Fashion Plates…

August 1, 2015June 30, 2020 / Adam Lid / Leave a comment

Fashion plates are often criticized as fashion history documentation because their representations of period fashions that bear no relation to what those particular period fashions ACTUALLY looked like. At best, they’re fantastical distortions of reality, representing an ideal that could never be attained (of course, the same argument can be made about today’s fashions as depicted in the fashion press).

However, nothing could be further from the truth. The reality was that fashion plates, both colored and black and white, played a practical role in the transmission of fashion information during the 19th and early 20th Centuries; fashion photography would not come into its own until the 1910s. While the study of fashion plates as an art form in itself has become popular today, this was not what they were intended to be. Rather, it was a blueprint for individuals to be able to replicate a given design.

However, at the same time, fashion plates did present ideal views of their subject garments with their unnatural poses and the models were perfect physical representations. But never the less, fashion plates were first and foremost meant to be a practical means of transmitting fashion information. Ultimately, the fashion plate was a practical tool and used as such.

More specifically, the fashion plate was deliberately constructed to impart information to the viewer and specifically to enable the viewer to be able to make a garment based on the plate- in short, “how to do it” blueprints and as such they were often used as supplements to accompanying sewing patterns and were typically printed in magazines. Magazines such as The Delineator, Godey’s Lady’s Book, Harper’s Bazar, and Peterson’s Magazine were only a few of the many magazines that were available to the home sewer and professional dressmaker.

Fashion Plate from Peterson’s Magazine, June 1872.

Above is a fairly typical fashion plate- it looks like a simple illustration of a group of dresses. Well, yes and no- the poses are somewhat stilted with the emphasis on showing as much of the dress as possible. Notice how the decorative treatments are given the best angle possible and especially on the train. This was deliberately done in order for the viewer to see the entire design in order to replicate it.

But it was not only fashion plates. Patterns and more detailed information were also supplied:

Evening Polonaise Pattern from Peterson’s Magazine, May 1872.

Fashion plates simply illustrated what was possible and were meant as a source of inspiration, not necessary something to be followed line-for-line. But more importantly, fashion plates showed the progression of styles through the late 19th Century and just by glancing at them, one can readily see differences and especially in the silhouette as it evolved from the 1870s through the 1890s. Here are some some examples from the 1870s and 1880s:

Godey’s Lady’s Book, November 1872

The Englishwomen’s Domestic Magazine, June 1876

The Englishwomen’s Domestic Magazine, July 1877

La Mode Illustree, 1878

Fashion Plate, 1881 from the Revue de La Mode.

Revue de La Mode, 1881.

Revue de La Mode, 1885

C. 1886

Peterson’s Magazine, April 1889

As we move into the 1890s, still more shifts in the what was considered to be the ideal silhouette can be seen:

Journal Des Demoiselles, January 1892

Journal Des Demoiselles, August 1893

Journal Des Demoiselles, August 1894

The Delineator, December 1898

The Delineator, December 1898

What is interesting about this progression of plates is that by the 1890s, it’s all about the front of the dress. While there are frontal views in earlier plates and rear views in later plates, it is still obvious that the emphasis had shifted which is consistent with the movement away from the bustle. The 1880s provide some interesting ground in that the views seem to almost split 50-50, at least based on a very unscientific examination of fashion plates from various sources, both online and in books.

The above is only a small sample of the fashion illustration that was characteristic of the late 19th and early 20th Centuries but it does show that even then, the dissemination of fashion information was being done on a large-scale industrial basis, pushed along by technical advances in the printing trades. Moreover, with the rise of mass-circulation fashion magazines such as Godey’s, Petersons, and Harper’s Bazar, fashion’s reach extended to almost the entire world and most notably in America. The “pretty” and “fantastical” fashion plate served a very specific and practical role that today is easily overlooked. In the end, fashion plates were an art form in terms of their ability to impart information rather than existing as representations of fashion.

And For Some More Japonisme…

July 28, 2015May 21, 2020 / Adam Lid / 2 Comments

In a previous post, we discussed the rise of Japonisme in the West during the late 19th Century and especially in France and Great Britain. The opening of Japan to the West excited people’s curiosity and this was especially true of artists such as Monet, Tissot, and Whistler. Japonisme’s influence was also reflected in theater; Puccini’s Madame Butterfly (1904) and Gilbert and Sullivan’s The Mikado (1885) are probably the most well-known of this genre.

One of the most basic cultural imports was the kimono and it was readily adapted for use, at least in a theatrical or “dress up” context:

Viennese actress, c. 1907.

