Maria Callas has been trending recently because today marks the centenary of the soprano's birth and because there is currently an exhibition of rarely seen photographs from the Intesa Sanpaolo Publifoto archive at Gallerie d'Italia in Milan (until 28 February 2024).
In these images she is already the star we all know, revered, well-dressed, clad in cloaks and furs, and donning elegant hats. She is portrayed at La Scala, at a Milanese restaurant, during rehearsals, at the beach and during a press conference, surrounded by paparazzi, a box of Perugina chocolates perched on the armrest of her armchair.
Here she is getting off a train arriving at Milan's Central Station, there she is surrounded by fans; in another image she is pictured next to her husband, Giovanni Battista Meneghini, tycoon, impresario and strategist of her career.
Then she's with Elsa Maxwell and Aristotle Onassis, Grace Kelly and Rainier III, Prince of Monaco. In one image Callas is the centre of attention as she walks in Portofino, alongside Diana and Sarah Churchill, Athina Onassis and Antonella Piaggio Agnelli, the five women in casual yet elegant ensembles, looking like models at the end of a runway show. In these images Maria Callas shines as a perfectly assembled star - stylish, refined and sophisticated.
The divine opera singer has always been trending in fashion: there have been quite a few Dolce & Gabbana collections that moved from opera and from her costumes, while Marc Jacobs explored her drama and grandeur in a print in his S/S 16 collection.
Yet her life should make us ponder a bit as Callas, renowned for her extraordinary voice and talent, faced criticism and scrutiny for her appearance throughout her career.
Born in 1923, Anna Maria Cecilia Sophia Kalogheròpoulou, better known as Maria Callas, remains the first example of a reconstructed identity via fashion and, well, dieting. Or rather, through dieting and fashion.
Italian fashion designer Elvira Leonardi Bouyeure, nicknamed Biki, met her in 1951 at the house of Wally Toscanini, daughter of composer Arturo Toscanini (Biki's grandfather was Giacomo Puccini).
Biki was impressed by her voice, but definitely shocked by the style of the opera singer. The day after she met Callas, Biki told to her son-in-law and collaborator Alain Reynaud. "I was struck by the contrast between the image I had admired on stage and the one I saw in real life. I was shocked by the unimaginable 'outfit' that Maria had managed to put together. So fat! And with a hat, in the evening, at home! It even had a wide brim of black velvet. Her jacket was at least five centimeters short of closing on the chest. Let's not even talk about the blouse. The long skirt couldn't cover her thick legs, and the shoes were black patent leather, boat-shaped, with a narrow strap that certainly didn't complement the line of her feet. The bag, also black patent leather, was as big as a shopping basket. But what really gave me a shock were the earrings, you know those rowing boats that you rent for boat trips in Venice? Well, On Maria Callas's ears, two long pendants sparkled with bulky rowing boats." "Made out of gold?" Reynaud asked. "No, plastic," remarked a shocked and rather cruel Biki.
Biki didn't hide her concern about Callas' weight even when she was asked to create designs for her. Soon after this encounter at Wally Toscanini's house, Giovanni Battista Meneghini, Maria Callas' husband, phoned Biki and Reynaud to let them know that his wife wanted them to dress her from now on.
Biki invited him to her atelier, but, upon arriving, she and Reynaud told him that Maria Callas had to lose weight to make sure the outfits suited her. Meneghini didn't flinch, and announced they already had a plan for a special diet that would have given Maria a more harmonious silhouette.
In the early years of her career, Callas was 1.72 m tall and weighed 90 Kg. Wanting to lose some weight to get a more dramatic figure and coaxed by many people around her, from critics to her husband Meneghini, she went through a diet.
Callas had a complex relation with weight: her mother, who insisted she sang as a child, often made her feel like an "ugly duckling, fat and clumsy and unpopular", while her sister was "slim and beautiful" as she told The Times in 1956.
Callas and Meneghini met Biki and Reynaud in their atelier in 1952 and, from then on, Biki became Callas favourite designer. By then Callas had already lost some weight and Biki and Reynaud started fantasizing about dressing her in leopard and sable, purple and gold satin, large skirts and ample stoles. The fashion and style machine was put in motion and a new diva was born.
During 1953 and early 1954, Callas lost almost 36 Kg: opera impresario Rudolf Bing, who remembered Callas as being "monstrously fat" in 1951, stated that after the weight loss, Callas was an "astonishing, svelte, striking woman".
By the time Callas starred in La sonnambula by Bellini directed by Luchino Visconti in 1955, the singer reminded more a Scala étoile than an opera performer: in a white ethereal dress, with her waist cinched in a tight corset, she looked as delicate and fragile as a sylphyd (View this photo).
