however, this came at the price of their Jewish faith, which they ceased to practice in the face of significant anti-semitism in Russia at the time. One could argue that in this case, social (and, to an extent, cultural) capital was gained at the expense of their existing cultural capital, which came from their religious history. Interestingly, Ida’s full name, Lydia, means ‘the cultured one’ within its Greek origins (Woolf, 4). Growing up, Ida was endowed with many visible, immediately obvious forms of cultural capital (fitting with Bourdieu’s traditional vision): she was given a rigorous education and learned to speak five languages with a reasonable degree of fluency, and she was both well-mannered and beautiful. This allowed her a great deal of success within her aunt’s high-profile social circle, contributing to the family’s overall social capital.
Abbe, Phyllis. “Ida Rubinstein Wearing a Tutu.” Conde Nast Store, Conde Nast, 9 Mar. 2017, condenaststore.com/featured/ida-rubinstein-wearing-a-tutu-phyllis-abb.html.
Rubinstein’s career also invites discussion about cultural capital; particularly, how one can acquire it, and how ‘valid’ those methods of acquisition may be. When she began to gravitate towards a career in the theatre arts, Ida risked squandering much of the good grace her aunt has worked to give her; as Vicki Woolf explains, “whilst it was quite acceptable to lionize, patronize, and be entertained by theatricals, it was most definitely not acceptable to become a member of the theatrical profession itself” (Woolf, 6). Luckily for her, Ida’s aunt did not expect a career in the arts to appeal to her niece, and had her tutored in dancing, singing, and drama by some of the best teachers of their respective fields. As long as she was simply learning, and not performing for an audience, this was considered to be a method by which to accrue more cultural capital rather than lose it by damaging one’s reputation.
I do not have space to devote to describing the rise of Rubinstein’s career in full detail, but she did go on to become a prolific dancer, despite her well-to-do family’s protestations. She eventually settled into a position with the Ballet Russes and danced with Nijinsky. However, her first balletic performances were in Sophocles’ Antigone and Oscar Wilde’s Salome. What is important to note about these two productions is that Rubinstein, who was not an exceptionally talented dancer despite her high-end training, paid for and put them on herself so that she would be able to perform in the starring role. This creates an interesting intersection of economic and cultural capital, particularly if we consider theatre arts in the context of today’s values, as some of the more current writings about Rubinstein do.
Ida Rubinstein and Vaslav Nijinsky in Scheherazade in 1910 (“Ida Rubinstein and Vaslav Nijinksy.” The Red List, The Red List Society, theredlist.com/wiki-2-24-525-770-943-view-1910s-3-profile-ida-rubinstein.html.)
Today, a prima ballerina would be considered to have significant cultural capital due to her rigorous training and the long history of the art that precedes her. Viewed through this lens, Rubinstein’s efforts to occupy that position by essentially ‘buying’ the roles is viewed as somewhat disingenuous. Take, for instance, the language used in the abstract for Patricia Vertinsky’s article Ida Rubinstein: Dancing Decadence and “The Art of the Beautiful Pose”, which positions Rubinstein against her more ‘sophisticated’ audience:
“Virtually untrained as a dancer, but mistress of the seductive gesture learned from the West (but honed in the East), Rubinstein knew just how to capture the Western eye, and she spent a fortune playing to it. The luxury of extreme wealth certainly helped open the doors to her artistic fame, and she was fortunate to be included in the sensational triumphs of the Ballets Russes as it was received by a sophisticated and enthusiastic Parisian audience.”
Rubinstein would go on to also star in productions that she did not finance, such as Cleopatre, Scheherazade, Le Martyre de St Sebastien, and Le Dame aux Camelias. She was able to achieve this success because French audiences were quite taken with her long-limbed form, even if she had muddied her good name somewhat in Russia. France’s enthusiasm for Rubinstein’s looks also explains her presence in a slightly elitist publication like Gazette du Bon Ton, where she is pictured in costume, but not in motion.
When I selected this picture from the stacks of Gazette du Bon Ton, I was simply taken with the gown and the colour scheme.I did not expect to unpack such an engaging character and so much history from it. These magazines are such an interesting window into what was really ‘fashionable’ in this era of France, and I’m curious as to what other historical characters may emerge if I were to continue looking into them.
