Monday, May 18, 2026

ART: Vogue, The Art of Helen Dryden

Vogue: The Art of Helen Dryden 

                           

All Information and photos from Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia.


Helen Dryden
Born November 5, 1887
Baltimore, Maryland
Died July 1981 (aged 93)


Helen Dryden (1887 – 1981) was an American artist and successful industrial designer in the 

1920s and 1930s. She was reportedly described by the New York Times as being the highest
paid woman artist in the United States, though she lived in comparative poverty in later years.


































Dryden was born in Baltimore and moved to Philadelphia when she was seven years old to
attend Eden Hall. During her early childhood years Dryden showed unusual artistic ability, 
designing and selling clothes for paper dolls. Eventually she sold a set of her paper dolls and 
dresses to a newspaper for use in its fashion section. This in turn led to a position as illustrator 
for Anne Rittenhouse's fashion articles in the Philadelphia Public Ledger and The Philadelphia 
Press.
                                                    







































Dryden was largely self-trained, describing her works as "a combination of things I like, in 
the way I want to do them." Her artistic education consisted of four years of training in 
landscape painting under Hugh Breckinridge and one summer school session at the 
Pennsylvania Academy of Fine Arts. Deciding that she had no real interest in landscape 
painting, Dryden focused her complete attention on fashion design and illustration.








































Career
Fashion illustration
After moving to New York in 1909, Dryden spent a year trying to interest fashion magazines 

in her drawings. None, however, showed any interest in her work and many were harsh with 
criticism. Dryden was particularly disappointed in her rejection by Vogue. Less than a year 
later, however, Condé Nast Publications assumed management of Vogue and set out to make 
changes. Upon seeing Dryden's drawings, they directed the fashion editor to contact her 
immediately. The result was a Vogue contract that led to a 13-year collaboration (1909–1922) 
during which she produced many fashion illustrations and magazine covers. Her "essentially 
romantic style produced some of the most appealing, yet fantastical images on Vogue covers, 
frequently depicting imagined rather than realistic representations of dress." She also 
illustrated other Condé Nast titles, including Vanity Fair and House and Garden.








































Costume design
In addition to her prolific career as an illustrator, in 1914 Dryden launched a successful career 
as a costume designer. She designed the scenery and some of the costumes for the musical 
comedy Watch Your Step, followed by designs for several other stage plays including Clair 
de Lune, the fanciful drama based loosely on a Victor Hugo romance. Although the play 
starred Lionel and Ethel Barrymore, Helen Dryden's costume designs were generally given 
equal credit for the play's success.                                       







































Industrial design
Following the 1925 Paris Exposition Internationale des Arts Décoratifs et Industriels 

Modernes, Dryden turned her attention to industrial design, producing a number of designs 
for tableware, lamps, and other housewares, for the Revere Corporation. She had a highly 
paid job with the Dura Company until the stock market crash of 1929, at which point she 
was replaced by George W. Walker.[6] It seems Dryden never fully recovered from this blow. 
According to Christopher Gray, "The 1925 census recorded her living at 9 East 10th Street 
with her 25-year-old Philippine-born cook and butler, Ricardo Lampitok.







































Dryden worked for Studebaker from 1934 to 1937, reportedly earning $100,000 per year. 
Automotive designer Raymond Loewy contracted with her to help him design Studebaker 
interiors.[8] Her work on the interior of the 1936 Studebaker Dictator and President that 
established Helen Dryden as an important twentieth-century industrial designer. The 
advertisements by the automaker proclaimed, "It's styled by Helen Dryden." Dryden designed
the Studebaker President throughout, and the press marveled that a woman had attained this 
eminence in mechanical engineering. She was considered "one of the top industrial designers 
and one of the few women in the automotive field." Dryden worked with Loewy through 1940.[8]

By 1956 Dryden was again living in a $10-a-week hotel room paid for by the city's Welfare 

Department. At the time, she referred nostalgically to "her '$200-a-month' 10th Street 
apartment".







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Sunday, May 17, 2026

SCHEDULE: May 18 - 22, 2026


 Monday, May 18 - ART:
VOGUE
The Art of Helen Dryden
Tuesday, May 19 - BOOK REVIEW:
The Shaman's Secret
by Rich Curtin
Wednesday, May 20 - 
Fantasy Author
Brett Comeau
Thursday, May 21 -  TV TIME:
Starfleet Academy
(Paramount+)
Friday, May 22 - BOOK: 
Waiting for Richard
by Carol Ann Kauffman





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Friday, May 15, 2026

BOOK: Lavender Mist of May by Carol Ann Kauffman



 Join the further adventures and misadventures of Cat Collier, a woman who opens her own private investigation business in her small hometown on her journey from being a small town obituary writer to big city detective . 

In this fifth installment of the short story mystery series, Cat works to find a missing Chinese girl who came to the United States on a work/study program and disappeared into thin air. 

An informant takes a big risk. Nola is put in danger. The child of a prominent country club women has her parentage questioned. 

Someone from Gus Black’s past shows up at the hotel.




Available in kindle format and paperback on

Amazon  https://www.amazon.com/Lavender-Mist-Collier-Mystery-Book-ebook/dp/B07C11QN7Z


Excerpt:

 

Chapter One

Jack Harlan

 

 

 
“You don’t get it all in life, Cat,” shrieked my mother. “Nobody does. You don’t get to have the dream job and the dream guy and all the love and brains and looks and personality. You have to pick. You have to choose. You have to sacrifice. You have to give up one in order to get the other. That’s life as an adult woman."

  “Mom, calm down. What are you yelling about?”

