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The Chanel black dress

17 Apr

No one does a black dress like Chanel. Let’s all swoon a bit over these gorgeous gowns from the collections of the Metropolitan Museum of Art’s Costume Institute. They are such a perfect combination of austere chic, glamour and gothic insouciance.

1924.

1925.

1925.

1930.

1931.

1932.

1932.

1935.

1937.

1937.

1957.

1965.

1988.

1993.

1996.

1999.

Ah so beautiful. I’d happily give all of them space in my wardrobe of tattered goth delights. I mean, I get all my clothes from All Saints and Heavy Red but I reckon I could handle a bit of Chanel in my life…

Which is your favourite?

First class fashion on the Titanic

14 Apr

I was going to write something new and amazing for the Titanic centenary but I’m afraid it both slipped my mind because of all the writing I am doing right now plus I’m feeling Titanic Fatigue, if such a thing is possible? I just couldn’t muster up the energy to add to all the Titanic posts, tweets and general fuss going on. I mean, there’s only so much to be said…

HOWEVER, what I DO have is my all time most popular blog post of ALL TIME, which has had thousands upon thousands upon THOUSANDS of views. I call it The Titanic Effect.

Thanks to the amazing collections of the Costume Institute at the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York, let’s take a look at the sumptuous fashions that may have been worn by the first class ladies on board the ill fated cruise liner in 1912.

Gowns of the last two Romanov Tsarinas

13 Mar

The Empress Alexandra Feodorovna of Russia (6th June 1872 – 17th July 1918). Before the Revolution, the Russian royal family lived surrounded by enormous wealth and luxury in enormous palaces. Incredibly some of the gorgeous gowns worn by the Empress have survived and can still be seen today…

You can still see the clothes that she wore at her coronation on the 14th of May 1896.

You can also see clothes worn by Alexandra’s mother in law, the Empress Marie Feodorovna (26th November 1847 – 13th October 1928).

The dress she wore at her coronation on the 27th of May 1883.

Further recommended reading:

The Last Empress: Life and Times of Alexandra Feodorovna, Tsarina of Russia

The Court of the Last Tsar: Pomp, Power and Pageantry in the Reign of Nicholas II

A peep into Empress Joséphine’s wardrobe

12 Mar

A few years ago, I made the trip out of Paris to visit Malmaison, the beautiful former home of the Empress Joséphine. It was an amazing, magical day because the château is simply exquisite and still full of the Empress’ personal belongings and much of her art collection. I adored wandering through the rooms, admiring Joséphine’s wonderful taste and then pottering around the famous gardens, where her rose trees can still be seen, filling the Summer air with their heady fragrance.

Afterwards I walked into the town itself and paid a visit to the beautiful tombs of Joséphine and her daughter, the Reine Hortense. Joséphine is immortalised for posterity in a marble rendition of her pose from David’s epic Coronation painting, kneeling with her hands gracefully clasped and her beautiful eyes turned downwards.

One of the things that struck me the most about the château was the fact that so many of her clothes remained intact and were out on display. I loved seeing her muslin skirts arranged in the linen closet and was in awe of the wondrous court dresses with their heavy gold and silver embroidery.

I thought I would share some of this with you now:

Beautiful gold embroidery on a tuile and white satin court mantle, which was attached to the back of Joséphine’s court gowns on official occasions. The embroidery depicts flowers and feathers, a favourite motto of her predecessor Marie Antoinette as well.

A white embroidered muslin gown, the sort of thing that Joséphine would have worn every day while relaxing in her rose garden or playing with her lively grandchildren. Napoléon took a keen interest in Joséphine’s clothes and would often request that she wore a particular dress for him. He particularly loved it when she wore white.

A white silk court dress worn by Joséphine. The design is simple, with the ostentation reserved for the gorgeous silver embroidery, which in this case is in the form of palm leaves. A dress like this would have been worn to a state supper, a ball or an official visit to the theatre or opera.

A gauze court dress, with heavy silver embroidery. I saw this dress displayed at Somerset House recently as part of an exhibition about Joséphine’s art work in the Hermitage collection.

A detail of the beautiful silver embroidery on the court dress. The design is of carnations, flowers and palm leaves.

A white silk court dress with matching mantle. Joséphine would have worn a dress like this to greet a visiting ambassador or at an important court occasion. Dresses would be worn more than once but Napoléon hated to see women wearing the same clothes all the time and was known to pull ladies of the court up for not appearing in something new for a while.

A pair of silk shoes. Joséphine would get through thousands of these every year as they were usually used once then discarded as they were too flimsy and frail to survive  the constant round of court balls and entertainments more than once.

Another silk court dress with matching mantle, embroidered with gold thread and crystals. The decoration depicts lotus flowers.

