Extract taken from The ABC Blog on the Hardy Amies website;
S is for Savoy
The Hardy Amies Menswear Catwalk Show At The Savoy
The catwalk was originally a long, slim footbridge linking adjoining buildings which obliged the user to tread carefully, putting one foot in front of the other in a feline manner. But, by 1913, Webster’s dictionary was defining it as ‘a narrow walkway projecting from a stage into the seating area of a theatre; it is used, eg by models displaying clothes on it at a fashion show. Called also runway’.
In 1954, Edna Woolman Chase, then editor of Vogue, complained, ‘A lady is hard put to it to lunch, or sip a cocktail, in any smart hotel or store front… without having lissome young things… swaying down a runway six inches above her nose.’
Look at the vintage footage of Fifties fashion shows on YouTube and you’ll see where Edna’s ennui came from – most of them are stiff, staid and parodic. It needed someone with flair to shake up the standard parade of mannequin-like models and that man was Hardy Amies, who, in the early Sixties, took the catwalk convention by the scruff of its fur collar and gave it a good shake.
By the late-Fifties, Amies was looking at the ready-to-wear market. He made a tentative foray into it in 1959 with a range of ties for Michelsons, which proved successful. At the same time, he was approached by Hepworth’s, in many ways the antithesis of his Savile Row business, to consult on its men’s ready-to-wear range. Hepworth originated in Huddersfield and had been selling suits since the 1800s. By the time it was in discussions with Amies, the firm had 300 shops, but was facing an image problem. A more relaxed Italian and American style had made much of its ready-to-wear range seem positively outmoded plus there was a new breed of teenagers and young men who no longer wanted to dress like their fathers, who had probably bought their suits from Hepworth’s.
It was quite a challenge, but Amies took it on, designing an annual collection worth £10 million. At the time he said: ‘My mission in life is to create a wardrobe for what I call the “complete man”.’
Amies’s target customer, though, was at that time averse to ready-to-wear or ‘off the peg’ suits, which were considered inferior to made-to-measure (which High Street middle-market stores such a Hepworth’s and John Collier also offered) and true bespoke. Amies had to find a way to make the new undertaking have the cachet that his brand deserved.
The first collection consisted of 30 suits, which Amies declared were intended to ‘make the customer feel younger and richer than they were, and more attractive’. It was the second collection, though, that would really create a stir. Catwalk shows for ready-to-wear were certainly not unheard of, but not for men’s fashion (still a fledgling concept for many). When Amies announced that his next collection would be unveiled at the Savoy, a few industry eyebrows were raised. (Amies loved London’s grand hotels, such as the Savoy and the Ritz – he was regular at the former whenever on leave in World War II and the bar at the latter would always have his perfect martini at the ready.)
Even the press were interested in what Amies was going to pull out of the bag and The Glasgow Herald duly reported that: ‘Most of the male models in London’ marched down the catwalk (all 18 of them – the breed was obviously much rarer than now). They wore bowler hats, had briefcases under arms, umbrellas at the slope and they strutted to the rousing British Grenadiers tune in a mock military fashion.
In contrast to the martial music and the establishment accessories, the clothes were a fresh, modern twist on men’s tailoring. The Guardian summed it up thus: “Supreme though Savile Row may remain for sheer perfection… the influence of America and Italy in the styling of men’s clothes has, in the post-war years, been marked. But it is difficult for Englishmen to stomach. Hardy Amies’ British line now comes as a palatable compromise between the old world and the new.’
Amies had broken through the cordon of snobbery, bringing ready-to-wear into fashion’s inner sanctum and taking fashion to the masses, with a collection that caught the modern mood without being too avant-garde for the conservative British male.
But as Austin Mutti-Mewse, the curator of the Amies archive, explains, there was still a touch of regal flamboyance: ‘The show was one of Hardy’s greatest achievements, but even then he never forgot his most famous client, for at the close of the show the models turned their backs on the crowd and there at the back of stage appeared a giant bejewelled paper mâché hand giving a regal wave to all and operated by two stage hands. “It was the Queen,” said Hardy. “She was giving my show her royal approval.”’
There was one more surprise in store for the slack-jawed spectators. At the end of the display, the designer himself, Mr Amies, came out and took a bow. Music, models, maestro – the paradigm for fashion shows for the next half-century had been forged.
The Hepworth’s line became more flamboyant as the Sixties progressed, with Amies soon trying out evening capes lined in white satin, ‘shortie’ macs and overcoats that came to mid-thigh, and the Ad-Lib suit for any occasion. This looked like a conventional three-piece suit, but with the outer jacket removed the waistcoat, tailored entirely in the suiting material, ditching the standard shiny back, doubled more as a sleeveless jerkin. But it all started that day at the Savoy in 1961, when fashion was forced to take ‘off the peg’ seriously as a source of innovation and the High Street finally got hip.
