Gabrielle “Coco” Chanel understood the rich language of style. She knew that it could speak elegantly and eloquently on a woman’s behalf. She also recognized its capacity for trash talk.
One of the most striking moments in the new film “Coco Chanel and Igor Stravinsky” comes when Chanel, in the midst of a sweaty affair with the very married Stravinsky, approaches the composer’s beleaguered wife, Katarina, with a gift. The designer hands the scorned woman a bottle of her freshly realized Chanel No. 5 fragrance.
This is a film that delivers a nearly 2-hour-long, vicious assault on the sanctity of marriage and the dignity of a wife who stubbornly adheres to her vows. Yet, that little expression of largess stands out as a particularly brutal moment.
Call it style bullying. And it is not limited to history, Hollywood or high school.
To understand how style can be deployed to deliver such bloodless wounds, it’s important to remember that style encompasses more than good looks. In fact, it trumps beauty because it’s rooted in cultural knowledge and self-confidence. Style is an expression of choices — a declaration of individuality. And, thus, the lack of it is not a matter of poor genetic luck. It is, a judgmental soul could argue, your fault.
Style rises above trends and the fashion industry’s abundance of cliches. A woman who dresses with both self-awareness and panache has the ability to construct a public persona that speaks with precision.
In the film, Chanel cuts a striking figure. She is tall and lithe, with dark hair. It would be fair to say that rival Katarina also has a certain delicate beauty, with her ivory skin and fiery red hair. But Chanel has a powerful weapon that she uses to chip away at Katarina’s confidence; she has style. Indeed, she built an entire empire on it.
Style at Chanel’s level turns heads; it swaggers. But even at more modest degrees, it can make others feel old-fashioned and parochial by comparison. Having conquered wardrobe insecurities — that sense of uneasiness that perhaps you’re not appropriately attired — suggests that a woman knows something that others do not. Even if her audience doesn’t favor her aesthetic sensibility, it still recognizes her certainty. What is her secret?
When Chanel makes a gift of her fragrance, the gesture is at best condescending and at worst taunting. Chanel stands over Katarina. The designer wears her controlled black-and-white wardrobe. Hers is an impeccable look that seems untouched by any of the day-to-day frustrations of life. She seems unflappable. The wife, poor dear, almost disappears into her chair. And her clothes swaddle her in a chaotic storm of color and pattern.
Chanel’s gift to Katarina is highly personal. Is there anything that touches the body in a more intimate way? The fragrance is a potion Chanel dedicated months to perfecting. On the marketplace, it will be a pure expression of who and what she is. But as a gift, it isn’t offered as a get-to-know-me gesture. The move is a power play. Has Katarina already smelled Chanel’s scent on her husband’s clothes? On his skin? The gift is a quiet obliteration of the wife — a hand grenade in an elegant glass flask.
Such fashion bombs are dropped every day in real life. Many folks might argue that women are burdened by an unfair emphasis on their appearance. There is more emphasis on how they look. But unfair? With their rich style vocabulary, women can say more than men. On film, a mistress can make her lover’s wife blanch with a single bottle of perfume.
“Coco Chanel and Igor Stravinsky,” directed by Jan Kounen, is rated R. It opens today at the Regency Tamarac Square.
