Associated Press
Iconic Farrah, 1977, in the days before celebrity mags deluged us with images of stars doing every which thing.
Mirror, Mirror: Two celebs who were steeped in style
Michael Jackson and Farrah Fawcett's talent was undeniable, but it was their authentic sense of style that made them among the last of a dying breed: the true celebrity fashion icon.
Just look at how we've spent the last week remembering their legacies.
Seconds after we learned of the Charlie's Angel's demise, Twitter and Facebook came alive with remembrances of the perfectly feathered hair and wonderfully white teeth of the 1970s beauty.
The death of the King of Pop has been even more steeped in style. Memorials composed of a single sparkling white glove or a fedora have popped up everywhere, from Jackson's star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame to the Apollo Theater in New York to the family's Gary, Ind., homestead.
I wouldn't be surprised if some stylists have had to field requests for the Jheri curl. (Note to beauticians: Don't give in, no matter how much the customer is willing to pay.)
"They represented a huge part of our culture," said David Baron, chair of the psychiatry department at Temple University's School of Medicine. "They were visual symbols of a generation. It was more than what they did, it was how we connected to them."
Jackson and Fawcett were hallmarks of my carefree childhood. For the last week, their images have been fixed in my mind's eye.
Back then, it was much harder to get our hands on celebrity pictures - and even more difficult to get pics of black stars - so the posters of Michael Jackson dressed in all white with a yellow button-up vest were cherished almost to the point of worship.
The image of Fawcett wearing a red/orange bathing suit, her head playfully cocked backward, leaves the strongest impression. In those days, we couldn't pick up an OK! or Us magazine to see Fawcett buying coffee, shopping, or building a house; still, her hairstyle ruled, crossing over to Chaka Khan and Clair Huxtable, who sported a 1980s fluffy version.
"In the 1970s and '80s when Michael and Farrah were at the top of their form, we only got the images that were given to us," said Richard Laermer, author of Punk Marketing (Harper Collins, 2009) and entertainment blogger for Huffington Post.
"If Epic wanted to show us Michael at home, that's what we got. If ABC wanted to show Farrah with her hair up, that's what we got."
The idea of the iconic celebrity goes back to the 1920s and silent-screen star Rudolph Valentino, said Gary Laderman, a professor at Emory University and author of Sacred Matters: Celebrity Worship, Sexual Ecstasies, The Living Dead and Other Signs of Religious Life in the United States (The New Press, 2009)
Photos of Valentino, known for his slick, patent-leather hair and tailored suits, were scarce. Fans didn't know what he sounded like.
"When he died, pandemonium broke out," Laderman said. "People make visual attachments that catapult these celebrities into realms of worship."
With each decade came more visual icons, from Betty Grable to Marilyn Monroe to James Dean to Elvis Presley. Each had an original look. Each enjoyed a private life. And each lived in the higher celebrity stratosphere when the red carpet was just theirs.
These days, celebrities' easier path to the pinnacle of popularity robs us of much-loved iconic images that traditionally have accompanied superstardom.
Reality shows give people star power before they demonstrate real talent. Just look at Jon and Kate Gosselin.
Originality suffers, too. Beyoncé is beautiful, but isn't she simply an amalgam of several looks, from Diana Ross to Jennifer Lopez?
But the most important part of iconic status is the air of mystery. That means no updates on Twitter and Facebook, no up-to-the-minute coverage on TMZ.com or Perez Hilton.
"In order to be an icon, you have to be a mystery," Laermer said. "Mystery is king. Mystery is queen."
Both Fawcett and Jackson lived lives, for the most part, under wraps. Fawcett had been out of the limelight for several years, but came back on her own terms.
Jackson was a recluse, so any glimpse of him, no matter how pale and skeletal, was a treat. Their most powerful images remained intact.
"Their passing definitely marks the end of an era," Laermer said. "Their celebrity was classic. It was about the authentic look: the pose, the attitude, the dress, the mystique. . . . Who is left now?"
That's a good question.
Contact fashion writer Elizabeth Wellington at 215-854-2704 or ewellington@phillynews.com. Check out the Mirror Image blog at http://www.philly.com/philly/blogs/mirrorimage/
