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 Mystery of the Italian Flowers: c. 1900

 

To the Editor of The Sunday Call.

Sir: The accompanying recital of fact is fully vouched for. The part I myself took in the incident—being in Italy at the time, as this story states—is truly described in every particular; the part taken in it by my relative, as mentioned in the story, is presented exactly as she told it to me after my return to America and confirmed by a record made at the time by Mrs. ___, who is also mentioned in the narrative.

The late Wilkie Collins, the English novelist, with whom I was well acquainted and to whom I first related the story (a man, as is well known, who gave much attention during his life to occult subjects), told me at his home in London that he had investigated at least 1,500 alleged instances of supernatural visitations and that this one was the best authenticated of any that had come under his notice. I inclose the names of the persons who had part in this experience. Yours truly,

*____

*Name of writer and names in narrative in possession of The Sunday Call.

Some years ago, in the course of travels which ultimately took me twice around the world, I found myself fin Naples, having arrived there from a leisurely trip that began at Gibraltar and had brought me by

easy stages and by many stops en route through the Mediterranean. The time of year was late February and the season, even for southern Italy, was much advanced; so in visiting the island of Capri (the exact date, I recollect, was February 22) I found this most charming spot in the Vesuvian bay smiling and verdant and was tempted by the brilliant sunlight and warm breezes to explore the hilly country which rose above the port at which I had landed.

The fields upon these heights were green with grass and spangled with a delicate white flower bearing a yellow center, which, while smaller than our American daisies and held upon more slender stalks, reminded me of them. Having in mind certain friends then in bleak New England, from where I had strayed to this land of summer, I plucked a number of these blossoms arid placed them between the leaves of my guide book—Baedeker’s “Southern Italy”—intending to inclose them in letters which I then planned to write to these friends, contrasting the conditions attending their Washington’s birthday with those in which I fortunately found myself.

Returning to Naples, the many interests of that city put out of my head for the time the thought of letter writing and three days later I took a train for Rome, with my correspondence still in arrears. The first day of my stay in Rome was devoted to a carriage excursion into the Campagna, and on returning to the city I stopped to see that most interesting and touching of Roman monuments, the tomb of Cecilia Matella. Every tourist knows and has visited that beautiful memorial, and so I do not need to describe its massive walls, its roof, now fallen and leaving the sepulcher open to the sky, and the heavy turf which covers the earth of its interior. This green carpet of nature, when I visited the tomb, was thickly strewn with fragrant violets, and of these, as of the daisylike flowers I had found In Capri, I collected several and placed them In my guide book, this time Baedeker’s “Central Italy.” I mention these two books, the “Southern” and the “Central Italy,” because they have an important bearing on my story.

The next day, calling at my banker’s, I saw an announcement that letters posted before 4 o’clock that afternoon would be forwarded to catch the mall for New York by a specially fast steamer from Liverpool, and I hastened back to my hotel with the purpose of preparing, and thus expediting, my much delayed correspondence. The most important duty of the moment seemed to be the writing of a letter to a very near and dear relative of mine in a certain city of New England, and to this I particularly addressed myself. I described my trip through the Mediterranean and my experiences in Naples and Rome, and concluded my letter as follows:

“In Naples I found February to be like our New England May, and in Capri, which I visited on Washington’s birthday, I found the heights of the island spangled over with delicate flowers, some of which I plucked and inclose in this letter. And speaking of flowers, I send you also some violets which I gathered yesterday at the tomb of Cecilia Matella, outside of Rome —you know about this monument, or, if not, you can look up its history and save me from transcribing a paragraph from the guidebook. I send you these flowers from Naples and Rome, respectively, in order that you may understand in what agreeable surroundings I find myself, as compared with the ice and snow and bitter cold which is probably your experience at this season.”

Having finished this letter, I took from the guidebook on “Central Italy,” which lay on the table before me, the violets from the tomb of Cecilia Matella, inclosed them, with the sheets I had written, in an envelope, sealed and addressed it, when it suddenly occurred to me that I had left out the flowers I had plucked in Capri. These I recalled, were still in the guidebook for “Southern Italy,” which I had laid away in my portmanteau as of no further use to me—accordingly I unstrapped and unlocked the portmanteau, found the guidebook, took out the flowers from Capri, which were still between its leaves, opened and destroyed the envelope already addressed, added the daisies to the violets and put the whole into a new inclosure, which I again directed, stamped and duly dropped Into the mailbox at the banker’s.

I am insistent upon these details because they particularly impressed upon my mind the certainty that both varieties of flowers were inclosed in the letter to my relative.

Subsequent events would have been strange enough if I had not placed the flowers in the letter at all—but the facts above described assure me that there is no question that I did so, and make these after events more than ever inexplicable.

So much for my own part in the affair—now for its conclusion in New England.

