Gents, Gals, and Glam
Throughout history, women have faced challenges imposed by society, yet they have risen with remarkable strength, wisdom, and harmony. These qualities are often attributed to their male counterparts, but it must be recognized that women achieved them without the same privileges.
The right to vote, fair pay, education, and access to contraception were all withheld from women for a considerable period of time. Nevertheless, they persevered and made significant progress. Despite these advancements, challenges still persist, as evidenced by the ongoing struggles surrounding issues like Roe v Wade.
During the vaudeville era in American entertainment history, the concept of all-female music groups began to emerge. This was a time when most groups in the industry were predominantly composed of white members. However, these all-female groups embraced musical styles like ragtime that originated from the Black community, incorporating these melodies into their performances.
Illustration by J.D. Humphreys
The advent of radio played a significant role in boosting the popularity of these female groups, as their enchanting voices reached a wider audience, entering countless homes across the nation. Often, these girl groups served as background singers, complementing male artists. Their harmonious vocals added a sweetening effect and validated the male singer’s prestige. They would respond to his pleas or demands by echoing lyrics in the background, effectively infusing the song with “a woman’s touch” to enhance the male-driven composition.
In contrast to some male groups during the 1960s, all-female groups were not racially integrated and often consisted of close-knit social circles of friends or family members. The early 1960s marked the decline of male-dominated doo-wop groups and the rise of these female vocal groups. Typically, young individuals recognizing their knack for harmonious singing would come together through school, glee clubs, church, and social circles. Once connected, they would establish an informal group, holding meetings and practicing during their leisure time. Similar to their male counterparts, the girl groups actively pursued the attention of anyone who had influence on or worked at a recording studio or label.
LISTEN TO “PRETTY BABY” BY THE PRIMETTES (LATER THE SUPREMES)
LISTEN TO “OPEN YOUR HEART” BY OTIS WILLIAMS & THE DISTANTS (LATER THE TEMPTATIONS)
Similar to the male groups, female groups also typically featured a lead member who set the group’s overall identity and rhythm. While maintaining harmonious vocals was vital, the successful girl groups of the 1960s also embodied feminine attributes through their beauty and stylish attire. Most girl groups embraced an unobjectionable and pleasant demeanor, steering clear of explicit sexuality and edginess that would come years later.
When these groups took the stage, coordinated outfits played a pivotal role in establishing their collective identity. They remained adaptable to evolving trends, ensuring they stayed in sync with the times. To enhance their presentation, some of the more promising girl groups received support from record executives, who provided them with dressmakers to craft matching ensembles and accessories. Achieving the utmost refinement, certain groups even enlisted the expertise of charm school instructors, such as Maxine Powell at Motown, to impart lessons in etiquette and grooming.
While male groups were generally anticipated to uphold gentlemanly behavior both on and off the stage, they faced comparatively lesser scrutiny and consequences for occasionally expressing their masculine and rugged sides. Conversely, the expectations or girl groups were distinct. Berry Gordy, the head of Motown, was taken aback when he discovered one of “his girls” chewing gum during a performance. For young Black women in the spotlight, comfort and convenience often became secondary considerations, necessitating sacrifices to maintain a public image.
During the same era, hair styles within these groups displayed a notable diversity, particularly as the decade progressed. For instance, Addie “Micki” Harris of the Shirelles stood out by weaing her hair long and pulled back, a contrast to her fellow members who opted for updos or shorter cuts. Into the 1960s, Black women’s hairstyles encompassed a range of choices: going natural that embraced their natural curls or undergoing chemical relaxers for straightening, or even opting for wigs. This marked the end from earlier times using pressing combs and harsh chemical treatments or harsh lye treatments to arduously straighten hair. In the book Hair Matters: Beauty, Power, and Black Women’s Consciousness, Ingrid Banks, Associate Professor at the University of Santa Barbara, emphasizes that the pressing comb and chemical relaxers came to symbolize the societal shame associated with the natural state of Black hair, rendering them oppressive. In this context, the emergence of the iconic beehive style gained popularity, relying on volume to elegantly elevate the hair to impressive heights. Notably, this style was embraced by numerous women, irrespective of their racial background, and often customized to suit individual preferences.
“Even as a child, I had a complicated relationship with my hair.”
- Tina Turner
“Even as a child, I had a complicated relationship with my hair,” wrote Tina Turner in her autobiography. “I pulled my braids out because my hair was woolly and big and didn’t want to be contained. When I got older, I had it straightened, which meant spending hours at a salon, dripping with harsh chemicals, while a beautician tugged and tugged to get rid of the kinks. All that time spent on processing was futile. With Black hair, if you’re singing, dancing, and sweating, when you reach up to touch your head, it springs right back, natural again.”
