Chats on Costume

by G. Woolliscroft Rhead

The fashionable luxuries of the latter half of the eighteenth century are thus commented upon in the London Magazine of February, 1773:—

"The modes of dress, as well as those of house-keeping, are articles of incredible expense. Here the ladies are beyond description extravagant.

"They have spring and summer, autumn and winter silks; brocades, gold and silver stuffs; some of which are bought at the enormous price of thirty guineas a yard. The birthday suit is never worn a second time. Their heads are adorned with Dresden and Mechlin lace, enriched with jewels of immense value: large estates hang upon their ears. How brilliant are their diamond necklaces and stomachers, their watches, and other trinkets!—their very buckles are set with pearls and precious stones."

A character in "Bon Ton; or, High Life Above Stairs," by David Garrick, 1775, exclaims:—

"This fellow would turn rake and maccaroni if he was to stay here a week longer—bless me, what dangers are in this town at every step! O, that I were once settled safe again at Trotley-place!—nothing to save my country would bring me back again: my niece, Lucretia, is so be-fashioned and be-devilled, that nothing, I fear, can save her; however, to ease my conscience, I must try; but what can be expected from the young women of these times, but sallow looks, wild schemes, saucy words, and loose morals!—they lie a-bed all day, sit up all night; if they are silent they are gaming; and if they talk, 'tis either scandal or infidelity; and that they may look what they are, their heads are all feather, and round their necks are twisted rattlesnake tippets—O tempora, O mores!"

In the Lady's Magazine for April, 1782, the following announcement of fashionable dress at Paris is given:—

"The Queen of France has appeared at Versailles in a morning dress that has totally eclipsed the levée robe, and is said to be the universal rage. The robe is made of plain sattin, chiefly white, worn without a hoop, round, and a long train. It is drawn up in the front, on one side, and fastened with tassels of silver, gold, or silk, according to the taste of the wearer; and this discloses a puckered petticoat of gauze or sarsenet, of a different colour. The sleeves are wide and short, drawn up near the shoulder with small tassels, or knots of diamonds; under sleeves of the finest cambrick, full plaited, and trimmed at the elbow with Brussels or point, give infinite charms to the whole. The fastening of the waist is not straight down the stays, but gently swerved, and trimmed with narrow fur, as is the bottom of the robe. A round pasteboard hat, covered with the same sattin, and without any other ornaments than a diamond buckle, or an embroidered one, finishes the dress, which, it is said, will be worn through the summer, made of lighter materials."

The French Revolution was productive of many things—not the least of which was the change it brought in the matter of dress. The revival of classicism in costume during the Empire, which was to a great extent due to the influence of the painter David, was an echo of the earlier classic revival in architecture, mainly represented in this country by the work of the brothers Adam, who designed, as well as architecture, carriages, furniture, plate, and even a sedan chair for Queen Charlotte. With the advent of the Revolution the fashion suddenly changes. The oft-quoted couplet—

"Shepherds, I have lost my waist;
Have ye seen my body?"

a parody on a popular song, "The Banks of Banna"—expresses the disappearance of that portion of the body, which had previously been absurdly long. The ample flowered skirts of the middle of the century gave place to light gauze clinging coverings which exhibited as much of Nature's form as was—desirable. The merveilleuses appeared in gossamer gowns, slit from the hips and buttoned at the knees after the fashion of the Macedonian girls alluded to in a previous chat, the legs encased in fleshings. "Behold her, that beautiful citoyenne, in costume of the ancient Greeks, such Greek as painter David could teach; her sweeping tresses snooded by glittering antique fillet; bright-dyed tunic of the Greek woman; her little feet naked as in antique statues, with mere sandals and winding strings of riband—defying the frost."[15]