My relative mentioned above was living at this time in a hotel In a New England city where she had a suite of rooms comprising parlor, bedroom and bath. With her was a child of some eight years of age, daughter of a very dear friend, for whom she cared after the death of the mother, some years before. On the same floor of the hotel were apartments occupied by Mrs.__, a woman whose name is well known in American literature and with whom my relative sustained a very intimate friendship. I am indebted for the facts I am now setting down not only to my relative, who gave me an oral account of them on my return from abroad, but also to Mrs.__ , who made and preserved a written record, of them at the time.

About 10 days after I had posted my letter inclosing the flowers from Capri and Rome my relative suddenly awoke in the middle of the night and saw standing at the foot of her bed the form of the child’s mother. The aspect of the apparition was so serene and gracious that, although greatly startled, she felt no alarm. Then she heard, as if from a voice at a great distance, the words. “I have brought you some flowers from W__.” At the next Instant the figure vanished. The visitation had been so brief that my relative, although she at once arose and lighted the gas, argued to herself that she had been dreaming, and after a few minutes extinguished the light and returned to bed, where she slept soundly until 6 o’clock the next morning.

Always an early riser, she dressed at once and went from her bedroom, where the child was still sleeping, to her parlor. In the center of the room was a table, covered with a green cloth, and as she entered and chanced to glance at it she saw to her surprise a number of dried flowers scattered over A part of these she recognized as violets, but the rest were unfamiliar to her, although they resembled very small daisies.

The vision of the night was at once forcibly recalled to her, and the words of the apparition. “I have brought you some flowers.”” seemed to have a meaning, though what it was she could not understand. After examining these strange blossoms for a time she returned to her chamber and awakened the child, whom she then took to see the flowers and asked If she knew anything about them. “Why, no.” the little girl replied; “I have never seen them before. I was reading my new book at the table last night until I went to bed. and if they were there then I should have seen them.” So the flowers were gathered up and placed on the shelf above the fireplace, and during the morning were exhibited to Mrs.__, who came in for a chat, and who, like my relative, could make nothing of the matter.

At about 4 o’clock In the afternoon of that day the postman called at the hotel, hearing, among his mall, several letters for my relative, which were at once sent up to her. Among them was postmarked “Rome” and was addressed in my handwriting, and with this she sat down as the first one to be read. It contained an account, among many other things, of my experience in Naples and Rome, and in due course mentioned the inclosure of flowers from Capri and from the tomb of Cecilia Matella. There were, however, no flowers whatever in the letter, although each sheet and the envelope were carefully examined; my relative even shook her skirts and made a search upon the carpet, thinking that the stated inclosure might have fallen out as the letter was opened. Nothing could be found, however, yet 10 hours before the arrival of the letter flowers exactly such aa it described had been found on the center table!

Mrs. __  was summoned, and the two ladles marveled greatly. There was a large educational institution in the city and Mrs.__ suggested that the flowers be offered to the inspection of its professor of botany, a man whose reputation for learning in his department, was international. They lost no time in calling upon him, and the flowers were shown (without, however, the curious facts about them being mentioned), with the request that he state, if it were possible, whence they came. The professor examined them carefully, and then said:

“As to the violets, it is difficult to say where they grew, since these flowers, wherever they are found in the world, may be very much alike. Certain peculiarities of these specimens, however, coupled with the scent that they still faintly retain and which is characteristic, incline me to the opinion that they come from some part of Southern Europe—perhaps Southern France, but more likely Italy. As to the others, which, as you say, resemble small daisies, they came from some point about the bay of Naples, as I am unaware of their occurrence elsewhere.”

The San Francisco [CA] Sunday Call 5 July 1908: p. 2

Mrs Daffodil’s Aide-memoire:  That enigmatic person over at Haunted Ohio has written before of such mysterious floral deliveries in connection with the seance room, where they are called “apports.” Given the regularity with which exotic flowers showered those in attendance, flowers must been a heavy item in a society medium’s budget. The  narrative above, if it is reliable, is much less explicable.

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.

Modern Valentine Flowers: 1911

A violet valentine, courtesy of The Graphics Fairy. http://thegraphicsfairy.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/09/Victorian-Image-Violets-GraphicsFairy.jpg

Costly Flower Valentines

No one welcomes St. Valentine’s day more heartily than the florists unless it is the candy dealers. The modern valentine is a far cry from the lace paper and cardboard affair. Also it costs a lot more than the old-fashioned sort. The old time valentine was often a serious proposition—so serious that the sender never dreamed of inclosing his card, knowing that the recipient would have no trouble at all in guessing where it came from. The average young man sent one a year—that is, if he sent any at all. The modern way is different. Oftener than not the donor’s card goes along with the valentine, and if a leading florist is to be believed one young man will send half a dozen floral valentines.

This is speaking generally, of course. There are exceptions, as, for instance, a young man who the other day placed an order with a florist to be delivered to a certain young woman on St. Valentine’s morning by 8 o’clock. He was particular about the hour, wanting to be first in the field, he said. His valentine was to be of violets made into a heart-shaped design ten inches at its widest part, pierced with a slender dagger of solid gold bought at a leading jeweler’s. This was to be inclosed in a pure white satin paper box, tied with four-inch wide violet satin ribbon. The girl who didn’t like that valentine would be hard to please, the florist admitted, even though the donor’s card did go along.

