💫a brief look at the brilliant history of women’s suiting
In contrast to the “beauty is pain” philosophy of traditionally feminine fashion statements like stilettos or corsets, tuxedos and trousers make for slightly more pleasant wearing experiences. From the beginning of their time, women’s suits have seamlessly blended practicality with resistance.
Amelia Bloomer, courtesy of Seneca Falls Historical Society
In ancient civilizations, the earliest women to start wearing “trousers” as we know them were Chinese and Scythian horse riders. They had to be literally necessary in order to be societally acceptable (eyeroll). In the 1850s, Amelia Bloomer used her platform as editor of the Lily, one of the first women-run newspapers in the U.S., to advocate for dress reform. While bloomers (the first iteration of trousers for women) were named after her, they were technically first worn by activist Elizabeth Smith Miller (she deservers her own flowers).
Bloomers caused a stir. And they might not have been the most fashion-forward, but they did pave the way for the widespread acceptance of trousers and eventually suits for women in the 20th century. The “suffragette suit” (tailored jackets and bloomers paired with long skirts) symbolized the right to vote, professionalism and equality. Coco Chanel was the first mainstream fashion designer to revolutionize the suit for women by maintaining elements of femininity and glamour, pairing tweed jackets with matching skirts.
In 1933, Eleanor Roosevelt didn’t have enough time to change out of her riding attire before the annual White House Easter egg roll. This was the first time a First Lady wore a “suit” to an official function.
That same year, actress Marlene Dietrich famously wore a white double-breasted suit aboard the SS Europa during her travels to France. When the Paris chief of police got news of her outfit, he announced she would be arrested upon her arrival (the drama).
Shocking context: women in Paris were technically banned from wearing trousers until 2013.
Anyways, here’s what historian Kate Lemay writes about what happened when Dietrich arrived in Paris: “she walks off the train, grabs the chief of police by his arm, and walks him off the platform”. Oh she wore the pants alright.
The rise of the feminist movement in the 1970s started popularizing the “power suit”. Armani’s take featured broad shoulders and straight leg trousers, establishing the garment as a tool to assert authority and prove competence in male-dominated spaces. The suit represented a broader violation of what society “expected” of women.
Yves Saint Laurent’s “Le Smoking” tuxedo for women was an envelope-pushing moment in fashion history (and one of my personal favourites). Sharp tailoring, perfectly constructed contours and satin lapels exuded power and sophistication while maintaining elegance and simplicity. Helmut Newton’s photographs of the suit (shot for French Vogue in 1975) established a controversial redefinition of femininity. Instead of ruffles, cinched waists or bare skin, the feminine allure was in the imagination behind the structured tailoring of suit. The model in the photograph wears a pinstripe version of Le Smoking as she nonchalantly caresses a lit cigarette in one hand while the other sits in the pocket of the trousers, showing off their practicality. Her slick-back hair and barely-there makeup spotlights the sharpness of her cheekbone. Her body language and the comfortable bend in her left leg quietly asserts dominance and control. Many luxury restaurants and hotels refused entry to women wearing YSL’s Le Smoking suit at the time. Their loss.
On a personal note, I will never ever forget the feeling of wearing a suit for the first time. I was relatively young — probably fifteen or so — attending a MUN conference at some high school. While I definitely did not have the critical thinking skills to consider why a traditionally “masculine” silhouette is what I associated with intelligence and authority at the time, I had never felt more powerful. That feeling undoubtedly influenced the way I spent the rest of my day. For the first time in my life, I actively initiated some friendly contest with other people (all for the greater good for the MUN conference, of course). It goes without saying — you are what you wear.
For those of you who will be in charge of planning my (hopefully very distant) funeral, please bury me in a Saint Laurent suit. Ideally vintage.
