Showing posts with label Regency clothing. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Regency clothing. Show all posts

Friday, October 10, 2014

Philosophy and children’s clothing pt 1

by Maria Grace

Today we take it for granted that childhood is a unique and special period of life during which the child should play and be educated in the ways of their culture, free from the responsibilities of an adult. Most Western societies mark childhood beginning at birth and extending into adolescence, with full adult responsibilities not required until close to an individual’s second decade.

The idea of a lengthy, and in many ways leisurely, childhood was proposed in John Locke’s 1673 treatise, Some Thought Concerning Education. However, it was not until the mid-eighteenth century at his recommendations about education and dress of the sons of the aristocracy were paid heed. Rousseau’s 1762 work, Emile: or On Education helped transform the fad for Locke’s ideas into lasting social change.

Rousseau believed that young men’s innate goodness could be preserved by raising them in a more natural environment which included plain, comfortable clothes which allowed freedom of movement. Such clothing included dresses for little boys and skeleton suits for slightly older boys.


Infant Clothes

During the Regency, the majority of garments for infants and babies, whether swaddling bands for the first few months of life or simple gowns worn thereafter, were typically linen or cotton, either white or unbleached natural color cloth, possibly trimmed with colored ribbons. These ribbons would be chosen to the mother’s tastes, not restricted to blue for boys and pink for girls as would be seen much later in the century. In wealthier families, babies had some "good" clothes to wear while being shown off to visiting family and friends. Typically these garments would be colored or trimmed in ways that would not stand up as well to the harsh laundry techniques of the day, so they would be worn sparingly.

During this era, parents felt little need to identify a small child’s gender by their clothing. Those who knew the family personally would already know the child’s gender, and for those who did not know the family that well, it was none of their business. Moreover, very young children rarely appeared in public. The age at which children began to be seen outside the house coincided with the age at which they would begin to wear gender differentiated clothing.

One unique feature of infant clothing still present in the early 1800’s was leading strings. Leading strings were the fashion decendents of the hanging sleeves of the middle ages. Attached to the back of children’s garments when the child began to move independently, leading strings might be sewn into individual garments when a family could afford multiple sets. For those of lesser means a single set could be pinned onto different garments. In some cases, children’s garments were made with buttonhole like slits through which leading strings could pass when fastened to the child’s corset.

Well into the nineteenth century infants, both male and female, were dressed in corsets. These garments were not boned and cinched like adult corsets might be, but rather made of multiple layers of sturdy fabric, most often corded or quilted cotton or linen. These garments did not shape the body so much as provide warmth and train the child to have good posture, which was considered essential for good health at that time. The sturdiness of the garment made it an ideal one for attaching leading strings.

Once attached, leading strings could be used as a reins to guide the child during the process of learning to walk. This approach was most prevalent in the upper classes. For middle and lower class women who enjoyed less help from servants, leading strings might be used more as a leash to limit a child’s movement. The strings could be fastened to a bed-post or heavy piece of furniture while indoors or something immobile like a fence or tree while outside. Though this might be an uncomfortable idea to modern parents, in a world where child safety measures were largely non-existent, these methods could help keep a child safe while their mother’s attention was diverted elsewhere.

Leading strings were usually removed when they learned to walk well, certainly by age three or four.

Boys in Dresses

Before learning to walk, babies wore long gowns that extended beyond their feet. Once out of infancy (walking age), both boys and girls were ‘shortcoated’, dressed in ankle length dresses. The early 19th century saw almost no difference between dresses for little boys and little girls. Little boys might wear their sisters’ hand-me-downs and vice-versa. Dresses might be made of chintz or printed cottons. They were worn with small white caps, sashes and petticoats or long ruffled pantaloons.

This is William Henry Meyrick
Though it is difficult for the modern observer to wrap their minds around dressing little boys like little girls, the fact was that dresses were considered children’s wear, not little girls’ clothes. Children’s dresses were very distinct from women’s garments, so to the eye of the person in context, it was not a matter of boys in women’s garments. On a more practical note, in the days before disposable diapers and washing machines, dresses were much more practical garments for children who were not toilet trained.

The transition of little boys from wearing dresses to masculine pants was called breeching and marked a major transition in a child’s life. Part two will detail this transition.

References

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 Maria Grace is the author of Darcy's Decision,  The Future Mrs. Darcy, All the Appearance of Goodness, and Twelfth Night at Longbourn and Remember the PastClick here to find her books on Amazon. For more on her writing and other Random Bits of Fascination, visit her website. You can also like her on Facebook, follow on Twitter or email her.

