Shall We Change Our Hair to Suit Our Gowns?: 1889

1920s platinum blonde cloche or wig. antiquedress.com

POWDER, PATCH, PERUKE

SHALL WE CHANGE OUR HAIR AS WE SHIFT OUR GOWNS?

Is the Wig to Be an Important Accessory of the Fashionable Wardrobe as in the Directory Days?

Hair-Dressing for 1889.

They say that Mme. Tallien had five-and-thirty wigs, each of which had cost thirty gold louis. There was a certain noble young Parisian named Mlle. Lepelletier de St. Fargeau, who was married not long after Robespierre lost his head. In her trousseau were included twelve fine blonde wigs, with twelve tulle, feather, flower, gauze and ribbon caps, worth, some of them, three hundred francs each, to adorn the coiffures.

We model our gowns after the fashion of the Directory. Are we to look to “ye olden times” also with regard to hair?

The query is suggested by a mass of superb pale gold tresses shown yesterday by one of the bright, business-like young women who form a majority of the city hairdressers. The silky lengths were very soft and fine and heavy, falling of their own will into wavy curls. The color was the rarest ever seen, a lovely white floss just tinged by sunbeams, such as one catches sometimes for a year and a month on the poll of a baby girl.

“What pretty actress is putting the $150 that it must cost into a single suit of hair?”

“Not for the stage; for the ball. This is a wig for Miss__,” naming a fleet-footed dancer of the society whirl.

“But Miss___ is a brunette. Besides, she has a magnificent head of hair of her own.”

“She is going to the ball in a Greek gown of pale green, and light hair is more becoming with that, you know. See, here is a bit of the stuff she left with me. She wanted the wig made up of the exact color which would look best with it and with its garniture,” and the little woman produced a scrap of Liberty silk worked with the Greek fret pattern in Japanese gold thread across one end.

“It’s to be made, she says, with classic draperies. This gold embroidery–it’s not a heavy tint and is not put on in masses–makes a border about the bottom of the skirt and about the waist, and there is just an edge of it around the neck opening. There is a scarf of pale green tissue caught up on the right shoulder and there is to be a band of green about the hair.”

“You dress the wig, then, before it goes home?”

“Why, certainly. The dressing, like the color, is to correspond with the gown. You let a wavy lock or two, not a bang, escape on the forehead. Then you gather the rest loosely and gracefully back into a soft, curly knot Then you thread the front hair, fillet-wise, with green ribbons. I think I shall add in this instance, if the lady will permit it, a ribbon wound about the knot, crossed below it, and having the two ends brought out on either side to join the fillet, and fastened by tiny jeweled crescents. Miss___ has a clear, delicate complexion, and in all that pale green with this straw-gold hair she will shine like a star.”

“Isn’t it a new thing for a girl to come out in hair not her own?”‘

“Well, I could tell you of three of four women who have ordered wigs to correspond with their evening gowns, but I suppose should lose good customers if I let the names escape. Perhaps, though, Helen Dauvray wouldn’t mind my saying that the first wig I ever made for her was selected after she left the stage–there used to be a fuss, you know, because she wore her own hair on the boards and wouldn’t adapt her coiffures to her parts–for wear in London drawing rooms while Ward is in Australia. A beautiful suit, too, it was. And, honest now, isn’t it more sensible than bleaching? How many women do you suppose have ruined their hair completely by drenching it with golden washes? It costs more to buy a blonde wig than it does to bleach your own hair, but there is this advantage that you can change back again any day you please. And in the busy weeks of the social season it is so convenient A woman can send her wig to a hair-dresser and get it fixed for the opera or a ball without any trouble to herself, when, to have her own hair done as elaborately and becomingly would cost much time, cutting her out entirely from Mrs. A’s delightful tea or the charming drive which she has promised to take with Mrs. C. It adds from an hour to two hours to her day,” and the small hairdresser smiled convincingly.

And will it come to that? Are we going back to the days when a woman changed her hair almost as often as she did her gown, when the wardrobe of a blonde beauty was not complete without a couple of raven wigs, and when the brunette’s dressing room was not properly furnished unless it contained sunny tresses in as great abundance as black hair? It would be a dress novelty indeed when a toilet was to be ordered to shop first for the coiffure. The hair-dresser–a mighty man he used to be and a mighty woman she may be yet–should bring out golden switches curly and fine, auburn switches ruddy and soft. One should try on hair as one tries on bonnets, to suit the complexion and the style. Fitted with the suit which was judged most becoming, one should beg for a lock as one carries off samples of silk or gauze. Then would come the task of matching and comparing.

“What have you in evening silks to go with this shade of hair?”

And to the dressmaker.

“Would you advise a pale blue embroidered crepe or a rainbow tulle as likely to go better with a curly crop of this light yellow?”

“I thought you were wearing bronze waves this season.”

“So I was, but I saw this being made in Mlle. K’s this morning and it was so fluffy that I couldn’t resist getting it for the ___’s dance next week. I do adore fuzzy yellow curls.”

“Well, I should recommend black lace. The tint is so delicate that any other color would kill it, I’m afraid.”

“Suppose I call it black gauze; then I can have covered with those lovely cobwebs in silver threads, with enameled spiders and dragon flies in colored mother-of-pearl and wear blue and yellow butterflies in my hair!”

And so on and on ad infinitum would it go. The revival of powder certainly points in the direction of wigs. Not perhaps as powder is now used, with just a dust of silvery crystals scattered over the head or the faintest shadow of frosting about the temples and forehead, but patches–wee ones–are venturing out with the powder, and the unusual popularity of fancy balls will give both a chance to show themselves and to accustom the conservative to their presence, while the Pompadour gown will suggest them inevitably to the eccentric for almost any even big occasion. Powdering the hair was the most uncleanly of habits, and powder with wigs would be less of an outrage than powder without them. Whoever has worn a poudre dress at a fancy ball knows what an incredible amount of powder it takes to whiten thoroughly the hair. Again and again one dusts it on, and again and again it sifts down on the scalp and leaves a streaked and mottled coiffure. By the time one’s patience is exhausted and one’s powder, one has laid out gigantic task for one’s self, one’s maid or the shampoo man to restore things to their normal condition. Powder for the evening means wigs for the evening if one values one’s peace of mind next day.

Actress in powdered hair or wig.

Aside from powder, fashions in hair show great variety this winter. In general hair is going higher in front and lower behind. A small coil low in the neck with just a lock or two relieving the bareness of the forehead is a simple style for all informal occasions, which to many women is the most becoming coiffure possible. With the artistic and historical costumes which are now correct form for full dress occasions the hair is, or ought to be dressed, with modifications, to correspond. For the Marie Antoinette gown the directions given by a fashion writer of 1773 are, save in one particular, literally followed by fashionable dames of the year of grace 1889. “Every lady,” says this beau of a century gone, “who wishes to dress her hair with taste and elegance should purchase an elastic cushion exactly fitted to the head; then, having combed her hair and properly thickened it with powder and pomatum, let her turn it over her model in the recognized fashion.” The headdresses of towering weight in which the unlucky Queen delighted, and of which it is said that they placed the face of the wearer in the middle of her figure, are an absurdity which cannot return. There is no fear of a pouf like that of Louis Philippe’s mother, in which “every one might admire the Due de Beaujolais, her eldest son, in the arms of his nurse, a parrot pecking at a cherry, a little [servant] and a multitude of other designs,” making a coiffure so high that its owner must kneel on the floor of her carriage in order to accommodate it, but my lady in her Louis XVI. Watteau gown or flowered brocade at a Delmonico ball preserves a certain semblance of consistency by rolling her hair high over her forehead on a cushion, letting only a curl or two drop to her temples and planting a puff comb of gold and diamonds, a diamond crescent, an aigrette of feathers, a flower or a pompon to confine and ornament it.

Marie Antoinette fancy dress, Charles Whitaker Auctions

The modern Mme. Pompadour wears a flounced lace skirt with overdress of rich yellow brocade, paniers on hips, square cut neck, elbow sleeves lace – trimmed, ribbon tied in a bow about her throat, and hair drawn loosely back from her face and gathered in a bunch of light curls on top of her head with a tiny wreath or a fluff of marabout feathers set coquettishly to one side. With her promenades one of Napoleon’s dead beauties in a severe, statuesque Empire gown of dead white silk, her black hair brushed straight and braided glossy and tight in a smooth and shining coil on the back of her head. And so they pass, each one different from the other, for if we are attaining individuality in dress in any particular it is in hair dressing.

ELLEN OSBORN. Copyright, 1888.

The Times [Philadelphia PA] 19 January 1889: p. 3

Mrs Daffodil’s Aide-memoire: Rococo Revival flourished periodically throughout the nineteenth century. Second Empire and Belle Epoque beauties were fascinated by the ribbons and lace and dainty flower garlands of what was interpreted as “Marie Antoinette” style; Worth did a thriving business in rococo fancy-dress for the Empress Eugenie and her court; the designer Lucile decorated her salon in rococo gilt and satin and encouraged panniers and Louis-heeled shoes, and powdered/white hair allowed any lady to feel like the Queen of France, frolicking about the le Hameau de la Reine.