“Between the hair, makeup, and the clothes, we ruled the airwaves,” laughed Darlene Love, formerly of the Blossoms who recorded under the direction of Phil Spector. “We ratted our hair, that’s what made it look so big. It was good when the naturals came out because we didn’t have to do anything to them—braid our hair at night and let it loose the next day.”
Under the careful and often maniacal direction of Spector, another girl group known as the Ronettes made their mark in the recording industry. The group comprised the lead vocalist Veronica Bennett, who would later become Ronnie Spector, along with her older sister Estelle Bennett and their cousin Nedra Talley. As they diligently honed their harmonies, this period also saw the trio crafting their distinctive and iconic appearance.
“My mother always told us to look for a gimmick that would make us stand out from all the other groups, something that made us different,” recalls Ronnie Spector, lead singer of the Ronettes. “Well, being half-breeds, we were born different, so we figured the thing that set us apart from the other groups was our look.”
The Ronettes. Illustration by J.D. Humphreys
Girl groups focused their efforts towards securing opportunities, and once they had secured a chance, their efforts centered on maintaining their position or ascending further. The Ronettes, in particular, chose a unique approach to achieve this – their hairstyle and eyeliner.
“Then the three of us would have a little contest to see who could extend her eyeliner the farthest,” Ronnie said. “Then we’d start in on the lashes. We’d all lay mascara on until our eyelashes were out to here. Then Nedra would grab a rattail comb and run to the mirror shouting, ‘Let’s tease our hair!’ She’d tease her hair until she could stack it about three feet on top of her head. Then of course, Estelle and I would try to top her.”
“We didn’t have wigs like the other girl groups, it was our real hair,” Ronnie said in an interview with The Guardian. “We gave Dusty Springfield a beehive—she’d come in and say, ‘Can I have a blast of Aqua Net [hairspray]?’ All that hair is mine today. As you get older your hair thins a little, so you get extensions in the back.”
To achieve the Ronettes signature hairstyle came pain and toil. “To get your hair to stand up like the Ronettes’ hair was standing out—our hair took a beating back in those days,” Love said. “You had to take the comb and just rat! Rat! Rat! Rat! And it took hours to take your hair down. You actually had to take your fingers through your hair and kind of pick it out. You couldn’t just take a comb and comb it out because after we ratted it, we sprayed it to death with Aqua Net.”
“You couldn’t just take a comb and comb it out because after we ratted it, we sprayed it to death with Aqua Net.”
- Darlene Love of the Blossoms
Black men were not exempt from the practices used to manipulate their hair, and their choices in style either adhered to or defied societal norms. Until the mid-1960s, a significant number of of Black men adopted a hairstyle called the “conk.” This style, which had been in vogue since the 1940s, was achieved by applying a solution of lye relaxer. Despite the discomfort it caused to the scalp, this method transformed naturally coarse hair into straight locks with a sleek texture. Once shaped into a various designs, it was crucial to keep the hair well-groomed using pomade; otherwise, the hair strands were prone to breakage.
An illustrative figure in this context is James Brown, who rigorously maintained his conk. He not only washed and set his hair three times a day but also famously remarked, “Hair and teeth. A man’s got those two things, he’s got it all.”
Frank McRae served as a fashion adviser in addition to his assistant, proposing the bouffant style to compliment his hard face. McRae went on the road with Brown and kept a careful watch on his hair from the side of the stage. “James Broown loved his hair better than he loved his women,” McRae said.
James Brown Hair Evolution. Illustration by J.D. Humphreys
Harry Elston from The Friends of Distinction vividly remembers the pain with the conk hairstyle. “I’ll never forget, you’re talking about that period where, ‘Brother, can you hang on? Can you hang on?’ And it burns and then you get a big ole scab, man,” Elston said. “You was cool but you had that scab… you’d be laying in bed at night sleeping and you turn over and the pillow sticking to your head. My mama would say, ‘Boy, what’s that on the pillow?’ ‘Aw, nothing, mama.’ It’d be that pus coming from them scabs and sores and then you’d go get the touch up and he’d [the barber] have to put some Vaseline or something on it to loosen it, to get it—the hairs away from the scabs, man. Then you’d be bleeding and shit, man.”
“…It burns and then you get a big ole scab, man.”
- Harry Elston of The Friends of Distinction
The suffering endured was part of the effort to adhere to the standards set by whites.
