Category: Clothing

Hair combs and ribbons and more, oh, my!

Updated on July 5, 2018 by Gail Eastwood

Let’s face it, ladies, even if your new dress is up to the very latest fashion standard in style, color, and fabric, if your accessories are not equally splendid, someone’s bound to notice. And you know what that means. If they notice, they’re going to gossip. We mustn’t have that!

Here then, are a few ideas about accessories to help you (or your female characters) stave off that terrible fate. Instead of the travel piece I had planned for this month, I am going to share some of the lovely items I was fortunate to see last week in an exhibit at the Concord Museum (Concord, MA) running through August. It was entitled “Fresh Goods: Shopping for Clothing in a New England Town, 1750-1900.” The first words were taken from a November 1816 Concord newspaper ad offering fabrics such as “figured flannels, crimson bombazettes, and white and black cambricks”.

While not a huge exhibit (small museum) and rather broad-ranging in time, the displays included some positively lovely pieces, and we were allowed to take pictures. Some items are American-made (although in the early 1800’s many goods were still imported), but at the equivalent time they still followed the fashions we are used to seeing in Regency England.

Let’s begin with hair combs. Not the kind for combing out your hair after you’ve washed it, the kind made of tortoiseshell and carved in intricate designs, to ornament your hair on a special evening or to impress a certain special someone. They had several beautiful examples in the exhibit, and I was reminded that such hair combs could be a lovely gift if your characters need one.The stylishness of wearing them is well-documented in portraits and silhouettes of the period –you wouldn’t want to perpetuate your image wearing anything unfashionable! (The comb and box in the center belonged to Henry David Thoreau’s aunt, Maria, and is dated 1813. The small portrait at right, of Mercy Davis, is dated 1818.)

Then we have ribbons. Ribbons for hair, of course, (see portrait at top, not from the exhibit) and especially ribbons for bonnets. Another possibility for gift-giving, and less costly than a comb. Distinctive and handsome ribbon was one way to make sure your new bonnet wouldn’t look too much like someone else’s, heaven forbid!

I think you can see that the bonnets pictured would be fairly generic without the lovely wide ribbons that make such a fashion statement.

The exhibit included some samples of ribbons –moiré taffeta, grosgrain, of course, and the one on the left which looked suspiciously like a modern machine-woven trim I might buy for decorating a costume! But it represents yet another type to consider.

Even if your hair is dressed perfectly and ornamented with a beautiful comb, and your ribbons are gorgeous and unlike anyone else’s, there’s still the matter of your gloves, your fan, your reticule. Are they color-coordinated to go with your dress or your pelisse? Is your fan the latest style –with feathers, or without? This beautiful beaded reticule in the exhibit was paired with a pair of blue kid gloves dyed to match the shade of this fan –ivory sticks, blue silk leaves, and originally with blue feather tufts at the top ends!

As writers (and readers), we know all of these delicious bits are fodder for story-telling. So here’s a question just for fun: for writers, how have you made use of fashion accessories, or an accessory, in a scene you’ve written? For readers, can you remember a scene you’ve read where a fashion accessory played a part in what happened? (Let’s say other than fans, for we all know how easily those can play a role!) Please share with us in the comments section below! Thanks for visiting. 🙂

Posted in Clothing, History, Regency, Research | Tagged Concord Museum, Fashion, Fashion Accessories 19th century, Gail Eastwood, Hair combs, Regency | 6 Replies

In the Time of Her Flowers

Updated on March 15, 2018 by Isobel Carr

Documentation! At long last. Every time I give a workshop about historical clothing, I get asked “what did they do when they had their periods”. And to date I’ve always had to say, I’ve never seen any documentation before the 1850s (rags and belts). But that there’s LOTS of theories out there, ranging from “they bleed onto their clothes” to “clouts” and “pessaries”. Well, today twitter has come through again. The lovely Sarah MaClean linked me to an amazing bit of research by Dr. Sara Read (I must now have all her books!!!) where Dr. Read goes into all kinds of depth about records of menstruation. I highly recommend everyone just read the whole thing themselves, cause it’s amazing, but for those who are uninclined, I’m going to hit some of the highlights of “Thy righteousness is but a menstrual clout: sanitary practices and prejudice in early modern England” here.