A painting by Romaine Brooks of Rubinstein in The Martyrdom of St. Sebastian, in which she starred as the male saint. Brooks painted Rubinstein frequently during their relationship, which lasted from 1911 to 1914 (although this painting was produced after their split). (Brooks, Romaine. Ida Rubinstein. 1917, Smithsonian American Art Museum, Washington, DC.)
Bourdieu, Pierre. “The Forms of Capital,” In J. Richardson (Ed.) Handbook of Theory and Research for the Sociology of Education
Davis, Mary E. Classic Chic Music, Fashion, and Modernism. University of California Press, 2014.
Dumas, Alexandre. La Dame Aux Camelias. Translated by David Coward, Oxford University Press, 1986.
Jobling, Paul. “Roland Barthes: Semiology and the Rhetorical Codes of Fashion.” Thinking through Fashion, edited by Agnes Rocamora and Anneke Smelik, pp. 132–148.
Vertinsky, Patricia. “Ida Rubinstein: Dancing Decadence and ‘The Art of the Beautiful Pose’.” Nashim: A Journal of Jewish Women’s Studies & Gender Issues, no. 26, 2014, pp. 122–136., doi:10.2979/nashim.26.122.
Are there some signs present in this illustration that could use some more discussion? For instance, I was intrigued by the expression on her face and the handkerchief she is holding, but found some trouble unpacking them semiotically myself.
One of the key ideas to emerge from theories of material culture is the communicative power of objects. This communicative power is amplified when applied to dress artifacts, which, by virtue of their interaction with the artifact of the human body, are given extra layers of meaning. There is a sort of inherent honesty to material culture artifacts that textual accounts do not have; as Ingrid Mida and Alexandra Kim articulate in The Dress Detective, this is due to the fact that “clothing and accessories […] are objects created by man and thus reflect the cultural milieu in which they were designed, created, and worn.” (Kim, Mida, 12) This mention of the reflection of knowledge in the wearing of a garment is part of what makes material culture analysis different from textual analysis, for example – it is much more difficult to ‘cheat’ the way a garment was worn.
Studying clothing is significant to the study of culture because it reflects both the wearer’s habitat and cultural identity. Tom Svensson contends that it is second only to verbal communication in its communicative powers, particularly among Northern peoples, and I will be borrowing from his theoretical framework and turning it towards North American Inuit garments. His article, written about the Sami people of northern Sweden, Finland, and Norway, provides some general insights into the types of messages communicated by their various types of dress that he claims can be extrapolated to a wide variety of northern communities. He claims that their clothing makes a statement about their identity within a culture (displaying group identity and the individual’s status within the group) and makes culture-specific statements that reflect their norms and standards to individuals both within and exterior to the group.
He also posits the concept of a ‘language of clothing’ that points to three separate elements of a given culture: the available environmental resources (which is particularly important when considering Indigenous clothing, as it is often heavily influenced by their home region and what is available within it), technical developments (referring to the techniques used for construction such as cutting, sewing, and the preparation of the natural materials they may be using), and cultural standards (which help reinforce the prevailing practical and aesthetic norms of the culture) (Svensson, 62).
Rather than generally exploring the clothing practices of North American Inuit peoples, I will be more specifically examining the winter parka, as I have access to a modern-day example and wish to compare and contrast between historical practices of parka-making (and wearing) and current ones via a material culture analysis of this garment. We would not immediately presume to refer to culturally-specific Indigenous dress as a ‘fashion’, but we should perhaps examine why we are hesitant to do so; in Dress Detective, a ‘fashion’ is a garment or accessory that “reflects ‘the cultural construction of embodied identity’” (Kim, Mida, 18). Within that definition, the Inuit parka would certainly qualify as a ‘fashion’, and I would encourage readers to think of it as such, if only to begin to distance the term ‘fashion’ from its often Western connotations.
