I still have the March 2009 issue of Vogue magazine. Granted, part of the reason I'm hanging onto it is that I am a notorious pack rat. Throwing away anything that I think might have a future use is against my nature. But I have specifically saved this issue, because First Lady Michelle Obama, wearing a sleeveless dress, is on the cover.
When the March issue of Vogue appeared on the stands, Mrs. Obama had only been First Lady for about six weeks. Even so, she had already started a buzz in the fashion world because of her taste in clothing, and, especially, her tendency to wear sleeveless dresses. I read the commentaries on her "sleevelessness" with a sense of bemusement. Some things never change.
One hundred and twenty-three years earlier, in mid-1886, another First Lady was making headlines because of her sleeveless attire. That First Lady was Frances Folsom Cleveland, a young, lithe, extremely attractive woman, who had returned from her pre-wedding trip to Paris with a trunk-ful of new clothes. Naturally, her new role as the nation's First Lady was a two-edged sword: her beautiful and stylish attire would be on display during Washington's social season, and her clothing would be the subject of much discussion.
Her sleeveless dresses, with their low necklines, were indeed a subject of much discussion. The most outspoken group was the Women's Christian Temperance Union, which sent her a letter asking her to dress more modestly as an example for young women throughout the United States. The letter from the WCTU was especially curious, considering that Frances was a professed teetotaler, and that her college roommate was the niece of the WCTU's founder, Frances Willard. (The WCTU never did take a full liking to the nation's First Lady; it also criticized her for using a bottle of champagne to christen a ship, suggesting she should have used something non-alcoholic.)
Sleevelessness was not the only thing that Washington's society writers noted about the First Lady when it came to fashion. They found it newsworthy that she removed her bonnet when she attended theater - which was quite regularly - and started a trend that was ultimately seen as respectful to those who sat behind women wearing large hats that normally blocked the view of the stage.
The one "fashion statement" that was attributed to Frances, but which, in fact, she had nothing to do with, was the elimination of the bustle. That rumor was started one hot summer day in 1887 when there was no real news and a reporter needed to file something with his paper. He announced that Mrs. Cleveland's new wardrobe would no longer feature the bustle, and women's clothiers immediately packed the contraptions away in the basement. When Frances returned to Washington in the fall and embarked on a shopping trip, she asked for a bustle. "But Mrs. Cleveland," the sales clerk informed her, "ever since you stopped wearing the bustle, we took the remaining ones we had and put them in the basement. No one is buying them any more!"
"In that case," Frances replied, "I guess I really will have to stop wearing them." And she did.
Frances never waffled on her views about sleeveless dresses and low necklines, though. Her 1899 official portrait, by the artist, Anders Zorn, renders her in a sleeveless gown with just the right amount of decolletage to still be considered modest.
Sunday, March 28, 2010
Wednesday, March 24, 2010
Why Write About Frances Folsom Cleveland?
"Why did you pick her?" is a question I am asked nearly every time someone hears about my book, "Frank: The Story of Frances Folsom Cleveland, America's Youngest First Lady." It's a fair question. Frances is not, as one person told me, "in the upper constellation of first ladies": that stratospheric region inhabited by Jackie Kennedy, Eleanor Roosevelt, Dolley Madison and Abigail Adams. The fact that Frances was considered a hostess on par with Dolley Madison has long been forgotten, and the uncanny parallels with Jackie Kennedy have never been fully drawn.
There are quite a few "firsts" associated with Frances. In addition to being the nation's youngest first lady, she was the first to marry a sitting president in the White House; the first First Lady to give birth to a baby in the White House; and the first to remarry after her husband died (Jackie Kennedy is the only other first lady to do so).
There are the forgotten "firsts": a kindergarten in the White House for preschool children; the first First Lady to graduate from college; one of the first two female trustees of her alma mater, Wells College. Frances played a behind the scenes role in finally getting copyright legislation passed to protect American authors, and following the presidential years and the family's settling in Princeton, New Jersey, Frances was instrumental in the founding of the New Jersey College for Women.
Newspaper articles, as well as her letters, reveal a woman of strong and determined character, with an egalitarian streak that endeared her to the public and to the White House staff. Her husband, Cleveland, who came across in public as gruff and taciturn, actually had a better sense of humor and was an outstanding raconteur in private. Frances, perhaps because of the demands on her to watch her children and household while Cleveland spent hours in the presidential study, in a fishing boat or on a hunting trip, was friendly enough. But she also had a stern and unyielding streak that remained with her throughout her life.
Historians refer to Frances as a "transitional" first lady. Although she continued to maintain a very traditional posture as the White House hostess, she did, in fact, understand the value of parlor politics. She played that game well enough that sometimes even her husband, who believed women should not be in politics, had to support what she was doing.
