Happy Friday! This little lady went to her new home today, she’s a springtime style in lemon and mint silk lampas, taffeta, shantung, and chiffon with original linen lace bands and tambour skirt flounces. Lots of hand finishing and love, chapeau and parasol are also McKechnie-Lid/Lily Absinthe pieces. We always miss them when they leave!
Fully accessorized and ready to go!
Close-Up View
Side Profile
When May arrives, it’s time to get out and show off those clothes some and what better occasion is there than a picnic? Here are a few pictures that were taken at a picnic at Rancho Los Camulos in California. Enjoy!
Color is an important element in all Lilly Absinthe designs and we like to incorporate different, yet complementary colors such as a butter yellow parasol and olive green gloves.
Spring colors at their best – The dark red rose and the surrounding greenery provide a contrast to the dress, yet it all works in harmony.
Once again, spring colors in their full glory.
As can be seen from the above, dark lavender is the order of the day and it shows up beautifully in a sun-light rose garden- the colors are quite complimentary. There is something to be said about springtime in California. 🙂
As for the dress itself, here are a few details from Karin:
The dress itself is based off an original dress c. 1879 – 1880 and is constructed of all printed cotton lawn, over dyed to match some taffeta I already had for the knife pleating at the hem. The embroidered part, I threw in the dye bath.* All the layers of the skirt are sewn together at the waist, each shirred panel is flat lined on cotton in a deeper shade of violet, so it would show through the sheer fashion fabric.
Day Dress c. 1878 – 1880, constructed of white cotton batiste; Metropolitan Museum of Art
And there it is- from original to here at Lily Absinthe!
Below are a few more pictures from the picnic. It was a pretty low-key affair.
Contemplating designs for future offerings by Lily Absinthe…
The Lily Absinthe design team on location at Rancho Los Camulos. It was a good day.
Overall, it was a beautiful day and it gave us an opportunity to get out of the studio and enjoy some spring air.
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Anyone who works around original Victorian/Edwardian Era clothing for any length of time will inevitably encounter the phenomenon of shattered silk. To the naked eye, the silk fabric appears to be literally splitting apart or “shattering” into strips. In extreme cases, the silk will literally turn to dust with even the slightest of handling.
Silk was one of the primary fabrics utilized in garments of these eras and this is especially true for women’s. For anyone who collects or just simply admires clothing of this era, it can be heart-rending, especially since there is no way to reverse the process once it starts. Below is just one example of shattered silk; note how the fabric is splitting or shredding into its constituent yarns.
So what exactly IS “shattered silk”?
Well, the simple answer is that shattered silk is when the silk fibers have broken down to the point where it affects the structure of the silk fabric thus creating a shattered or shredded appearance. This is a condition that worsens over time and the silk fibers are literally decomposing. Eventually they become so fragile that the fibers/fabric literally turns to dust with the slightest of handling.
So what causes this? The short answer is that it is due to the use of weighting agents that have been added as a finish to the newly-woven silk fabric. Over time, the chemicals in the weighting agents cause the structure of the silk fibers (or more properly, filaments) to decompose (i.e. breakdown). Combined with poor storage practices and exposure to dirt and light, it’s only a matter of time before those beautiful silk garments turn to a pile of scraps or even dust.
That’s the short answer. However, there are some technical aspects that need to be considered (don’t worry, we’re not going to get into chemical analysis and the like :-)). To begin with, consideration must be given to silk itself.
Silk is a natural protein fiber that make up the cocoons produced by silkworm larvae. Some of the the most widely utilized species of silkworms are: Bombyx mori (Mulberry Silkworm), Hyalophora cecropia,Antheraea pernyi, and Samia cynthia. The fiber making up the cocoon is mainly composed of the proteins, sericin and fibroin. Production of the cocoon is part of the process where the silkworm is undergoing a metamorphosis into a moth.
