Jenna Gilley, Associate Curator of Exhibitions
Summer is in full swing, literally. Body jewelry is making quite the comeback, adorning celebrities like Cate Blanchett and Kim Kardashian on the red carpet as well as sweaty music festival attendees hoping to make a fashion statement (with the least amount of clothing). While it may seem like a passing fad, body jewelry has a shocking amount of history. Today’s post will take a deep dive into Hoosier-native Bill Smith and the item that made him one of the most famous – and controversial – jewelers of the late 1960s.
Bill Smith’s freshman yearbook photo at Broadway High School (left) and senior photo (right). As a senior, he was one of the first Black students to attend Madison Consolidated Schools when it was integrated in 1951. Photos courtesy of JoAnne Spiller.
William (Bill) Franklin Smith was born in 1933 in Madison, IN. His father, a carpenter who could do almost anything with his hands, fostered a deep love of craftsmanship in Smith. His teachers were also impactful, such as Madison Consolidated High School art teacher Miss Vivian Gray and famed American silversmith Miss Alma Eikerman, who taught at Indiana University where Bill studied for three semesters. Moving to New York in 1953, he left Indiana to pursue a career in dance. To support himself through classes, Smith took a variety of odd jobs, including working as a page boy and librarian at Columbia University. An opportunity arose for Smith to showcase his metalsmithing skills learned at IU at a Greenwich Village jewelry shop, owned by now-renowned modernist jewelry designer Art Smith. While Art was recovering from a car accident, Bill took over and proved his exemplary skills in management and creativity. He earned enough money and notoriety to open his own company, Smith St. Jacques.
It was there that Smith became known for his innovative approach to jewelry. When clients and reporters visited his studio, they recalled it as more of a mad laboratory filled with bits of industrial materials like gas pipes and coils along with elegant beads, silk drapery tassels, and precious metals. Smith’s jewelry was interesting not only in its materials but also scale– like his mentor, Bill Smith had an affinity towards the big and bold. Soon, magazines like Vogue, Harper’s Bazaar, and Ebony took note, featuring his work in several spreads.
Meanwhile, Richelieu, the second largest costume jewelry firm in the country, was struggling to find new clients to sell their classic pearl wares in an era of modernity. In 1968, the company’s president, Jerry Wessenger, asked Smith if he would add a needed freshness to the business by becoming their head designer. Excited by the opportunity to produce fashion-forward jewelry for the masses as an industry leader, 33-year-old Smith became the company’s youngest and first Black executive.
Upon his hiring, Smith knew that his first creations needed to boldly depart from the traditionally understated pearl. To the company’s horror, his solution was radical: robes, vests, and even harem pants created out of hundreds of pearl strands – modeled with very little underneath (this was perhaps a nod to the freer approach to sexuality in the late ‘60s or simply a way for the jewelry to stand out, as Smith is later quoted that he preferred them worn with clothing). The company refused to sell the pieces, promoting them as gimmicky window dressings. “God I was mad as hell”, Smith noted.
Within two weeks, however, every department store in New York wanted one of Smith’s pearl body jewelry creations in their window. At least 50 fashion-forward women purchased the looks, and Smith even went on the Today show with Barbara Walters to promote what he believed was the future of jewelry. Bill Smith’s fame skyrocketed; quickly becoming the most talked about name in jewelry from New York to San Antonio, the Philadelphia Museum of Art acquired five of his body jewelry creations for their permanent collection. Smith’s designs were featured on the cover of Harper’s Bazaar in 1970 and Vogue in 1971. Richelieu must have admired the designer’s guts (or free press), as, two months later, he was promoted to Vice President.
I am thrilled that this piece serves as the centerpiece of the exhibition on Smith, as it is a prime example of the designer’s work in body jewelry and overall design philosophy. The vest is made from over 100 cut pearl strands joined together by gold jump rings and a clasp with dangling cream tassels at the center front. The wearer’s chest is highlighted by the horizontal swags on the shoulders down to the waist, which move with the curvature of the body. From there, the pearls become vertical, lengthening the torso. A gold chain across the back accentuates the wearer’s waist. As a dancer, Smith loved the gracefulness of the body– particularly in movement. His body jewelry creations, which involved a multitude of pearl, metal, or fabric elements, not only accentuated the form but moved with it. The sound of these pieces rubbing against one another brought a sensory element into jewelry, taking it from mere adornment to a performative piece.
The freedom of the 1960s no doubt had an impact on Smith unveiling this particular creation, as it was a period of immense change and experimentation in fashion. The body was less restricted than before, as mini-skirts and lighter undergarments took hold in the middle of the decade, and sometimes discarded altogether by its end. Those wishing to retain the elegance of Jackie Kennedy in classic pearls could partake in the looser, trendier styles brought on by the youthful counterculture movement in wearing a Bill Smith body creation. These pieces also remind me of those worn by a different group, much earlier in the 20th century: the beautiful chorus girls of the Ziegfeld Follies.
The Follies were a series of lavish revues, something between later Broadway shows and the more elaborate high class vaudeville and variety show, known for their impressive sets, elaborate costumes, and, most importantly, beautiful women. The first Follies took place in America in 1907, modeled after the Folies Bergère of Paris where Josephine Baker notoriously performed nude despite a jeweled banana skirt and – perhaps uncoincidentally – strands of pearls. Along with fringe and rhinestones, pearls are ubiquitous in the follies, forming sweeping capes, skirts, and simple long strands draped around the wearer’s neck. They are not the stuffy chokers of one’s mother in the 1950s, but rather the symbol of femininity (think Venus, the “pearl” of the sea, in Botticelli’s famous painting). Once favored by Queen Victoria for their allusion to purity, these women coyly subvert the gem’s history by using it to highlight their bodies.
On a larger scale, jewelry, meant to subtly highlight the sensual aspects of a woman’s body (the neck, wrist, or earlobes), now frame its entire form. Although Smith is never documented citing the follies as a source of inspiration, being an avid fan of dance and theater, I find it highly likely that when tasked with reinventing the pearl and, more broadly, jewelry, he returned to these early creations which celebrated the female body. With their risqué association, it may also contribute to the design’s controversial reception.
Unfortunately, body jewelry’s fame in the 1960s was short-lived. As women began to enter the workforce in the late 1970s and early ‘80s, they desired more conservative, professional clothing. Additionally, Bill Smith’s statement jewelry, along with his name, continued to fade, as was common in the ever-evolving world of fashion and art. The AIDS crisis also affected Smith’s notoriety, as a positive HIV diagnosis likely caused him to slow his output in the 1980s, eventually taking his life in 1991. These factors help explain why not many of Smith’s body jewelry designs exist. The FWMoA is fortunate that this rare example serves as the centerpiece of our retrospective on the designer. It remains an important node in the cycle of fashion history, as body jewelry would experience a resurgence in the early 2000s and again in our current era. While it may never become the norm, I have no doubt that it will continue to surface in later decades on those bold enough to wear it. At the exhibition’s close, we anticipate rejoining it with the larger entirety of Smith’s collection held by the Jefferson County History and Art museum, where it can continue telling Bill Smith’s story in his hometown.
Bill Smith’s: Jewelry’s Maverick is on display through August 4th, 2024.