Curious

The past three months only deepen my suspicion: depression-era art just might be en vogue. I noticed its mark in the fashion industry when I picked up a part-time sales position at a notable retailer. At first the 1930s revival only influenced the color palettes: muddy greens, murky browns, and steel grays. Then fashion fabrics succumbed and an abundance of tweeds, boucles, velvet, chiffon, and metallic lame (seriously?) arose. Argyles and pinstripes began sharing wall space with sober cardigans, wool vests, cowl-neck sweaters, and knee-pleat pencil skirts. And it became difficult to overlook the pearls, rhinestone pins, and leggings. Yet, in my short lifetime, 1930s fashion has been floating in and out of American fall fashion since I entered second grade (don’t pretend you don’t remember suspenders) so I can’t take it too seriously. (Others insist on a protest.)

Still, I’ve begun to note 2008 films set in the 1930s. My first discovery didn’t disappoint: Leatherheads. Now we have Australia, directed by the procrastinating Buz Luhrmann, the story of a 1930s aristocrat. Add to that The Curious Case of Benjamin Button and The Changeling, both set in the twenties/thirties. With dubious motives, let’s lump in There Will Be Blood too.

The radio has been kind to indulge my suspicions. Whether it’s “Five Feet High and Rising” (Johnny Cash) or “Evalina” (unbelievably!!! sung by Zora Neale Hurston), I keep hearing folk songs recorded or created in the Depression Era. Today’s Weekend Edition broadcast left me spellbound for a half-hour as Susan Stamberg brought in Rob Kapilow, composer and critic, to discuss “a Depression-Era anthem for our times” (”Brother, Can You Spare a Dime?”). Five fabulous versions of the Broadway composition can be heard with a click on the article’s sidebar. My favorite is Tom Waits’s rendition (Abbey Lincoln is a close second).

So, does all this add up to a 1930s revival? Nah, not yet. (Although, let’s be honest: photography trends, something only a newly married girl would know, also lean towards the 1930s sepia tones, harsh contrasts, and photojournalistic style that, for me, recall Dorothea Lange.) But my suspicions can’t produce a scenario that passes the “uniqueness” test. Nevertheless, I’ll continue to indulge in that little suspicion and stay tuned to all things that might clinch my theory.

Addendum: A few friends might unwittingly join in my indulgence. Tonight we’re launching a reading circle. By the beginning of the new year, I heard we might be passing Steinbeck’s Tortilla Flat around the room.