99. Dressed to Imbibe: How a Drinking Occasion Got Its Own Dress Code
A history of the cocktail dress and why it's worth a look now; plus, tarot that gives you a pat on the back.
Sigh, No One Really Dresses for the Taproom Anymore
Blame it on the fact that I come to drinks writing from fashion writing, but I’ve long been fascinated by the concept of the cocktail dress. That a drinking occasion has its own dress code, I mean…chef’s kiss. Sassy little hat off to it, really.
It’s interesting how specific the concept is, too. Cocktail bars and parties became settings for a certain vibe, and a certain way of dressing, but that never extended to most other specific drinking occasions. You don’t dress up for the taproom; if anything, you might feel uncomfortable if you do (to be clear, I’m talking about dressing your way up the formality scale, because I think it could be argued that there at least used to be—it seems to thankfully be fading out now—this pressure of sorts to “fit in” in the beer scene which often translated to internalized misogyny and raising eyebrows at women who dared to break the t-shirt-and-jeans rule…another topic, really!). You don’t dress up for other bars, or for wineries, beyond the fact that you might be heading to one for a special occasion and in that case you’d dress accordingly.
So how did cocktail hour in particular become sartorially codified? There’s a whole history behind it, one that’s fun to explore especially because of how different it is from any trajectories within wine or beer, and one that’s especially relevant now because in a looser form, cocktail dressing is back, baby. It’s a perfect storm: old school martini culture, which leads to old school martini bar culture; the youths apparently looking to make up for lost party time after pandemic lockdowns (as per that linked ELLE article); Dimes Square. The trend has ballooned out to include restaurants but also gotten more exclusive in terms of who’s cool—and rich—enough to participate, but the general concept of dressing to impress when you plan to hold a mixed drink out in public in a certain kind of venue? Like other good and bad dynamics we saw in the years directly surrounding the Prohibition, it’s on the rise.
You can’t have a cocktail dress without cocktails, which started their bubble-up in America over the course of the 19th century, but women at that time wouldn’t have been seen in public indulging in one, so the idea of dressing to do so was a moot point. During the first decade of the 20th century, society loosened up slightly—picture a quick pull on the necktie rather than removing the tie all together—and over the course of the decade after that, both cocktails and women’s place in public venues consuming them evolved alongside each other. The Prohibition, with its speakeasies and private cocktail parties, aligned with this evolution, as well as with the growing suffrage and women’s rights movements. By the 1920s, both the way we imbibed and the way society was changing in terms of women’s presence and what was accepted converged to create a new kind of woman with a new kind of drinking occasion to attend—and of course, she’d need a new kind of outfit for it. Writes Elyssa Da Cruz for The Metropolitan Museum of Art:
“By 1929, with the aid of liberation parties like the Women’s Organization for National Prohibition Reform, women had become more visible in the social sphere and the ‘modern’ woman was born. This ‘Drinking Woman’ was an ideal rooted in newfound concepts of individuality and a denial of Edwardian matronly functions.”
Much of the reason a new kind of outfit was indeed needed was because the cocktail party fit snugly into a time of day that didn’t have its own pre-existing dress code. It wasn’t a daytime event, but it wasn’t dinner and post-dinner, either. Between 6pm and 8pm, women felt they needed a happy medium between casual and formal. What that looked like depended on the overall fashion trends of the day, of course, but it also hinged heavily on who you were and how much you had to spend—so, maybe not all that different from Gen Z descending upon NYC venue The Nines in Staud and Celine, after all.
If you were a member of the jetset elite, you had more access to European trends, so maybe you’d slink around in pajama- and robe-inspired ensembles meant to capture the private nature of at-home soirees. But if you were just another member of the martini-sipping masses—probably still at least upper-middle class—you would have probably donned ankle-length frocks before the 1930s, somewhat shorter-hemmed iterations after. The major overarching approach no matter the style of outfit was the way most designers married daytime casual with after-dark fanciness. This usually meant simpler silhouettes from the day, but done in finer fabrics from the night, like silks and velvets. Accents and accessories also carried a lot of the load, from rhinestone buttons popped onto otherwise plain-Jane dresses to hats and gloves.
Per Da Cruz, Christian Dior was the first designer to name a design a “cocktail” dress in the late 1940s, though French Vogue had already coined the term as early as 1927. Designers getting in on the label just validated the phrase to the extent that it started to appear in more collections and in more advertisements and articles. European couture houses, brands, and magazines latched onto the concept for their own trends, marketing, and bottom lines, but they were taking their cues from the US as cocktail hour was originally an American concept. American stores, brands, and magazines then became part of an endless feedback loop with those entities overseas, and as with basically everything else in life, created a whole new industry of things to pressure women into spending on to feel enough.
It’s fitting Dior helped launch “cocktail dress” into ubiquity, because he was also the designer to really define what that looked like as the attire reached its zenith post-World War II, when chic at-home cocktail parties were all the rage. For Fashionista.com, Sara Idacavage writes this looked like “cinched waists and full skirts the ubiquitous silhouette for formal dressing, along with the form-hugging sheath dresses popularized in films by the likes of Marilyn Monroe.” Dior also exemplified the trend’s roots in French fashion looking to American rituals, a perhaps surprising direction of inspiration considering American fashion’s fascination with French rituals today. Idacavage cites Dior in his 1957 autobiography when he writes that the cocktail was the “symbol par excellence of the American way of life.”
