Extraordinary Theory of Objects (12 page)

 

Newspaper, Magazine, and Journal Printouts

“Atlas de la Mode pour le Printemps 1926,”
Vogue
, Paris, April 1926, 60.

“Beetles, Bees, Ladybugs,”
Vogue
, July 1993, 60.

“Biscuit Coloured Kid Is a New Step for French Shoes,”
Vogue
, June 15, 1925, 51.

“Cunard Anthology on Negro Is Issued,”
New York Times
, February 17, 1934, 13.

“Dior Celebrates a Decade at the Very Top,”
Life
, March 4, 1957, 128–30.

“Down the Line, to Jean Seberg,”
New York Times
, September 18, 1979, 24.

“Fashions in Living—Weather or Not,”
Vogue
, April 1959, 130–31.

“Georges Mathieu,”
Harper's Bazaar
, February 1954, 109.

“Holds ‘Flappers' Fail as Parents,”
New York Times
, September 18, 1933, 17.

“Lean and Layered,”
New York
, November 18, 1996, 58.

“The Marchesa Casati Gives a Fete of Ancient Splendour in Her Rose Palace Outside of Paris,”
Vogue
, October 1927, 70–71.

“Midget Mannequins,”
Vogue
, July 1933, 38–39.

“Monte Carlo: Training Camp of the Ballet,”
Vogue
, June 15, 1938, 2.

“Monte Carlo and the Ballet,”
Vogue
, June 15, 1938, 78.

“Outlooks and Insights,”
Harper's Bazaar
, May 1958, 113.

“Palm Beach Follows the Lido in Pyjamas,”
Vogue
, January 15, 1925, 54–55.

“Paris and the Mid-Season Openings,”
Vogue
, July 15, 1938.

“Paris Cable,”
Vogue
(
Advance Merchandise Portfolio
supplement), July 15, 1938, 1.

“Paris Mannequins, in the Manner of Well-Known Vogue Artists, Present the Evening Mode,”
Vogue
, October 15, 1927, 73–75.

“Picked in Paris,”
Vogue
, April 1933, 38.

“Pyjamas and Negligees Seen in the Shops,”
Vogue
, July 1927, 73.

“Review: The Beautiful and Damned,”
Vogue
, May 1922.

“Review: The Glimpses of the Moon,”
Vogue
, September 15, 1922.

“Scott Fitzgerald, Author, Dies at 44,”
New York Times
, December 23, 1940, 23.

“Summer's Best,”
Vogue
, May 1993, 233.

“Violets,”
Vogue
, March 1938, 102–103.

“Visible Slips,”
Life
, August 1, 1949, 60.

“Vogue's-Eye View Is Pinned On …”
Vogue
, April 15, 1938, 69.

“The Wrap on Winter Dressing,”
Vogue
, November 1993, 249.

Arland, Marcel, “A Piquant Situation,”
New York Times
, February 27, 1955, BR5.

Avins, Mimi, “Au Revoir to Those Simpler Times,”
Los Angeles Times
, March 18, 1996.

Baker, Carlos, “The Sun Rose Differently,”
New York Times
, March 18, 1979, BR2.

Beaumont, Germain, “La Passion des Collections,”
Vogue
, Paris, February 1929, 33.

Benenson, Laurie Halpern, “So-Called Limbo: Now They Really Feel Alienated,”
New York Times
, March 12, 1995, 35.

Betts, Katherine, “The Best & Worst Looks of the '90s,”
Vogue
, January 1996, 126–27.

Boyer, Marie-France, “The Last Taxidermist in Paris,”
World of Interiors
, January 1985, 94–102.

Cismaru, Alfred, “Francoise Sagan: The Superficial Classic,”
World Literature Today
67, no. 2 (Spring 1993), 291–94.

de Kay, Charles, “How to Arrange a House,”
New York Times
, March 27, 1898, IMS14.

Farrell, James T., “Ernest Hemingway, Apostle of a ‘Lost Generation,'”
New York Times
, August 1, 1943, BR6.

Font, Lourdes, “Dior Before Dior,”
West86th
18, no.1 (Spring–Summer 2011), 26–49.

Gilmer, E. E., “Onyx, Its History and Uses,”
Arts & Architecture
3–4 (1912).