It’s not clear just what exactly the context of the above picture is but it appears that it was some sort of amateur theatrical production. Japanese themes were also a “go-to” for ideas for wear at fancy dress balls:

“Springtime in Japan” from What to Wear to Fancy Dress Balls by Ardern Holt, 1896.

Naturally Japonisme found its way into fashion and as mentioned on my prior post, it was reflected in use of traditional Japanese fabrics and especially kimono fabric. Below is on example from 1896 that reflects Jean-Philippe Worth’s interpretation of Japanese style elements:

Afternoon Dress, Worth, 1896; Museum of the City of New York (49.125.1A-B)

Rear View

This dress was worn by Mrs. Henry A. Tailer, at the marriage of her daughter, January 16, 1896. The skirt and bodice are made from a lavender silk brocade with a decorative pattern depicting a stylized “kousa” or Japanese flowering dogwood. The bodice had the appearance of a jacket and it is boned and fitted with curved tails on the rear. A faux shirtwaist is built into the bodice, forming a vestee. The skirt is flat in front and flows to the rear with a minimal bustle that is reminiscent of the later 1880s style. The most striking feature is the blending of the design motif across the seams and this is especially evident on the rear of the bodice. The design is also enhanced by the curves of the skirt and it displays the design to its fullest.

Close-Up of the back of the bodice and skirt.

Side Profile

Close-Up of the decorative design and the seaming on the back of the bodice.

Worth commissioned his silk fabrics from various silk weavers located in Lyon and the above silk is no exception. The decorative motif of the above silk fabric depicts a stylized “kousa” or Japanese flowering dogwood which is distinguished by its petal-like pointed bracts, and bamboo canes.

However, as we move into the 20th Century, designers were not content to simply incorporate Japanese style elements into Western designs but rather, they adapted Japanese clothing designs themselves, mainly with the kimono. Below is one example of this from Callot Soers:

Evening Dress, Callot Soeurs, 1908; Kyoto Costume Institute

The above evening dress from Callot Soeurs has been adapted from a basic kimono style and it incorporates both Japanese and Chinese decorative elements (Chinoiserie was also big at this time).

Bellow is another example, this time from Paul Poiret, 1913:

Poiret, Evening Dress, 1913; Museum at the Fashion Institute of Technology (P81.8.1)

Detail of beading.

The above evening dress incorporates both Japanese and Middle Eastern style elements in that it starts with his signature lampshade tunic with a kimono-like top combined with harem pants. This outfit has been called the “Sorbet Gown” on account of its lampshade tunic decorated with pearl embroidery in sherbet colors of pistachio, pink, and mauve.

The kimono style was especially reflected with evening coats or mantles. Here is one that was made by Worth in 1909:

Evening Mantle, Jean-Philippe Worth, 1909; Victoria and Albert Museum (T.207-1970)

Rear View

Rear Close-Up

Front Close-Up

This evening mantle is made of purple silk and is embroidered with flowers in shades of pink, blue, white and green. It has a dark blue velvet band on the front and at both wrists. The mantle is gathered at the front and at the back where a flower made of purple silk is applied.

By the end of the Teens, we can see Japonisme, along with other Oriental style elements such as Chinoiserie becoming taken up and became more completely integrated into Western fashion as a whole, a process that perhaps took some 50 or 60 years to achieve. In looking at the broad scope of fashion history, cross-cultural influences in fashion are an age-old concept. However, where it might have taken decades for a style to become integrated with the host culture’s fashions, the process was happening at an increasingly faster rate.

Compared to previous centuries, the process of cultural fusion rapidly accelerated during the 20th Century to the point where change is measured in days and weeks rather than months and years as had been the case earlier. Japonisme provides an interesting case study of this process of cultural fusion between East and West and it is a process that has yet to completely play out.

John Redfern/Redfern & Sons, Part 1

July 20, 2015April 14, 2026 / Adam Lid / 6 Comments

One of the lesser-known designers of the late 19th and early 20th Centuries was John Redfern (1820 – 1895). Not a lot of information is out there but here’s what I managed to find out. Redfern was originally trained as a tailor and in 1850 opened a draper’s establishment in Cowes on the Isle of Wight. In 1871, he expanded his business to sell silk and mourning garments. Later, Redfern expanded in offering yachting outfits and other clothing for women, capitalizing on the Isle of Wight being a center for yachting activity. Redfern is credited for being one of the first designers to make tailored clothing respectable for women.

