THE BRIDEGROOM’S TROUSSEAU,
A fashion column for men is now a feature of several of the London papers of high standing, London editors having at long last come to understand that men are just as much concerned about their personal appearance and the minutest sartorial detail as women—a fact which has never been any secret to the latter, by the way.
Now with regard to the wedding outfit of a fashionable man. In this respect we learn the modern bridegroom is first and foremost an epicure in those little niceties of the toilet generally regarded as of interest to women only. Take for instance his dressing case, many scores of which we are credibly informed are now being sold in the Bond Street shops. They have solid gold fittings, and, some are valued at £2,000, while the cheapest are sold at about £150. A description of the contents of one of these articles de luxe, as given by a writer in the “Daily Mail” is somewhat instructive, especially to those people who imagine that the days of the dandies are over. The case was valued at £1000, and the pure white morroco lining gave to it a distinctly bridal appearance. Every fitting was of gold, very simple in design, and tiny monograms in diamonds were to be set on each of the fittings before being sent to the owner. Among the etceteras of the case are mentioned bottles of cut glass with gold tops, and some of these are for scent and some for cunning liquid to be applied to the bridegroom’s hair and add to its natural glossiness. There are razors that will make his face as smooth as a girl’s, shaving brushes mounted in gold, and a shaving pot with, spirit lamp of gold. There is—speak it softly—a tiny golden case containing another spirit lamp, and (it seems almost treachery to give these secrets away) gold-mounted curling tongs.
These, are for curling the bridegroom’s moustache, or, perhaps, to impart just a little waviness to his locks.
And the instruments of manicure—there are dozens of them! Little golden files to give the smooth roundness to his nails; little gold-mounted polishing pads and little gold boxes to contain pink powder which will make his nails glisten like jewels; little gold scissors, and little gold forceps (even in a path of roses, there are thorns), and. glistening in the centre, the veritable “golden spoon” that we were just going to say these bridegrooms must be born with. This one is merely designed as a measure for medicines. It is but the old-fashioned “doctor’s spoon” of our youth, made of gold to match the other fittings.
After detailing fitted “suit cases” and other little luxuries which the fashionable bridegroom of to-day indulges in, the “Daily Mail” writer adds:—But these things are merely the minor accessories to the modern bridegroom’s toilet. To know what clothes he will consider necessary for his trousseau we must visit one of the fashionable tailors of London, where the name of nearly every well-known man in England is known. Here we can arrive at a fair estimate of the outfit a bridegroom of fashion will obtain.
First come the black coat and fine linen in which he.will be married. No smart bridegroom would be married in a “frock” to-day; the “morning” coat is the only ’possible wear.
It will be “braided,” and will have either one or two buttons. The will be folded, not rolled, very low. Occasionally the coat is made without any buttons on’ the front. Instead are two buttonholes, and the coat is hold together by a “link” made of two buttons connected by a strong thread.
The waistcoat will, be light grey, or dove colour, and will be cut a little lower than, recent fashions have dictated, and the trousers will be grey, not too light, nor yet too dark. Very light trousers, such as were worn not long ago, are now quite impossible.
With the dove-coloured waistcoat a narrow tie of grey, rather dark in shade, will be worn, and, of course, the collar will be of the wing pattern with slightly rounded corners. The actual coat, waistcoat, and trousers will not cost more than eleven guineas.
Next, at least two evening suits will be necessary, and two frock suits will also be required, and most men would order a dozen pairs of trousers at the same time, which cost about two pounds five or two pounds ten shillings a pair.
A dozen lounge suits, one is told, ought to be ordered together, as these can be worn on so many occasions, and they ought to be of every thickness from blue serge to heavy “Harris.”
At least four overcoats should be included in a good trousseau, including one lined with fur, which may cost anything between ten guineas and one thousand guineas.
Since fancy waistcoats are popular again most bridegrooms consider a large selection necessary.
One recently gave an order for one hundred, which included nearly every colour and material known to the tailor’s art. The average order would probably be about one dozen, or perhaps rather less. Quiet greys of various patterns are most popular.
The underclothing of the modern bridegroom is almost entirely of silk, and in this luxury he certainly will not stint himself. Clothes never seem to set well over anything but silk, and in his account for underwear will be almost as large as his tailor’s bill.
Upon handkerchiefs at about thirty shillings a dozen, scarves, and white waistcoats for dress wear, he may, of course, spend anything he chooses; but perhaps enough has been said to show that though the bridegroom’s trousseau is not discussed among friends like the bride’s, its cost often mounts to a figure which shows that it is not only the fashionable woman who is occasionally extravagant.
New Zealand Times 20 March 1909: p. 12
Mrs Daffodil’s Aide-memoire: This piece is unusually candid about the cost to outfit the well-dressed bridegroom. Such things were not always thought worthy of mention. The gentlemen were merely expected to appear, correctly costumed, on the wedding morning as a sort of backdrop or foil to the bride—a bridal accessory ranked somewhere on the level of gloves or stockings instead of an essential part of the proceedings.
To be fair, there was also controversy about whether or not it was indiscreet to discuss a bride’s trousseau in the newspapers. While Mrs Daffodil regrets that she could not decipher some of the captions, this cartoon from Punch suggested that what is good for the goose is good for the gander:
THE BRIDEGROOM’S TROUSSEAU: OR, THE NEWEST JOURNALISM
A distressing practice has grown up in the last year or so of publishing photographs of the dresses, hats, veils, etc., comprised in the trousseau of a forthcoming bride, and of showing them worn, for the purposes of photography, by miscellaneous strangers—ladies, we presume, in the employ of the tradespeople. Our artist cannot see why men should not retaliate in kind, except, of course, that very few bridegrooms would consent to tolerate an exhibition of this character.
A Dainty Silk Hat.
Fascinating Going away Suit for the Bridegroom
A Perfect Dream of a Cap for Golf and Countrywear.
Absolutely Blinding Patent-leather Boots for the marriage ceremony.
Bewitching Little Tyrolean Toque
Bewilderingly Beautiful Pyjamas
Punch, Or The London Charivari 16 September 1908: p. 213
Mrs Daffodil invites you to join her on the curiously named “Face-book,” where you will find a feast of fashion hints, fads and fancies, and historical anecdotes
You may read about a sentimental succubus, a vengeful seamstress’s ghost, Victorian mourning gone horribly wrong, and, of course, Mrs Daffodil’s efficient tidying up after a distasteful decapitation in A Spot of Bother: Four Macabre Tales.