Silkworm and Cocoon
The cocoons are then harvested and treated with hot air, steam, or boiling water. The silk is then unbound from the cocoon by softening the sericin and then delicately and carefully unwinding, or ‘reeling’ the filaments from four to eight cocoons at once, sometimes with a slight twist, to create a single strand. The boiling process also kills the larva before it can transform into a moth which in turn preserves the cocoon in its whole form; it is desirable to prevent the moth from hatching since this preserves the structure of the cocoon and allows the silk fiber to be unreeled from the cocoon in a continuous filament (versus a series of broken filaments). A continuous filament is more is desirable because it is easier to spin into thread and yarn.
The sericin protects the silk fiber during processing and this is often left in until the yarn or even woven fabric stage. Raw silk is silk that still contains sericin. Once this is washed out in soap and boiling water (the “degumming” process), the resulting fabric is left soft, lustrous, and up to 30% lighter. The amount of usable silk in each cocoon is small, and about 2500 silkworms are required to produce a pound of raw silk. On the average, a single cocoon contains 1000 yards of silk filament.
The cocoons are treated by being soaked in hot water to loosen the silk filaments.
The Unwinding Process – The silk filament is unwound from the cocoons onto skeins. This process has changed little from how it was done in the 19th Century.
Except for the scale and use of more technologically advanced machinery, the reeling process still remains unchanged. Here’a a more traditional view – From the “Album of Ten Prints Illustrating Sericulture: Unwinding Strands from Cocoons by Means of a Silk Reeling Machine” by Toyohara Chikanobu, 1880
Silk Throwing – Silk thread is cleaned, receives a final twist, and is wound onto bobbins.
By now you are probably asking “So that does this have to do with shattered silk?” Well, the important part to keep in mind is the sericin. Normally, this acts as a protective coating but it ultimately must be removed through degumming if the silk filament/yarns are to have the most optimal effect when the fabric is woven. Unfortunately, as a result of degumming, the silk would lose 25% to 30% of its starting weight. While that may not make much of a difference for many silk applications, it made a big difference for making larger garments such as dresses in that the drapability, or the manner in which a fabric falls or hangs over a three dimensional object (e.g., a person), was adversely affected. And more importantly to the silk manufacturer, the silk had lost value since silk was sold by weight.
To make up for the loss, manufacturers hit on the idea of weighting the silk fabric. The weighting of fabrics has been a long-standing practice and a variety of materials were employed but this was meant primarily as a means of enhancing a fabric’s drapability. Turning to the 19th Century, metallic salts themselves, lead, iron, and tin were found to be the most effective. In particular, Tin Chloride or Stannous Chloride was especially favored and was used both as a mordant for dyeing and by itself as a weighting agent (mordants are mineral salts that bind dyes into fiber).
In order to restore and enhance silk’s drapability and the maintain the manufacturer’s profit margin, the silk fabric was weighted with metallic salts during the finishing process. Silk has a natural affinity for metallic salts, having a tremendous capacity for absorbing dyes and salts without superficially changing the quality of the material. It didn’t take too long for manufacturers to realize that profits could be easily enhanced by adding salts and dye that would increase a given quantity of silk fabric some 200% to 300%.
However, weighting with metallic salts came at a price in that while it improved drapability and enhanced dye colors, it also greatly reduced the strength and durability of the silk filament fabric. The end result was a silk fabric that had poor durability and it was a problem that was even widely recognized in the 19th Century:
Look at it how we will, the weighting of silks
is a nefarious practice which should be forbidden
by law. It causes a black silk dress to become
more or less shabby in a single twelvemonth.
Interestingly enough, not only was weighted silk considered to be dishonest, but also inherently dangerous:
Black silks which have been weighted to the
extent of 300 or 400 per cent. have been known
to take fire of their own accord-that is, without
the contact of a substance in ignition. Not
many years ago a fire broke out in the warehouse
of a large silk-mercer in Paris, and was
traced to this cause. It was found to have
originated inside a large parcel of black silk,
which had been delivered only twenty-four hours
previously from the dyers. In 1871 a fire traced to
a similar cause occurred in a silk-dyeing establishment
in the United States. It is now considered
unsafe to pack such weighted silks in deep boxes.
The above quotations are from Chamber’s Journal, Volume I, December 1897 – November 1898.
In terms of collecting and preservation, the use of metallic salts has greatly accelerated the deterioration process through the loss of tensile strength of the silk filaments themselves ultimately resulting in rupturing. Also, it must be noted that this comes on top of deterioration due to exposure to light and dirt.
