Stage Set
Moderne, a glam decorating trend launched in Dallas 10 years ago, still knocks ’em dead at the box office.
Ralph Lauren and Hollywood of the 1930s and ’40s portrayed an America that never existed. Don’t get me wrong; I love Hollywood films from that era, and I wear Mr. Lauren’s clothes. But who ever really lolled about in velvet smoking jackets, swigging martinis with Myrna Loy while solving murders?
This brand of cinematic glamour has returned in decorating. Now you see it starring in shelter magazines instead of onscreen. And while in New York and Los Angeles it’s the hottest “new” trend, Dallas designers actually spearheaded the look a decade ago.
Furniture and décor from the Hollywood era, often referred to as Moderne or art deco, was re-launched in Dallas by top local talents such as Michelle Nussbaumer, Jan Showers, Emily Summers, Mil Bodron, and John Gregory. They glammed up some of the most fashionable houses in town with early midcentury pieces in pale fruitwoods, mirrored tables, gilt wallpapers, and exotic animal skins. While New York’s new rich were being held captive by oppressively heavy velvets, gold-leaf chairs, and John Singer Sargent portraits (of other people’s ancestors), the West Coast was mired in Michael Taylor-knockoff beach houses—most, nowhere near a beach. Think glass-topped driftwood tables. But Dallas was sizzling with style. Our hometown houses, once entombed in matching suites of dark mahogany and chintz-clad furniture, now dazzled with Venetian glass and glossy, exotic-veneered furniture by Jean-Michel Frank and Jacques-Emile Ruhlman.
Evidence that this look has spread from Dallas to both coasts: the Metropolitan Museum of Art has mounted the first retrospective of Ruhlman’s work and an auction at the Los Angeles Christie’s several years ago saw furniture from the ’20s thru ’40s command exorbitant prices. A set of eight limed-oak chairs designed by architect and decorator Samuel Marx in 1950, estimated to fetch $9,000, hit $54,000. Pieces by William “Billy” Haines, Tommi Parzinger (whose lighting designs have been re-issued by Baker), and James Mont are highly sought after by collectors, but good luck finding them. Companies such as Holly Hunt and Himmel are producing pieces that reference these past American and French furniture masters, while posh Parisian decorator Jacques Garcia’s furniture line for Baker, which debuted this spring, dazzles like Ginger Rogers and Fred Astaire.
A little history is in order. Don’t fret; I’ll make it quick. In the 1930s, as the Great Depression ravaged the country, Hollywood responded with wildly glamorous films such as Top Hat and Shall We Dance. These pictures showcased over-the-top escapist luxury at a time when most people barely had the price of a movie ticket. As Astaire and Rogers danced across ebony floors in rooms with white patent-leather upholstery, shimmering metallic walls, and crystal-hung chandeliers, Americans found a respite from the misery of daily life.
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Those who actually had the money to live like the movies usually were in the movie business. Billy Haines, once a wildly popular silent film star until he was exiled from the screen for refusing to deny his homosexuality, found a career decorating for the Hollywood elite. Jack Warner was a client, as well as Joan Crawford. Haines’ penchant for spotless white upholstery probably helped push Crawford over the edge. His style is characterized by low-slung chairs (Warner was a very short man), sinuously curved sofas, glass and tortoiseshell leather tables, zebra-skin rugs, and Lucite or rock crystal lamps. The hallmark of this look, commonly called Hollywood Regency, is an abundance of luxurious materials. Parchment leather, shagreen (stingray), mirror, and exotic woods such as rosewood and ebony were used in everything from a simple square-legged table to a gently curving sofa. Because movies were black-and-white, furniture was usually painted and lacquered in highly reflective whites and shiny blacks or mirrored.
The primary source of inspiration was found in the French art deco movement. Avant-garde French designers such as Jean-Michel Frank, Jean Prouvé, and André Arbus rebelled against the bourgeoisie’s murky tapestries and beloved 18th-century French furniture. Frank, the benchmark modernist of the day, upholstered walls in panels of fawn-colored leather from the Hermés workroom, and he designed clean-lined furniture upholstered in white kidskin, with tables crafted of eggshell lacquer, parchment, or shagreen. The work of these designers was never cheap; they needed a rich clientele willing to dump the family gilt and brocades. Fine art deco was never a bargain.
The 1940s brought World War II, cutting us off from the style-setting French and creating an opening for American designers. Thanks to the aforementioned Haines, Parzinger, and Marx, decorators created a purely American style. It’s ironic that it took economic tragedy and a gruesome war to launch this country as a major decorating force.
Times are troubled once again, so who can blame us for coveting the glamour of Hollywood and Paris of 60 years ago? Certainly not the local decorators responsible for popularizing Moderne. Thanks to them, not only can we watch a stylish Hollywood movie, we get to live in one, too.