Dr. Read quotes from everything from Greek Mythology to the Bible to the poetry of the Earl of Rochester. She also covers Galen and my own personal favorite source, Aristotle’s Masterpiece. The best part, however, in my opinion are two smaller bits from the eighteenth century. Firstly, where physician Malcolm Flemyng is quoted as saying “some women have no symptoms to alert them to the start of a period, so that they ‘they scarce have warning enough to provide for decency.’” Which implies that women are doing SOMETHING (most other info indicates “clouts”). At least women of the middle class and upper class, because later there’s an amazing firsthand account from a trial where a working class woman makes it very clear that she’s freely bleeding onto her clothes, with the addition of an apron worn behind between her shift and petticoat to try and keep up appearances:

“In what might prove to be the only account of her menstrual practices by a woman in this period, the normality of bleeding into one’s shift is corroborated. In a notorious case in 1733, Sarah Malcolm was arrested for the murders of three women, one of whom had her neck slashed, the others having been strangled. Malcolm’s employer, John Kerrel, confronted her about the murders and testified:

‘The next Thing I took Notice of was a Bundle lying on the Ground; I asked her what it was, she said it was her Gown. And what’s in it says I. Why Linen, says she, that is not proper for Men to see; and so I did not offer to open it.’

A search of Kerrel’s house revealed that the handle of the “Close-stool” door was covered in blood, and the room itself contained some dirty linen and a silver tankard. Malcolm claimed that the tankard was her own, inherited from her mother, and that it and the door handle had blood on them because she had cut her finger “and as for the Linen, she said, it was not Blood upon it, but a Disorder.”

That this blood was menstrual was borne out by the testimony of a fellow prisoner, Roger Johnson, who claimed to have had orders to search Malcolm. He says that Malcolm asked him not to examine her: ‘she desir’d me to forbear searching under her Coats, because she was not in a Condition; and, to prove that she was menstruating, Malcolm “shew’d me her Shift, upon which I desisted.’

In an extremely important and unusual account of menstruation through a woman’s voice, Malcolm argues in her own defence: ‘Modesty might’ compel a Woman to conceal her own Secrets if Necessity did not oblige her to the contrary; and ’tis Necessity that obliges me to say, that what has been taken for the Blood of the murdered Person is nothing but the free Gift of Nature.

This was all that appeared on my Shift, and it was the same on my Apron, for I wore the Apron under me next to my Shift …. [A]nd Mr.Johnson who searched me in Newgate has sworn that he found my Linen in the like Condition.

If it is supposed that I kill’d her with my Cloaths on, my Apron indeed might be bloody, but how should the Blood come upon my Shift~ If I did it in my Shift, how should my Apron be bloody, or the back part of my Shift~ And whether I did it dress’d or undress’d, why was not the Neck and Sleeves of my Shift bloody as well as the lower Parts.’”

So there we have it. Basically everyone’s speculations are correct: clouts/rags, free-bleeding, there’s even some evidence in there for sponge tampons if you’re curious. For those of you writing US-set books, there’s also this dissertation shared with me by Emma Barry: Menstrual technology in the United States, 1854 to 1921 by Laura Klosterman Kid.

Posted in Clothing, History, Isobel Carr, Research | Leave a reply

Sleeve Buttons, a Gentleman’s Accessory

Updated on April 20, 2017 by Isobel Carr

Let’s have fun and look at a male accessory today. I give you sleeve buttons!