You know how the era from the 1970s through the 1990s is often viewed as a wasteland in terms of mixology? Drinks born during this time have often been dismissed as “disco drinks”—they’re making a comeback now thanks to nostalgia and talented bartenders proving they can actually be good with better ingredients, but for years, this entire period of time was considered one with a serious dearth of cocktail sophistication, innovation, and quality. And so, this impacted cocktail attire. Drinking occasions during these decades looked less like pre-dinner cocktail parties, suddenly deemed stiff and of their uncool parents’ generation by young adults coming of drinking age—not to mention the 1950s-era cocktail party’s links with a woman’s place in the home, as the cook, drink-mixer, hostess, and maid—and more like late-night dance-floor imbibing. And who has the time for a carefully crafted martini when there’s dancing to be done, and maybe a little cocaine, too?
You know this old tune goes, though. Trends skip generations, as what your parents do is painfully unhip but looking back past that? That’s cool and maybe retro, dig? It happened with cocktails, so it happened with cocktail bars and cocktail parties, and yes, cocktail attire: people started caring about them again and embracing the entire ritual. Younger people are now just as likely to picture Carrie Bradshaw in a Miu Miu number as they are Joan Collins or Donna Reed when they think “cocktail dress.”
Recently, I sat at a corner table with a Caprese martini at Jac’s on Bond, one of the ~hotspots~ mentioned in that ELLE article. It was a haven for people-watching, and I scanned the packed room to see what “cocktail dressing” for young, moneyed elbow-rubbers looks like today. To be honest? Meh. I felt very old, because all the twenty-somethings are wearing what we wore as I entered my twenties, and I think most of us over 30 know that the early-to-mid aughts was one of the worst fashion eras on record. At one point, two women entered in traditional cocktail dresses, and strangely, they were somehow the ones who stood out. But that was the thing: 95% of the designer handbag-packing crowd in that bar was wearing slight variations on the same look, hoping to be snapped by the paparazzi waiting outside. The clothes are different, but the idea of donning a certain kind of uniform in order to raise a cocktail very much carries on.
Beer Tarot!
This week, I pulled the Six of Wands.
Wands is the suit of communication, intuition, and travel. The Six of Wands specifically speaks to success—you’re making progress, building confidence, and maybe even getting recognition for your work.
This card is less “end of the road” and more “milestone on the way” when it comes to your journey toward a particular goal. But it’s a reminder there’s always time to stop and celebrate your wins so far and let your momentum so far further bolster your confidence in yourself and the work you have left to do. You’re doing great, friend! The Six of Wands is a cute lil tarot buddy wanting to share some well-deserved encouragement with you. And it’s not the only one, as this card also signals you’ve either just gotten some appreciated credit for your dedication, or you’re about to. That could be as formal as an award or promotion, or as informal as a shout-out from your boss at a meeting or tweet from a total stranger raving about your article or beer or what have you. It’s not that you need outside validation—just look at how far you’ve already come, and you should feel unstoppable—but it sure is nice to get just a little recognition for our efforts, isn’t it? And it’s a nice nudge toward all of us remembering to keep doing this for each other, building and maintaining a supportive community. So, if you’ve been hard at work on something: we see you, we admire you, and we applaud you.
Meanwhile Brewing Company has a West Coast IPA called Pat on the Back that’s perfect this week, because the Six of Wands is like the tarot’s own version of giving you a pat on the back, and also, West Coast IPAs rule.
This Week’s Boozy Media Rec
We talk ad nauseam about the State of the Industry here, on #beerTwitter, and on every platform that loops beer in, because…well, what could be more relevant? But just when you think there’s not a point left to be made, someone with both a finger on the pulse of craft beer now as well as a deep and nuanced understanding of beer history swoops in and breaks the current reality down with some points that shed real light, put statistics into context, take the wind out of some sails, and bolster other dynamics. And this week, I’m talking about Michael Stein’s “When Beer Goes Flat” for Slate. Even if you’re the type to experience a glazing over of the eyes when facts and figures start flying, this engaging and insightful piece will help you understand both the minutiae and the big-picture takeaways of beer’s position now and moving forward.
Ex-BEER-ience of the Week
I did not really drink any beer this past week, and I actually think the main reason for that is worth noting. I spent the weekend in DC for my dear friend’s bachelorette party; we rented a house and all contributed to stocking the fridge with various beverages, and not one out of the seven of us brought beer in any form. Not even yours truly! The house supply consisted of wine, much of it sparkling, hard seltzer, and RTDs—I actually picked up a cherry gin and tonic joint from Luxardo, which intrigued me on the store shelf and paid off, it was delightful. And when we headed out, it was more sparkling wine or cocktails.
You could absolutely argue that it just depends on the people you’ve got in the group and this dearth of beer could have been just as likely two, five, eight years ago, but it struck me because I think it’s the first time I’ve rented a house with friends as an adult and not at least had a couple macros in the fridge, if not a full craft selection. So, it did somewhat feel like one of those many small signs of the times and how they are indeed a-changing.
Until next week, here’s Darby here but not really here (aka, basically asleep), you know? At Evil Twin.