A white silk court dress embroidered with a pattern of gold laurel crowns.

A detail of the dress above, it’s teamed with an embroidered muslin shawl.

A red velvet state mantle, embroidered with silver rose garlands and stars. Joséphine wore a very similar (albeit much longer) mantle to her coronation.

A puce silk and velvet court mantle, embroidered with golden bluebells.

Maroon leather shoes, lined with pale blue silk and embroidered with silver thread.

A pair of beautiful fur lined boots, which always remind me of the original Cinderella tale where her shoes were made of fur instead of glass.

An embroidered linen underskirt, edged with muslin and Valenciennes lace.

Empress Joséphine’s linen closet. I love this intimate view of her linen on display; it’s evocative in a way that portraits, jewels and state dresses could never be. You can almost smell the residue of sandalwood, lavender water and rose oil can’t you?

A fan and shawl belonging to Joséphine, displayed with a ring presented to her by Napoléon in 1796, the year that they were married after a whirlwind (and rather one sided courtship). The inscription inside the ring says ‘amour sincère‘.

Joséphine’s Coronation ring – an immense ruby set in gold.

A toilette mirror with a reconstruction of Joséphine’s pearl parure.

A tortoiseshell hair comb, set with a cameo depicting ‘Le chagrin d’Achille‘.

Crystal perfume bottles that once held Joséphine’s exquisite jasmine, lavender, lily and violet scents.

A fine white batiste nightdress, edged with Ile d’Aix lace.

A bill from Au Grand Turc, the most fashionable couture house in Joséphine’s Paris. Joséphine’s enormous debts were notorious as she spent vast amounts on clothes, shoes and accessories and never managed to stay within the confines of the already generous allowance bestowed upon her by Napoléon. This particular bill is for ‘un schal de cachemire vert pistache vendu à sa majesté impératrice et reine’ (a pistachio green Cashmere shawl) and was issued on the 6th April 1809.

Further recommended reading:

Josephine: The Rose of Martinique

Napoleon & Josephine: An Improbable Marriage (Phoenix Giants)

The Many Lives and Secret Sorrows of Josephine B

Marie Antoinette in a super fashionable redingote gown

16 Jan

A beautiful drawing of Marie Antoinette from around 1780. It is not known who drew this portrait but it was sent as a present from Axel de Fersen to his beloved sister Sophie. A redingote, as worn here by the Queen was a very popular style of dress in the 1780s – the name comes from the English ‘riding coat’, which they were based upon. It was generally accepted at the time that the very best riding habits came from London and so fashionable Parisian ladies would send across the channel for them.

Marie Antoinette shocks France with a dress!

14 Jan

Detail from one of the most famous portraits of Marie Antoinette, which was painted by Madame Vigée-Lebrun in 1783. This portrait depicts the 27 year old Queen of France in her favourite outfit, a simple ruffled muslin gown, tied at the waist with a gauze sash and teamed with a ribbon bedecked straw hat. She is posed as though picking roses in her beloved gardens at the Petit Trianon and her gaze is both direct and enquiring, although not unfriendly.

This painting caused a sensation when it was displayed at the prestigious Paris Salon of 1783. Marie Antoinette and Madame Vigée-Lebrun, both young women whose minds were full of romance and idealistic ideas of the simplicity and virtue of private life were fixated on the lack of etiquette in the painting, in the lack of heavy court gowns and jewels, in its charm and honesty. The critics and populace at large, however were rather less charmed and saw in the lack of Queenly decoration and etiquette, a quite deplorable lesé majesté that acted as a metaphor for the gradual erosion of the dignity of both France and its royal family.

The marvellous Merveilleuse

14 Jan

Nothing could be more French than to allow current affairs to influence fashion (just look at the hairstyles concocted by Rose Bertin for Marie Antoinette and her coterie – battleships, babies being born and balloons taking off are just a few examples) and the outrageously dressed Merveilleuses are the finest example of this.

Les Merveilleuses (‘The Marvellous Ones’) made their first appearance in 1794 and influenced by the victims of the guillotine, they cultivated a highly modish and edgily morbid style that bordered on the gothic. The leaders of the Merveilleuses were the extremely stylish Theresa Tallien and Rose de Beauharnais, both of whom had been imprisoned during the Terror and had barely escaped with their lives.

But what items would have graced the spartan styled mahogany Jacob wardrobe of the average aspiring Merveilleuse? Let’s have a peek inside…

1. In the wake of the Terror’s end the most fashionable hair style was long at the front and shorn very short at the nape of the neck à la Titus in a bizarre attempt to copy the way that the guillotine’s victims had their hair cut by the executioner’s assistants before clambering aboard the tumbril that would transport them to the guillotine. Scented pomades were used to mess up the tendrils of hair and create a sophisticated dishevilled look.