But why stop at wigs of natural hue, even to match one’s gown? In 1914 France, wigs in a rainbow of colours were touted as the essential fashion accessory:

Coloured wigs are the latest fad of fashion. These wigs are made in all colours to match the dresses, blue, pink, purple, white, etc., and displayed as they have been in the windows of one of the Paris retail shops, they do not seem so very extreme. A lady nowadays purchases shoes to match her dress, so why not a wig to harmonise the top portion of the colour scheme? A superb fashion parade has just come off in one of the big hotels here (writes a Nice correspondent). The loveliest “mannequin” from Paris, dressed up in “the very latest”  strolled in and out between the tea tables. An old lady who sat near us said rapturously, “My dear, what a sartorial feast,” and indeed it was that. Several of the pretty mannequins wore blue or green wigs, and as they matched their gowns the effect was rather splendid. One girl, for example, wore a bright green transformation with a ball gown composed of ivory and sea green chiffon. There was a pleated tunic, and under that long fringes in diamonds and crystal. The low bodice, of which there was very little, was a mass of diamond and crystal embroideries, and there was a green mirror velvet sash. Another mannequin pranced about in an extraordinary dinner gown made of tango-orange chiffon and striped taffetas, the stripes being in shades of rose, green, black, and yellow. The skirt was finely pleated—please take notice that pleats are the rage of the season—and there was a bunchy tunic which gave a pannier effect at the sides. There was a high Medici collar piped with dull rose velvet, and the transformation was bright orange.

Observer 4 July 1914: p. 21

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 anecdote

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.

Violets the Fad This Winter: 1893

VIOLETS THE FAD THIS WINTER.

They Will Appear in Every Sort of Shape That Fashion Can Suggest.

The violet is the flower of the coming winter.

All the new things of every sort are covered with violets. The new embroidery patterns are in violets. The new candleshades have paper violets stuck upon them. Even the candles are of a novel tint–purple.

The newest ribbons in the shops are violet, the color running through a surprising number of shades. The latest fancy soaps are wrapped in violet-colored paper. Note paper in pale violet is to be a fashionable fad, and my lady will scent her dainty mouchoir with violet perfume.

Some of the swellest Washington women are going to give violet teas during the coming season. On these occasions of modish festivity many gowns will be worn of white silk with violets brocaded upon them, the corsage bouquets being great bunches of the same flowers. One dress already designed will have a low cut bodice entirely surrounded by a deep wreath of violets. At tea tables violet ribbons will be stretched from the candles to the chandeliers above, forming a sort of May pole effect.

A Violet Room.

One Washington house already has a whole room done in pale violet–the wall paper, hangings, furniture coverings, everything. A pretty effect is produced by making violet the color-motive for a lady’s bedchamber. The counterpane and pillow shams may be of white muslin over violet, and the dressing table in the same materials, tied with great violet bows in several shades. If nothing else is done in recognition of this new fad, one should have at least one sofa pillow of violet.

Violet has even become the proper color for babies, replacing the old-fashioned blue and pink. The violet tea gown will be very much the thing. It Is noticed that all the newest and most dainty porcelains are ornamented with violets, either scattered about or in solid bunches. The latest designs in jewelry are in these flowers, and fancy pins and such trifles in violets will be popular as gifts for the approaching Christmas.

Of course, this rage for violets will add greatly to the price of those blossoms during the coming winter. Many women win mix imitation ones with the real for economy’s sake, and their bouquets will not be less beautiful for that reason. Violets are perhaps more successfully imitated than any other flowers.

A Clerk in the Business.

A young Washington lady employed in the Treasury Department is likely to find this a profitable season for a pleasant business which she devotes her leisure moments to conducting. She raises violets on a small farm of her own near Anacostia. The work is very easy. She has more than 30 glass sashes, under which the flowers bloom all winter long. In May each year she has some fresh ground plowed, and in it she plants all of her violets, taken from beneath the sashes for that purpose. Then she simply takes up the sashes, covers the newly planted violets with them, and the work Is done.

In October they begin to bloom, and continue all through the winter, so that the young lady can pick them every day and send them to market. All of her violet plants came from one little pot which she bought at the Center market five years ago. They are made to multiply by dividing the roots, so that a single plant taken up in the spring will supply a score or more. She sells her violets to florists in Washington or New York. Prices are higher in the metropolis, so that it pays to express them on. They never bring less than a cent apiece, and sometimes two cents.

There is always a market for violets, and there is never any difficulty in disposing of them. Any florist is glad to buy them, if they are good ones and in prime condition. They must be picked always in the afternoon, because otherwise they lose their perfume. To ship them, they must be placed in bunches in pasteboard boxes, with waxed paper folded loosely around them. They must not be touched with water, because to do so will take away their sweetness.

Evening Star [Washington DC] 11 November 1893: p. 7

Mrs Daffodil’s Aide-memoire: Mrs Daffodil has previously written about how to give a “violet luncheon.” Should her readers require the details of a “violet tea,” albeit of a more lavish variety than usually seen in suburban households, this article gives some helpful suggestions.

Extravagant Hospitality

The afternoon teas of the coming season will be more elaborate than ever before. One leader in society will give one in a few weeks which will eclipse anything of the kind ever seen. It is to be a violet tea. The table will be laid for twelve. The cloth used upon this occasion will be one of six which the hostess had made abroad by special order. They all are of a heavy white satin, each embroidered in different designs. The one to be used upon this occasion is embroidered in violets. They lie in clusters, all over the shining white surface and the work is so admirably done that one would think they had been plucked and dropped there. The tea service is of Royal Worcester, also made by special order, with a design of violets upon a rich cream ground. There are 188 pieces in this tea service, and the average cost is $30 for each, piece. The napkins are of satin, with a design of violets embroidered in one corner. The favors will be painted upon porcelain, and although all different each will be a design of violets.

Under the table will be a large Wilton rug of cream with violets scattered over it The valance dependent from the mantel will be of creamy plush, with a border of embroidered violets and a lining of violet satin. The portieres will be of heavy white felt with a border of violets. The lamps will all have violet shades, so that the light will be like an Indian summer haze.

Arkansas City [KS] Daily Traveler 9 January 1890: p. 2

 

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.

The Fashion Demonstrator: 1898

SPRY MODELS NOWADAYS

Supple, Shapely Forms Assisted by Nimble Wits in Setting Off the Good Points of Wares

Variety of the Goods Sold by Women

Elaborate Procedure of Foreign Dressmakers.

The demonstrator is to the front now. There are demonstrators of household appliances, demonstrators of food products and medical appurtenances, demonstrators of wearing apparel, demonstrators of everything under the sun except matrimony, and the tenantable qualities of flats and apartments to let. You may notice a bustling, wide-awake-looking woman rustling about almost any boarding house nowadays, and you are told, on making inquiry as to her calling or occupation, that she is a demonstrator. Whether it is some newly invented contraption for light housekeeping, or a new face mask, or complexion wash, demonstrated on one side of her own face and the back of one hand, whether it is a corset, or a combination garment, or a glove fastener that engages her efforts, she is certain to be busy.

In the world of wearing apparel it used to be the model upon whom much depended; the model with so many inches of bust measure to her credit, so many inches of waist measure, so much length of limb. The model stood like an inanimate statue and allowed capes, coats, street suits, and reception gowns to be placed upon her at the will of the saleswoman, taking really very little interest in the proceeding. Occasionally she submitted to having a hat perched on her head to see how it went with the suit. The demonstrator is of a different pattern. She is all alive, all pliancy. A certain grace of bearing and movement is as essential to her calling as a well-developed figure.

Manufacturers with a new make of corsets to put on the market, for instance, begin by engaging a demonstrator to show its advantages to the woman buyer of a big store, and having won approval, gets the firm to give a special view of the corset. Cards are sent out to selected customers announcing this special view. The new corsets and the agile demonstrator have a room to themselves, a room gas lit, warmed, and properly decorated, where Miss B., the shapely demonstrator, may shine out as a central figure. None of those who attend this opening (men are excluded of course) is left in the slightest doubt as to how far the bones in the corsets will bend without breaking; how strong and durable they are; their weight, length, and their special advantages. Miss B., has three or four other makes of corsets at hand and tries them all on in turn in order the better to demonstrate the superiority of her own goods. The demonstrator’s business is not all in one direction. She must be as quick to show the weak points in rival wares as to exhibit the rare qualifications of her own.

The guests at the special view are not alone the customers of the retail house. Cards have been sent to representative trade journals in the manufacturer’s interests, and these papers send women to report upon the merits of the corsets. Representatives of retail houses in other cities are also on hand. Miss B. has enough spectators to give her inspiration in her task.

As with corsets, so with everything new in the way of women’s wear, whether outer or under garments. No longer though is the model or the demonstrator a mere lay figure. The new-style demonstrator who tries on a gown or a coat, must walk well and enter into the spirit of her business, displaying to the best advantage certain ins and outs of the garment that otherwise might pass unnoticed.