The catwalk was originally a long, slim footbridge linking adjoining buildings which obliged the user to tread carefully, putting one foot in front of the other in a feline manner. But, by 1913, Webster’s dictionary was defining it as ‘a narrow walkway projecting from a stage into the seating area of a theatre; it is used, eg by models displaying clothes on it at a fashion show. Called also runway’.
In 1954, Edna Woolman Chase, then editor of Vogue, complained, ‘A lady is hard put to it to lunch, or sip a cocktail, in any smart hotel or store front… without having lissome young things… swaying down a runway six inches above her nose.’
Look at the vintage footage of Fifties fashion shows on YouTube and you’ll see where Edna’s ennui came from – most of them are stiff, staid and parodic. It needed someone with flair to shake up the standard parade of mannequin-like models and that man was Hardy Amies, who, in the early Sixties, took the catwalk convention by the scruff of its fur collar and gave it a good shake.
By the late-Fifties, Amies was looking at the ready-to-wear market. He made a tentative foray into it in 1959 with a range of ties for Michelsons, which proved successful. At the same time, he was approached by Hepworth’s, in many ways the antithesis of his Savile Row business, to consult on its men’s ready-to-wear range. Hepworth originated in Huddersfield and had been selling suits since the 1800s. By the time it was in discussions with Amies, the firm had 300 shops, but was facing an image problem. A more relaxed Italian and American style had made much of its ready-to-wear range seem positively outmoded plus there was a new breed of teenagers and young men who no longer wanted to dress like their fathers, who had probably bought their suits from Hepworth’s.
It was quite a challenge, but Amies took it on, designing an annual collection worth £10 million. At the time he said: ‘My mission in life is to create a wardrobe for what I call the “complete man”.’
Amies’s target customer, though, was at that time averse to ready-to-wear or ‘off the peg’ suits, which were considered inferior to made-to-measure (which High Street middle-market stores such a Hepworth’s and John Collier also offered) and true bespoke. Amies had to find a way to make the new undertaking have the cachet that his brand deserved.
The first collection consisted of 30 suits, which Amies declared were intended to ‘make the customer feel younger and richer than they were, and more attractive’. It was the second collection, though, that would really create a stir. Catwalk shows for ready-to-wear were certainly not unheard of, but not for men’s fashion (still a fledgling concept for many). When Amies announced that his next collection would be unveiled at the Savoy, a few industry eyebrows were raised. (Amies loved London’s grand hotels, such as the Savoy and the Ritz – he was regular at the former whenever on leave in World War II and the bar at the latter would always have his perfect martini at the ready.)
Even the press were interested in what Amies was going to pull out of the bag and The Glasgow Herald duly reported that: ‘Most of the male models in London’ marched down the catwalk (all 18 of them – the breed was obviously much rarer than now). They wore bowler hats, had briefcases under arms, umbrellas at the slope and they strutted to the rousing British Grenadiers tune in a mock military fashion.
In contrast to the martial music and the establishment accessories, the clothes were a fresh, modern twist on men’s tailoring. The Guardian summed it up thus: “Supreme though Savile Row may remain for sheer perfection… the influence of America and Italy in the styling of men’s clothes has, in the post-war years, been marked. But it is difficult for Englishmen to stomach. Hardy Amies’ British line now comes as a palatable compromise between the old world and the new.’
Amies had broken through the cordon of snobbery, bringing ready-to-wear into fashion’s inner sanctum and taking fashion to the masses, with a collection that caught the modern mood without being too avant-garde for the conservative British male.
But as Austin Mutti-Mewse, the curator of the Amies archive, explains, there was still a touch of regal flamboyance: ‘The show was one of Hardy’s greatest achievements, but even then he never forgot his most famous client, for at the close of the show the models turned their backs on the crowd and there at the back of stage appeared a giant bejewelled paper mâché hand giving a regal wave to all and operated by two stage hands. “It was the Queen,” said Hardy. “She was giving my show her royal approval.”’
There was one more surprise in store for the slack-jawed spectators. At the end of the display, the designer himself, Mr Amies, came out and took a bow. Music, models, maestro – the paradigm for fashion shows for the next half-century had been forged.
The Hepworth’s line became more flamboyant as the Sixties progressed, with Amies soon trying out evening capes lined in white satin, ‘shortie’ macs and overcoats that came to mid-thigh, and the Ad-Lib suit for any occasion. This looked like a conventional three-piece suit, but with the outer jacket removed the waistcoat, tailored entirely in the suiting material, ditching the standard shiny back, doubled more as a sleeveless jerkin. But it all started that day at the Savoy in 1961, when fashion was forced to take ‘off the peg’ seriously as a source of innovation and the High Street finally got hip.
The exterior;
Interior;
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