Just a little over a century ago, American society in the 1920s shed the woes and trauma of the First World War by drinking out of an endless well of opulence. Prohibition backfired—instead, there were grand parties behind speakeasy doors. Fashion, too, embarked on a tremendous change. Constricting corsets, the hallmark of Edwardian style for women, were suddenly shed from their midsections; dreary workwear was stowed away into trunks, and in came an era of fashionable glamour that, hopefully, would achieve a sense of bliss that had been lost in the years prior.
There emerged an emphasis on simplicity that hadn't been seen before. While women previously reveled in glitz and glamour by donning opulent fabrics, crystal accessories, and strings of pearls, they soon shed all that in favor of the comfort of flowy, loose silhouettes. Gabrielle "Coco" Chanel fashioned the little black dress and, though it was simple, the style exuded sexiness and allure. In that era, the garment was exciting, liberating, and, above all, new.
This newness in clothing—just like any other major moment of fashion invention or reinvention—symbolized a turning tide. The dress itself ushered in new ideas of how women should and could get dressed. Nearly 40 years later, Halston’s novel pillbox hat designed for Jackie Kennedy, which she wore as JFK was inaugurated as president, ultimately had the same effect. Newness in fashion keeps consumers excited and has the power to propel culture, and what that looks like, forward.
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