“A good demonstrator can sell any amount of goods that otherwise might be passed over as unattractive, or of little worth,” said the head saleswoman in one store. “Say a woman comes in here looking for a gown and does not know exactly what she wants. All our gowns valued at $100 or more are shown on the demonstrators. In looking over the assortment, the shopper may find a costume that suits her in every respect, but for a certain arrangement of the trimming. Perhaps the effect that she objects to may be new in style, and for that reason may strike her as odd, when in reality it is a great addition to the costume. The demonstrator puts on the gown and walks about in it for inspection. She lifts her arms to her head and puts her figure in graceful poses; she gives the gown a style that never would have been made apparent, had it been put on a wired frame or an inert model. The idea that the modiste had in view when she designed the gown is made really chic and original, and will suit her perfectly.”

The demonstrators in the big wholesale Broadway houses are kept busy in winter trying on thin, unlined summer gowns for the next season’s wear. They try these on over tight-fitting jerseys. The out-of-town merchant who comes in to see the effect of the new styles may be wearing a heavy overcoat at the time, but the demonstrators are usually hearty, healthy young women who do not suffer from fluctuations of temperature.

“Trying on these flimsy, thin things in winter isn’t near as bad as bundling up in furs and heavy jackets for the trade in the summer time,” said a demonstrator, and then she went on to say how well she liked the business and what excellent opportunities she and her mates had for getting really first-class gowns and coats for much less than actual cost.

“A demonstrator has a much better time than a salesgirl,” she said. “Our hours are shorter, and we generally get off at half past 5 the year round. Of course a demonstrator in a wholesale house is in much better luck and has less to do than one employed in a retail house. In the months when we are busy we are rushed to death, but for a good deal of the time there is very little to do and our wages go on all the same. August and September are busy months for us, and from the middle of January to March is the rush season.”

It seems that the animation and power of expression demanded of the present-day demonstrator on this side of the water are qualities that have long been required abroad.

“At the famous outfitters in Paris and London,” said a business woman, “there are demonstrators not only of one style of beauty, but of all the varying types—blond, brunette, and intermediate colorings. One demonstrator will be tall, slender and willowy in form; another will be plump and small; another tall and of Juno-like proportions. The visitor is shown into a room that gives no indications of the nature of the business to be transacted. A few good pictures and some flowers may be about, but the furnishings and appointments are very plain, so as not to detract from the gown that is to be the main object of interest.

“‘What style of gown does madame require?’ has been asked at the door; and according to the kind of gown desired is the special room into which the customer is shown. One apartment is devoted to ball and reception toilets, another to street suits, yet another to outing costumes or gowns for house wear. Madame waits in the empty room and soon a demonstrator comes in and walks quietly about as if looking at the different objects in the room, so that the customer may see to advantage the gown she has put on for her benefit. The demonstrator is as near in appearance to madame’s physical type and coloring as the assortment of demonstrators permitted. Every aspect of the gown—sideways, back, front, three-quarters view—is shown. Then the demonstrator withdraws, and another of the same type, but wearing a different gown, comes in to take her place. So the different toilets are show until one is chosen. Of course this is in one of those establishments where the artist will not make a gown or a garment for a woman which he thinks unsuitable for her, even if she orders it. The demonstrators both here and abroad are often pressed into service to sit for pictures to be used as advertisements for the house. The demonstrators in the high-priced establishments are courteously reticent, and seldom have a word to say, throwing all their force of expression into poses and gestures. Demonstrators like Miss B., who shows corsets or some new-fangled stocking supporter or combination garment, are glib of tongue, and emphasize every motion with a flow of words. They are energetic and pushing, and to a certain degree, modifications of the woman drummer.”

The Sun [New York, NY] 9 January 1898: p. 26

Mrs Daffodil’s Aide-memoire:  As this article observes, the work of the fashion demonstrator is much more akin to that of a woman drummer than that of, say, the French mannequin.  The vendors of the ever-changing world of fashion were constantly in search of the latest line of patter or display. This novel tactic for showing gowns was adopted by a London dressmaker:

Some clever dressmaker in London has chosen to be original, as though we would not all choose if we could. Each one of her young women attendants is dressed in some costume that the firm wishes to advertise. One glides about in a soft clinging dress of the first Empire. Another is jaunty in one belonging to the Directoire period. One with rosy cheeks, that the fogs of London and long hours of standing have not paled, stands blushing in the dress of a debutante. Leaning in pensive attitude with sad looks, here is one in long, sweeping robes of mourning and dainty and exquisite in lace and soft silks sits someone by a tea table handing steaming cups to ladies worn out with the task of choosing gowns to outrival those of their rivals. Otago Witness 20 June 1889: p. 34

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.

 

Concerning Negligees: 1900

1902 negligee http://www.metmuseum.org/collection/the-collection-online/search/159445?rpp=30&pg=1&ft=negligee&pos=3

Concerning Negligees

Philosophers say that when a man is intoxicated his real nature may easily be discovered. Carlyle, in his great and thoughtful work on clothes, did not give the lounging garb of woman the serious consideration it deserves. He wandered off into the realms of the abstruse and came to no such conclusions as these:

1. Whoever would know a woman thoroughly must have a chance to know her in a wrapper.
2. The colors that she chooses, the style that she affects, and, above all, the way that she wears it, will be such commentaries on her taste and character as are nowhere else visible.
3. 

In the street every woman is perforce garbed much like every other woman. The tailors, the ready made departments of the shops, and the inherent feminine distaste for appearing different from other women, arrange that. even if one has wild yearnings after primrose or crimson, and aspires to originality of cut, one has to be very wealthy to gratify this taste in public. The ready made departments do not cater to would-be esthetes, and the tailors permit no rebellion against their dictates.

But the negligee, the little home made affair, the two days’ work of the seamstress or of the clever needlewoman herself! That is another matter. In fashioning that there is no hard and fast law of cut or color to follow. Though drab be the prescribed street colors, one may riot in red indoors. Every woman may be herself—and that is why the negligee is to woman the same involuntary confession that inebriety is sometimes to man.

There are women, of course, to whom negligee is unknown, and while they may be wise so far as their failure to provide possibly damaging biographical notes of themselves is concerned, they are the most short sighted of mortals so far as comfort, economy, and health go.

The lounging gown is of course a comfort. That needs no elucidation. Its economy is equally plain. To lounge in tailor made attire is distinctly extravagant. To lounge in half undress is a short sighted, cold inviting policy, profitable to no one but the doctor.

The woman who provides herself with enough comfortable lounging gowns is a wise one. The one who has a warm flannel wrapper in which to infold herself when she comes in tired and in need of a few minutes’ sleep; who has a soft silk affair in which to lean back luxuriously in a steamer chair in her own room while she reads or has a late breakfast; who has short bed jackets to cover her shoulders when she indulges in a sybaritic breakfast in bed, or even spends a day there; who has warm, soft slippers by her bed to slip her bare feet into the instant she arises: who has pretty little matinées in which to make a comfortable, ungirt, and yet respectable appearance at the family luncheon table in an emergency–this woman is wise in her day and generation She is pleasing not only to her household, but she is a pleasure to herself as well; for the woman who does not take a youthful delight in such possessions is no true woman. The little luxuries of life do as much to keep the spirits of women fresh and young as anything except love and religion, and she is fortunate who realizes this in time.

The materials of which these gowns and sacks are made are inexpensive, especially in the spring and summer. The eider down and cashmere lined silk of winter may be dear enough to bar their use, but in the spring, when Japanese silks, lawns, and dimities may be had at prices ranging from twelve cents a yard up, there is no reason why any woman of moderate means should fail to have plenty of negligees.

Hand-embroidered matinee, 1880-1890 https://www.google.com/culturalinstitute/beta/asset/hand-embroidered-white-matine/ygGhxuV7-TXZXg

For the summer bath robe–that shapeless, comfortable garment which no wardrobe should be without—there is no better material than terry. Originally and strictly, terry was a silk or woolen fabric with loops uncut. Probably most of the terry seen in bath robes has had little acquaintance with the silkworm or the sheep. But however cottony the cheap varieties are, they are admirably adapted to the summer bath robe. It comes in all colors and combination of colors. There are delicious yellows, pale blues, tender pinks, stripes as admirably blended as the rainbow’s, to say nothing of pure white. All of these wash well, as every one knows who has seen the borders of Turkish bath towels come clear and unclouded from many scaldings. The goods cost from thirty cents a yard up, according to width and quality. Six yards of the wide variety or eight of the narrower will make a bath robe.

Japanese dressing gown, 1900 http://www.mfa.org/collections/object/womans-dressing-gown-439859

In gowns that are less openly utilitarian, the Japanese ideal still prevails. You may spend fifty dollars on a kimono of peach bloom silk crape, with silver traceries upon it; or you may expend seventy five cents upon a blue and white cotton crape a size or so too large for you—or for any normal woman—and therefore reduced in price. Half an hour given to turning up the hem and shortening the loose sleeves will make it wearable.