Getting down to the microscopic level – A scanning electronmicrograph of brittle tin-weighted silk lining fabric from Edith Roosevelt’s 1905 dress (First Ladies Dress Collection, Smithsonian Institution)
Below are some examples of shattered silk as found today with garments from the late 19th Century:
Cuirass Bodice – The majority of the shattering appears to be in the sleeves.
Close-Up of the sleeve.
Wedding Dress
Shattered Silk-sleeved Dress, c. 1895-1905
What is is especially interesting in the above examples is that the majority of the shattering in in the sleeves and it follows a cross-grain direction. This would suggest that the warp yarns have deteriorated first, perhaps because warp yarns have greater tension.
Shattered silk is an historical curiosity and as such a consequence of a particular method of silk fabric finishing that was employed mostly in the late 19th and early 20th Centuries. Today, the use of metallic salts to weight silk fabric is regulated by the Federal Trade Commission which issued a regulation in 1932 specifying that ruled that any product labeled pure silk or pure dyed silk could contain no more than 15% weighting if black and no more than 10% weighting for other colors. Also, thankfully, weighted silk is no longer commonly found in the US market, the result of the development of improved dyes plus increasing concerns over health and environmental effects.
We now turn to the Late Bustle Period from 1882 through 1890. Unlike the brief period before it, the bustle returned with a vengeance, now more angular and sharply defined, with harder edges than its predecessor in the 1870s. Below are some examples of the later bustle:
Bustle, Cotton, Metal, Copper, c.1883 – 1887; FIDM Museum Library (2005.5.174)
Bustle, British, Steel Frame, c. 1884; Victoria & Albert Museum (T.131C-1919).
Bustle Pad, French, c. 1885; Glazed calico trimmed with silk cord and stuffed with what appears to be straw; Victoria & Albert Museum (T.337-1978)
From just the few examples above, it’s evident that that bustles during this period came in a variety of materials and shapes. However, in contrast with earlier bustles, these are shorter, concentrated around the natural waist.
Below is a an excellent example of the “shelf bustle” profile characteristic of the mid- 1880s. The “shelf bustle” profile was found in both day dresses and more formal evening and reception dresses. As could be expected, the formal dresses tended to be more dramatic and extreme in profile and the length of the train.
Evening Dress, American or European, c. 1884 – 1886, silk; The Metropolitan Museum of Art (C.I.63.23.3a, b)
The above evening dress epitomizes the sculpted “shelf bustle” that is characteristic of the 1880s. However, elements of the 1870s still remain: the bodice is remains at waist level and draped skirts are utilized to create a dramatic effect with the skirts being arranged to show off the pleating and trim to its fullest advantage. The is certainly the diametric opposite of the sleek, vertical lines characteristic of the Mid-Bustle Era.
Dinner Dress, French, c. 1883, Worth. Wine-red silk satin cut velvet with stripes and leaf pattern; figured additional cut velvet layer on leaf pattern; set of bodice and skirt with bustle; tulle and silk satin bows at cuffs; apron-shaped overskirt draped toward back. This dress of silk satin and cut velvet stripes is scattered with a roseleaf motif of cut and uncut velvet, causing shading of the motif. These beautiful materials, with a woven thickness created using complex techniques, show the high quality of Lyon silk textile. The overskirt, draped and gathered into an apron style, and the train greatly contribute to the dignified production of this bustle style dress. Kyoto Costume Institute (AC9712 98-29-2AB)
Day Dress, c. 1880 – Front View
Day Dress, c. 1880 – Side View
Day Dress c. 1880 – Rear View
Although the above two examples are day and evening dresses, they both have similar characteristics in that they exhibit the shelf bustle AND the draping of excess skirts characteristic of the early 1870s. One could almost terms this a hybrid style.