In contrast to Worth who insisted on having his clients travel to him, Redfern established a number of locations close to his wealthy clientele. With the aid of his son Ernest Redfern and an employee Charles Poynter (who later added the surname Redfern to his name), Redfern opened tailoring houses in London and Paris in 1881, followed by two shops in New York in 1884-85, one for tailoring, the other for furs. By 1882 Redfern was successful in becoming Tailors by Appointment for the Princess of Wales and by 1885 had become Tailors by Appointment for Queen Victoria and Queen Emma of the Netherlands, among others. The advertisements below attest to this and in others, Redfern was marketing his firm as being a “Ladies Tailor”.

Advertisement from Vol. V, No. 105 (January 1, 1885) issue of Life.

1885 Advertisement

Advertisement from Harper’s Bazar, November 26, 1887.

Redfern’s forte was tailored garments as can be seen from the September 17, 1887 issue of Harper’s Bazar:

Harper’s Bazar, September 17, 1887.

The three figures in the middle are dressed in the tailored suit style for women that often involved waistcoats, faux and functioning. Redfern helped to popularize this look along with the later “tailormade” style that was to develop in the 1890s. of which the following is just one example:

Bodice Jacket, Redfern, 1892; National Gallery of Victoria, Melbourne (D187.a-c-1974)

The theme of the tailored women’s suit is taken further with this ensemble that Redfern made circa 1887 – 1889. It features two different bodices and an additional front skirt panel. The heavy use of looping braid and buttons takes on a military look, making for a structured look.

Day Dress Ensemble, Redfern, c. 1887 – 1889; Metropolitan Museum of Art ( 49.3.32a–e).

Close-Up of Skirt

And now for the second style. The above bodice could be replaced with a similar one trimmed in a long row of buttons running along each side of the opening. Inset is a one large row of looped braid running down the front.

49.3.32a_B (1)

The second look is interesting in that the bodice has a tail attached to it that spread out to cover the skirt as can be seen below:

The above ensemble is a good example of the tailormade look that was beginning to take hold in the late 1880s. One can see that the bustle is fairly minimal and it’s likely that there was only a bustle pad used underneath.

In the next installment, we will look at a few more examples of Redfern’s work during the late 19th Century. It is interesting that as the 1890s progressed, Redfern would begin to diversify more, creating softer designs that got away from his signature “tailormade” style.

To Be Continued….

Dating a Dress – You Be The Judge

June 9, 2015September 12, 2021 / Adam Lid / 4 Comments

One of the key elements of working with historical costume is the ability to properly date items, or at least fix an approximate time frame. Although we tend to accept how museums date their collections, sometimes there are items that just do not seem right for the period that is being attributed to the item.

Recently, I came across the following dress on the Metropolitan Museum of Art website:

Visiting Dress, French, 1867; Metropolitan Museum of Art (1979.93a, b)

Rear View

Side Profile View

Maker’s Label; Gathering more information about the maker would go a long way towards precisely dating the dress.

According to the description on the Met website, the dress dates from 1867. However, in looking at the silhouette of the dress, it just reads Early Bustle Era, sometime between 1870 and 1874 or thereabouts.

Specifically, in looking at the skirt, it is evident that it was expressly designed to flow towards the rear, thus creating a defined train. But this train is not some haphazard arrangement of fabric but rather it is constructed of several separate panels joined together separated by rows of ruffles. The overall effect is that skirt naturally flows and the eye is drawn from front to rear. It is clear that the skirt and train were deliberately constructed to give this flowing effect. Finally, the rows of ruffled trim also help to accentuate the effect and the striped fabric also plays a role in this.

Now before going any further, we need to consider that there could be a number of different reasons why the date of the dress may be incorrect. It is always possible that perhaps it was not displayed correctly or that it’s missing key components underneath. Perhaps it was reconstructed and as a result the silhouette has changed. Like people, museums can make mistakes. With that said, let’s proceed.

So what do some later 1860s dresses look like?

Day Dress, c. 1860 – 1870; Kent State University Museum (1983.001.0129 a-c)

Side Profile View

Rear View

According to the Kent State University Museum website, the date is attributed to the entire decade of the 1860s (perhaps they are hedging their bets). However, knowing that the crinoline silhouette was characteristic of dresses of the early 1860s, it is fairly safe to say that this one is from the mid to late 1860s.

That said, let’s look at the skirt in some detail. first, like the first dress, it also flows in a rearward manner and the hem is also elliptical rather than circular (which also helps place this in the med to late 1860s). The thin stripes and the trim help to give a flowing effect but it is nowhere as refined as that in the first example.

