Currently, the pervasive question from consumers about fashion is “how does one dress during these —or any— historic moments of uncertainty?”

The price increases caused by inflation and the tenuous status of the pandemic cause the question of how to adorn one’s self seem a bit overwhelming.

As I asses my own wardrobe, I find myself musing over ways in which women from the not-too-distant past practiced self presentation during days of historical fragility.

Two examples from which I’ve drawn inspiration come from the 1960s —- a decade filled with challenges and change arising from myriad issues such as the Cold War, the Civil Rights Movement, the Vietnam War, and the Space Race.

In 1961, when Elizabeth Taylor earned the Oscar for Best Actress due to her role in Butterfly 8, she donned an A-line, sleeveless dress with a pale yellow bodice and a floral skirt by Christian Dior. At that time, Dior was one of the great French couturiers whose designs articulated both his own and the Western world’s post-World War II optimism.

Dior sought to move his clients beyond the style austerity that was made necessary by both the Great Depression and the Second World War. His aesthetic which became known as the “New Look” was about feeling and looking as though life possessed positive possibilities.

The cinched waist, voluminous skirt, and luxurious fabric of Taylor’s dress from 1961 were contemporary iterations of this “New Look,” which initially emerged in 1947.

A similar type of ethos was present in the work of another French couturier, Hubert de Givenchy, whose maison de couture (house of high style/ fashion) opened in 1952. Like Dior, Givenchy favored lux fabrics, yet what made his technique distinct was his creation of slender silhouettes with strategic placements of volume (such as in the bosom of Hepburn’s dress pictured above) which gave his pieces both an architectural facade and a futuristic appeal.

In the featured portrait of Audrey Hepburn, she wears a mustard yellow shantung, which is a slender garment of silk that is traditionally worn in the Shandong province of China. Hepburn modeled the dress in 1963 during a series of images published in Vogue that exhibited she and Givenchy’s groundbreaking fashion partnership.

As I ponder Hepburn and Taylor’s early 1960s sartorial choices, it occurs to me that they modeled the classic adage about dressing for the occasion and dressing in ways that flatter the form. Taylor’s classic hour-glass- shape was beautifully “apropos” for the A-line design of Dior’s “New Look,” and Hepburn’s slender, pencil-like figure slid into Givenchy’s shantung like a glove.

Both dresses are in bright colors, and both evoke glamour and sensuality in a refined and thoughtful manner — and yes of course, all of this was done during days of uncertainty.

Most assuredly, their clothes did not fix any of the world’s problems, and ours won’t either.

However, by using their attire to invoke the visual optimism of their respective French couturiers, Taylor and Hepburn were asserting their willingness to meet the challenges of the moment with dignity and intentionality.

Perhaps any attire that makes similar claims is the “right thing” to wear today.

Two Other Style Icons in Dior and Givenchy:

Lee Radziwill and Grace Kelly