Kimono dressing gown 1885 http://fidmmuseum.org/collections/womenswear/item/80-40-1.html

Between these two extremes, the kimono may be had in every conceivable fabric, no matter how far removed from the Japanese. There are figured lawns and organdies made up in the loose, flowing style. There are white mull kimonos and blue gingham kimonos. There are figured kimonos trimmed with bands of plain goods, and, conversely, there are plain kimonos adorned with figured edges.

Next in popularity to this style, which has a certain quaint prettiness and a great deal of comfort to recommend it, comes the “student’s gown ” style. No mortar board young woman upon a college campus would admit the resemblance between her dignified academic robe and this negligee, but nevertheless there is one.

The student’s gown wrapper is as guileless of fit as the kimono, except at the neck. It is gathered around the neck and half way down the shoulder seams in the back and front, and falls in straight

It has sleeves put into an armhole of more conventional size than the kimono’s, and the sleeves themselves are considerably more modest in their dimensions.

The bath robe crosses in front and is tied in place by a cord around the waist. The kimono also laps one side of the front over the other and holds itself together, if its wearer is orthodox, by a broad sash, and by a brooch or button if she is not. The student’s gown wrapper fastens down the front with a succession of ribbon bows.

All of these, however, are for the inmost privacy of one’s room. One of the ways, it may be mentioned, by which a negligee reveals its wearer’s character is the time and place where it is worn. The woman who is not able to resist its allurements when she emerges into the public part of her house, or who receives in it, has written herself down as unmistakably as the woman who comes into a hotel dining room wearing the garment known as a tea gown.

Liberty tea gown in pale peach, 1885 http://www.metmuseum.org/art/collection/search/158314?sortBy=Relevance&ft=aesthetic+dress&offset=20&rpp=20&pos=36

This tea gown has, however, its place in the well-regulated wardrobe. It is not a garb, as the initiated have sometimes supposed, for receiving guests at teas or for wearing on one’s day at home, but it is a cross between the bedroom gown and the regular skirt and bodice in which one fronts the world. If one is very tired, one’s family will forgive a tea gown if it is pretty and the dinner is strictly a family affair—at the dinner table. One‘s intimate friends, calling at an unexpected hour, may be received in it in one’s own rooms. It is the half way gown.

It must fit more closely than the less formal negligees, but it is still easier to wear than a skirt and waist because it has no bands, and as a usual thing it makes no attempt to fit tightly at the waist. The back may be plain or full. The front is almost always full. There is generally a loose girdle fastening the front down.

A particularly pretty gown of this sort was made of striped Japanese silk, in pale lavender and green. There was a pointed yoke of coarse white lace laid over lavender silk in both back and front. In the back a triple Watteau pleat started from the point of the yoke. The sides of the gown fitted smoothly to the figure, and the front was gathered fully into the yoke. A girdle of lavender velvet, starting under the Watteau pleat in the back, crossed the sides and front, and fastened on the left side with a large upright how. The yoke, the belt, and the bow gave almost the effect of a waist, without any of its discomforts.

Simpler and even more effective in this regard was a gown of old rose China silk. In this the fullness in the back began at a high, Empire waist line, while the sides were fitted and the front fell loose from the neck. An Eton jacket of cream lace covered the back down to the fullness and came far enough across the front to give the effect of a folded vest to the drapery there. A girdle of cream lace, crossed in two bands, confined the fullness at the waist.

The lace Eton jacket, either sleeveless or sleeved, is admirably adapted to transforming a loose silk wrapper into a garment of some dignity and formality.

A white lawn wrapper with insertions of black lace in the front and across the deep flounce which finished the gown was rendered extremely chic by a sleeveless bolero of black lace, while a bolero made of alternate stripes of white lace insertion and blue ribbon gave a touch of formality to an otherwise extremely simple blue lawn robe.

The matinée is the tea gown cut off a little below the waist line. It fits about the shoulders; it has a close back or a Watteau back; it has a jabot of lace, or a hand of insertion, or a bunch of ribbons down the front. Sometimes it is an abbreviated kimono, though this is really more of a combing jacket than a breakfast sack.

Lady’s Morning Jacket or Matinee, 1903 https://www.google.com/culturalinstitute/beta/asset/ladies’-morning-jacket/AQFKK6MkmEVO0Q

A really charming matinée was made of “ all over ” white embroidery. It had a fitted hack and a full front, fastening on the left side. There were short under arm seams, so that the front had the bolero effect. These were edged with a double frill of white footing. The neck was cut off sharp in front

And edged with footing, while in the back a graduated Elizabethan collar rose. This was of doubled material, wired, so that the proper flare was obtained, while the wire was removable, so that there was no trouble with proper laundering.

Some exquisitely pretty morning sacks are made very simply of lawn or organdy. They have groups of fine tucks down the half fitting back, while the front is tucked ear the top instead of being gathered. The neck is slightly sloped in front, and a double ruffle of the lawn, edged with narrow Valenciennes, outlines the neck and the front.

Very plain jackets of white lawn are made to seem elaborate by fastenings of ribbon bows and by fichus of net draped  around the neck.

In the realm of bedroom shoes there are all sorts of fascinations. There are cool sandals of woven straw, lacing in true Greek style between the ties and strapping around the ankle. These, except for the faddists who believe in bare feet, are only to make the morning journey to the bathroom.

There are heelless slippers, and slippers which are half heels. There are shoes that come well over the instep, and shoes that barely cover the toes. There are Turkish slippers barbarically embroidered and felt slippers Puritanically plain.

If a woman is extremely fastidious and has plenty of money or of time, she may have her bedroom shoes to match her bedroom gowns. Plenty of time is said advisedly, for it is as possible for the possessor of this valuable commodity to make her own slippers of quilted silk or satin or terry as it was for her to crochet the pink and blue slippers of a decade ago. The soles, either with or without heels, may be bought, and for the rest, time, patience, and a good pattern are all that are necessary.

In winter the best shoes are those which are lined and bordered with fur, and which come up well over the instep.

In summer, smooth silk, quilted or plain is better, and lower vamps are of course in order. Indeed, for summer nothing prettier can be imagined than the shoe which consists only of a heel and sole with a small upper in front only, into which the toes may be thrust rather for the purpose of keeping the shoe on than for protecting the feet. These may be bought in leather of every color and in several colors of silk; or they may be made to order to match any silk negligee.

The fur border which is such an attractive part of the winter bedroom shoe loses its charm in the spring, when the severe finish of a heavy silk cord, or the frivolous one of a pleated satin ribbon, becomes more seasonable.

The Puritan, Vol. 8 1900: pp. 363-368

Mrs Daffodil’s Aide-memoire:  Mrs Daffodil really has nothing to add to this exhaustive excursus except to applaud the notion that the negligee reveals the character and to shudder at the depravity of the “woman who comes into a hotel dining room wearing the garment known as a tea gown,” that garment noted for its acquaintance with the hurly-burly of the chaise-longue…

 

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.

Dressing on $50 to $200 a Year: 1898

DRESSING ON $50 TO $200 A YEAR

By Emma M. Hooper

It is becoming an almost universal practice for husbands to allow their wives, and parents to make their daughters, a fixed allowance for their clothes and personal expenses, consequently the question has arisen as to how the best results may be obtained from the expenditure of a stated sum of money. Every woman should know how to spend money to the best advantage, but this she cannot do unless she is trusted with a certain sum at regular intervals—which sum, of course, must be largely dependent upon the income of the breadwinner of her home.

For the matron or young girl with fifty, one hundred or two hundred dollars a year, or, perhaps, even less, there must be a great deal of planning if the sum is to cover the necessary outlay for the year. It is for just such women that I have prepared this article.

DRESSING ON FIFTY DOLLARS A YEAR

For the muslin underwear all trimming, unless it be a crocheted or knitted thread edge done at odd times, must be omitted. Unless one is very hard on her clothes, which is usually another name for carelessness, three sets of muslin underwear added each fall to the supply on hand will answer every purpose. The material for these will cost three dollars. Two sets of wool and cotton underwear for three dollars should also be added; they will, with care, last two winters. The next year buy four cotton vests at twenty-five cents, thus alternating the expense.

A Seersucker petticoat may be bought one spring for seventy-five cents, and two white muslin ones the next for a dollar and twenty-five cents, so I will count in but one dollar for the yearly average. A black alpaca petticoat for two winters will cost a dollar. It may need a new ruffle the second year. Two heavy flannel skirts may be had for a dollar and a half, and two light ones of flannelette for ninety cents. These should last three years by making them with a tuck to let out as they shrink. Only a third of this combined expense should be charged to each year, and always arrange so that these articles are not needed the same year. The woman dressing on the sum of fifty dollars must be a manager and able to do her own sewing, or she will utterly fail to make the good appearance which every woman desires to make.

ECONOMY IN SMALL BELONGINGS OF DRESS

Six pairs of hose at a dollar and a half, and two pairs of shoes at two dollars and a half must keep her shod, and this will probably mean mended shoes before the year is out. A corset at one dollar and a half may be worn a year. A pair of rubbers and parasol one year, alternating with an umbrella the second, the three costing two dollars and a half for each year. A winter jacket at eight dollars and a spring cape at three, must last three years, so I will count in the yearly average expense for wraps as four dollars, as each garment may need a little new trimming or renovating of some sort. Two pairs of gloves, cotton and kid, and a pair of mitts crocheted by the wearer will cost a dollar and a half. A new hat, and an old one retrimmed each year, will mean five dollars, and it will also mean that recurling of feathers, steaming velvet to freshen it, and the cleaning of ribbons and lace must not be numbered among the lost arts, for such accomplishments prove a great saving to the woman with small means at her command.