Biki also designed for her costumes like the ones for La Traviata: Biki's costume for Violetta hinted at the frivolousness of the character, while her moderate décolletage pointed at elegance rather than at a transgressive nature.
In matters of style, Callas initially lacked confidence. When she departed for the United States, concerns about coordinating clothes and accessories troubled her. Biki implemented a system, and a dressmaker from her atelier discreetly placed a unique number inside each garment and accessory. The singer was then provided with corresponding cards, guiding her on how to pair the numbered items. Under the influence of Meneghini, Biki, and Reynaud, Callas underwent a transformative journey, emerging as a radiant butterfly, embraced and admired in various circles.
Biki acted as our modern-day stylists and turned Maria Callas into an icon: with Reynaud she dressed her in honey-colored satin with sable trim; came up with a long evening gown in leopard print, and opted for daring contrasts of crimson velvet and black satin – all to prove she was a sophisticated woman. Grand capes were draped over her shoulders, necklines were matched with immense butterfly sleeves, a black leather cloak was lined with sable. They say that Biki and Reynaud designed for her a long squarish train that reportedly sparked jealousy in Yves Saint Laurent.
Quite often Callas turned into a vehicle of other people's desires: when she started her love story with Aristotle Onassis, the millionaire wanted her dressed in black with short hair. He would call Biki to remind her of his preferences (when the dressmakers answered the phone they would tell Biki there was a certain Mr Ananas on the line; "ananas" means pineapple in Italian, so this was rather comical...). Biki tried to interpret his desires through her own inspirations, so, a cruise on Onassis' yacht Christina (the images are also part of the exhibition in Milan) inspired Biki trousers with a matching wallet mini-skirt, long evening dresses, swimming suits that highlighted Callas' silhouette, scarves, hats, and a myriad of accessories.
Biki also dressed Callas in the '70s for her last performances, then with Reynaud she would visit her in Paris to try and alleviate her depression. When she passed away at 53, Reynaud went to Paris to see her a last time. Laid on her bed in a grey dress, a rose and a cross on her chest, Callas finally looked serene.
The debate over whether Callas's vocal decline resulted from ill health, early menopause, overuse and abuse of her voice, loss of breath support, loss of confidence, or weight loss in the meantime continued. Shortly before her death, Callas explained that she felt she had lost strength in her diaphragm and therefore she had lost her courage and boldness.
In 1969, interviewed about working with Pasolini on the film Medea and asked if she felt perfect in the title role (Callas had already starred in Luigi Cherubini's Medea at La Scala, but this was the first time she was featured in a movie), she replied to the interviewer: "I never consider myself as perfect".
The interviewer continued, asking her if she liked being in the pages of illustrated magazines? "No," she quickly replied. A final shocking question followed, defined as indiscreet by the interviewer himself, the question wasn't about her romantic life as some of us may think, but about her body, how much did she weigh these days? "I'm 1.72 cm tall and I weigh 64 Kg," she answered, adding "and I can't afford losing more weight as I have to work." Guess male opera singers might not have faced the same level of inquiry into their weight or physical attributes.
So, on Maria Callas' birth anniversary, let's not just celebrate her as a divine opera singer, but also reflect on the impact of body shaming on women. We now reclaim her as an icon of style, but Callas was subjected to public commentary on her weight, attire, and overall physical appearance. By looking back at Maria Callas' story, we can ponder on the harmful impact of body shaming and celebrate her legacy in a more inclusive and respectful way.
Image credits for this post
1. Maria Callas wearing a dress and a hat by Biki, Milan, April 1958. Photograph: Angelo Novi - Publifoto © Archivio Publifoto Intesa Sanpaolo
2, 3 and 4. Maria Callas in Biki's atelier. Photograph: Franco Gremignani - Publifoto © Archivio Publifoto Intesa Sanpaolo
5. Callas and her husband Meneghini, 1959. Photograph: Franco Gremignani - Publifoto © Archivio Publifoto Intesa Sanpaolo
6. Maria Callas (with Luchino Visconti to her left) receives a bouquet of flowers from publisher and writer Valentino Bompiani, Milan, 1954. Photograph: Franco Giglio - Publifoto © Archivio Publifoto Intesa Sanpaolo
7 and 8. Maria Callas at home, Milan, 1957 Photograph: Franco Gremignani - Publifoto © Archivio Publifoto Intesa Sanpaolo
9. Maria Callas dances with Aristotle Onassis, Monte Carlo, 1960. Photograph: Franco Gremignani - Publifoto © Archivio Publifoto Intesa Sanpaolo
10. Maria Callas in a car on the day of the recording of Amilcare Ponchielli's opera "La Gioconda" at Teatro alla Scala, Milan, 1959. Photograph: Danilo Pajola - Publifoto © Archivio Publifoto Intesa Sanpaolo
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