Fashion is a form of ugliness so intolerable that we have to alter it every six months.–Oscar Wilde (1854 – 1900)

Next week, because of my freelance work, I am interviewing designer Isaac Mizrahi and What Not To Wear‘s fashion expert Clinton Kelly and makeup artist Carmindy.

Not that I’m terrified, or anything.

But it got me to thinking, of course, as most things do (that don’t revolve around Clive, Sean or Richard; they just get me to drooling). And, because my head is portioned between political debates, returning to an old writing project, waiting for the agent to let me know things, where are my cute sweaters and what will my son be for Halloween, I had a lot of different thoughts.

Play along with me:

–what would a What Not To Wear-type person advise one of our heroines?
–did shy debutantes feel as scared as I do to meet famous people, like dukes, and such?
–why weren’t there any designers, rather than modistes, in our era? Charles Frederick Worth is reputed to be the first designer with a house and all; why weren’t’ there any before then?
–what did poorer, but still fashionable, ladies do to stay a la mode (here I’m thinking of Isaac Mizrahi’s line for Target)?
–what makeup existed to enhance a lady’s looks without making her look like *that* kind of woman?
–were there lady reporters? I know there were in some of our fiction, but did they actually exist?
–and, what questions would you ask any of those three I’m talking to next week?

Thanks!

Megan

At what age, I wonder, do people get involved with politics? I have had a passing interest for some time, but have never had the fevered intense fascination I’m feeling now before.

Is it ’cause I’m getting older? Wiser? Both?

I dunno; it might be just me. After all, people of any age get political, whether it’s protesting a shorter lunchtime at school or anti-apartheid demonstrations that close down college buildings (as happened when I was at Barnard) or the draft.

I guess it’s when politics get personal that we get passionate.

So instead of settling in, as I should be at the end of a long week, to a good book (note to sharp-eyed folks: I’m talking a REGENCY book, so I can stay in keeping with our site. Carry on) and a glass of wine, I’ll be tuning in to watch the first Presidential Debate. I will have wine, though.

In some ways, this avid passion makes me feel as though I am contributing something to our times, even if it’s just opinion from a grumpy mom. Perhaps that is why women–who until recently haven’t had much of an opportunity to get involved directly–participate so ferociously, if fired up. For example, the new movie The Duchess will likely touch on Georgiana (because we’re on a first-name basis) and her political maneuverings.

Have you been active this campaign season? What are you doing tonight? Do you have suggestions for any good debate drinking games?

Megan

From Hogarth‘s Gin Lane:

Drunk for a penny
Dead drunk for twopence
Clean straw for nothing

This weekend, my husband and assorted friends and I will be trotting onto a ferry to Block Island (off the coast of Rhode Island). The Ready For A Party Spouse suggested we bring cocktails onto the ferry, and since I am feeling slightly wistful about the end of summer, I suggested the most summeriest of cocktails, gin and Fresca (also one of the most white trashiest cocktails, I think, but that’s not why I asked for it).

Gin has a rich and storied history in the Regency; known as ‘blue ruin,’ gin became popular in England when the government allowed unlicensed gin production along with insisting on a heavy duty for imported spirits. According to Wikipedia, “by 1740 the production of gin had increased to six times that of beer, and because of its cheapness it became popular with the poor.” Eventually, of course, the British government realized they could be making more money, and enacted the Gin Act of 1736, resulting in riots, massive illicit distilling and the cynical marketing of “medicinal” spirits with such fanciful names as Cuckold’s Comfort and My Lady’s Eye Water. Because of its ease of production, gin was often mixed with even worse ingredients, and might have caused higher death rates.

The gin they drank back then–at least the gin that started it all–tasted different from the Gordons, Bombay, Tanqueray etc. East Coast elitists sip with their tonic on the golf course. The original gin was Genever, or Holland gin, is “Richer, maltier, and with a greater depth of flavor” than today’s gin, and from some accounts, gin elitists (not the same as E.C. elitists) mourn the loss of the earlier type of gin.

But then I saw that Amsterdam-based spirits company Lucas Bols is doing a global relaunch of Bols Genever, which is made from a recipe the company was using in 1820. New York liquor stores will start stocking Bols Genever at the end of this month, with stores in San Francisco and London to follow shortly.

Having read of the devastation gin caused in our period, now I’m not so sure I want to be drinking the stuff this afternoon, but I am interested in tasting Bols Genever, just to see if I can detect a difference in the flavor.

Do you have a favorite cocktail, either for summer or fall? Are you interested in the shadier aspects of Regency life? Do you like to try period-authentic flavors?

Megan

PS: Apologies again for not coming back to comment, I will be on the road most of today.
*Fagin to Oliver in Oliver Twist