WHEN BUYING DRESSES, SKIRTS AND BODICES

In the line of dresses I allow two new ginghams and two cotton shirt-waists each spring, at a cost of three dollars for the materials. A Swiss or organdy, with ribbon belt and collar, every second summer, will be four dollars. A silk waist every second year will be four dollars; it will alternate with the best thin summer gown. A cheviot or serge dress in the fall will cost ten dollars with linings, etc., and will bear wearing for two years. Try and have a new fall gown one year, and a woolen one for the spring the succeeding year. A black alpaca skirt for four dollars will wear for two years. This makes a total of forty-six dollars and eighty cents, leaving a small margin for making over a gown, and for handkerchiefs, ribbons, veils, collars, etc.

These small things add much to one’s appearance, and need not be over an ordinary grade, but they should be fresh and bright. Iron out ribbon collars and veils when wrinkled, and they will last longer.

WITH LESS THAN FIFTY DOLLARS

Dressing on fifty dollars a year requires careful economy, but what about the thousands who have less than fifty dollars a year for personal use? It means well-worn and carefully mended garments, and a new wrap only once in four or five years, and a very simple hat in two. One woolen dress at ten dollars must last three years. Among inexpensive dress goods it is well to remember that serge and cheviot give the best wear. Two gingham gowns will be two dollars, and two shirt-waists seventy-five cents; a crash suit for summer, lasting two years, a dollar and a half; a couple of heavy ginghams for housework in the winter, a dollar and sixty cents; six pairs of hose, a dollar and a half, and two pairs of shoes, five dollars.

Three sets of unbleached muslin underwear will be two dollars and a half, and two sets of merino, vest and drawers, two dollars; the latter must wear for two years. A seersucker petticoat made in the fall will be heavy for winter, and washed thin for the summer, at a cost of sixty-five cents. Two flannelette skirts for sixty cents, and two red flannel ones for a dollar and forty cents will wear two years, leaving half of that amount to be charged to each year. Count five dollars a year toward a wrap once in four years, and one new hat a year. Allow three dollars a year for a pair of rubbers, leather belt, handkerchiefs and gloves, and a dollar and eighty-nine cents for renovating a gown of last year, and an average of thirty dollars is reached.

Save at least a dollar and have some magazine to brighten your lives, even if it means extra darns or patched shoes, for the brain craves food, as well as the body, clothing.

DRESSING ON A HUNDRED DOLLARS

This seems like untold wealth after the smaller income, but the girl or woman having one hundred dollars a year, and indulging a craving for amusement, will soon find it slip away unless she is very careful.

With this amount prepare the muslin underwear, sets of drawers and vests, cotton vests, petticoats, flannel and flannelette skirts, as described in the outfit for fifty dollars. To the six pairs of hose add two pairs of tan-colored to wear with russet shoes in the summer, adding shoes at two dollars, to two pairs for five dollars, allowing two dollars for hose. Corsets, a dollar and a half; rubbers, fifty cents. Parasol one year and umbrella the next will be two dollars yearly.

Every two years buy a winter jacket at eight dollars, and a light wrap for four, making a cost of six dollars per year. Two pairs of kid and two pairs of silk gloves will be two dollars and a half, and I will allow six dollars for millinery. Ten dollars is not too large a sum to allow for the many little accessories that add so much to a toilet, as collars, ribbons, belts, cravats, handkerchiefs, etc. Five dollars may be laid aside for the remodeling of last season’s gowns, and five more for the church donation and some especially-prized paper or magazine.

JUDGMENT IN BUYING DRESSES AND SKIRTS

In the spring a jacket suit of serge with a silk front and linings will be ten dollars for two years. A crash skirt at seventy-five cents, two shirt-waists within the same amount, and a wash silk waist will be a dollar and a quarter extra. One season have a white organdy gown, and the next a figured dimity, each trimmed in lace and ribbon and costing. five dollars. A less expensive cotton gown will be four dollars, and an added black skirt of taffeta at seventy-five cents a yard, eight dollars, the latter lasting two years and answering for all seasons, as will a neat silk waist at the same price. One new fall suit each year will give a change, as the second winter sees the gown of the first remodeled. Allow six dollars for this each year, as it pays to buy as nice a quality of dress goods as one can afford.

The total now shows an average of eighty-five dollars and a half, and the remainder will be needed for an evening gown for holidays, changing with an organdy. For this price one of China silk at fifty cents, with a velveteen belt and shoulder bows, and lace at the neck, will be the best purchase, and make over for the succeeding year.

As white China silk washes and dry-cleans well it is a useful purchase, lasting two seasons for the evening, and then will answer for the lining of a chiffon waist. The latter would need four yards, at sixty-nine cents, and ribbon belt and collar. By having a white silk and two or more colored ribbon and velvet belts, sashes and collars, several changes may be effected at a small expense. Very pretty sashes are now made of a full width of chiffon or mousseline wrinkled closely around the waist, knotted at the back and allowed to fall in two long ends, which have been simply hemmed and tucked on the lower edge.

WITH TWO HUNDRED DOLLARS

A person with a two-hundred-dollar income should certainly give some of it in charity. If living in the city, five dollars is a moderate sum to allow for car fare, the same for charity, and for the savings box, and another five for the church collection. An occasional concert, visit to the theatre, etc., may be counted as ten dollars, with reading matter and stationery at five. A journey for a short visit comes within the life of many, and can hardly be encompassed under ten dollars. The idea of buying the most expensive clothing in alternate years should be followed with this income, as with the smaller ones. Goods of a better quality may also be purchased with the additional sum. I can only give an average, as one person may visit a great deal, the next one seldom go out; one may be very careful in the care of her clothes, and another be distressingly careless, all of which affects the garment’s wear. With a limited wardrobe avoid striking novelties, startling colors and a large variety of shades. With the two-hundred-dollar income allow for the assistance of a dressmaker, when making the two best suits.

SELECTING THE IMPORTANT ITEMS OF DRESS

A winter coat at twelve dollars, a spring jacket at six, and a fur collar at eight, should last three years, at a cost of a little over eight dollars per year. Twelve dollars will cover the millinery, and six dollars the gloves. Count shoes as two pairs at three dollars, a pair of ties will make eight. A nice winter gown of broadcloth with velvet trimming may be counted for fifteen dollars, and may alternate with a stylish little dress of figured taffeta silk suitable for concerts, dinners, etc., each lasting two years. A black silk skirt, and an evening waist of light silk trimmed with lace, ribbon or chiffon, costing ten dollars each if both are made at home, will make the expense small when divided between two winters.

A dainty tea jacket of cashmere, lace and ribbon, costing three dollars and a half, will last several seasons. An evening gown of white net over percaline, with lace and velvet trimming, may be evolved out of fifteen dollars. Ten dollars will be used for freshening up the gowns of last year, and another ten will go for the little things—collars, cravats, veils and handkerchiefs.

For the spring buy a foulard or light wool gown one year, and a jacket suit of covert, serge or cheviot the next, the latter answering for traveling and outing wear, and the former for church and visiting. These gowns would certainly average twelve dollars each year. A piqué suit at three dollars, a white organdy lined with lawn for six, and a figured dimity for the same would be fifteen dollars. Three cotton shirt-waists for a dollar and twenty-five cents, and one of wash silk would answer for the summer.

In giving prices I take an average obtainable in New York, Chicago and Boston.

SELECTING THE MINOR ARTICLES OF DRESS

Eight pairs of hose for two dollars and a half, an alpaca petticoat with silk ruffles for two, a percaline petticoat for a dollar, and two white ones for two dollars would be a fair supply. Corsets, a dollar and a half; two heavy flannel skirts for a dollar and seventy-five cents, and two of flannelette for a dollar would last two years at an expense of half of that for each year. Four sets of underwear at a cost of six dollars may be allowed, though costing less if made at home. Three sets of mixed wool and cotton will last three years, and cost four dollars and a half. At least two pretty corset-covers for wearing with thin dresses will be a dollar and fifty cents.

Alternate parasol and umbrella at a cost of three dollars, rounding up a total of one hundred and ninety-five dollars. The small amount left is soon eaten up by a gift or two, an extra bit of adornment, such as a fluffy mousseline boa now so fashionable, a new purse, toilet articles, etc. If advice has any weight I would advise saving another five for the savings box, for it is such a comfortable feeling to know that you have even a small sum laid away for a the unexpected that is always sure to happen.

In selecting a wardrobe from season to season try to have a black gown, or at least a black skirt, always ready for use. If of silk, have it gros-grain or taffeta; if of wool, a serge, mohair, Eudora or cashmere. Do not buy in advance of the season, as the goods are then high in price, and beware of extreme novelties at the end of the season; they are too conspicuous to be forgotten.