Monday, January 20, 2014

Clothing as a Map to the Past

By Philippa Jane Keyworth

Medieval Clothing - Clothing as a Map to the Past by Philippa Jane Keyworth
Richard Grassby wrote in his article ‘Material Culture and Cultural History’ in the Journal of Interdisciplinary History, that ‘Clothes in a draw have no meaning, but when worn they become a uniform with social and moral implications.’

I am a woman, and I love clothes. What a stereotype – except that if you continued to talk to me about them, you would see that I have an obsession with clothes of bygone ages rather than what’s in high-street stores right now.

As an amateur historian, I am coming to the firm conclusion that to assume people just wore certain clothes because they liked them is missing a much broader range of motivations. There were many reasons individuals in the past chose to wear what they wore.

Many previous historians have given the main motivation, when people were choosing what to wear, as ‘social emulation’. The basic meaning of this being to dress like your betters and hope to rise through society’s ranks. Of course that is a just consideration. It is clear from eighteenth century accounts of working and middle class people that they would dress like their betters in order to enhance their job prospects and to feed their social aspirations. How many people have bought Ugg boots in the last few years because everyone else has a pair?

The idea I would like to present to you is one that sees a host of other motivations as well, and that these motivations often reflected the contemporary social, economic and political events of the day. ‘I’m confused!’ you say – but have no fear, I wish to give some examples to better explain my theory!

Whilst studying the medieval period, I was astonished to find that there were such things as sumptuary laws. These laws were designed to govern the wearing of sumptuous dress, restricting certain clothing to the rich and certain clothing to the poor. This way, if someone were to look at someone else on the street, they would be able to determine their rank within society immediately. This is much like a football player wearing his team colours.

The clearest example of these laws is in furs. Rich people were allowed to wear furs such as ermine, whilst poor people were confined to furs such as squirrel. If the poor were to don ermine they would be breaking the law. So, in this case, the type of clothing worn gives a map of the social hierarchy in society at the time which can be viewed in documents and through art.

Elizabeth I's Clothing - Clothing as a Map to the Past by Philippa Jane Keyworth
Jumping forward, Elizabeth I’s motivations when choosing the clothing she was portrayed wearing in her portraits reflects the political and gender mindsets of her time. Roy Strong’s book Gloriana explains her use of ermine was a signifier of purity, establishing her as the Virgin Queen and reinforcing her claim of marriage to her country. Equally, the fact that she chose to dress in similar clothes to her father with the masculine broad shoulders and puffy sleeves shows her legitimising her claim to the throne both by associating herself with her father Henry VIII and asserting her authority to rule in spite of her sex. Elizabeth’s choice of clothing reflected her political tools and from it you can deduce the challenges to her rule i.e. not marrying, the questioning of her claim to the throne and her sex.

Georgian Clothing - Clothing as a Map to the Past by Philippa Jane Keyworth

And what can the eighteenth century tell us? Oh, the wide-pannier court dresses and the lavish wigs! It was all pomp and splendour and what for? The obvious answer is to display wealth. When materials were expensive and there was no mass production available, dresses using yards and yards of the stuff were the perfect way to display wealth, importance and power. The same goes for those astronomical wigs. The larger the wig, the more expensive – I hear that’s where the term ‘big-wigs’ comes from, the wearing of big wigs by the rich and powerful.

Then on to the Regency, that most elegant of ages, what were the motivations for dressing in tight buckskin breeches and flimsy muslin dresses, (not at the same time I hasten to add)? I agree with Christopher Breward in his book The Culture of Fashion, that after the violence of 1789, the English aristocracy wanted to distance themselves from the indulgences of their French equivalents. They discarded embroidered frock coats in favour of plain jackets reminiscent of the middling classes. Then there was also the harking back to neo-classical philosophies in the previous century. The Enlightenment had brought with it ideas of equality and appreciation of antiquity. Surely that had something to do with those muslin dresses that looked so much like the clothing of caryatids? Not to mention influencing the wearing of tight buckskin breeches that Ian Kelly in Beau Brummel, said were to show the nudity of ancient statues in the everyday dress of men.

Grace Kelly - Clothing as a Map to the Past by Philippa Jane Keyworth
Finally, a friend pointed out something to me I did not know about the large 1950s skirts that women wore. We were watching Grace Kelly in Rear Window (a great film if you’ve never seen it), and were admiring Kelly’s beautiful dresses. My friend remarked upon the fact that the reason pencil skirts were so popular in the 1940s was because of fabric rationing due to the war, and when this rationing was lifted, full-bodied skirts came into fashion. Right there, a little passing comment made me realise that from two different designs of skirt the international relations and economy of countries was alluded to.