Malcolm X, a vocal advocate for Black empowerment, recognized that his own hair held him in bondage to white norms: "This was my first really big step toward self-degradation: when I endured all of that pain, literally burning my flesh to have it look like a white man’s hair. I had joined that multitude of Negro men and women in America who are brainwashed into believing that the Black people are ‘inferior’—and white people ‘superior’—that they will even violate and mutilate their God-created bodies to try to look ‘pretty’ by white standards.”
At an airport in Washington D.C., an encounter between Sam Cooke and Otis Redding led to a discussion about Redding’s hair. Cooke, one of the pioneering Black artists who chose to forgo relaxers and embrace the “natural” hairstyle that eventually gained popularity, urged Redding to abandon his “processed” hair style and “remove that thing from your head.” Embracing the “natural” look retained the inherent tight curls that could be shaped into a more conventional appearance. Redding wasn’t inclined to disregard counsel from one of the greats and would often share the honorific title “King of Soul” with Cooke years later after their deaths in the 1960s.
Otis Redding. Illustration by J.D. Humphreys
As the Civil Rights Movement made headway, Black men began to shed the desire to imitate white hairstyles and instead welcomed a range of natural hair expressions. By the late 1960s, the Afro hairstyle evolved into a symbolic statement, often linked with the ideals of Black Power. Embracing the Afro style was regarded as a sincere representation of one’s racial identity, signifying a willingness to embrace one’s natural attributes. Terms like “nappy,” “unruly,” or “wooly,” which were previously used pejoratively, were now part of self-acceptance, aligning with the “Black is Beautiful” mantra propagated by the Black Power movement.
“The Afro was Black beauty personified without white validation, and it did not care about critics.”
- Chad Dion Lassiter, President of the Black Men at Penn School of Social Work, Inc.
“Black activists were agitated with white supremacy and Jim Crow laws, and they wanted to show an outward sign of their frustration toward Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.’s nonviolent philosophy,” said Chad Dion Lassiter, president of the Black Men at Penn School of Social Work, Inc. at the University of Pennsylvania School of Social Policy and Practice. “The Afro was Black beauty personified without white validation, and it did not care about critics. For many Black men, I was about cool pose and hyper-masculinity in the face of police brutality and constant oppression.”
For James Brown, it was a processed Afro. Brown met with the Black Panthers on a series of topics, including hair, at a time when tensions flared between young nationalists and the singer. “I don’t think I’ll ever go back,” Brown declared in Soul magazine. “Even if somebody pointed a gun at me and said they’d shoot me if I didn’t go back to a do.”
Beards, moustaches, mutton chops, and sideburns had a resurgence among men of all ethnic backgrounds, transcending the realm of beatniks.
Wigs provided women with a versatile option, reducing the need for frequent visits to beauty parlors, and granting them access to the latest style trends, ranging from the flip style and Sassoon cut to the bob, bouffant, pixie, and eventually the Afro. However, when it came to affordability, the story was different, particularly for young Black women with no or limited income. Wigs were often considered investments, with a human hair mail-in order wig costing $33 in 1961 (equivalent to $337 in today’s purchasing power).
The Supremes embarked on their careers wearing sizeable, matching wigs, but as their fame grew, they frequently changed their looks. Publications like Look and Ebony speculated that the Supremes were earning between $300,000 and $400,000 annually, with Look reporting that each member owned at least twenty wigs by 1965.
Wigs. Illustration by J.D. Humphreys
Supreme Mary Wilson remembered a rather uncomfortable incident involving the Royal Family after a performance in London. The Supremes, adorned in their pink gowns and perfectly aligned, had just been introduced to Princess Anne, Prince Charles, and the Queen Mother. The proceedings unfolded seamlessly, attributed to the etiquette lessons imparted by Miss Powell, who not only readied artists to present themselves fittingly to audiences but also ensured their preparedness for this ultimate moment. Then an encounter with Princess Margaret shook Wilson. Standing directly in from of Wilson, the princess stared at the top of her head and remarked, “Oh! Is that a wig you’re wearing?”
Mortified, Wilson said, “I looked at her like I could kill her. But the thought that went through my mind was, she reminded me of one of the neighbors in Brewster projects on the second floor. She was this loud, gregarious, uncouth woman. We’d always say, ‘Here comes Mrs. So-and-So with her loud mouth.’”
A promotional photograph of the Marvelettes shows Georgeanna Tillman wearing a wig characterized by towering hair atop her head and an exuberant flip extending from the sides. Although this hairstyle was considered fashionable in the early 1960s, viewed through today’s lens, it appears rather absurd, even amid the current revival of retro or kitsch styles.
