The bullet bra was created by the Maidenform Company in the 1940’s, but with the war raging it didn’t and couldn’t (war time restrictions on nylon) become popular until the mid 1950’s. Every actress, pin-up and girl on the street just had to wear this newest fashion. Women were getting some well deserved freedoms after the war and with all the men back in the States, sex and being sexy was back in style. Sometimes super-sexy, sometimes just plain weird, the bullet bra became the look of the 50’s – the Sweater Girl, Jane Mansfield, Marilyn Monroe and The Outlaw. Never being a fan of the “Pointy Breast” I don’t quite get it. But really, what’s to get? Everybody loves boobs and the bullet bra sure gave you something to look at and dream about.
Apparently in the 70’s and 80’s in Chicago (and probably else wear) gangs carried with them a nice little bit of PR – calling cards. These come from the days when a gang was more of a neighborhood crew then what it has become. These were the days of “fists, bats, and bottles” rather than AK-47s and drive-bys. Most of the gangs were just about the neighborhood and hanging out. Though I don’t think I’d trust The Almighty Gaylords or the Gaylordettes if I wondered into their turf.
The Almighty Bishops
From photographer Gil Rigoulet – “For four months, I followed Marco, Raynald, Michel, Éric, Boumé, Lionel, Titi, Denis, Alan, Jimmy, Laurent, Bouboule, and others, at home in their bedrooms, at work, in the King Bee record shop, at the market where they’d buy their outfits, and on their nights out. The boys all dreamed of moving to the United States and listening to Gene Vincent, Elvis Presley, and Crazy Cavan and the Rhythm Rockers. They usually met up at the Liberty Bar, which dated back to the time when American air forces were based at Evreux in the early years of the Cold War. They hung out in parking lots where they repaired their classic cars—French Simcas, not Chevys”.
“Over the course of a few months, I went from being a photojournalist interested in them as subjects to someone they knew well; they invited me over to their houses, and I’d have lunch with their parents. After a while, they even invited me to come along to their hair appointments. Their salon was owned by Mr. Tuffier—a man who always wore glasses, a goatee, and a wide tie with a floral print. That was an honor: Mr. Tuffier was the quiffmaster of Evreux, so a visit to him was the most sacred of their activities”.