Let’s look at another example:

Day Dress, c. 1865 – 1870 (Although it is noted that the original catalog card notes the year 1865); Kent State University Museum (1983.001.0107 ab)

Side Profile View

Rear View

Once again, we have an elliptical skirt that is drawn towards the rear in a somewhat minimalist train. The effect here is a bit more confused than the previous example but in both cases, we have dresses that can be that can be placed in the mid to late 1860s and one can see the beginning of the evolution towards the elaborately trains characteristic of the later Bustle Era.

Just to round things out, below are some fashion plates representative of the period:

Godey’s Lady’s Book, January 1866

For 1866, one sees very little difference between these and dresses from the early 1860s.

The World of Fashion, 1867

Godey’s Lady’s Book, September 1867

Peterson’s, July 1868

For the above two plates, one can see the beginnings of the train as the skirt starts to shift towards the rear…

Victoria, April 1869

For 1869, we finally are able to see a more completely defined train but it’s still fairly rudimentary compared to what was to come later.

And finally, we reach the 1870s:

Godey’s Lady’s Book , March 1870

Godey’s Lady’s Book, May 1870

Here we see a more complete transition. In the above plate, the dress third from the right is especially striking in the use of a striped front panel to create a flat, vertical look to the front of the dress while at the same there’s a well-defined train in the rear.

Godey’s Lady’s Book, November 1872

In the above illustrations, we have traced the transition from the crinoline to the bustle, or at least a good part of the process. One can seen not just a transition to an elliptical hemline and the development of the train, but a more sophisticated version of this style. This is not a process of gathering up some fabric and creating a crude trailing effect but rather, it’s precisely engineered to achieve a specific effect, an effect more characteristic of the early 1870s.

Naturally, much of the evaluation process is subjective and open to varied interpretation and that is all right. In the absence of hard data such as information about the dressmaker, we can only speculate but we definitely can narrow down the date. Thanks for bearing with us through this somewhat academic exercise and we welcome your comments. Let us know what you think. 🙂

Lily Absinthe Looks at Arsenic…

June 7, 2015May 29, 2020 / Adam Lid / 3 Comments

From the “Fashion Victims” exhibition at the Bata Shoe Museum.

Recently, an exhibition titled “Fashion Victims” opened at the Bata Shoe Museum in Toronto, Canada. While the exhibition itself was somewhat sensationalist in presentation, aimed at drawing in a modern audience with little knowledge of the period, the subject matter is deadly serious and this is especially true in the way clothes and accessories were manufactured.

As it has been noted by scores of commentators, the 19th Century was a time of vast technological change as the Industrial Revolution grew with increasing intensity, leaving no area of society untouched to include fashion and costume. One area of costume that was especially affected was in the development of synthetic color dyes whose colors were stronger and more intense than their natural counterparts. Combined with this, synthetic dyes maintained their hue and were fade resistant.

As noted in a previous blog post, the synthetic dye industry, or more properly aniline dye industry, was launched in 1856 with the chance discovery of Mauvein by William Henry Perkin. Mauvein was a hit with the public and demand sky-rocketed. The prime attraction was the color’s intensity, an intensity that was difficult, if not impossible, to achieve with natural dyes. Besides being inexpensive, Mauvein showed up well inside candlelight and gaslight rooms as well as outside in the gloomy atmosphere of most of the larger cities due to the smoke from the increasing amount of factories.

Subsequently, the range of colors was progressively expanded at a rapid speed and the market responded positively. One such color was that of a shade of emerald green known as “Paris Green” or emerald green. Although not an aniline dye, Paris Green was became popular as a color because of it’s striking hue and intensity and this carried over into the fashion realm, facilitated by the developments of new methods of manufacturing inexpensive textiles.

Technically known as copper(II) acetate triarsenite, Paris Green was originally developed in 1814 in an attempt to improve an earlier formula known as Scheele’s Green, which wasn’t as durable. The color of Paris Green is ranges from a pale vivid, blue-green when very finely ground, to a deeper true green when coarsely ground.

Paris Green was a pigment which in turn was used as coloring for a variety of products to include artificial flower stationary, greeting cards, wall paper, various hanging paper items, dye in candle wax, pigment for artists’ paints, the paint on children’s toys, and even food coloring (yes, food coloring- believe it or not). It was only inevitable that Paris Green would also show up as a fabric dye as the public demanded fabrics with bright colors and hues. Also, the advent of Paris Green also provided a way for mining companies to dispose of the large amounts of arsenic residue, a by-product of mining processes and make some money at the same time.