A Brief History of Inuit Parkas and their Cultural Significance
My examination of the history of parkas begins in the early twentieth century, although of course these communities have been on this land, producing their own garments, for much longer than that. I specifically aimed to study the parkas of the Inuvialuit people of the Mackenzie Delta, which is an area of the Northwest Territories near the Mackenzie River and the area where it flows into the Arctic Ocean. This is the same area from which my modern parka originates.
A map of the Mackenzie Delta area, home of the Inuvialuit people (Fick, Steven. “Mackenzie Delta Area.” Canadian Geographic, The Royal Canadian Geographical Society, 3 Sept. 2007, www.canadiangeographic.ca/article/mackenzie-delta-mackenzie-gas-pipeline-project.)
In the early twentieth century, the parkas of Inuvialuit people were more similar to those worn by the Alaskan and Siberian people than they were to those found in the rest of Canada. Writing in 1914, Vilhjalmur Steffanson said that the styles of the two groups had become so similar that differences could only be discerned through extensive, detailed questioning (cited in Issenman, 100). At that time, men’s parkas were described thusly: “the parka is a loose, flared pullover that reaches below the hip, with a round hood that comes forward from the face and is made of the animal’s headskin. The lower edge is even and rounded.” (Issenman, 100). Women’s parkas differed from the men’s in a few significant ways: “[the parkas] had a large hood and neckline, wide shoulders, narrowed waist, and long, broad flaps that rose in a gentle curve to the thigh” (Issenman, 102). The most common way for women to wear their hair was in a coil atop their head, which the hoods accommodated, and some augmentations were made with child-rearing in mind: “the back of the amauti had a full cut over the back and neck rather than the pierced amaut known in other parts of Canada. Because of the fullness, a child could still be held against the mother’s back, secured by the amauti cord.” (Issenman, 102). An amauti (or amaut; the terms are often used interchangeably) is the name for a specific style of women’s parka that has a pouch sewn below the hood specifically for the purpose of carrying a child. To an outsider, it can simply appear as if the child is resting inside of the parka’s hood (and is often represented erroneously in artwork as such), but it is, in fact, a separate structure.
An Inuit woman wearing an amauti while carrying her child. (Walk, Ansgar. “Traditional Inuit Clothing in Iglulik: Amautiq of Caribou Fur.” Wikimedia Commons, Wikimedia Foundation, 18 July 1999, commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Iglulik_Clothing_2_1999-07-18.jpg.)
The amauti is an example of cultural values communicated through the design of a garment, as suggested by Svensson. Guislane Lamey of the McCord Museum in Montreal outlines some of these cultural connotations in an interview for Up Here Magazine. For the first two or three years of their life, Inuit babies are carried almost constantly by their mothers: “it’s like a uterus. This is a place where mother and child have a very close contact, have a very close dialogue. It’s a privileged space between mother and child” (Ryder).
The parkas also communicate information about the technical developments, to return to Svensson’s idea of clothing language. Cathy Towtongie, an Inuit woman who was taught how to make traditional-style parkas by her elders and continues to do so, elaborates on the highly technical forms of construction that the garments require: “dealing with caribou skin, I prefer to have it shot second week in August or towards the last week, between August and September, not any further. The skin is good for clothing and for breathability, for survival and for perspiration” (Ryder). These carefully-selected skins must then be sewn using a very particular form of stitching using sinew; the stitches must be both durable and flexible, but must also avoid creating any holes in the fur. This technique could take years to master.
These parkas are created specially for the individual wearer; their body is the only pattern used in production. As such, these are highly singular objects, to borrow from Igor Kopytoff; while a parka may be handed down within a family, my assumption is that they would be difficult to exchange due to the highly personal nature of their creation.
Material Culture Analysis: The Modern Inuit Parka
With this information about traditional parkas in mind, I would now like to analyse a parka purchased in Inuvik, Northwest Territories in the 1980s-1990s. I will be loosely following the method laid out by Kim and Mida in The Dress Detective to do so, and will be contrasting my findings about this modern parka against what I have read about traditional parkas to try and identify differences in the communicated cultural meanings.