2. A red scarf à la Némesis. This was first worn after the execution of the famous beauty, Émilie de Sainte-Amaranthe, who was rumoured to have been arrested after she spurned the attentions of not just Saint-Just but also Robespierre. Her courage in the face of death and undeniable glamour made her something of a heroine to the fashionable ladies of Paris and they wore red scarves thrown loosely around their shoulders in her honour.

3. A thin red ribbon choker or if you were really dashing (like the lady in the first miniature) one made of rubies that mimicked the appearance of droplets of blood around the neck.

4. Lavish helpings of scented white powder applied to the face and bosom in order to replicate a suitably languishing living corpse look.

5. A selection of thinly diaphanous white muslin and gauze low cut dresses, which were fondly imagined to look like the plain white chemises and dresses which many prisoners, including Marie Antoinette, wore to their executions. The more daring ladies liked to dampen their dresses with water before venturing outside in order to make them cling more becomingly to their figures.

6. The Croix à la Victime, a red silk harness, which was worn like a thin shawl around the bodice, artfully forming a red cross on the wearer’s back.

7. Thin grecian sandals, which looked especially delightful teamed with gold or silver toe rings and painted toe nails.

8. Heady, migraine inducing scents that made your every lazy movement waft jasmine, rose and musk through the air.

They must have made a striking sight on the mean streets of post Terror Paris but I think they probably looked amazing.

The House of Eliott

28 Sep

Has anyone else been watching the rerun of The House of Eliott every afternoon on ITV2? Oh, it is fabulous and, to my delight, it hardly seems to have aged at all since I saw its original run in the mid 1990s.

Ah, the mid 1990s when I was doing my A Levels at Colchester Sixth Form, was convinced that Carl McCoy from Fields of the Nephilim was the Perfect Man and was also desperately in love with Simon H+++, who probably didn’t love me back but WE WILL NEVER KNOW (I’ve written about what my cronies refer to as The Simon H+++ Situation at great length before but in summary, well, you aren’t missing much). Ah, youth.

The House of Eliott perfectly suited my rather louche, romantic state of mind at the time and I find that it (along with my perennial favourite, Gilmore Girls, which shares some common themes now that I come to think about it – oh God, I wish that I could live in Stars Hollow) also perfectly suits my mental state at the moment too, even though I am older but not necessarily wiser.

For the uninitiated, The House of Eliott is set in the 1920s and tells the story of two pulchritudinous sisters, Beatrice and Evangeline Eliott who are left (almost but not quite!) impoverished by their awful doctor father and so end up turning a flair for design and talent for dressmaking to good account by eventually and amidst many dramas, triumphs and travails founding their own fashion house.

Now, the 1920s are not really my favoured period when it comes to social history and design, but one can’t help but be entranced by the gorgeous clothes paraded around in The House of Eliott. In the last episode they designed the costumes for a rather modern ballet, which was just superb and really showed off the costume designer’s talents to the full as the dancers wafted about on the stage in diaphanous gauzes and silks.

Of course, it’s not all pretty dresses, champagne and parties there’s also plenty of social commentary here as well about the often parlous situations of women without a male ‘protector’ and also the yawning gulf between rich and poor in the days before a proper welfare state was created. The House of Eliott is almost as much about the seamstresses that the sisters employ in their workshop as it is about about Bea and Evie, although there was an interesting discussion in a recent episode when Bea almost angrily rejected the suggestion that she and her sister ought to feel responsible for their employees outside the workplace as well as within it.

Above all though, The House of Eliott is about progress – the sisters are both bang on trend with short ‘shingled’ hair and ever raising hemlines but the fashionable epiphanies are set against a background of handsome young well bred men racing cars, making films or flying planes as the world becomes increasingly small.

For me at least, there is also the additional thrill of the fact that the series was mostly filmed in my very own Bristol (standing in for London) so I get to spot locations – so far I have spotted Berkeley Square, the Bristol Museum and Blaise Castle amongst other familiar spots around the city.

Are you a fan as well?

Jeanne Lanvin, 1923, Metropolitan Museum of Art.

1928, Metropolitan Museum of Art.

1926, Metropolitan Museum of Art.

1925, Metropolitan Museum of Art.

1925, Metropolitan Museum of Art.

1924, Metropolitan Museum of Art.

1925, Metropolitan Museum of Art.

1925, Metropolitan Museum of Art.

PS. BBC, you know how you recently resurrected Upstairs, Downstairs for one last whirl? Well, I’ve never forgiven you for cancelling The House of Eliott without warning at the end of its third series. Just saying…

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