Giroud, Françoise, “The Sagan Saga: A Continued Story,”
New York Times
, October 27, 1957, SM5.

Gronkowski, Camille, “Historic Palaces of Paris: III. The Hotel de Crillon.”
Century Illustrated Monthly Magazine
71, 1906.

Hirschberg, Lynn, “The Little Rubber Dress, Among Others,”
New York Times
, February 2, 1997, SM26.

Jaffray, Evelyn, “With This Ring,”
Vogue
, April 15, 1938, 62/64–65.

Kolbert, Elizabeth, “A Female Holden Caulfield for the 1990's,”
New York Times
, August 14, 1994, H30.

Meisler, Andy, “How to Fashion a Character,”
New York Times
, September 4, 1994, E5.

Menkes, Suzy, “A Time to Explore the Roots of Dior,”
New York Times
, May 16, 2005.

Miller, Katherine Wise, “Review: Twilight Sleep,”
Vogue
, August 15, 1927, 118.

Mills, Bart, “A Show-Biz Saint Grows Up, or, Whatever Happened to Jean Seberg?”
New York Times
, June 16, 1974, 117.

Millstein, Gilbert, “Evolution of a New Saint Joan,”
New York Times
, April 7, 1957, 225.

Morris, Bob, “He's Baaack!”
New York
, August 25, 1997, 76.

Oxenhalder, Neal, “On Cocteau,”
Film Quarterly
18, no. 1 (Autumn 1964), 12–14.

Pace, Eric, “Francoise Sagan, Who Had a Best Seller at 19 with ‘Bonjour, Tristesse,' Dies at 69,”
New York Times
, September 25, 2004, B9.

Rawls, Wendall, Jr., “F.B.I. Admits Planting a Rumor to Discredit Jean Seberg in 1970,”
New York Times
, September 15, 1979, 1.

Reed, Rex, “Some of the Folks in Iowa Think She's a Lost Woman,”
New York Times
, August 11, 1968, D13.

Sagan, Françoise, “Murder and the Menu,”
Vogue
, May 1955, 130.

Schuster, Merle, “Paris, the Literary Capital of the United States,”
New York Times
, December 23, 1923, BR13.

Seitz, Matt Zoller, “Never Trust a Narrator Who's Under 16,”
New York Times
, October 30, 1994, 34.

Skidelsky, Berenice C., “Review: All the Sad Young Men,”
Vogue
, June 1926.

Waugh, Auberon, “The Courage to Be Utterly Selfish,”
New York Times
, June 17, 1979, BR2.

Weber, Bruce, “The So-Called World of an Adolescent Girl, as Interpreted by One,”
New York Times
, August 25, 1994, C15/C20.

Wharton, Edith, “My Work Among the Women Workers of Paris,”
New York Times
, November 28, 1915, SM1.

 

Web Site

“In Search of the Dodo.” BBCKnowledge.com. BBC Corp. Web. Dec. 22, 2011. http://www.bbcknowledge.com/nz/liberating/in-search-of-the-dodo.

 

Interviews and Miscellaneous

Givenchy, James de. Personal interview. Jan. 25, 2011.

Ridley, Donald P.E. Personal interview. May 10, 2011.

“Pilot 1.1”
My So-Called Life: The Complete Series
. Dir. Scott Winant. BMG Special Product, 2002. DVD.

Campbell, Marian, “Decorative Ironwork,” London: HMSO, 1985, 23 p. plate 16e Manfred Welker in Pessiot, Marie, ed.,
La Fidèle Ouverture ou l'art du serrurier
, Rouen 2007, 50–51.

About the Author

Stephanie LaCava
is a writer working in New York and Paris. Raised in France, she attended Colgate University. Her work has appeared in
T: The New York Times Style Magazine
,
Vogue
, and other print and online publications, including the
Paris Review
and
Tin House
. She posts striking photographs and words daily on her Web site (www.stephanielacava.com), which she refers to as a phantom cabinet of curiosities.

 

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www.AuthorTracker.com
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Credits

Cover design by Amanda Kain

Cover illustrations by Matthew Nelson

Copyright

I have changed the names of some individuals and modified identifying features, including physical descriptions and occupations, of other individuals in order to preserve their anonymity. In some cases, composite characters have been created in order to further preserve privacy and to maintain narrative flow.