“It was kind of hard being on the road and keeping our hair in style,” recalls Rosalind Ashford, of Martha & the Vandellas. “We were always in wigs. At the time we had our own hair stylist that would do our hair for us.”’
“There was no choice but to hide the damage under a wig.”
- Tina Turner
Even for Tina Turner in the fast lane of the Chitlin’ Circuit, wigs provided a safety net. “It took an accident, one that turned out to be a blessing in disguise, to prompt me to get my first wig,” Turner recalled. “I was at a hair salon with the Ikettes and the beautician let the bleach stay on my head a little too long. My overprocessed hair started to break and fall out, and it was a disaster because I had a show that night! There was no choice but to hide the damage under a wig. The wig was a lifesaver, but more than that, I loved the way it looked, how the hair moved when I moved, how it was straight and pretty and held a style, no matter what I did.”
Attaining a more authentic look for wigs required both expertise and access to premium-grade hair. “I taught myself how to customize the wigs to appear natural,” Turner wrote. “I started by thinning the hair in certain places, the first step in making it look right. Then, I took a needle and sewed on wefts, small pieces of extra hair, positioning them wherever I thought volume was needed.”
In less formal environments, numerous Black female vocalists made us of diverse hair accessories, such as wide hair bands that gained popularity among teenagers. Mary Wilson of the Supremes, Bettye LaVette, and Dee Dee Sharp were notable for integrating conspicuous light colored hair bands into their ensembles.
Bettye LaVette (left) and Mary Wilson (right). Illustration by J.D. Humphreys
Dee Dee Sharp. Illustration by J.D. Humphreys
“My mother wanted to maintain my youth and she insisted upon me doing certain things—wearing the headbands and wearing the little tiaras in my hair and all that stuff,” said Sharp. “She made me, literally, dress like a lady. When I met the Shirelles, they continued me in that vein because they dressed as ladies. They had the gowns and cute little dresses and my mom loved that. That’s how I had to dress with her approval. My aunt used to make all my clothes. And my mother made sure I didn’t show anything that wasn’t supposed to be shown. I don’t know how these girls do it today. They show everything. I don’t get it.”
For Dionne Warwick, her style developed while she was on tour at the Olympia in Paris. “Marlene Dietrich threw out all my clothes!” said Warwick, recalling when the actress visited her backstage and schooled her on fashion. “She just decided, ‘You’re going to learn how to truly dress. If you’re going to walk out on this stage, this is how you do it. This is what you should look like.’ She introduced me to couture, as she loved to say. Much to the chagrin of my accountants, I became very, very accustomed to couture.” From that point onward, Warwick would establish friendships with some of the most renowned fashion designers, among them Valentino, Yves Saint Laurent, and Oscar de la Renta.
“Marlene Dietrich threw out all my clothes!”
- Dionne Warwick
Starting in 1964, the Supremes had options to source their wardrobes. In Detroit, the swanky Saks Fifth Avenue store provided an array of outfits that would have been too expensive for their humble beginnings. As fame and success grew, so did their wardrobe budget.
Fellow Detroiter and singer Freda Payne points out that the average Black person in Detroit did not shop alongside the Supremes at Saks Fifth Avenue. Payne said, “It was considered a ‘high end’ store and people couldn’t afford it. When I was a kid, I would go to Hudson’s which was like Macy’s of the day. That’s where you got budget clothes from their couturier, which was all I could afford.”
Saks Fifth Avenue was more than willing to take the Supremes’ business but so were individual designers. LaVetta King, a young Black woman from Louisiana left a lasting impact on Diana, Mary, and Flo during their tour in California and provided their first taste of couture. King had a reputation for reaching out to touring artists, often succeeding in offering her fashion services and consultation through backstage introductions.
“Glamor and the Supremes were by then synonymous, so we had no qualms about the sequined gowns, the elaborately coiffed wigs, and the glittery chandelier earrings.”
- Mary Wilson, in her book Supreme Faith
As their success expanded, along with their budgets, the complexity and expense of the Supremes’ gowns also increased. No longer were the days when they would buy patterns from Woolworths and craft their own dresses. Instead, they embraced the designs of notable creators like Bob Mackie, Michael Travis, and Michael Nicola, among others. Hours were devoted to the selection of colors, fabrics, and patterns by the Supremes as clients. Intricately hand-sewn imported beads and sequins were a recurrent feature in their stage attire. The procurement and upkeep of these garments, involving rebeading, resequining, and cleaning, often translated into costs reaching thousands of dollars for just one dress.
