Bing Crosby’s Cravats
The Campiness of White Christmas
Hi! It’s been a long time since I sent a newsletter! Here are some things I’ve written since August, instead of writing this (sorry!):
This essay about the problem with the ‘Look, I Found Her!’ trend in art history for Art Review
This guide to my favourite neighbourhood in Rome for the Independent
This sort-of review of the film Emily for Prospect, which is about the shift from historical drama to historical biography as a vessel for corsets and romance
These two essays for ArtUK about some of my favourite nineteenth-century gals
But now I’m back with festive thoughts about Christmas icon Bing Crosby and his neckwear:
White Christmas is a masterpiece of 1950s camp Americana. It’s the first film made in VistaVision, which gives it a maximalist colour palette and makes Bing Crosby’s eyes so blue they look fake. Like the 1950s in general, the film is prematurely nostalgic for its own time. It looks back at Hollywood musicals from the 1930s and 40s that felt like filmed stage shows, but elevates them to a post-war level of materialist excess without quite achieving the joyful frivolity of the great MGM musicals. The musical numbers in the show are as random as they could possibly be - my favourite is ‘Choreography,’ in which a heavily made-up Danny Kaye mocks modern dance. Vera Ellen literally descends from the heavens to provide relief in the form of tap dance. Nothing could be better than this.
It’s not really a Christmas movie at all - there isn’t much of a Christmas aesthetic until the final White Christmas number, and there certainly isn’t much moralising. Lots of things about the film have not aged well - the army worship, the weird age differences between the male and female love interests that make the central relationships completely devoid of sexual tension. The whole plot turns on unseasonably warm weather in New England, which now feels depressingly, presciently apocalyptic. Bing and Danny Kaye’s friendship, while touchingly earnest and well-played, seems to be based on their financial success as partners, plus emotional manipulation. Something that has aged beautifully, however, are Bing Crosby’s ascots and neck kerchiefs.
First and possibly best, I offer you the camo cravat. This man is supposed to be a captain in the US Army stationed somewhere in Italy in 1944ish, but don’t worry! He has his on-theme cravat to hand. This thing is not government-issue. Note the stains and burn marks on his jacket, added for realistic effect by the thoughtful costume designer. Somehow, the cravat looks like it’s just been cleaned and pressed! In this combat zone? Only a true sartorialist could look so good.
Jumping some 10 years into the future, we find ourselves at the campiest, arguably gayest moment in the film. Bing and Danny (Bob and Phil) are ‘saving the necks’ of the hot girls they just met by dressing up as them and lip-synching to their ‘Sisters’ song. Both men can’t stop laughing throughout this scene, and apparently this made it into the final cut because they couldn’t get a take where neither of them laughed. It is, again, incredible. The bromance between these dudes knows no bounds. And, of course, they have chosen to wrap scraps of fabric from the women’s dresses around their necks as accent pieces. These have a sort of bolo look to them - very skinny, with a glittery clasp at the nape of the neck. A true lesson in creative men’s neckwear.
This next one makes me laugh because it is loungewear. Bing and Danny have decided to bring their whole Broadway show up to Vermont to help their old pal The General’s inn make money in a snowless winter. These outfits are their weekend chore looks. They are flawless. Obviously, they have not actually lifted any heavy items or helped with any chores. Bing’s cravat here looks as if it has been added at the last minute to an already-completed costume. His polo is buttoned all the way up - there is no room for this cravat!! But perhaps Bing suffers from a chronically chilled neck. We’ve all been there.
Finally, Bing’s last neck accoutrement. This one appears in several pivotal scenes. First, when he sits with The General to read him a letter from his friend, another general, telling him to enjoy his retirement and stop asking to go back to war. Bing acknowledges that he is actually also kind of old (he has to ‘play trombone’ to read the letter), but not too old for flashy neckwear. Relatable.
He’s still wearing the kerchief when the film’s classic miscommunication leads to conflict between the leading couple. Really, the leading couple in this movie is Bing and Danny, but they’re supposed to be in love with Rosemary Clooney and Vera Ellen. Like all romcom miscommunications, this one is laughably easy to resolve but, of course, isn’t. Bing’s blue kerchief is supposed to make him look like a homely, all-American guy, but it actually reminds us that this whole movie was shot on a lot in LA, because he looks like a producer.
I love White Christmas, despite the chaos of the plot and the consumerism of the whole film. The campiness of it all, and of the historical moment, feels especially on the nose this year. That sense of idealised nostalgia for our own time, or the time just past, is so pervasive now, too, as the world swings towards conservatism. Christmas is a nostalgic holiday, and I am a sucker. I will probably start wearing cravats to cope with it.
My Favourite Things I Have Read & Watched in 2022:
Books:
Still Life, by Sarah Winman
Hot Milk, by Deborah Levy
Real Estate, also by Deborah Levy, who is a genius
Behind the Scenes at the Museum, by Kate Atkinson
Lapvona, by Ottessa Moshfegh
Notes to Self, by Emilie Pine
TV:
The last season of Derry Girls
All of Seinfeld, for the first time
The Windsors, which I used to hate but now think is actually hilarious
Only Murders in the Building, season 2
Abbott Elementary
Marvelous Mrs. Maisel, season 4
Films:
Shiva Baby
The Worst Person in the World
Emily, even though I also had qualms about it
Rosaline, because Caitlin Dever is a star