Paris Green was also used as rat poison and later developed as a powerful insecticide in 1867, often being combined with lead arsenate and used on food crops. Even into the 1940s Paris Green was being used for mosquito abatement.

Paris Green pigment by Sherwin-Williams

However, arsenic is also a very powerful poison. For example, when used in wallpaper, it had a tendency to emit toxic fumes, a phenomena that was well-documented during the period to include Queen Victoria ordering the removal of all paris Green wallpaper from Buckingham Palace in 1879.

In terms of costume, often the dye was so unstable that the arsenic would often separate from the fabric, creating a fine powder mist if disturbed (such as the motion of the wearer walking or brushing against an object or another person. This problem was well known even back in the 19th Century as evidenced by the following extract from The Fourth Annual Report of the State Board of Health, Lunacy, and Charity of Massachusetts (1883):

Attention has very frequently been called to the presence of large amounts of arsenic in green tarlatan, which has given rise so many times to dangerous symptoms of poisoning when made into dresses and worn, so that it is very rare now to see a green tarlatan dress.

This fabric is still used, however, to a very dangerous ex
tent, chiefly for the purposes of ornamentation, and may
often be seen embellishing the walls and tables at church and society fairs, and in confectionery, toy and dry-goods stores.

The writer has repeatedly seen this poisonous fabric used at
church fairs and picnics as a covering for confectionery and
food, to protect the latter from flies. As is well known, the
arsenical pigment is so loosely applied to the cloth that a
portion of it easily separates upon the slightest motion.

The use of arsenic in dye pigments was pervasive but it was not restricted to just the color green. The report continues:

…after examining a large number of specimens estimated that twenty or thirty grains of the pigment would separate from a dress per hour, when worn in a ball-room.
But green tarlatan is not the only fabric which contains
arsenic. We find arsenic sometimes in other substances
used in making articles of wearing apparel, usually in the
form of arsenical pigments. The writer detected a large
amount of arsenic in a specimen of cloth known as ” Foulard cambric,” which had been made into a dress ; after
wearing the dress a short time severe conjunctivitis was pro
duced, together with nasal catarrh, pharyngitis, and symp
toms of gastric irritation.

The pattern of the dress consisted of alternate stripes of light-blue and navy-blue, and contained 0.291 grm. per square meter. Conjunctivitis has also been recorded from wearing of “tulle” dresses. A pustular eruption upon the neck and arms was caused by ‘a splendid dark-green dress, trimmed with light-green leaves,’ obtained ‘from a well-known Parisian atelier’; the dress was found to contain ‘a large percentage of arsenic.

Probably the worst afflicted were those whose occupations involved the manufacture of various items utilizing Paris Green and other arsenic-based compounds. Below is a picture from an 1859 medical journal documenting the affects to the hands damaged by prolonged exposure to arsenic dyes:

So, after this somewhat technical lead-in, do any of these items exist today? Well, yes they do!

Dress, English or French, c. 1860 – 1865; Collection of Glennis Murphy

Afternoon Dress, American (?), c. 1865; Fashion Institute of Technology, New York (P88.43.1)

But is wasn’t all dresses…

“Adelaide” satin boots colored with an arsenic-based dye, European, c. 1840s; Bata Shoe Museum

Flower wreaths were dyed with arsenic-based dyes.

The above is a small sample of what was out there during the 19th Century. Interestingly enough, in terms of clothing most of the offending costume and accessories date from the mid 19th Century. However, arsenic-laden wallpapers continued even into the 20th Century. The surviving examples on display are handled with the utmost care because of the their toxicity. When combined with deterioration due to age (and especially in the case of shattered silk), these items still maintain a deadly legacy.

And for a little dark humor…from Punch Magazine, 1860.

Looking back from 2015, it’s easy to be smug about this. The effects of arsenic poisoning were well understood during the 19th Century yet they were ignored for the most part and regulatory efforts were sporadic and ineffective and little was done in spite of the known consequences. The history of arsenic and Paris Green remains a cautionary tale: often we want the new and novel but fail to think about the potential consequences.

Lily Absinthe

Gowns & Corsetry

Costume History

Fashion Plates…

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And For Some More Japonisme…

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John Redfern/Redfern & Sons, Part 1

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Dating a Dress – You Be The Judge

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Lily Absinthe Looks at Arsenic…

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