During the Georgian era shirts did not open all the way down the front (no matter what you see on covers). They had a partial neck-opening from the collar to about mid-chest. So the shirt had to be pulled off over the head. They buttoned closed at the throat, though this is hidden by the cravat. The cuffs of the shirts were generally wide (2”-3”) and buttoned closed in an overlapping fashion (like a modern dress shirt, not like a French cuff). I have found extant sleeve buttons (aka cuff links) dating back to the 18th century, but all the extant shirts I’ve seen have buttons; I have not seen shirt studs pre-Victorian). So while they may not have been a common accessory, they’re something a man could have worn and something you can use as a plot point.

Late Georgian sleeve cuff

Silver and paste sleeve buttons, late 18th century.

Silver and agate sleeve buttons, 1770s-1820s

Gold sleeve buttons, early 19th century.

Are there any clothing items or accessories you’re curious about? Let me know and I’ll cover them in future posts!

Posted in Clothing, History, Isobel Carr, Regency | 2 Replies

Who wore it best?

Updated on March 10, 2017 by Elena Greene

Yesterday, my daughters and I went out to shop for a prom dress for my youngest. We had a lot of fun and she found a lovely princess-y dress that fits her perfectly. It’s making me think about pretty dresses in general, and the gowns Austen heroines wore to balls and other events.

Here’s Catherine Morland in the 2007 Northanger Abbey, looking very pretty as she should. Love the embroidery!

I had to show the 2007 version first. Here’s an image from the 1986 version, which I thought as weird and problematic as the 2007 version was charming.

On to Pride & Prejudice–so many versions!

The costumes in the 1940 version always crack me up! I have heard they were reused from Gone with the Wind, but I can’t verify that particular rumor.

Here’s Elizabeth Garvie in the 1980 version, which I know many people like, though I thought David Rintoul was too stiff for Darcy. Anyway, she looks lovely and Regency, though perhaps that decolletage is more revealing than I expected for Elizabeth?

Here’s Jennifer Ehle as Elizabeth in the much-loved 1995 version with Colin Firth. This must have been taken for promo purposes because it isn’t from a scene in the movie, but shows the gown nicely. I love the pleating in the bodice and think her hair looks both accurate and lovely. Yes, I think this is my favorite P&P outfit.

And here’s Keira Knightley in the 2005 version, known for its controversial costumes. The waist is lower than we expect for Regency (maybe it was an attempt at doing something more transitional, late 1790s?) but it is pretty. Her hair looks nice but doesn’t feel quite accurate to me. The lack of gloves is rather jarring, too.

I know she’s a minor villain and not the heroine, but I can’t go without mentioning Caroline Bingley as played by Kelly Reilly. I’ve only seen one sleeveless gown in any period images, and that was in a portrait where the dress may have been more of a costume than regular apparel. Maybe this “gown” was intended to portray Caroline as racy and fashion-forward, but I can’t help thinking real Regency people would be worrying that she’d lost her mind showing up at a ball in what looks more like undergarments. Though unlike Elizabeth, she is wearing gloves.

I thought the 1971 version of Sense and Sensibility was rather a snooze, but I’m finding some of these pics quite amusing. I hadn’t remembered how much the sisters looked like twins. So dramatic and so fluffy! Though actually I rather love the gauzy sleeves.

These are not ball gowns but this image of matchy-matchy outfits is too funny not to share.

I really, really like these dresses from the 1996 version with Emma Thompson and Kate Winslet. I have a pale blue Regency gown, but if I ever get another, I’d like to have one like these, in a deeper color with metallic trim.

I liked the 2008 version of Sense and Sensibility, but I’m puzzled by the gloves in these pictures. Evening gloves in fashion prints and other pictures are nearly always white though I’ve heard of pink and yellow (not green though). Since the Dashwood sisters aren’t wealthy, I would have thought they (especially Elinor) would have white ones that would go with any gown. But these don’t even go well with the gowns! I have a theory. Maybe the kind but somewhat vulgar Mrs. Jennings bought them for the girls as a gift, and they felt obliged to wear them?

Here’s Gwyneth Paltrow in the 1996 version of Emma. This is a nice example of a layered dress. Very chic! I’ve heard that the gowns for this production were a bit fancier than reality, but they are lovely to look at.

