Queen of the silver screen

YOU MAY have never heard of her, but she’s won more Oscars than any other woman in the history of Hollywood — a total of eight, with 35 nominations.

Her influence was everywhere — think classic movies like Sunset Boulevard, All About Eve, Rear Window, The Ten Commandments, Funny Face, Sabrina. The frocks, costumes and gowns of dozens of iconic 20th century movies were all the work of one small, bespectacled creative powerhouse named Edith Head. And just released for classic film fans is the definitive book of her life and work, a coffee table heavyweight crammed with gorgeous photos of the designer amid her creations and the actors and actresses she dressed. Edith Head; The Fifty Year Career of Hollywood’s Greatest Costume Designer has been put together by photographer Jay Jorgensen, and is the definitive visual accompaniment to her work.

Edith Head was to costume designing what Hitchcock was to suspense, despite her claims that she couldn’t actually sew. Credited with designing costumes for more than 400 films over six decades, she contributed to some of cinema’s most memorable looks. She worked for Paramount for 44 years, before moving to Universal in 1967 for the remainder of her career until 1981. Such was her ability to transform and visually flatter movie stars via the cut of their costumes that Bette Davis once remarked of her designs, “That is the way I want the clothes to act.” Years later, in a small but surreal tribute, she was the inspiration for the tiny, fiercely energetic Edna E Mode character in the Pixar animated movie, The Incredibles.

Of the power of clothing, Head said in 1958: “What we do is a cross between magic and camouflage. We ask the public to believe that every time the see an actress or actor that they are a different person.” With Head’s visual flair, such magic camouflage was achieved. She worked in an era of glamour and mystique, and designed accordingly.

And as Bette Davis explained, getting into costume is a lot more significant than just putting on a frock: “We may rehearse our lines, our movements and our expressions, but until we finally slip into the costumes does everything come together and we become the character. If we are not comfortable in these clothes or they don’t project the character, the costume designer has failed us. Edith Head never failed.”

Head died in 1981, aged 84. What is most remarkable about her story is that she began her career in the 1920s, when all aspects of Hollywood — including its costume departments — were entirely male-dominated (even more so than now). Nor did she have a Hollywood background. She was born in 1897 in a Nevada mining town — later, she would never speak about her childhood — and after moving to California, she majored in languages rather than art or design. She even presented someone else’s drawings as her own when she went for interview as a costume sketch artist at Paramount.

Head was a contradictory character. Her 1923 marriage to Charles Head, the brother of a classmate, ended swiftly, yet she remained known as Edith Head all her life, despite remarrying set designer Wiard Ihnen in 1940, to whom she remained married until his death almost 40 years later. She was fantastically shy, yet succeeded by becoming adept at studio politics and manipulation so that her talent was given a chance to shine through. In her youth, her teeth were misshapen, yet even after she had them fixed, she still never smiled. She was a very serious woman, her dark bob and dark round glasses — initially worn to see how the costumes looked in black and white film — becoming her trademark. Nor did she dress flamboyantly herself, but blended carefully into the background; her more outre creations were strictly for the big screen.

“Be sure it doesn’t look like something you can buy in a store,” she said of costume design. “Be sure that people will gasp when they see it.” With this in mind, she designed a mink-lined gown for Ginger Rogers in Lady in the Dark, right in the middle of wartime austerity, just as she had created escapist costumes for her stars during the depths of the Depression, where the movies was one of the few places people could go to escape reality. She also became known for her innovative sarong dress, made for Dorothy Lamour in Hurricane, and was instructed by Mae West to “make the clothes loose enough to prove I’m a lady, but tight enough to show them I’m a woman”. Edith obliged, saying West had taught her “what a woman can do with a format”.

Unlike her male costume design contemporaries, Head was never a diva. She took a quiet, serious approach to her work and consulted extensively with the actresses, rather than presenting them with the finished article, and always remained self-effacing (“I don’t think I’m one of the greatest costume designers in the world, but I am one of the greatest cooks”), despite her reputation for taking credit for other people’s work. She was especially good at disguising physical imperfections, famously making costumes that flattered actress Barbara Stanwyck’s “figure problems”, and got on well with actresses because she was determined to give them what they wanted (although Marlene Dietrich was an exception: “Everybody just doesn’t like everybody,” Head explained of their antipathy).

Her own star was fully ascended when she worked on classics like All About Eve and Sunset Boulevard, creating costumes that became part of some of the most iconic images in cinema history — Gloria Swanson conveys Norma Desmond’s madness via her choice of gown as much as her acting. But the primary purpose of many of the costumes was their aesthetic value, to make beautiful actresses even more beautiful. Elizabeth Taylor, wearing an extravagant Head design in A Place In The Sun, was described by the designer as “one of the prettiest human beings I’ve ever seen”.

As Head’s success continued, she became more in demand, and lost her previous feelings of insecurity. She bought a ranch in 1951, and became known as a wonderful hostess; her own lifestyle and surroundings were by now considered incredibly chic. She had come a long way from Searchlight, Nevada. As the ’50s and ’60s continued to provide her with ongoing opportunities — Audrey Hepburn’s costumes in Roman Holiday and Funny Face, Alfred Hitchcock declaring her his favourite designer, Grace Kelly’s gowns in To Catch a Thief — Head’s own appearance remained unchanged, thanks to her dark glasses and severe hairstyle. She seemed ageless.

Between 1950 and 1974 (for The Sting, her last major achievement) Edith Head won eight Academy Awards. However, as the ’70s approached, the studio system went into decline, and many of Head’s favourite stars retired. Having moved from Paramount to Universal, Edith kept working until the end of her life, moving with the times designing gowns described by critics as “eye-popping”. She did the costumes for ’70s classics like Airport, and continued to innovate when working with the next generation of stars — like Robert Redford and Susan Sarandon in The Great Waldo Pepper.

Head’s last ever movie was Dead Men Don’t Wear Plaid — she died a fortnight after its filming ended. Her success and career longevity was as much about her character as her creative talents; she knew she had to be more than just a designer. “To be a good designer in Hollywood, one has to be a combination of psychiatrist, artist, fashion designer, dress maker, pin cushion, historian, nurse maid and purchasing agent.” When she died, Bette Davis announced that “A queen has left us, the queen of her profession. She will never be replaced.”