Another thing to remember is that it costs no more to select becoming colors than others that do not bring out one’s good points. Having a gown made in a becoming style, simple or elaborate, does not increase the expense, or need not if the wearer knows how her gowns should be designed to suit her figure and complexion—the tests. When a limited wardrobe is necessary, avoid too great a variety in coloring, and under all circumstances have one gown of black goods appropriate for all seasons. By having a supply of colored ribbon collars, and one or two fancy vests and belts, this black dress will answer for the foundation of both house and street toilets, and you will always be ready for an unexpected journey, sudden visit or simple entertainment.

The Ladies’ Home Journal, Issue 1, 1898

Mrs Daffodil’s Aide-memoire: Mrs Daffodil really has nothing to add to this exhaustive analysis of dress goods and ribbons except to define “crash” for those unfamiliar with the textile as a light-weight, coarse, unevenly woven cloth of cotton, linen, jute, or hemp.

The advice to frugal ladies to accessorise gowns of a single colour to simulate variety in one’s wardrobe has been repeated ad nauseam in fashion magazines since time immemorial. Mrs Daffodil has taken this good counsel to heart: her entire wardrobe of gowns is of black materials; the restful monotony varied only by aprons of white or black, as required.

Readers will find information on how wealthy ladies spend their dress allowances here.  How much fashionable gentlemen expend on their wardrobes is described here and here. An absurdly expensive bicycle costume is documented here. If one wishes to know what it would cost to be correctly presented at the Court of St James, here are all the details.

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.

 

The Snake Garter: 1897

This was sold as a bracelet, but one wonders if it was a garter. https://www.pinterest.com/pin/397161260861916692/

THE SNAKE GARTER

Strange Fad Adopted by the Society Girls of New York

Snake-lovers are becoming constantly more numerous among women who are at leisure to have fads. The newest manifestation of the strange fancy for serpents is the snake garter, which recently made its first appearance in Paris, and which was sketched for the New York World immediately upon its arrival in this country. A counterpart of this not altogether attractive ornament was first made to gratify the whim of a well-known society woman in Paris. Accident disclosed its possession to one of her friends, who was so delighted with it that the secret of the caprice was soon an open one.

Snake garters were many in Paris the next week. The garter is usually made of gold fibers, cleverly knit together so that the whole is made perfectly flexible. It is long enough to coil twice around the leg just below the knee, and is sufficiently elastic to retain its position.

The snake garter is freed from much of the horror naturally attached to it by the elaborate decorations which accompany it. The head is a knob of jewels of various colors, and a line of tiny diamonds runs from the head to the extreme tip of the tail.

Jackson [MI] Citizen Patriot 14 August 1897: p. 5

Mrs Daffodil’s Aide-memoire:  Mrs Daffodil really does not understand the appeal of reptilian fashion. The average lady would scream or faint in horror and dismay if a genuine snake were to be found writhing about her leg.  Yet we are expected to believe that a bit of plaited gold tinsel and some tawdry gemstones will cause sensibly snake-averse persons to disregard the revulsion they naturally feel for the species and eagerly embrace ophidian accessories more suited to a lady snake-charmer.

Mrs Daffodil has written before about the garter-mounted pocket-book and garter-flask. There were an infinite number of novelties among these nether necessities.

The latest fashionable extravagance among silly city society ladies are garter buckles. A pair was sold in New York the other day that were valued at eight hundred dollars. The Reading [PA] Times 24 January 1889: p. 2

“HONI SOIT” GARTER

London September 30.

Fashion’s latest fad is in the form of garters with a tiny pocket at the back of the knee for a handkerchief or powder-puff. The garters are made of gold or silver tinsel woven in elastic bands. Auckland Star, 10 October 1924: p. 7

The bicycle girl’s garter-buckle is in keeping with her favorite sport; it is of gold, etched with a figure of a girl in knickers on a wheel. Godey’s Lady’s Book July 1897

And, most stunningly, seen at the New York Horse Show of 1912:

The wonderful diamond garter—or what Mr. John R. Townsend called a “leg bracelet,” worn by a very prominent matron, was the sensation of the hour at the Horse Show. It was a broad band of diamonds clasped on the left leg just below the knee. From it hung a two-inch fringe of smaller diamonds. The matron’s skirt was slit up on the side so as to show the garter.

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.

 

Accidental Fashions: 1870s-1905

Princesse de Lamballe, Anton Hickel, 1788, Lichtenstein Museum, Vienna

Princess Alexandra in a porkpie hat, 1860s

ROMANCES OF ACCIDENTAL FASHION

By Grace Aspinwall

Feminine fashions are strange things. They come and go fitfully. and are freakish and unreasonable and mysterious: some of them are deliberately planned by fashion-makers, who earn their bread and butter by beautifying or making ridiculous the women of the age; but in many cases fashions are established by mere accident and the history of these accidents reads like a romance.

Every one remembers how the snood of ribbon wound carelessly about the coiffure became the fashion when that exquisite and unfortunate beauty, the Princesse de Lamballe, having lost her hat while hunting. took her long blue silk garter and bound it closely about her flying locks, tying it with a bow at the side.

She looked so exceedingly lovely when the hunt was over that all the other envious women straightway tied blue ribbons about their coiffures, and the fashion was started which to this day has prevailed at intervals. But the sweet, modern girls who bind up their locks so fetchingly with ribbons never in the least suspect that they are following an accidental mode that originated a century and a quarter ago with a garter.

Another fashion in hair-dressing which started purely by accident was that of the bang. or fringe, as it is always called in England. The Princess of Wales. who is now Queen Alexandra of England, was the unwitting originator of the bang.

It was created in the late seventies when coiffures were exceedingly elaborate and a great deal of “frizzed” hair was worn. The exquisite princess was in the full prime of her loveliness, and, as she always delighted in elaborate coiffures, she used to have a great deal of “frizzing” done.

Her maid was dressing her in a hurry one day for some occasion for which she was in danger of being late. The maid in her haste used much too hot an iron and burned off a great mass of the princess’s front hair. It was directly in front, and left the hair about two inches long.

The maid was terror-stricken; but the princess, true to her birth and breeding. merely bit her lip a little, and then, smiling gaily said: “Trim it into an even fringe and I will wear it that way. There is nothing else to do, and it really does not look badly so.”

The maid trimmed the burned locks evenly with the shears. and the princess went forth with an entirely new arrangement of hair, one that was without precedent in all history. She looked so distractingly lovely with her queer little straight fringe of hair on her forehead that within a few hours hundreds of women in court circles had slashed off their locks, and lo! the bang was an established fashion that has prevailed with more or less continuity straight down to the present day, and at the beginning of its vogue had a popularity no other mode has ever known.

This same charming princess set the fashion of wearing close-fitting jerseys, which was such a rage in the eighties. She used to be very fond of fishing. and while in the country unexpectedly went on a fishing expedition. Not having suitable clothing for the occasion, the princess sent her maid to a little shop to buy some sort of coat to take the place of her tight gown. The maid brought back a man’s small, closely knitted jersey, very long and shapeless.

Queen Alexandra, when Princess of Wales, wearing a nautical costume.

First Aid to a Good Figure.

Any one but the ingenious princess would have thought the garment impossible: but not so this stylish. adaptable woman who had a genius for dress. She held up the long, shapeless garment, which was about six inches wide, and laughed merrily over it. and when she appeared ready for the fishing she looked like a sylph. The tight jersey, stretched over her truly beautiful figure, revealed all its bewildering loveliness —arms and graceful bust and slender waist all showing oft’ to amazing advantage.

She wore it over a short silk petticoat. and it gave her an idea which on her return to London she immediately had carried out. and the whole fashionable world responded to the charm of the fashion that she thus created. The tight-fitting jersey, revealing with complete frankness every line and curve of the figure, enjoyed popularity for a period of ten years, and was “the rage” for over six years. Like the bang. it was utterly different from anything else ever seen in the history of fashion.

Princess Alexandra in a porkpie hat, 1860s

The little scrap of a hat which came into being in the late sixties. which the English later named quite appropriately the pork-pie hat, was made fashionable accidentally by that singularly beautiful woman. the Comtesse de Castiglione, who was said to be the loveliest of all the lovely women of the Second Empire.

The countess had been out in the country near St. Cloud, on a sort of court picnic in the forest there. Everybody in the party had been very gay, and the gayest of all was the countess.

She had her little dog with her, a young King Charles spaniel; and. while the countess was amusing herself, the puppy amused himself by chewing off the wide brim of her leghorn hat. He left only the little flat crown, with its trimming of roses.

The countess treated the accident with the utmost gaiety, and declared she would wear the hat back to Paris just as it was; and, true to her word, she perched it at a rakish angle on the front of her elaborate coiffure and entered Paris so.

All who saw the beautiful woman of title immediately fancied that a new fashion in hats had arisen. and they straightway ordered just such tiny chapeaux to be made. No one was more amazed than the countess herself when she saw the result of her escapade, and she was reluctantly forced to wear a style which she did not care for at all, but for which she was involuntarily responsible. The Empress Eugenie, who was always jealous of her, refused to wear the tiny hats; but they had a great vogue in spite of this, and in England they were the rage for over two years.

