Brunswick Jacket, ca. 1765-75
via V&A
Silk Mitts with Metallic Lace Trim, ca. 18th Century
Worn with the regional costume of Zaans, Netherlands
via MFA Boston
Stays with Adjustable Straps, ca. 1785-90
via McCord Museum
Silver Brocaded Silk Robe a la Française, ca. 1750s
Silver Woven Silk Robe a la Française, ca. 1760-65
Embroidered Muslin Caraco and Petticoat, ca. 1790-1800
via Palais Galliera
It's FRIDAY FASHION FACT! Today's topic is another fantastic example about how fashion was a reflection of society. This is a particularly important example, though, because this fashion reflected the early seeds of feminism, as women fought for the right to an education in an age where they were only allowed to pursue domestic endeavors. We're talking about dishabille.
(Sidenote: This was another section of my masters dissertation, where I also discussed how riding habits reflected another angle of the early feminist movement. You can read my Fact on that here.)
Dishabille, derived from the French word "déshabille" meaning “undressed,” has it's origins as private homewear in the 17th century, yet it first became commonplace as a fashion to be seen when the banyan rose in popularity in men's portraits (read here.) Not long after the style became popular for men, though, women began claiming the trend as their own.
There was a huge range of dishabille among women. It could mean anything from a disheveled look to undergarments and a robe. Sometimes stays were simply loosened, other times women went without stays altogether. A woman might wrap herself in a shawl, or wear an banyan and turban very similar to that worn by men. As with the men, these styles were intended to be worn in private, yet it became a common, and very meaningful, choice for portraits.
Some women may have wished to be depicted in dishabille because it seemed shocking and rebellious. More often, though, it appears as though women wished to display their own intelligence by wearing similar fashions to those worn by male scholars and intellectuals. Women strove to demonstrate that they embraced the pursuit of intellectual endeavors, and were fully capable of achieving academic accomplishments. As with men's banyans, dishabille was a sign of function over fashion. This is emphasized by the fact that over half of all female dishabille portraits depict the sitter with a book in hand, or sometimes a pen. They also are often depicted with a pensive expression. Many of the top members of the Bluestocking Society, an organization which promoted the education of women, were depicted in dishabille. The look was also often melded with classical inspirations, as neoclassicism was simultaneously gaining popularity (read here).
It is important not to confuse dishabille in portraiture with boudoir or toilette genre paintings, which were also common at the time. Those genres were intended to either be seductive images or realistic depictions of everyday life. Dishabille was meant to imply a disregard for high fashion in lieu of more substantive and intelligent pursuits. Of course, as the dishabille style gained popularity into the late 18th Century, women may have begun to choose to be portrayed in such a manner because it became the fashionable thing to do. Additionally, as it gained popularity in portraits, it also gained more popularity in real life. With the help of Marie Antoinette's casual cotton chemise (read here) women began to wear mild forms of dishabille outside the house. Naturally, traditionalist were shocked and appalled by the loose, relaxed fashions. But as we know, the softer styles would eventually take over the formal rococo fashions, and by the end of the century, classicism reigned supreme.
Have a question about fashion history that you want answered in the next FRIDAY FASHION FACT? Just click the ASK button at the top of the page!
India Chintz Jacket, ca. 1770-85
Embroidered Caraco and Petticoat, ca. 1730-50
via Digitalt Museum
It's FRIDAY FASHION FACT! Today's topic is one that every fashion history and costume design student should know. We're talking about the accuracy of dress within portraits. When researching a time period, portraits often seem like an ideal primary source to reference. As with many resources, though, they should be looked at with a discerning eye.
Now let me preference this by clarifying that I am not saying portraits never depict actual garments that the sitter was actually wearing. The vast majority of the time, they do! Just see my post from yesterday, where the dress from the portrait survives, identical to the one depicted. Yet beyond the rarity of a surviving match, we must analyze why this sartorial choice was selected for the portrait. There are several possible reasons the choice (not just in that specific painting) may have been made.
The incredible detail of dress in portraiture, particularly between the Renaissance and Rococo Age, give us stunning glimpses at clothing construction from a time where few garments survive. The detail is so great in some cases, that we can analyze garments down to the stitching and weave of the fabric. However, portraits, especially ones of such high quality, were highly expensive. Only those with significant wealth had the means to afford a portrait. Naturally, they would take this opportunity to show off their finest fashion, particularly in portraits pre-18th Century, such as the first image above. Assuming people always dressed as they did in portraits is not much different than people from the future looking back at our wedding and prom photos and assuming that's what we wore. Yes, we wore those things, but they were far from typical. Like I mentioned in my fashion plate post (here), it could also be like assuming everyone dressed as though they were in the pages of Vogue.
Sometimes, even if a garment actually existed, it doesn't mean that the sitter necessarily owned it, never mind wore it often. A fantastic example is the three portraits above, where the sitters all wear the same elegant blue and silver gown. Art historians believe the gown was owned by one of the women, who lent it to her friends for their portraits (read more about them here). Other times, as shown in the portraits below those three, artists had costume stocks of their own, which they would dress their sitters in (though to be fair, these specific portraits are slightly later than the others we’re talking about today). And then, of course, garments were made or elaborated upon purely out of the artist's imagination. The fabulous Two Nerdy History Girls recently wrote a post about a woman who had her portrait updated a decade after it was painted to depict the new fashionable hairstyle (read here). It just shows that while a portrait may look realistic at a glance, there could easily be aspects that did not appear in real life. This may be the case in the second portrait above, where an incredible amount of ermine is depicted. Yet despite all of this, we can still learn so much about fashion history and even social history from portraits. While a garment shown in a portrait is not necessarily an accurate depiction of dress, it gives great insight into how the sitter would like to be portrayed. We can learn what was a desirable image to project. This could be donning the most formal gowns, but it could also be the opposite. As I mentioned in my banyan post (here), sometimes leisure wear was depicted in portraits, a trend in the 18th Century. Less formal doesn't mean less fashionable. It could prove wealth in other ways, showing that the sitter had the luxury of leisure. It may even show that the sitter had more important things on their mind than fashion.
There are of course countless situations, all about portraying an certain image, and dress was central to that image. A prime example are the bottom three images. These are all self portraits by Angelica Kauffman, painted at different points in her career. You can see how the dramatically different dress in each portrait reflects vastly different self portrayals. Yet we don’t know how often, if ever, she wore each of these looks. All we know is that they embody the image she wished the world to see. In short, as with many things, dress in portraiture should not necessarily be accepted at face value. And if you're wondering how we can figure out what the lower classes wore if only the rich could afford portraits, check out the post here. Have a question about fashion history that you want answered in the next FRIDAY FASHION FACT? Just click the ASK button at the top of the page!
Metallic Lace Trimmed Leather Gentleman’s Shoes with Satin Bow, ca. mid 18th Century
via Bonhams
Velvet and Silk Court Suit, ca. 1760s
via Mint Museum