AN EXTRAORDINARY THEORY OF OBJECTS.
Copyright © 2012 by Stephanie LaCava. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this ebook on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins ebooks.

Illustrations by Matthew Nelson

FIRST EDITION

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data has been applied for.

ISBN 978-0-06-196389-6

Epub Edition © DECEMBER 2012 ISBN: 9780062223661

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*
Nature rarely showcases useless, impractical beauty, but it can be tricky with its intentions. Poison arrow tree frogs' colorful skins are the furthest adaptation from camouflage, rather aposematic markings signaling to predators that the paper clip–size creatures can kill. Over one hundred varieties of poison arrow tree frogs exist, and they continue to evolve into new species and colors called morphs. There are frogs with red backs and periwinkle-speckled legs, black and yellow or mint green mirrored-spotted bodies, even one that is entirely electric blue. Surprisingly, if kept in captivity these little beasts can lose their poisonous defense over time. It is thought that this happens when they no longer feed on a particular insect found in their natural habitat. In the wild, among the greatest dangers for the frog is the very element necessary for its survival at birth: water. Torrential downpours can cause the tiny specimens to be swept away with the rain.

South American Indians would use the toxins from these rainbow skins to coat blowpipe arrows, hence the amphibian's name. For the most poisonous frogs, arrowheads needed only to be pressed against the skin. Other frogs were speared and heated over a fire to extract the venom. Legend says that certain indigenous tribes would rub a variety of the poison on the skins of young parrots to make their feathers fill out in different colors, a process called tapirage. It is believed that European traders may have adopted this practice to tint the common canary and then sell it as an exotic bird.

 

*
Giambattista della Porta was known as the professor of secrets for his keen obsession with finding a formula for nature's marvels. In 1558, the Italian scholar took teachings of the ancient world, matched them with his own experiments, and published
Magia Naturalis
(
Natural Magic
), using empirical studies to explain extraordinary phantasm, from the occult to alchemy. The famed mustachioed Salvador Dalí became a fan of this accounting of wonders. In the book
Dali's Mustache
, a collaboration between photographer Philippe Halsman and the surrealist, Dalí cites della Porta's belief that mustaches—and eyebrows—act as antennae to transmit inspiration. He and Halsman spent months working together with strobe lights, aquariums, even a hunk of Swiss cheese, to create a book about the many shapes that Dalí's mustache might take. There were figure eights and bows, and the question of whether this facial hair was eclipsing Dalí's fame as a painter. One page pokes fun at the decline from beard to mustache in Communists from Marx and Engels to Lenin and Stalin. This list of history's greatest mustachioed men goes on to include Edgar Allan Poe, Mark Twain, Gandhi, Albert Einstein, and Friedrich Nietzsche. At the close of the book, Halsman says, “The great lesson of Dali's mustaches is that we all must patiently or impatiently grow within us something that makes us different, unique and irreplaceable.”

 

*
Until 1920, mummy powder, made from the ground-up remains of looted tombs, was a cure-all offered in pharmacies. This serves as evidence that such wrapped-up bodies continued to enchant long after their creation as they lay hidden within anthropoid-shaped coffins. Ancient Egyptians sometimes decorated these caskets with feather patterns believed by some to represent a human-headed bird, the Ba, the rendering for the unique soul. Ba comes into existence only once a person dies and may revisit the body. For this reason, a bejeweled soul amulet is often placed on the mummy as a spirit guide. The term
sarcophagus
is derived from the Greek words
sarx
and
phagein
, which mean “flesh eater.” Oddly, it was believed by the ancient Greeks that a body in limestone would quickly deteriorate.

Whenever someone died, embalmers would remove the organs and use natron powder from the Nile to treat the body. The corpse would then be left for forty days with someone standing guard until it was taken to the wabet, or house of purification, to be re-treated, stuffed, and sewn up. For the burial, servants carrying the possessions of the passed would follow a priest dressed as Anubis, the jackal-headed god of the underworld, into the tomb.

