On the occasion of Marilyn Monroe’s 100th birthday, Allure revisits a story journalist and author Rebecca Mead wrote for our August 2012 issue to commemorate the 50th anniversary of the star’s death. In the piece, Mead examines Monroe’s legacy, and how her disarming beauty still holds the power to seduce today.
In March 1955, Life magazine featured a familiar figure on its cover: an actress with a cap of platinum-blonde curls, her deep-set eyes accentuated with bat-wing eyeliner and high-arched brows, her pink lips parted in a smile that revealed a row of perfect white teeth. It was the look of Marilyn Monroe, who at the time was riding the wave of her comic, bombshell popularity. Less than two years earlier she’d appeared in Gentlemen Prefer Blondes singing “Diamonds Are a Girl’s Best Friend,” and within a few months she would be seen again, in another fluttering moment of exposure, having her white dress blown above her knees in The Seven Year Itch.
But the young woman on that 1955 magazine cover was not Marilyn Monroe. She was Sheree North, a 22-year-old former burlesque dancer (and former brunette) whose chance had come: Monroe’s studio, Twentieth Century-Fox, had hired North as an alternative to Monroe, casting her in a movie called How to Be Very, Very Popular, in which she played a striptease dancer who witnesses a murder—a role written for, and rejected by, Monroe, who aspired to more serious dramatic work. When, a few months after the Life cover, North appeared as a mystery guest on the TV show What’s My Line? and was asked by a blindfolded Bennett Cerf if she had ever been mentioned in the same sentence as Monroe, she replied with some chagrin, “I think that all of us have.”
North’s opportunity came and went: After a couple of years she was eclipsed by somewhat more durable Marilyn substitutes, including Jayne Mansfield and Mamie Van Doren. But if North was the first actress who was obliged to mold herself in the remarkable shape of Marilyn, her example has been followed by countless others since.
For many actresses, channeling Monroe, who died 50 years ago at 36 of an overdose of barbiturates, is virtually a rite of passage. Nicole Kidman impersonated Monroe for Australian Harper’s Bazaar; Scarlett Johansson did her for a Dolce & Gabbana ad; Lindsay Lohan, an avowed Monroe obsessive who bought a West Hollywood apartment the star once lived in, reenacted for New York magazine the actress’s famed nude shoot with Bert Stern, in which Monroe posed behind colored chiffon and bit a pearl necklace. For makeup artist Kevyn Aucoin, Lisa Marie Presley shed her resemblance to one American icon—her father, Elvis—to incarnate, uncannily, that other lost legend. Monroe’s likeness is so recognizable that it has been refracted through pop-cultural iterations many times over: Guess model Anna Nicole Smith presented herself as a coarser version of Monroe, while subsequent models for the same brand impersonated Smith impersonating Monroe. Most famously, Madonna took the trappings of Marilyn’s look and put them to her own uses: As Gloria Steinem observed in the mid-1980s, “She has imitated Marilyn Monroe’s hair, style, and clothes, but subtracted her vulnerability.” And Monroe’s blonde legacy is so unmistakable that Lady Gaga’s platinum pose recalls Monroe because of its evocation of Madonna.