And here’s an image from the 2009 version, which reminded me that that I have never seen it! Now putting it onto my To Do List! This gown is lovely and although white was popular, it’s also historically accurate to have some colors.

Here’s Amanda Root in the 1995 version of Persuasion. I like the detail around the neckline and the jewelry. Very lovely and ladylike!

Here’s an image from the 2007 version, which I have mixed feelings about (well, no mixed feelings about that awkward-not-in-a-good-way kiss). But I like the velvet and the color is interesting.
I’ve seen two versions of Mansfield Park, neither of which I feel is a good representation of the book. Letting that go, I did enjoy the 1999 version as a story on its own. The embellishment on this dress is interesting–I’d like to hear from a costume expert as to whether it is accurate. But again, there is a shocking dearth of gloves.

The 2007 version I saw only once and thought it very strange. I couldn’t find a ballroom image but here is Fanny on what must have been her wedding day. I’m not sure what I dislike more: the inaccuracy of the costuming, her pose, or her sullen expression.

So which dresses are your favorites? Any theories on the odd gloves in the 2008 S&S, or Caroline Bingley’s gown in the 2005 P&P? Or why Fanny looks so unhappy about marrying Edmund?

Elena

Posted in Clothing, Frivolity, TV and Film | Tagged ball gowns, Jane Austen films | 15 Replies

Storing Clothing in the Georgian Era: The Clothes Press

Updated on December 20, 2016 by Isobel Carr

One of the questions I get a lot when giving clothing workshops is “How did people store their clothes”? The answers are obviously very different across the classes, but in general my audience wants to know about the gentry and nobility.

Let’s start with closets. Yes, closets existed. Both in the modern sense of a large cupboard in which you store things and in the more historical sense of “a smaller room off a main living space, where you also stored things”. You see modern-type built in closets in many period homes, though they’re often hidden. They usually flank fireplaces, doorways, or built-in nooks for beds. The period idea of a closet was part of a suite of rooms that made up a person’s private chambers. There would be a bedroom, a study or boudoir, and often a closet or dressing room. This all varied widely so there’s no hard and fast rule as to what set-up your characters might have (and don’t forget to take in the era in which the house was built).

Mahogany clothes press, c. 1730-1760. Interior contains both drawers and shelves. Victoria and Albert Museum.

Regardless of what rooms your house has, the clothing storage will be of three types: chests (the classic flip-top large box), chest of drawers (just like today) and the clothes press/wardrobe (not like the big one that leads to Narnia). Clothes presses are most similar to what Americans now call “high boys” (which are a form of raised clothes press).

Clothes Press, c.1775-1778, Chippendale. Interior contains both shelves and drawers. Victoria and Albert Museum.

Clothes presses have drawers at the bottom and then an open space with pull-out shelves at the top behind doors. Later on (late 19thC) you get the kind with half the space given over to hanging garments and half to shelves). So your clothing would be carefully folded and organized among these various options, but in general it would not be hung as it often is today (I’ve heard their might have been pegs or a line for awkward items like false rumps, hoops, etc., but I’ve never seen this in practice outside of satirical drawings of how the poor lived).

Japaned Clothes Press, c. 1815, Crace (likely made for Brighton Pavilion). Victorian and Albert Museum.

It’s also likely that clothes were cycled, so you didn’t have everything in your room at once, just the things you needed for the season you were in. Clothing for other seasons would be packed away and stored in the attics (hence the treasure troves occasionally unearthed ). At the end of each season, you would decide what was worth packing away for use the next year and what you would get rid of (this retired clothing was generally a perq of the lady’s maid, who could refashion it for her own use or sell it).

English Clothes Press, c. 1750.

For more insight into period homes, I highly recommend Georgian & Regency Houses Explained by Trevor Yorke.

Posted in Clothing, History, Isobel Carr, Regency, Research | 3 Replies