Certain celebrities mange to capture our adulation in life, and upon their death have been deified even further, Marilyn Monroe, Elvis Presley, Audrey Hepburn and James Dean come quickly to mind. They remain referenced posthumously in numerous fashion periodicals, despite the intervening decades. Today my thoughts dwell on a less popular fashion icon, Gary Cooper, (b. 1901, d. 1961) an altogether too brief life, as lives goes.
A grandly talented actor, Gary Cooper was an attractive figure; a handsome man, he had a classic matinee profile. He was well proportioned, and athletically inclined, not a natural clothing horse, through the guise of the MGM Studio System, he always looked equally at home in a double breasted jacket by Adrian, or indigenous dung covered cowboy attire. He was so sexually smoldering that Hurrell repeatedly photographed him surrounded by wafts of cigarette smoke. I have never seen an unattractive photograph of the star. His name, like Cary Grant’s, seems synonymous with old Hollywood elegance. His style was so aped, that in the song, “Puttin’ On The Ritz”, by Irving Berlin, one of the lines is “…Dressed up like a million dollar trooper, trying hard to look like Gary Cooper…super duper.” Gary Cooper style remains a kind of fashion shorthand.
Last year with a small unexpected windfall I managed to secure a purchase of a black wool boat neck sweater worn by Mr. Cooper in 1936, from an on-line estate sale. I was irresistibly drawn to it. In my mind, I see the actor on a two masted schooner with pals Clark Gable, and Carole Lombard yucking it up for a studio photographer presumably snapping candid photos for “Life” or “Photoplay Magazine”. They are off the coast of Catalina. They are taut, and tan, and Max Factored.
After several weeks of shipping, the sweater came with a certificate of authenticity, and seemingly loved, carefully wrapped in tissue paper. It smelled old, the way 100% wool should. My mind works in odd ways as I’m thinking that this sweater was made from sheep that lived during the Great Depression, but I digress. I was almost afraid to put it on; I approached it with such reverence. If not for the fact it once belonged to Gary Cooper I would describe this sweater is a perfunctory item, but as classic today, as it was over 70 years ago. I believe in 70 years it will remain stylish. The boat neck collar is the least popular in the hierarchy of sweater couture. The boat neck collar is like lost fashion lexicon. In fact, few manufacturers make them any longer, everything has moved to the Coke and Pepsi style of collars, its crew or V-neck. However, the boat-neck collar when worn with a simple shirt, and scarf, is formidably dashing! I welcome its return. If anyone knows David Beckham, George Clooney or the Sartorialist, please ask them to try a boat neck, and start a trend. Alas, too few people notice the likes of me.
While wearing the clothes of a celebrity does not really magically imbue us with their attributes, it does suggest a kind aspiration of ideals, a desire to be like, behave like, or become like the original wearer. If not, why then did the famous black dress worn by Audrey Hepburn in the opening credits of “Breakfast of Tiffany’s” sell at auction for over 800,000.00. Anyone could easily copy the dress for just a pittance. Sometimes clothing communicates. It has the ability, if well chosen to embody our persona. Cary Coopers sweater captures some of his attributes; it is dark, dense, and tightly knit, as deceptively simple as modern architecture, practical to the point of being serious, as romantic and lonely as the sea, and masculine. Clothing has the ability to transform us. I do not become Gary Cooper; however, I do become more like me.