Carved amethyst violet brooch http://www.bonhams.com/auctions/23504/lot/239/?category=list&length=10&page=25

 

Violets for the Girl

Violets, he said, are a popular valentine for the reason that they are a popular corsage decoration. They mean faithfulness, and it is easy to form them into a heart-shaped bunch. In one case instead of sending the usual long violet pin with the flowers, the florist put in a pin supplied by the customer, made of silver, topped with an enamelled Cupid.

“Corsages are in the lead for valentines, next come boxes of cut flowers, preferably roses, next fancy pieces combining flowers and china or silver or gold—the latter, though, usually going to older women,” said the florist.

“Some young men take the trouble to find out a girl’s pet flower and won’t take anything else. A 10-inch across bunch of lilies of the valley is ordered for one young lady and we have orders for gardenia, camellia, and orchid valentines made up in corsage size.

Pink carnations are the favorites of one young woman who will get two dozen of the finest we can send as a valentine.

“White lilacs are ordered for the valentine of a woman who is devoted to this flower, which is not easy to get at this season. I have the privilege of mixing white and pink lilacs if I can’t get really fine white ones.”

One of the most costly valentines ordered at this store is destined for a widow. This is made of the finest specimens of orchids, the sort shading from pink to lilac. It is a three-story affair, standing when finished about three feet high. The lowest round contains two gilded wicker oval baskets, between which rises a tall gilded rod adorned with two oblong gilded vases one above the other. Baskets and vases are lined with zinc and will hold water. When sent each receptacle will be filled with orchids and orchids will drop from one to the other, practically covering the whole frame.

Another orchid valentine is of the same order, but smaller, consisting of one oval basket with a handle following its widest part, and which covered with orchids gives the basket a two-story look.

China cupid in gondola Bonhams.com

Pink Roses Final.

“Valentines of silver gold or china receptacles filled with flowers did not originate with florists,” a Washington flower dealer said. “I don’t mean large pieces, but dainty, fine, often costly vases and small jardinières which may be used simply as art objects. One of these, in the shape of a gondola, a bunch of cupids sitting in the prow, the whole thing not more than nine inches long, represents a valuable kind of porcelain. I understand, and the article is almost a work of art. This, filled with violets, goes to a lady for a valentine. A silver box with a hinged cover, about 8 by 5 inches and 5 inches deep, was brought in last year to be fixed up with violets for a valentine. It was intended for a jewel box, I believe.

“All sorts of vases in all sorts of shapes are utilized to carry the flower valentine, some of them quite tall and not costly; others smaller and costing a stiff price. These, as a rule, go to older women. When fancy flower pieces are sent to young women the foundation is usually of fancy straw or wood.

“When a man comes in and orders a certain kind of roses and a good many of them sent to a young woman as a valentine I generally take a good look at him, for that sort of order oftener than most others indicates something really doing in the sentiment line. At other seasons to send roses to a girl doesn’t mean nearly so much as when they are sent on St. Valentine’s day. Roses by common consent mean love, and when a man picks out the deepest pink variety in the store—well, as I said before, it usually means something doing. Send his card with it? Yes, indeed.”

The candy dealers, too, have taken to using all sorts of china receptacles filled with bonbons for valentines. Some are low and flat; others two stories high; not unlike an airship, and each when divested of the candy is a pretty ornament for table or cabinet.

One variety of the two-story pattern has a hollow champagne bottle poised aloft and filled with bonbons. The lower part is decorated china and the bottle is removable.

German bisque sleigh and Cupid. http://www.ebay.com/itm/Antique-German-Porcelain-Bisque-Cornucopia-Swan-Sleigh-w-Cherub-Flowers-/142240138203?hash=item211e2c43db:g:qYkAAOSw5cNYG836

In the leading confectioners’ exquisite example of Dresden and of Sevres china shaped as boats, pony carts, wheelbarrows, and automobiles are included in the novel candy holders provided for those able to pay pretty well for a valentine, and though the connection between sentiment and bric-a-brac is not very clear, at the same time this is the style of valentine the up-to-date girl is quite likely to prefer.

The Washington [DC] Post 12 February 1911: p. 6

Mrs Daffodil’s Aide-memoire: Violets, in the language of flowers, mean modesty, love, and faithfulness. If they are white, “candor” or “innocence.”  They have long been a staple of Valentine’s Day; they are also associated with half-mourning. There is a moral there somewhere, but Mrs Daffodil does not care to dwell on it.

One does wonder what the language of flowers has to say about a three-feet-high arrangement of orchids destined for a widow? While orchids signify “beauty” and “refinement” in the language of flowers, Mrs Daffodil associates them with the nouveau riche and “stage-door Johnnies” of the Music Halls. Perhaps the giver of the orchids intends the recipient to exchange her weeds for flowers.

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.