However, at the same time, the cuirass bodice characteristic of the Mid Bustle Era made its return, characterized by the bodice now lengthening to cover the hips. With the cuirass bodice, one can also see a reduction in the bustle size and a softening of the bustle angle in which the “shelf” beings to become more curved. Also at the same time, the excess skirts are reduced and there is no draping except for the area below the bustle. The dress below illustrates these trends excellently:
Day Dress, French, c. 1885; Silk plain weave (taffeta) and silk plain weave with warp-float patterning and supplementary weft, and silk knotted tassel; Los Angeles County Museum of Art (M.2007.211.34a-b)
Day Dress, French, c. 1885 – Rear View
Day Dress, French, c. 1885 – Front View
While there was an overlapping in styles during the Late Bustle Era of the mid to late 1880s, it is evident that the overall style was moving towards a more upright style with the bustle evolving into a vestigial pad.
The Young Ladies’ Journal, 1889
As it can be seen from the above fashion plate, the bustle was pretty much gone and both the dresses and bodices were more tailored and hints at what was to come later during the 1890s.
The Bustle Era never fails to fascinate the modern viewer in that the concept of using elaborate undergarments (eg, the corset) and bustles to achieve a desired aesthetic look runs so counter to fashion aesthetics today. However, the basic idea still lingers one in the form of various form-shaping foundations garments and in some cases even the bustle has been revived in a modified form.
Finally, I leave you with this image:
Modern Day Wedding Gown
Nothing is really new in the fashion world…. 🙂
Throughout the ages, Western fashion has incorporated foreign influences and the late 19th Century was no exception. One major influence came from Japan, a nation that up until 1854 has kept itself secluded from the rest of the world. After 1854, Japan began to participate in the world economy and one of its major exports was textiles, both in the form of raw fabric and finished goods designed expressly for the Western market. Along with this, there also a flood of Oriental bric-a-brac that was exported in the form of fans, kimonos, lacquers, bronzes, and of course, silks, which began to attract much interest by Westerners, especially in Great Britain and France.
At the same time, Japanese designs began to attract the interest of various artists who began to incorporate them into their work. One area of special interest were woodblock prints in the Ukiyo-e Style and these designs influenced artists such as Tissot, Monet, Degas, and Whistler, and Toulouse-Lautrec. Below are some examples of these woodblock prints:
Otani Oniji II, dated 1794; Toshusai Sharaku (Japanese, active 1794–95)
Polychrome woodcut print on paper; 15 x 9 7/8 in. (38.1 x 22.9 cm)
Henry L. Phillips Collection, Bequest of Henry L. Phillips, 1939 (JP2822)
The Great Wave at Kanagawa (from a Series of Thirty-Six Views of Mount Fuji), Edo period (1615–1868), ca. 1831–33; Katsushika Hokusai (Japanese, 1760–1849); Published by Eijudo; Polychrome ink and color on paper; 10 1/8 x 14 15/16 in. (25.7 x 37.9 cm) (Oban size) H. O. Havemeyer Collection, Bequest of Mrs. H. O. Havemeyer, 1929 (JP1847)
Along with woodblock prints and other Japanese artwork, interest in the Japanese design aesthetic also included fabrics which incorporated motifs such as plants, flowers, insects, birds, and geometric patterns. Below are a few examples of textile designs from the 1880s:
We can see further examples depicted by various notable Western artists themselves:
Claude Monet, 1875; Monet painted his wife, Camille, posing in a kimono against the backdrop of his fan collection
James Tissot, The Japanese Bath (La Japonaise au bain,), 1864.
James McNeill Whistler, La Princesse du pays de la porcelaine, 1863 – 1865.
So how does this translate into fashion? Well, garments of the period began to use traditional Japanese fabrics, largely in the form of kimono fabric. In many instances, the garments themselves were made from re-worked kimonos which were largely made from silk. Below are some examples:
Court Dress, c. 1870; Material: White kimono fabric of figured “shibori” silk satin; embroidery of wisteria, chrysanthemum, peony, and Chinese fan motifs in metallic threads; wrapped buttons with Japanese “tomoemon”-like motif on bodice (only bodice and overskirt of this dress was remade from a Japanese kimono in London. Some traces of the original kimono seams remain in the textile. The underskirt is missing, but it is thought that an underskirt made of a different fabric was combined with this garment. There are some other indications of missing original ornaments. Kyoto Costume Institute (AC8938 93-28-1AB)
Tea Gown, American, c. 1870, Pink silk taffeta and embroidered crepe; This dress was made from authentic kimono fabric imported to America from Japan. The textile was probably originally intended for women of the samurai class. The Museum at the Fashion Institute of Technology (80.1.4)
Side profile
Close-up of the front.