 

*
Sea ivory is New England's very own contraband, made of the bone, teeth, or horn of a walrus, narwhal, or whale. Particularly illicit were scrimshaw artifacts from the nineteenth century, when the whaling trade was booming and the men at sea were restless. As fishermen grew impatient and lonely, they took to carving the by-products of their haul, creating art known as scrimshaw. Chapter fifty-seven of Herman Melville's
Moby-Dick
is titled “Of Whales in Paint; in Teeth; in Wood; in Sheet-Iron; in Stone; in Mountains; in Stars,” calling out this pastime. Once a suitable surface was found, it was polished with sharkskin and prepped for etching. A knife or sail needles—any sharp object would do—was used to cut into the piece. Patterns were everything from fashion plates found in
Harper's Weekly
to whaling vessels and mermaids. Illustrations could be transferred using the pinprick method of dotting the lines through the actual page and then connecting the markings. Indian ink, spit, lampblack, and tobacco were all rubbed into the grooves to illuminate the picture. Perhaps the most coveted work was a busk, a gift for a love waiting patiently at home, made of a slab of bone that would be used as a stay in corsets. As recounted in my letter exchange with scrimshaw historian Donald E. Ridley, the art form was short-lived, though, with the discovery of petroleum. With kerosene readily available, whale oil was no longer needed for lamps, nor was a remedy for the monotony of being alone at sea.

 

*
Consider the power of the early locksmith: his skill was synonymous with security, and knowledge of his craft was hard to come by, as talented locksmiths didn't want to share their secrets. Henry II of France's locksmith created a famed master, or skeleton key. An agitated king, frustrated with the many keys required for the doors of his castle, including that of his mistress's chamber, prompted the innovation. Later, Henry III would have a similar key created for his mistress, Diane de Poitiers. There is evidence, however, that skeleton keys date back further to when ancient Romans used a system of warded locks. The key was a romantic notion in the Middle Ages, for it would open not only doors but also coffers filled with treasure and castles where women were held captive. In 1568, the young William Douglas rescued Mary, Queen of Scots, from Lochleven. As the two rowed to safety, he dropped the key that freed her into the water. It was eventually recovered and landed in the hands of Sir Walter Scott.

With keys, came locks, and also lock pickers, whose ingenuity matched that of the locksmith's—tapers would be lit and a keyhole smoked to get the wax impression of the inner mechanics, or a mirror would be angled upward to examine inside the hole. The idea of a master key can even be seen within mythology. Greeks believed the queen of the night and witchcraft, Hecate, held the key to the complete spirit world and magic.

 

*
The classic storybook mushroom with its red cap and white spots is the drug of choice among Siberian-dwelling reindeer. One bite and they may find themselves in a drunken stupor, the same for a fly that sips the toadstool's juices. This variety can be found all over the world. Farther south, there are other sorts of intoxicating, even more enchanting, species, like those uncovered by R. Gordon Wasson, the Montana-raised financier known for his knowledge of cultural attitudes toward mushrooms. It was this interest that led Wasson to Mexico in 1953 on a quest to learn about the hallucinogenic plants eaten by the natives. There he met a Mazatec
curandera
, or healer, María Sabina, who introduced him to the world of psilocybin mushrooms. Shamans were known to eat these little beasts and be overcome with language. In 1955, Wasson and his friend Allan Richardson, a New York–based fashion photographer, became the first Westerners to take part in the nocturnal mushroom ceremony known as
la velada
in Huautla de Jiménez. When
Life
magazine published Wasson's findings in the article “Seeking the Magic Mushroom,” unforeseen consequences followed, including an eager clan of celebrities, from John Lennon to Mick Jagger, wishing to be part of the experience. Wasson hadn't intended to sell out Sabina, though she was quickly ostracized for sharing the secrets of the natives' society. She never, however, regretted meeting Wasson. Rather, she'd foreseen their encounter. In later years Wasson, who detested the word
hallucinogens
, preferred to use the word
entheogens
instead, which means “god within.” He considered himself above all a scholar and bibliophile obsessed with words found in old books. This preference was probably a reaction to a pop culture that was spiraling out of control, much like the misinformed public perception of mushrooms.