  “I am simply attempting to shake you back to reality, daughter. Carter and Detrick have spoiled you rotten. You live in a damn fairy tale dream world. Penthouse apartment, luxury office, brand new car. Fancy designer clothes, cocktail dresses, and a diamond engagement ring so big it looks fake. Handbags that cost as much as a month’s rent. Somebody cooks for you. Somebody cleans for you. Somebody does your laundry. While you play detective on your own tiny, delusional, little planet. Wake the hell up!


“How long do you think it will take Carter Larsen to figure out he could have had any girl in the world? He’s tall, dark, and so handsome. He’s a brilliant lawyer with a wonderful personality,” she continued. “He’s charming, sweet, and very smart. He’s the only child of a millionaire. He’s a great cook. He’s organized and has a great eye for design and color. He knows how to do just about everything. He does everything in the apartment. He adored his mother. And he’s mannerly and respectful. Why on earth would he want to marry—”


“Me? Why would he want to marry a plain, boring, average, small-town girl like…me? Not particularly beautiful? Or well educated? Or wealthy? Truthfully, I don’t know the answer to that one. I’ve asked myself that same question over and over. I didn’t propose to him, you know. He asked me. Numerous times. So, if you want the answer to that burning question, Mother, you’ll have to ask Carter himself.”


I pulled on my raincoat and stomped out to my car, not even attempting to dodge the giant raindrops. I tore down the street at breakneck speed, sliding all over the wet, empty side streets. I turned into the grocery store parking lot, screeched to a stop, and sobbed.


My mother was caustic, but she was absolutely right. Erick Carter Larsen was way out of my league. I always harbored the fear that he would go back to his beautiful, slim, underwear-model ex-girlfriend. Yvette. All those things my mother said were true. The only thing I had going for me was I looked like his beloved, now deceased, mother. I don’t know how long I sat in the car and balled like a hormonal teenager on her period before my phone rang.


“Cat, um, Mr. Harlan is here for his two o’clock appointment,” said Nola White, my secretary, my friend, and my partner in crime and legal matters. I met Nola when she hired me to find out who was stalking her. We hit it off. She had no one and no place to go, so I brought her home. Home, to the Palazzo Castellano, the hotel where I live and work.

 

I cleared my throat and said, “I’ll be right there. I’m on my way.”


“Are you okay?” she whispered.


“Yes, I’m always okay.  Just a bit…wet. I’ll be right there.”


I pulled back out into traffic and proceeded at normal speed to the underground parking lot of the Palazzo Castellano. I parked in my reserved space and took the elevator up to my office on the eighth floor.

 

“Good afternoon, Mr. Harlan.” I eyed the nice-looking gentleman in khakis and a leather jacket, somewhere in his late thirties, I’m guessing. Light brown hair with just a touch of grey at the temples. Soft, kind eyes, brown and slightly worried. I dug deep inside to find my most cheerful voice and a smile as I hung up my soaking wet raincoat.  I sat down at my beautiful chrome-and-glass desk and pulled the gorgeous white leather swivel chair up to it.


Nola closed the door.


“How can we at Red Cat Investigation help you today?”


“Hello, Miss Collier. It’s nice to meet you. I have a delicate situation on my hands, and I wondered if you could look into a matter of great importance to me… privately.”


“That’s what we do, Mr. Harlan.”


 “Call me Jack…please.”


I reached my hand across the desk.


“Jack. Call me Cat.”


“Cat.” 


He stood for a moment and shook my hand. “I’m lucky enough to be engaged to a wonderful woman. Beautiful and fantastic. Simone Phillipson.”


“Well, congratulations, Jack.”


“Thank you,” he blushed. “Simone has a child. From a former relationship. A daughter, a lovely girl named Lystra.”


“That’s not uncommon these days, Jack.”


“I realize that. And Lystra is a terrific kid. Cute, sweet, smart, funny. I love her as if she were my own daughter.”


“That’s great.”


“And that’s where the problem lies. Simone won’t tell me who the child’s father is. She won’t tell anybody. She’s never told anyone. Her parents don’t even know. The father is listed on the birth certificate as unknown. I would like to adopt Lystra when we get married. But I want to know what I’m getting myself into. If the guy is alive, I don’t want him showing up at our door to challenge me as Lystra’s father and causing me custody battles down the line. I know if we lost custody of Lystra, I would lose Simone. She is devoted to her child.”


“I understand. You want to get all your ducks in a row. Does your fiancée object to DNA testing?”


“Yes. Strongly. She told me to leave it alone. In fact, she demanded it.”


“So, she doesn’t want you to adopt Lystra?”


“She has no problem with my pursuit of the adoption, but she refuses to have any discussion about Lystra’s father. But I travel for business, sometimes out of the country. Simone works for an online marketing company, so she can work anywhere with an internet connection. We could travel all over the world. That’s been my lifelong dream. We could see all the wonderful sights out there together. As a family unit.


“Presently, Lystra is in private school with a very flexible schedule. But as she gets older, that’ll change. I want to legally adopt Lystra so we can be a real family. And when we take her out of the country, I won’t have to worry about challenges to Simone’s custody. I think Lystra wants that, too. It’ll make us feel like a family unit. That’s where the ‘privately’ part comes in, Cat. Simone can’t know what we’re doing. She can’t find out I’ve gone behind her back to find out about Lystra’s father.”


“No problem. I’ll need some information on Lystra and Simone. Let’s see what I can dig up without a DNA test first. Maybe we’ll get lucky. You know, it’s easier to prove who the father isn’t with a DNA test rather than who is.”


“I have some dates and locations for you,” said Jack.


I took notes as Jack recited a litany of names, dates, and cities.


“I’ll get right on this, Jack.”


He laid a hundred-dollar bill on my desk. “Here’s a deposit. Call me on my cell phone.” He scribbled the number on the corner of my notepad. “Thank you, Cat.”










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