The above pictures are interesting in that they illustrate typical Japanese design motifs that would normally be found in Kimonos. Also, interestingly enough, the two above dresses were made from re-worked Kimono fabric which suggests that new markets were being found for kimonos that normally would be worn by a small class of upper class Japanese, primarily the wives of Samurai.
The development of new markets for the kimono fabric is a logical result in that during the 1860s and 1870s, the traditional Samurai class in Japan was in decline as the nation modernized and increasingly adopted Western ways.
Tea Gown, Japanese c. 1875; This at-home gown was made in Japan for the western market, and is a typical example of the 1870s bustle style. It may have been ordered by a foreign resident living in Japan, but it is more likely to be a good example of an export item. One side of the Japanese label attached on the gown is entirely covered with logo marks, and on the other side there are the remains of some brushed characters, but they are illegible. After a long period of national isolation, Japan opened up to the rest of the world, and the promotion of trade became a major preoccupation. Following the opening of the Port of Yokohama in 1859, silk became a major export, but it was more desirable to export silk products, which had greater added value. The Yokohama silk merchant Shobey Shiino was dispatched to the International Exhibition in Vienna in 1873 together with other Japanese delegates. His market research resulted in the production of quilted at-home gowns made of “habutae” silk (a fine Japanese silk). Kyoto Costume Institute (AC989 78-30-3AB)
Moving forward, the Japanese influence still remained strong as can be seen in these examples:
Day Dress, Japanese, 1880s
Rear Close-Up
What is interesting about the above dress is that this one appears to have been made for the Japanese market. In this case, the dress reflects Japan’s increasing westernization and is a mix of traditional fabric design with western dress style. Note that the line of the cuirass bodice has fringe running along the bottom, creating a visual effect of elongating the bodice’s lines, covering the hips completely.
Rear View
The use of kimonos as dressing gowns and even tea gowns was popular in the West and it allowed women to be able to wear something that did not not require the use of the corset, or at least having to lace up the corset to the degree normally required when wearing a dress. As the bustle disappeared from use in the 1890s and the lines of women’s dresses became more upright, kimonos began to be incorporated into designs for evening wear and some day wear and this is especially evident during the years from 1900 – 1913
Day Dress, American, British, or French c. 1894 – 1896, brocade, velvet, organza, silk taffeta; Indianapolis Museum of Art (74.351A-B)
The above example is a day dress typical of the mid 1890s with the characteristic leg-o-mutton sleeves, thin waist, and open bodice designed to appear to be a coat with an exposed shirtwaist (which was often a fake one that was actually part of the bodice itself). What is interesting in terms of Japonisme is the geometric pattern of the fabric which follows a fairly standard Japanese design motif. The provenance of the fabric is unknown but it’s clear that it’s not material from a reworked kimono.
Finally, we end this series with a wonderful example of Japonisme in the form of a Viste or cloak from Paris, c. 1890:
Viste or Cloak, French, c. 1890; Constructed of off-white cashmere twill; appliqués of embroidered fabrics with kabuto (samurai helmet), butterfly and cherry blossom motifs; feathers at front, collar and back slit. This piece is a fascinating example of Japanese designs referenced by Paris fashion. These motifs were hand-worked in elaborate cord embroidery onto separate silk cloths, which was then applied to the cashmere. The sideways-oriented kabuto that acts as a counterpart to the cherry blossoms is laid out symmetrically in a European fashion. The visite is one version of a coat created for the bustle silhouette. Kyoto Costume Institute (AC5367 86-17-7)
The above illustrations and descriptions barely touch the range of Japanese influences that were found in Western fashion during the late 19th Century but even from this limited sample, it can be seen that they served to create some stunning effects that only served to enhance the aesthetics and sheer beauty of the period styles. This is an area that has been largely neglected by those striving to recreate the fashions of the period and it merits further consideration.