Sequins, beads, and rhinestones are at half-mast. The engineer of all things sparkly has passed. No doubt the gals in heaven have been awaiting his return to glitter their wings. Bob Mackie has died.
You just think you don’t know the name. Remember sitting criss-cross applesauce on the living room floor, taking in the spectacle that was The Cher Show? Each show opened with our favorite diva’s slow start to a song, followed by a crescendo as she dropped a topper and revealed the gorgeousness that Bob Mackie had designed for that Sunday evening. It took so little to amuse us then.
Dress girls, along with the always spectacular girls, got their start with a heavy dose of Mackie. Fur, baubles, trims, dangling beads, color, and cutouts that made us gasp, setting us on the road to sky-high heels, dressing better than anyone in the office, embracing amazing fabrics and knowing, like we know how to breathe, that there is no such thing as overdressed. Despite what the people in sweats at the grocery store are trying to sell us.
The enormous headpiece worn by Cher to the Oscars, paired with a bare tummy? Mackie. Carol Burnett wearing not just the drapes à la Scarlett O’Hara but the drapery rod as well? Mackie. Marilyn Monroe singing “Happy Birthday, Mr. President,” dress? Mackie. To die for dress. Shame on her to sing like that in front of Jackie. And JFK could have at least had the dignity to feign embarrassment. Even Kim K. tried to join the Mackie bandwagon, cramming her enormous bum into that garment and altering its shape forever.
The ultimate? Back to Cher. On a ship. Surrounded by sailors. Lamenting a lost love. The Turn Back Time video costume. Banned by some television stations, Mackie later admitted that the sheerness and the single V that offered her only cover were a bit embarrassing. Girlfriend pulled it off, and she and Mackie again became fashion history.
Don’t say you weren’t influenced. In eighth grade, some of us may or may not have begged our parents for a cropped white fur jacket. No, it wasn’t real animal fur. It was that shaggy faux fur that spread out in all directions, felt rough to the touch, and made us appear three sizes bigger. Cropped and zipped, paired with boots, we may or may not have had it going on.
More than once, people compared that jacket to something Cher would wear. More than once, our confidence soared, and we walked with purpose through Robert Frost Junior High.
It wasn’t just Cher. There were Oscar-winning costumes from Lady Sings the Blues, Funny Lady, and Pennies From Heaven. Recently, Ariana Grande donned a white strapless silk multi-layered ball gown with gold and crystal beads from Mackie’s 1997 Fall/Winter collection.
Decidedly, there is a fine line between gorgeous and garish. For Mackie, somehow, too many sequins or rhinestones were never too many. A gown covered in beads was never too much. And little girls around the world reveled in the displays of his creations, knowing deep down that a little something over the top can change an ordinary day into the extraordinary, non?
It may have been Coco Chanel who schooled us to dress as if we’re running into our worst enemy, but it was Bob Mackie who gave us the shiny tools to make it so.
Oui’