This parka is one that belongs to my mother. She purchased it while living in Inuvik between 1980 and 1990, from local Inuvialuit manufacturers. There is only one label, sewn somewhat crudely to the interior of the parka, which identifies the makers as SEA (or S&A) Outerwear from Inuvik, Northwest Territories, Canada (fig 5). There is no care label identifying the materials used in construction, so I must rely on self-reporting from the coat’s owner for several details. She believes the interior to be polyester, the shell to be a cotton mix, and the fur trim on the hood to be wolf fur. The parka is largely machine-sewn, with the exception of the decorative yellow stitching on the parka’s pockets and upper layer, which was done by hand. This parka maintains the thigh-grazing hemline mentioned as a feature of women’s parkas by Issenman, but lacks any amauti-like features.
Front view of my mother’s 1980s-1990s parka. (Photo is author’s own)SEA (or S&A) label sewn into the parka. (Photo is author’s own)Rear view of my mother’s parka. (Photo is author’s own)
There are some immediate, obvious differences between this parka and a more traditional one. The clearest difference is the materials used; very few regionally-specific resources were used to make the modern parka. It employs only wolf fur, whereas a traditional parka would be entirely constructed from animal hides procured from the region. The modern parka communicates less about the environmental resources of the Mackenzie Delta as a result. The modern parka communicates a different message about technical developments, as well; it shows that, with the advent of more modern technologies, the Inuvialuit people were able to adapt their existing patterns and methods to incorporate these new methods. This likely made it much more efficient to produce parkas; not only was a significant amount of time required to learn how to perform the traditional hand-stitching method with sinew, it was also highly technical and often had to be undone and restarted (Ryder). If the traditional parkas were highly singular objects, this modern parka, by comparison, is much more common; I would argue that it has more value as a commodity than the traditional parkas, which have primarily cultural value. I could continue to wear this parka after my mother, or she could sell or donate it with little difficulty.
It can be easy to see this more modern style of parka as having fewer cultural connotations than the traditional version due to its more mass-market materials and construction method. However, I think the newer style mirrors some changes in values among the Inuvialuit (and other Indigenous peoples): namely, cultural conservation. After the attempted eradication of Indigenous cultures via forced enrollment at residential schools, many elements of these cultures are in danger of being lost to history. Adapting to more modern modes of production allows garments such as the winter parka to be produced on a wider scale, which facilitates their transmission of cultural values. With that being said, a more modern parka such as this is missing the valuable information that is communicated via the usage of traditional materials such as caribou skins and sinew stitching, so I believe it is still vital that these traditional methods be preserved and taught – the wider consumption of modern parkas may serve to reignite interest in these culturally rich methods.
For fun, I also had my mother send me some photos of a very similar parka she purchased for me as a toddler; this smaller version is also made by SEA/S&A outwear, but the trim on the hood is not real fur. My mother grew up in the Northwest Territories, but we only lived there as a family for a short time when I was very small, so this coat and a surprisingly large collection of tiny moccasins are my only memories of that time.
Child’s parka from SEA/S&A outwear, front view.Children’s parka from SEA/S&A outwear, rear view.
For Discussion:
Do you believe there has been a shift in the values represented by Indigenous crafts? If so, what sort of shifts? If not, why? (This question is purely speculative, of course).
References
Issenman, Betty. Sinews of Survival: the Living Legacy of Inuit Clothing. UBC Press in Association with EÌTudes Inuit, 2000.
Kopytoff, Igor. “The Cultural Biography of Things: Commoditization as Process.” in The Social Life of Things, ed. Arjun Appadurai, Cambridge University Press, 1986, pp. 65–91.
Mida, Ingrid, and Alexandra Kim. The Dress Detective: a Practical Guide to Object-Based Research in Fashion. Bloomsbury Academic, 2015.
Ryder, Kassina. “Anatomy Of An Amauti.” Up Here Magazine, Up Here Publishing, 15 June 2017, uphere.ca/articles/anatomy-amauti.
Svensson, Tom G. “Clothing in the Arctic: A Means of Protection, a Statement of Identity.” Arctic, vol. 45, no. 1, 1992.
Stefansson, Vilhjalmur. “The Stefansson-Anderson Arctic Expedition: A Preliminary Ethnological Report.” Anthropological Papers of the American Museum of Natural History, vol. 14, ser. 1, 1914.