 

*
How did a half-pullover, half-button-down knit become synonymous with both grandfather dressing and grungy insouciance? The sweater was first invented in the nineteenth century, owing to the vanity of James T. Brudenell, the seventh Earl of Cardigan. He was tired of having to disturb his hairstyle when changing his look and so decided to create a collarless jacket, which unbuttoned from the front. Fast-forward to actor Steve McQueen, who was among the famous men to adopt this style. Most iconic, however, was the trend in the nineties when kids hit vintage stores to seek out old, ratty cardigans for sale, to emulate the pilling sage one Kurt Cobain wore onstage for his unplugged performance in New York in 1993.

 

*
In 1881, the Marchesa Luisa Casati was born in Milan. The shy, plain heiress, fascinated by dramatic figures like Sarah Bernhardt, grew up to establish herself as an auburn-haired, green-eyed, live-snake-wearing eccentric who walked her big cats through the streets of Venice and arrived at the Ritz with her boas and cheetahs in tow. She drove a blue Rolls-Royce often accompanied by a towering manservant. Among her houses was the Palais Rose, where Man Ray, Jean Cocteau, and Cecil Beaton were all occasional guests. Countless artists painted Casati, and she was muse to many as well as the lover of Gabriele d'Annunzio, who called her Kore, another name for Persephone. Despite creating a legacy destined for immortality, Casati died in 1957, destitute, skinny, and scavenging for objects to adorn her frail body.

 

*
The violet is one of the few flowers that flourishes in the winter. It can be found in dark, cold months, its resilient buds pale purple with a dust of frost. In the thirteenth century, apothecaries sold crystallized violets—roses and lilies, as well—steeped in hot water and sugar as a cure for all ailments. It was in the nineteenth century that the violet trade flourished north of Toulouse, France, where there grew a renowned variety with twice the amount of petals in comparison to the standard bloom. During this time, violet-flavored sugar crystals and candies were popular delicacies sold in decorative tins and used on pastries. Further back in time, the Romans would soak violet petals in casks of wine to create the celebratory drink, Violatum. Violet was always a favorite scent among royalty, including Napoléon, who was given the name Corporal Violet when he promised to return from exile in Elba with the tiny flowers, which he did in 1815. It was then that he left a bouquet on the grave of Empress Joséphine before being exiled again to Saint Helena. At the turn of the twentieth century, it was rumored that the empress of Russia Alexandra Feodorovna used an eau de toilette made exclusively from violets that were picked between the evening hours of five and seven o'clock in Grasse. The allure of the violet lies not only in its perfume but also in its beauty without ostentation.

 

*
The opal is not one color; rather, it's every color. Even covered in dirt, an opal may shine red or blue, sparkling in its dusty raw state. Pliny the Elder spoke of the opal's magic in
Historia Naturalis
(“Some opali carry such a play within them that they equal the deepest and richest colors of painters”), where he also mentions that sugar acid may be used to make a virgin stone black, as jet and fiery red opals were more dramatic than their pure white counterparts. Like the tapirage method used to dye the feathers of common canaries, this chemical trick created the illusion of more desirable specimens.

Just as mummy powder was thought to be a cure-all, ground opal was also thought to be a remedy for endless maladies. The stone was also believed to bring good luck, impart prophetic powers, cure depression, and even help blond hair retain its shine or detect poison by paling in its presence. Napoléon gave Empress Joséphine a 700-carat black opal, while Queen Victoria was known to favor the stone as a present on special occasions. Sarah Bernhardt increased the renown of the gem, her birthstone, as she commissioned art deco jewelers like René Lalique and Georges Fouquet to create unique pieces such as the snake-shaped gold bracelet with attached ring, which she wore for her role as Cleopatra at the world premiere in 1890.

Yet there has always existed a darker, more foreboding side to the opal. Many feared its mystic powers, a phobia said to have started with a scene from Sir Walter Scott's
Anne of Geierstein
, in which a princess dissolves into ash when the opal in her hair is splashed with water. It was a fear somewhat grounded in reality, since, owing to their porous nature, opals may self-destruct with too much moisture or heat. In the late nineteenth century, Alfonso XII of Spain received an opal ring as a present from his spurned lover, the Comtesse de Castiglione, which he in turn gave to his wife, who soon died. It was then given to his grandmother, Queen Christina, and passed down through generations who succumbed to similar fates. In the end, the only solution was to hang the ring from a chain that dangled around the neck of the Virgin of Almudena of Madrid.