Not Empress Eugenie, but a reasonable likeness of the Garibaldi

The Empress Eugenie was responsible for more fashions probably than any other woman in history, but she planned them deliberately and made them the mode. There were a few things, however, that she created accidentally, with no idea of sending forth styles for the world.

One of the most famous of these accidents was that of the “Garibaldi.” which was a vivid orange-scarlet flannel jacket. which became suddenly the fashion. and was worn with great favor in England and America.

The empress was one day in the royal nursery, playing with the prince imperial. She became greatly absorbed, as this was the only time for perfect freedom that the empress ever had, and she used to “let herself go.” and, for a time, forget her cares and troubles, and the pomp and circumstances of court life.

The two got into a regular romp at playing soldier, and the empress playfully declared that she was a British soldier, and. seizing a piece of scarlet flannel that lay on one of the royal nurses‘ sewing-baskets, threw it about her shoulders, tucked it under her arms to resemble sleeves, and thus simulated a British redcoat.

Soiled Gown Set a New Style.

One of her intimate ladies in waiting came in during the affair, and, seeing the empress flushed and exquisitely beautiful, and wearing what she thought was a brilliant scarlet morning jacket. went immediately and had one made, and told all her friends to do likewise. The fashion took like wildfire, and, as Garibaldi was just then the European hero and always wore a red flannel shirt, it was straightway named for the Italian patriot, and the empress herself afterward greatly favored the fashion and wore over her cambric morning gowns a scarlet Garibaldi.

Empress Eugenie and Her Ladies, Winterhalter, 1856

Another of the empress‘s famous “accidents” was that of decorating ball frocks with roses or other flowers, caught carelessly here and there about the skirt. She had just received from the imperial dressmaker an exquisite robe of the sheerest stiff white gauze, trimmed with lace. Some state affair was to take place at the Tuileries that evening.

The gown was an exquisite creation with lace frills and many flounces. As her women were dressing her before the mirror, the empress upset a large bottle of dark-colored perfumery on the dressing-table. It splashed in great blotches over the dainty, gauzy skirt, and left marks in several places. For a moment she was in despair. When she had planned a certain gown for an occasion she could never be reconciled to the wearing of any other. It looked as if the gown was hopelessly ruined, and it was one that had particularly pleased her, as it set off her singular loveliness to perfection.

Quick as a flash, an idea came to her, and from a vase of roses on the table she seized a number of the blossoms and, stripping the stems and leaves from them, directed her maids to loop up the soiled flounces and lace, and over each looping to pin a beautiful great rose. They were thus scattered here and there about the skirt in a charmingly careless fashion that was very beautiful. The empress was delighted; she went to the ball in a kind of gown that was immediately copied, and scattered roses and festooned flounces became the mode.

A Jersey Lily; Lily Langtry as painted by John Everett Milais, Jersey Heritage; http://www.artuk.org/artworks/a-jersey-lily-137280

Mrs. Langtry, years ago. unconsciously set a fashion which has become an established form for arranging the necks of evening gowns—the V-shaped décolletage. It was when she first went up to London from the island of Jersey as a young bride. She was very poor and had but one black gown. Her beauty was so compelling and wonderful that some English society women took her up. They invited her to dinner, but she had no evening gown. She said nothing, however, but with the scissors clipped out the sleeves of her one black gown, slit down the bodice back and front, and turned it away in a deep V, thus revealing the most beautiful back and the most beautiful throat and arms that the world has ever seen. The display was generous and her beauty was dazzling. She created a great sensation and no one dreamed that her gown was not a professional creation.

The next evening she was invited again to a great reception, at which the then Prince of Wales was present. He was instantly charmed, and so eager were people to see the new beauty that they stood on chairs and pulled each other’s clothes in their utter forgetfulness of propriety, From that moment the V-shaped décolletage became the mode, and the island beauty was named the Jersey Lily.

The Scrap Book, Volume 9, May, 1910: pp. 702-704

Mrs Daffodil’s Aide-memoire:  Modern royalty avails itself of “stylists,” and this sort of happy accident is rare. Popular singers and denizens of “reality television” are more apt to set the style, albeit generally a vulgar one. Still, royalty has its imitators: the tabloid press breathlessly reports on where the Duchess of Cambridge purchased a particular frock and how much was paid for it, as well as where Prince George’s sailor-themed jumper may be had. It all has rather a commercial flavour, like what is called “product placement” in the advertising profession.

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.

 

Economy in Dress an Art: 1889

Make-do and Mend.

WHAT ECONOMY MEANS.

[Dinah Sturgis in Dress.]

Economy is a good deal a matter of habit, and one that is more honored in the observance than in the breach. Those who do not need to count the cost of what they have are a small, a very small, minority. But too many think economy only a bore, when it is in reality an art.

Being economical does not mean going without. It means managing thriftily—so ordering one’s expenditures that each dollar spent shall bring its full value in return. It does not pay to struggle with a mob of people for a half or a whole hour to get some handkerchief for twelve cents that may be had at the next corner in three minutes for twelve and a half cents; nor has one any moral right to ask or expect to get two dollars’ worth for one dollar. But one has right—indeed, it is a duty—to ask full value in return for one’s money. What is economy at one time and for one person is dire extravagance under other conditions. All one’s powers of judgment and fair-sightedness must be laid under tribute to keep one off the rocks of extravagance and niggardliness. This last is a very mild name for the quality of mind that is willing to enrich its material self at the expense of poor workwomen or workmen.

In the matter of a wardrobe, as in all else, true economy is based upon getting the best qualities of materials at the outset. The best is the cheapest in the long run, but the best is not always the highest priced. Fancy fabrics bring the highest prices, but these are usually short-lived in favor and often they are not at all durable in texture. She whose purse is limited will be best dressed if she confines her purchases to standard fabrics, depending upon cut, finish and fitness, and not upon extreme novelty, for style. Having the latest “fad” in dress is an expensive hobby that in no way compensates for the lack of the sterling qualities of appropriateness and becomingness. One who cannot keep pace with fashion’s scouts will save herself much heart-burning by not entering the competition. One is never “out of the fashion” who is becomingly dressed in unobtrusive styles. Pronounced styles must be renounced the instant they become unfashionable, else the wearer is rendered conspicuous, something the woman of refinement always avoids.

Nothing is cheap that one does not want, but it is economical to look ahead, and to buy with an eye to the future. If one finds between two seasons, selling at less than the regular price, just what she is going to need later on, it is a legitimate bargain that she has every right to accept. It has nothing whatever in common with the “bargain” hunting that throngs the counters of largely advertised shops, with women tumbling over one another to get the sop thrown to them in the shape of worthless three-cent trash. While people are crowding in at the front door of shops to secure the “wonderful bargains slightly damaged by fire, water and smoke,” not infrequently the shopkeeper is bargaining with some agent at the back door to supply cheap grades for this “drive” as long as it lasts. Truly there are bargains and bargains.

A few well-made clothes of good quality are far preferable to twice the number of poor quality. Economy has to do not only with providing clothes at the outset, but with caring for them properly afterward. An article of clothing carefully kept will outlast any two that, when they are found to be going, are allowed to go. Sponging, pressing, new braid, and some little alteration, such as redraping, the addition of new vest, collar, cuffs, etc., will give a new lease of life to a gown thought to be quite passe. When a waist is too far gone to be of any more use, and the skirts are good or may be made good by the changes already suggested, there are the pretty plaited, smocked, or tucked blouses to be brought to one’s notice. These may be of inexpensive cashmere, or of expensive silk, according to one’s purse; the point of consequence is that they shall be suitable in texture, color and style.

The makeshifts of women-students, who in order to go on with their work must sacrifice every available penny of their slender incomes, would, if written out, make interesting studies in economy. From the music-student, who washes her own handkerchiefs, and dries and irons them by stretching and pressing them on a marble table, to save on her laundry bill, that she may hear the Gotterdammerung, to the art student who buys soiled white slippers at quarter-price, and turns them into respectable black ones with a bottle of liquid dressing, that she may have something to wear with her many-times renovated black-lace dress when she is asked to meet the artist of high degree, there are doings, often funny, often pathetic, that milady in her boudoir, who thinks economy means merely a jewel less, does not dream of. But it is well she should know about them. Perhaps it will make her more tolerant to know that the gods have not been so generous to everybody as to her own sweet self.