I hope that by touching upon a few highlights of bygone fashions you are starting to see clothes as I do. They can provide a map to view beliefs and attitudes in the past. They can echo the current economy, social situation, governmental changes and individual’s desires. They really do provide us amateur historians with a map to the past.

In writing all this, I do not want people to think I am completely discarding the idea of people choosing a dress or jacket simply because they like the design. I am sure they did, but along with that desire, there were lots of underlying motivations, either conscious or subconscious, that can be discovered and unpacked when looking at clothing. Next time you are looking at historical attire, why not see what it can tell you about the past?

References:

Gloriana: The Portraits of Queen Elizabeth I by Roy Strong

The Culture of Fashion: A history of Fashionable Dress by Christopher Breward

‘Material Culture and Cultural History’ by Richard Grassby in Journal of Interdisciplinary History

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Philippa Jane Keyworth, known to her friends as Pip, has been writing since she was twelve in every notebook she could find. Whilst she dabbles in a variety of genres, it was the encouragement of a friend to watch a film adaptation of Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice that would start the beginning of her love affair with the British Regency. Her debut novel, The Widow's Redeemer (Madison Street Publishing, 2012), is a traditional Regency romance bringing to life the romance between a young widow with an indomitable spirit and a wealthy viscount with an unsavory reputation.

The Widow's Redeemer - Regency Romance - Philippa Jane Keyworth

Saturday, November 2, 2013

What's a Fall Front? you ask...

by M.M. Bennetts


It seems only fair that since previously I've given such a full and frank appraisal of a gentleman's clothes, circa 1812, I ought to offer the same care and attention to the ladies...

Just to be fair, you understand.

The first thing I should tell you is leave all your pre-conceptions behind.  For many of the gowns of the era weren't constructed as we think women's gowns were...with fastenings at the back.

So, how did they work?

Imagine if you will that the top of the gown is like a short-waisted jacket--almost like a shrug or bolero-- into which you would slip your arms.  (This is for the ladies in the audience...)

Then the attached skirt was gathered on a tape or ribbon which was tied at the front.  The front of the gown, attached as it was to the front bodice, was buttoned, tied, or pinned in place over the bosom, probably at four points--two on each side, one just below the shoulder at the top of the neckline, and at the waist on either side.  When these were unfastened, obviously the bodice front would fall--hence fall front. 

Underneath, yes, the corset.  Not the boardlike flattening corsets of 30 years previous.  No, these were designed to make the most of a woman's charms by pushing up the breasts so that they (here's that classical reference stuff again) resembled the improbably high bosoms of ancient Greek godesses as seen on all the statues.  In their results, if not their construction, Regency corsets were not dissimilar from today's push-up bras.

Underneath that, a shift.  I fancy this would protect this tender skin from any biting or pinching that a tight corset might get up to... Be that as it may, it was a loose-ish, often white, sometimes pale pink or beige, slightly gathered about the neck slip which came down often as far as the knees, or longer.  It might be made of cotton lawn, linen or silk.

The pale pink or the pale beige silk was designed to create the impression that the woman was wearing nothing at all under her gown. 

And, for those who wish to know, yes, dampening one's petticoat, as Lady Caroline Lamb and others were said to have done, would cause the silk to cling to her waist and thighs so that everything was on show. 
Stockings were worn, held up with garters tied about the thigh.  Fancy garters were de rigeur if one was expecting to waltz. 

Finally, colour.  Much is made of the fact that they wore a great deal of white or pale-coloured muslin.

The fashion for white muslin goes back at least as far as Marie Antoinette in France.  She and her ladies in waiting were known to wear simple white muslin gowns as they played at being milkmaids at le Petit Trianon at Versailles.  And the fashion continued well into the early years of the 19th century.  There was as mentioned above the desire to resemble classical Greek statuary and for their gowns to recreate the image of the classical draperies found on such statuary. 

But white muslin also has the benefit of sending a clear financial message to the on-lookers.   For the very nature of the fabric meant that it could not be laundered frequently and survive--hence the wearer could afford to replace her clothes as often as she chose.  And, those pale colours soiled easily, and required frequent washing--so the wearer could afford the luxury of a laundrymaid. 

And now you know...

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M.M. Bennetts is a specialist in early 19th century British and European history and the Napoleonic wars and is the author of two novels, May 1812 and Of Honest Fame set during the period.  A third novel, Or Fear of Peace, is due out in 2014.

For further information, please visit the website and historical blog at www.mmbennetts.com