The deep, sexy V; the loose, flowing lines; the long, tight-fitting sleeves; the silky, sensual jersey. Is there anything chicer than a Diane von Furstenberg wrap dress? Or for that matter, the woman wearing one?
Jerry Hall, Michelle Obama, Kate Moss, Madonna and even the Princess of Wales – they have all succumbed to its charms. And as this iconic garment enters its 50th year, its popularity shows no signs of waning.
All my life I’ve wanted to belong to the DVF club, to be one of those fabulously cool Studio 54 style girls who can just throw one on and step out, looking all casual in a pair of espadrilles, or sexy in a pair of fantastic knee-high boots.
Diane von Furstenberg in an early version of her silk jersey wrap dress, 1973
I can’t tell you how much I aspire to be that kind of woman, how much I love a wrap dress.
If only they loved me. But they don’t. In fact, I’d go so far as to say they’re targeting me. Wrap dresses – especially the DVF type (other brands are available) – are designed for a very specific female body type.
They were born in the 1970s and adhere very strongly to the prevailing aesthetics of that time: slim shoulders, neat arms, small, well-mannered breasts and neat buttocks.
The kind of body you used to see in advertisements for Charlie perfume (another youthful obsession of mine) or draped over the hood of a car in a men’s magazine. The kind that is either the result of random genes, or a strict diet of Quaaludes and vodka, or that infamous egg-and-wine diet promoted by Fashion In the 70’s.
Diane wore a leopard print version with Andy Warhol in 1974, the year it was launched
If you have anything approaching a curvy shape – in my case rather vulgar and unruly knockers, a bit of a paunch and extremely stubborn bingo wings – they just make you look like Humpty Dumpty.
Even when I was young and theoretically slim, I could never make them work. The wrap piece was never quite enough to cover my chest, which meant I always had to wear them with briefs, which completely ruined the vibe.
The sleeves were always way too tight on my arms, cutting off circulation and making me think of unflattering comparisons to sausages.
But I tried anyway. Over the years I’ve wasted so much money looking for the perfect wrap dress, just like I buy juicers hoping to become Deliciously Ella, but they just end up unworn in my wardrobe before being shaken up, after an appropriate period of time, to the thrift store.
Jerry Hall in the 1970s; Iman in the eighties
Madonna in the 2000s; The Princess of Wales in 2010
Last week I sent the last one – not a DVF but a Biba imitation from a few years ago, from that collaboration with House of Fraser. I had held on to it in the vague hope that one day I would try it on and discover that all those pilates sessions had finally turned me into a wrap dress girl, but alas no. “Who are you trying to fool?”
The wrap dress manages to be seductive without appearing edgy or adhering to “sexy” clichés
I thought to myself as I looked at my reflection in my bedroom mirror. “You’re 56. That DVF wrap dress ship has sailed.”
Von Furstenberg himself always described the dress as a symbol of women’s emancipation and sexual freedom. She has been compared to Coco Chanel for her role in liberating the female form from the constraints of wiring and tailoring.
Emma Thompson in the 2020s
And while it is true that the wrap dress is theoretically adjustable and very comfortable to wear, its clean lines and simplicity, like Chanel’s, in some ways actually introduced another form of body tyranny: the requirement that women be thin, an idea that became the norm. dominant beauty standard of the 1970s and has remained so to this day.
But ultimately, I think the success of the wrap dress is that women with a certain slim body type feel sexy without feeling vulnerable.
Short skirts, strappy dresses, sheer material – these are things that may seem pleasurable to the opposite sex, but are ultimately quite restrictive, awkward and restrictive for the wearer, and very clearly designed to satisfy the male gaze.
The wrap dress, on the other hand, manages to be seductive without appearing sloppy or conforming to the ‘sexy’ clichés. It’s flirty and ensures the wearer remains elegant and in control, whether appropriate in the boardroom or on a bar stool, with a cocktail in hand. That is its power, and ultimately the secret of its eternal appeal.
If only I had the body to carry it.