There are quite a few "firsts" associated with Frances. In addition to being the nation's youngest first lady, she was the first to marry a sitting president in the White House; the first First Lady to give birth to a baby in the White House; and the first to remarry after her husband died (Jackie Kennedy is the only other first lady to do so).
There are the forgotten "firsts": a kindergarten in the White House for preschool children; the first First Lady to graduate from college; one of the first two female trustees of her alma mater, Wells College. Frances played a behind the scenes role in finally getting copyright legislation passed to protect American authors, and following the presidential years and the family's settling in Princeton, New Jersey, Frances was instrumental in the founding of the New Jersey College for Women.
Newspaper articles, as well as her letters, reveal a woman of strong and determined character, with an egalitarian streak that endeared her to the public and to the White House staff. Her husband, Cleveland, who came across in public as gruff and taciturn, actually had a better sense of humor and was an outstanding raconteur in private. Frances, perhaps because of the demands on her to watch her children and household while Cleveland spent hours in the presidential study, in a fishing boat or on a hunting trip, was friendly enough. But she also had a stern and unyielding streak that remained with her throughout her life.
Historians refer to Frances as a "transitional" first lady. Although she continued to maintain a very traditional posture as the White House hostess, she did, in fact, understand the value of parlor politics. She played that game well enough that sometimes even her husband, who believed women should not be in politics, had to support what she was doing.
Sunday, March 21, 2010
The Business of Writing
Last Sunday, March 14, I had a small quote in the "Personality Parade" column of Parade magazine. (See http://www.parade.com/celebrity/personality-parade/2010/03/jacqueline-kennedy-onassis.html.) For one day, I made the top 20 U.S. history bestseller list on amazon.com. During that Sunday, I was in the top 4,000 books sold, according to their rankings.On Monday, I was off the bestseller list and I had dropped to 42,000, and now.... Well, we won't go into that, but let's just say you can add a few more zeroes to my place on the sales charts.
There are a lot of books being written, and in spite of the proliferation of the written word - albeit in shortened form, such as texts and tweets (and blog posts) - book reading, in general, is down. Book publishing is not a profitable enterprise. Even the major publishing houses count on blockbusters to pay the bills for all of the other mid-list and less-than-mid-list books they publish. Every author who has a book published is expeced actively to promote his or her work.
This past week, I had the great honor to be on an author panel at the Virginia Festival of the Book. It is an opportunity afforded to only a small number of authors, and I consider myself extremely fortunate to be a part of that select group. This was also the first time that I attended the event as an author - and a different perspective generates a different response to one's experiences.
Not only did I pay attention to what had motivated authors to pick their topics and what was involved in their research, but I especially noted that every single one of us is trying to sell our respective books. We are first selling ourselves, the writer as human being, and in that newly established rapport we seek to sell the prospective reader on the merits of reading our particular book. In the vast collection of potential reading material, we strive to convince a reader that ours is one of the books that merits attention.
Several years ago, I had the opportunity to serve as a consultant to a very artistic and business-savvy potter. I marveled at how he successfully operated out of both sides of his brain - the artistic side that created one-of-a-kind wares, and the business side - that understood what it took to sell those wares. I find myself, the MBA who writes history as a hobby, now in that same category - the writer who must also be business-savvy. If I'm going to do the work to research and write a book, then I want people to read what I have written. And if I want people to read what I have written, then I need to find every means possible to let them know about the book - and about me.
That, in short, is the business side of writing.
There are a lot of books being written, and in spite of the proliferation of the written word - albeit in shortened form, such as texts and tweets (and blog posts) - book reading, in general, is down. Book publishing is not a profitable enterprise. Even the major publishing houses count on blockbusters to pay the bills for all of the other mid-list and less-than-mid-list books they publish. Every author who has a book published is expeced actively to promote his or her work.
This past week, I had the great honor to be on an author panel at the Virginia Festival of the Book. It is an opportunity afforded to only a small number of authors, and I consider myself extremely fortunate to be a part of that select group. This was also the first time that I attended the event as an author - and a different perspective generates a different response to one's experiences.
Not only did I pay attention to what had motivated authors to pick their topics and what was involved in their research, but I especially noted that every single one of us is trying to sell our respective books. We are first selling ourselves, the writer as human being, and in that newly established rapport we seek to sell the prospective reader on the merits of reading our particular book. In the vast collection of potential reading material, we strive to convince a reader that ours is one of the books that merits attention.
Several years ago, I had the opportunity to serve as a consultant to a very artistic and business-savvy potter. I marveled at how he successfully operated out of both sides of his brain - the artistic side that created one-of-a-kind wares, and the business side - that understood what it took to sell those wares. I find myself, the MBA who writes history as a hobby, now in that same category - the writer who must also be business-savvy. If I'm going to do the work to research and write a book, then I want people to read what I have written. And if I want people to read what I have written, then I need to find every means possible to let them know about the book - and about me.
That, in short, is the business side of writing.
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