Three young Black women from the projects were now adorned in fringe and dripping in beads. Their appearances were further enhanced with flawless makeup, sparking trends and captivating television audiences and commanding sold-out venues. Their presence and style made a powerful statement in the midst of a predominantly white America in 1965. This representation carried profound significance, and their style wielded an influence that went on to inspire an entire generation.
“Glamor and the Supremes were by then synonymous, so we had no qualms about the sequined gowns, the elaborately coiffed wigs, and the glittery chandelier earrings,” wrote Wilson in her autobiography Supreme Faith. “It was part of performing I especially enjoyed. I loved being a woman and a star, and I loved all the dazzling trappings. Now, that’s not to say it wasn’t a lot of hard work. Some of those gowns weighed up to forty pounds each, and you could fry under the wigs and the stage lights. Fans expected all the glitz, and we happily obliged. From the start, it was the Supremes who demanded the gowns, not Motown. We wouldn’t have it any other way.”
The Supremes. Illustration by J.D. Humphreys
Fashion was Wilson’s mainstay when it came to the Supremes, as she meticulously curated and amassed a trove of fashions spanning multiple eras. The vast array of gowns—some personal, others borrowed, and a few lost or pilfered—ultimately culminated into a passion-driven endeavor: the publication of Supreme Glamour in 2019, a dossier of the Supremes’ iconic outfits. Up until her passing in 2021, Wilson remained resolute in her quest to locate missing gowns and sets worn by the Supremes during the 1960s and 1970s. In 2019, Wilson was reunited with a lost dress that was found at a garage sale in France by a British vintage clothing store owner. Others have been found on Ebay and elsewhere and she credited “loving fans” for purchasing and returning them to her. Wilson, present from the group’s inception to its end, frequently recounted vivid specifics about the fashions they adorned.
Solo artist and actress Diahann Carroll encountered challenges during filming when white film executives lacked understanding about the impact of humidity on African American hair. Prior to the shooting of Hurry Sundown, set in Louisiana during the summer months of 1966, Carroll had urged director and producer Otto Preminger to address the issue of wigs. Carroll recalled she made her inquiry “because we are going to a place where the weather is ridiculous as far as making films. It will mean having to stop production when you’re trying to match a hairstyle to something you may have done two days ago. He said to me, ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about. Don’t tell me how to do my picture.’”
Despite Carroll wanting to bow out, he insisted she do the film. Once in Louisiana on the outdoor set, Carroll knew hair would present difficulties as the production got underway. “I’m waiting, because I know it’s going to happen, and I’m standing on top of this hill and we had to run down, did it and it didn’t work, back to do it again and then Otto started yelling [in foreign accent] ‘Hairdresser! Hairdresser!’ And I said [to myself], ‘Just be quiet, Diahann.’” Preminger insisted that Carroll get with a hairdresser and return to film in ten minutes.
Diahann Carroll. Illustration by J.D. Humphreys
Carroll recalls lecturing him that he was wasting his time fighting the humidity. Preminger, still unaware of hair’s reaction and the conversation where he dismissed Carroll, said his wife had beautiful hair. “I said, ‘I know, give her the damn role! Just think what we could have saved if we had a little lunch there on Fifth Avenue a few months ago but no one was going to tell you how to do your film. So now I’ve given you all the information on the most interesting and expensive things that will come into your film life and that’s called hair!’”
As illustrated by Preminger, the prevailing white mainstream America didn’t take into account the intricate nature of Black hair, nor did they truly acknowledge that wigs were integral to the prominent hairstyles of beloved girl groups. Only a handful of print publications, notably Ebony and Jet, featured Black girl groups, leaving many fans without a comprehensive understanding of the individuals within a group. Television shows swifty transitioned into performances, offering mere seconds for introductions before or after the acts.
Numerous Black teenage girls and young women started emulating the looks of girl groups as they stood as the vanguards of style and influence during that era. Acts such as the Supremes, Marvelettes, Shirelles, and solo artists like Mary Wells, Dionne Warwick, and Diahann Carroll left a distinct imprint on young women, transcending the Black community. These admirers mimicked their opulent and glamorous style, sporting pastel pink lipstick, extended lashes, dark eyeliner, and a surplus of hairspray. They also became familiar with the challenges of dealing with hair in humid conditions.
As Black consciousness gained momentum in the late 1960s, fans started advising the Supremes about their hairstyles. Through letters, they pleaded for the group to embrace their natural hair, transitioning into Afros. However, Motown was not prepared any time soon to let go of the wigs that the girls were wearing. Hair wasn’t just about making a statement; it was proclaiming a bold declaration.