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Terminology: What is cire?

Cire is a highly glazed wax finish applied to fabric through a process of heat and pressure, known as calendering (remember calamanco?) which is giving a wet or polished look. The name can also refer to the fabric or garment with the resultant finish. The process tends to produce a stiffer, crisper fabric per weight. It is sometimes, particularly in interior decorating, called a French wax finish.

The term dates to the 1910s, when high fashion garments played with contrasts in fabric and textures, and the shiny, wet look of cire lent an edgy modern twist to combinations of chiffons and brocades and satin.

Dinner dress, House of Drecoll, 1914—16, French, cire silk satin, silk chiffon, fur, Metropolitan Museum of Art, 2009.300.3317

Cire literally means waxed, so the first references to it are to waxed flowers. This Worth evening coat features “a collar of ruched velvet, tied with two ribbons held by a roundels of satin and wax flowers”.

Adieu! – Manteau du soir, de Worth, plate 28 from Gazette du Bon Ton, Volume 1, No. 4 French, April 1921 By George Barbier, MFA Boston

Cire treated fabrics were popular throughout the 20s, particularly as cire ribbons.

Cire ribbons, Evening Post, 31 January 1922

Auckland Star, 28 October 1930, the hat in the upper right corner (model 3) features cire lace

Cire reached its zenith in the 30s, when frocks in cire taffeta, cire satin, and even cire lace (ah, a time when shiny lace was a virtue!).

A bias-cut black cire satin evening gown, early 1930s, adorned with two large floral rosettes with gold lame centres embroidered roundels to skirt, and attached belt. Augusta Auctions?

A bias-cut black cire satin evening gown, early 1930s, adorned with two large floral rosettes with gold lame centres embroidered roundels to skirt, and attached belt. Augusta

One of the problems I’ve encountered in researching cire is that few museums note if a fabric has a cire finish or not, so one has to search to identify garments in cire, like this Lanvin extravagance of cire satin:

Cyclone, House of Lanvin (French, founded 1889) Designer- Jeanne Lanvin, 1939, French, silk, spangles, Metropolitan Museum of Art, C.I.46.4.18

Cire’s were popular throughout the 1930s, but like many fashions, they fell out of favour or became hard to source during WWII due to wartime restrictions.

c. 1939 Black silk chiffon dress with cire satin collar and rose appliques on the bodice and sleeves, via Past Perfect Vintage

The original cire fabric were created with a wax finish, but with the introduction of synthetic fabrics after World War II themoplastic fabrics such as nylon and polyester were cired without wax, using only heat and pressure.

Despite the ease of treating synthetic fabrics with a shiny, polished finish, the fell out of favour, though cire cottons returned to fashion in the 1950s, 60s & 70s, often called simply ‘polished cotton.’ It’s still possible to buy cire fabric today, though it may be called by a variety of names.

Sources:

Maitra, K. Encyclopaedic Dictionary of Clothing and Textiles. New Delhi: Mittal Publications. 2007

O’Hara, Georgina. The Encyclopedia of Fashion: From 1840 to the 1980s. London: Thames and Hudson Ltd. 1986

Shaeffer, Claire. Claire Shaeffer’s Fabric Sewing Guide. Iola, Wisconsin: Krause Publications. 2008

Cire: Merriam-Webster Online

Rate the Dress: Schiaparelli’s not-shocking pink

Published by The Dreamstress

Last week’s summer suit proved difficult for many of you. You wanted it to be one thing or another, and struggled with the transitional silhouette, neither Edwardian pigeon-breast, nor Empire-Revival, nor later-teens tailoring. Or you struggled with the colour – too neutral, too drab, too boring. Or you struggled with the embroidery – too drooping, too unflattering on a large busted woman (so unfair! Not all dresses can be made for large-busted women! There has to be something for us flatties to wear!). And yet, after listing all the things you didn’t like about it, many of you gave it very high ratings, and it came in 7.4 out of 10. It was an outfit that you liked in spite of yourself.

I had an incredibly difficult time picking something for this week’s ‘Rate the Dress’. My last few picks haven’t been very popular, so I didn’t want to pick something too obviously problematic, but at the same time, there isn’t much fun in showing you one of the historical costuming ‘best-sellers’ that has been recreated half a dozen times, and which everyone already knows and is madly in love with. In my attempts to find the perfect item I ended up with 14 different tabs open, with options ranging from medieval gowns to 1950s evening frocks.