One is never at a loss to put what she has learned or evolved of economical devices to use. It is well to know, whether one is remote from the professional cleaner or has too few ducats to employ him, that silk ties, light gloves, slippers, etc., may be easily cleansed by washing them in naphtha. The cost is but a tithe of the cleaner’s prices. One needs only to know that the liquid is very volatile and very inflammable. Hence but a little of it should be poured out of the bottle at a time, keeping it tightly corked in the meantime, and it should be used out of doors or in a room where there is no fire or lamp. Gloves should be put upon the hands, and the hands then washed in the liquid, rubbing the soiled places lightly. A few hours’ exposure to the air, of articles thus cleaned, will remove every trace of odor. Feathers may be recurled, with a little patience and a knitting needle. Soiled white feathers may be cleansed by washing them in the lather of white curd soap, and dried by shaking them before the fire; they are then ready to curl, done by drawing each thread over a knitting needle. It sometimes saves a few pennies to know that wrinkled but unworn canvas out of old skirts, etc., may be restored to usefulness by sponging it clean and ironing while damp; the pressing with a hot iron restores its stiffness. One’s “good” gloves may be made to last as long again as they usually do others are substituted in their stead rainy-day wear, shopping, etc.; and these second rate gloves need not be depressingly shabby either. Naphtha will cleanse them when soiled, and a little care will keep them neatly mended, and provided with buttons. Thread of the same shade as the kid should be used in mending gloves. Ripped seams need only to be neatly oversewed, but when the kid breaks away oversewing the edges together does not answer; the edges of the break should be button-holed around in fine, even stitches, using a very fine needle, and then worked back and forth in “lace” stitches, drawing the button-hole stitches together, making a “tidily darned place.” The better to strengthen the place, when the kid has already proved to be rotten, put a piece of fine court-plaster, rather bigger than the spot, over it on the under side of the glove. A glove thus mended will give no further trouble—in the same place, at least. Soiled  places on white wool garments may often be entirely removed by rubbing them with Indian meal. Pour a little meal over the place to be cleaned, and rub it lightly with a clean, soft cloth, using fresh meal from time to time, then shake off, and dust the spot with a clean cloth.

One’s peace of mind is so disturbed by the consciousness that she looks shabby that it is of no small importance that the evil day should be warded off. Frequent sponging in ammonia and water will keep one’s black frock and coat, that are trying to shine, in subjection, and also remove spots that come by accident, but which no ordinarily neat person can allow to remain. The shabbiest boots look comparatively elegant if they are kept blacked, supplied with buttons, and free from rips. These last, when sewed up, should be stayed upon the wrong side, a bit of black velvet answering well for the purpose. The bonnet that is gray with a season’s accumulations of dust, and flaunts its dismantled plumes to one’s chagrin, will take on an air of positive elegance if the trimmings be taken off, the felt sponged (with the grain of the felt,) the velvet steamed and brushed, the ribbon turned and pressed, and the hat or bonnet retrimmed, omitting the plume if it is past being an ornament. Trimming, once nice but grown tawdry, spoils the effect of the handsomest material and should be taken off bonnet, wrap, or frock as soon as it reaches that condition.

Once more, economy is not a synonym for poverty; it is the hand-maiden of rich and poor alike. Being economical means making the most of one’s resources, selecting and arranging materials to bring the most generous returns for one’s investments, be they much or little. Economy is not an independent art; it depends for its best results upon one’s general knowledge of ways and means.

The Eastern Star, Volume 2, June 1889

Mrs Daffodil’s Aide-memoire: The authoress (and one suspects that she was born under a less elegant name) is not persuasive that economy is an art form with all of her turnings, and spongings, and pressings, not to say marble-topped tables full of sodden handkerchiefs. It all sounds unutterably dreary and Mrs Daffodil speaks as one who grew up with such dismal economies and found them useful in her career as a lady’s maid. Naphtha in particular, leaves a Smell, no matter how well-aired and one cannot depend on some careless flat-mate not leaving the cork loose and then lighting the gas…

‘Another Camphene Horror. —’A daughter of Rufus S. King, 770 Greenwise street, New York, was dreadfully burnt on Saturday night. She called on a lady, whom she found cleaning her gloves with camphene, and rubbing her own gloves with the liquid, went to the fire to dry them. Her clothes instantly took fire, when she threw her arms around the lady, and they fell upon the floor. A servant girl had the presence of mind to roll the carpet around Miss King, by which her life was saved, though her hands will never be capable of use. The Liberator [Boston, MA] 1 March 1850: p. 3

“Hand in Glove,” by Elizabeth Bowen, is a cautionary tale about the use of benzine to clean gloves, in the guise of a ghost story.

However, remaking articles of dress does have its satisfyingly creative side, as in this story of “The Dress Doctor,” a lady who made her living from remodelling garments. 

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.

 

A Chat with a Ladies’ Tailor: 1888

The immaculately tailored jacket of a Redfern riding habit, c. 1885-86 http://collections.vam.ac.uk/item/O117401/riding-habit-jacket-john-redfern-sons/

THE LADIES’ TAILOR

He Discourses on High Art in Woman’s Dress and Mysteries of the Wardrobe.

“It is a good deal more trouble to fit a lady than you would imagine,” said a fashionable ladies’ tailor, as he sat in his elegantly furnished office and motioned to his servant to bring a chair for his visitor, “because, you see, ladies are very peculiar. I have been in this business for years, and have had dealings with every kind of lady in this country and in Europe. How are ladies measured? Well, first they take off their outer waist, leaving their neck and arms bare. Then the fitter measures them from the collar to the waist in the back, the width of the back is taken at its widest and narrowest parts, the front from the base of the throat to the waist, next from the arm to the waist, and then the size of the throat is taken. After that we take the measurement of the bust, waist, and hips. That done, the inside length of the sleeve is taken, and the circumference of the biceps. The measure of the skirt is next taken, up, down and around. Then we have three fittings—first in the rough, second with more perfect linings and lastly when everything is completed.”

Plate 55 from a book on cutting garments for ladies, c. 1901

“Who does the fitting?”

“Men and women. Some ladies will be fitted by none but men. They don’t seem to like women about them. Some don’t like the idea of wearing so few clothes and allow men to handle them. Fitting is a rather embarrassing thing at times, let me tell you. Then women’s vanity keeps a great many from allowing men to fit them, especially where the figure is not well rounded. Most of the ladies wear skin-tight web undergarments, which show all the outlines and yet are not immodest. Good fitters practically command their own prices. They work only during the seasons, which are very short here, and they make $4,000 to $5,000 a year. They are born fitters, just as men are born poets and orators.”

“How do you ‘make up’ a poor figure?”

“That’s an art. For instance, a lady will come who is as thin as a rail, with no bust, no arms, no shoulders. We have to use cotton wadding to supply her deficiencies. That’s where a good fitter comes in. A bungler would make her look lumpy, but an artist in his line turns her out a model. Then suppose a big fleshy lady comes along. She has an immense expanse of breast. Of course that must be broken. We usually break the bodice into four lines by a rever of the same cloth. Your eye can only travel from one line to the other, and before it has passed around all of them the mind forgets to notice the expanse. A perfect plain bodice is very trying, except to a perfect figure. In that event, of course, it only sets it off. It is not often I advise plain fronts, so few can stand them.”

Sacramento [CA] Daily Record-Union 18 August 1888: p. 7

Mrs Daffodil’s Aide-memoire: It is curious, is it not, how much the patterns resemble diagrams either of the solar system or of the London Underground. They come from a 1901 book by a Mr Charles J Stone, entitled, New superlative system of cutting ladies’ garments, based upon a scientific, sure and simple method giving the correct proportions for each type of form of every size, with variations for all kinds of disproportionate shapes and forms.

Note the assurance in the very title of the book. This was not an author given to self-doubt. If one is going to dress like a man, the author seems to say, one must conform to proper, male, scientific standards. As for simple—well—Mrs Daffodil gives an excerpt explaining plate 55.

Explanation of Plate 55

 

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.

 

A Fashionable Woman’s Prayer: 1892

Praying Woman, by Harrison Fisher

A FASHIONABLE WOMAN’S PRAYER.

Dear Lord, have mercy on my soul, and please let me have the French satin that I saw this morning, for, with black lace flounces and overskirt, that dress would be very becoming to me, I know.

If you grant me my request, please let me have a new black silk lace shawl also, dear Lord.

I kneel before Thee, to-night, feeling perfectly happy, for Madame Emilie has sent me home such a lovely bonnet! A most heavenly little bijou! composed of white satin, with coral ostrich tufts. For this favour I am feeling very grateful.

Give me, I pray Thee, a humble heart and a new green silk, with point lace trimmings. Let me not grow too fond of this vain and deceitful world, like other women, but make me exceedingly gentle and aristocratic. When the spring fashions come, let them suit my style of beauty, and let there be plenty of puffings, plaitings, and flounces, for I dearly love them all.

O, Lord, let business detain my husband at ___, for he is not wanted home at present. I wish to beome acquainted with the tall, dark-eyed foreigner who is staying at Colonel Longswallow’s opposite. Bring about an introduction, I beseech Thee, for Mrs. Longswallow will not.

Bless my children, and please send them a good nurse, for I have neither the time nor the inclination to look after them myself. And now, O Lord, take care of me while I sleep, and pray keep watch over my diamonds. Amen.

The Australian Journal, Volume 27, 1892

Mrs Daffodil’s Aide-memoire:  We can but admire the ruthless honesty of the fair petitioner. After all, “And ye shall know the truth, and the truth shall set ye free.” [John 8: 32] It is a rare soul who has such clarity about her own motives. One expects that if the lady’s husband knew her true sentiments or had seen her substantial milliner’s bills, he would, indeed, set her free.

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.