One of my brilliant ideas for a Rate the Dress was something in Schiaparelli’s famous shocking pink. What could be pinker for the HSF pink fortnight, right? Problem: no one can seem to agree on which shade was shocking pink, and none of the things that I thought were the most likely candidates were very interesting.

But I did find this Schiaparelli dress, and it is pink, and it is fascinating:

Evening dress, Elsa Schiaparelli, ca. 1948, French, silk, Metropolitan Museum of Art, 2009.300.2923

In this dress Schiaparelli combines ivory satin and lavender-pink faille into a frock that celebrates the female form and two of Schiaparelli’s biggest design influences: Victorian fashion and Surrealism. The slim silhouette, draping lines and low-bustled back emphasis evoke late 1870s natural-form dresses. The front view, with its curved bottom skirt, give a nod to Schiaparelli’s obsession with lobsters, and the wide stripes hint at the skeleton beneath all the layers of dress and flesh.

The frock is certainly challenging: it’s sweet meets surreal, avant-garde and decadent, all at once. Too much? Or was Schiaparelli up to the challenge?

Rate the Dress on a Scale of 1 to 10.

The HSF ’14: Challenge #9 Black & White

Published by The Dreamstress

The Historical Sew Fortnightly Challenge #9, due Thur 15 May, is Black and White. For this challenge you can make anything in black, or anything in white (and cream, ivory etc.), or (best of all) something in black and white.

I’ll let you find your own black or white inspiration (though my white inspiration post from last year might be a good starting point), and will just share a few of my favourite historical costumes in black and white.

This 14th century illustration shows a strikingly patterned gown in black and white on the far left (2nd from the left is pretty spectacular too!). There are other versions of the image that show the gown in gold and white, but as there are extent woodblock-printed fabrics from a similar period in black and white, it’s plausible that the gown might have been made up in black and white:

St. Ursula and Companions, 14th century, Italian

15th century Netherlandish artists such as Hans Memling made frequent use of the visual impact of black and white, as in this panel from a donor triptych:

Hans Memling. Triptych of Willem Moreel, donor portraits 1484, Ã–l auf Holz, 121 Ã— 69 cm. BrÃ¼gge, Groeningemuseum.

I am fascinated by Maria and her black, white and silver gown. How does it work? Is the black a separate robe fastened over a stiff bodice? Whatever is going on there, it’s certainly striking.

Maria Maddalena Rospigliosi (1645—1695) by Carlo Maratta, ca. 1663

I’m not entirely certain if this court suit is black, but it certainly looks that way on my computer. In any case, how striking is the light embroidery on the extremely dark background? It’s all the grandeur and glamour of 18th century menswear, and all the elegance of Regency menswear.

Court suit worn by Johann Hummel, Uncut voided silk velvet, silk faille, silk embroidery floss, gold & silver embroidery purl & frieze, rhinestone & metal sequins c. 1810-14 Paris, France, FIDM Museum, 2008.947.2A-C

One of my favourite black and white combinations is for ball gowns, because it’s so unexpected. The following dress could be made up in any shade, but I do think black and white would be particularly effective:

Ackermann’s Repository Series 2 Vol 13, February 1822

And how beautiful is black lace over white fabric? Love this!:

Gown worn by Mahala Pillsbury, wife of John S. Pillsbury, to ceremonies marking her husband’s inauguration as the eighth governor of Minnesota in 1876, Minnesota Historical Society

There is some amazing black and white stuff to come out of the 1890s:

Evening Dress, Jacques Doucet, 1890s, The Mint Museum

And, my favourite black & white item of all:

Slip on court shoes by John Thomas for Henry Marshall, 1883 – 1885, Powerhouse Museum, Australia

Oh swoon! I’m just waiting to find a pair worthy of turning in to these!

And the modernist approach in the 1920s also resulted in some beautiful black and white combinations, from graphic:

Cloche, Lichtenstein Label, mid-1920, Balibuntal straw with grosgrain ribbon, LACMA

To sweet:

Dress, Callot Soeurs, late 1920s, The Goldstein Museum of Art