All posts filed under: 18th Century

18th Century Pinks: the 1710s

Getting back to pink in the 18th century, we did 1700-1709, now let’s look at the 1710s. Rather than going from palest to darkest, like I did in the last post, I thought I’d start off with a bang. And by bang, I mean Barbie pink. This post was written by Leimomi Oakes for thedreamstress.com. If it is published somewhere else it has been stolen. Maria Clementina is absolutely 1710s Barbie in this amazing mantua. (side note, the women in this post really do have the best names). I’ve never been a bright pink wearer myself, but if I ever found the correct fabric I would LOVE to recreate Marie Clemantina’s ensemble. Then we have Three Princess: The Barbie Movie: The three portraits are miniatures, which can exaggerate colours, so just to confirm that colour appears in other settings, here’s a significantly more muted portrait, except, that is, for Hedwig’s lining: And why stick to just a lining when you could go for a whole dress? Just in case you are wondering if the paintings …

Waistcoat, 1733–34, probably French, silk, metallic thread, Metropolitan Museum of Art, 1991.220

18th Century Pinks – 1700 to the 1730s

Published by The Dreamstress

Almost every shade of pink possible shows up in extant 18th century garments and portraits. (yes, even hot pink!). Pink was far, far more common in 18th century clothing than purples was.

Two women in 18th century dress stand in front of a fence. Behind the fence are a pair of Highland cattle.

Georgian Frolics in the Country

Published by The Dreamstress

A few weeks ago my historical costuming friends and I rented a cottage in the country for our fifth(!) annual Historical Sew & Eat Retreat. On Sunday we took a drive along the back roads in 18th century dress and admired some cows and explored the delightful Hattenburn Gardens. The cows were interested in our grass, but not brave enough to eat it out of our hands… I wore my Extremely Exuberant Amalia ensemble, and Nina wore her just-finished Angelica gown in the same fabric, in a slightly less exuberant colourway. (fun fact: this fabric is made by the same manufacturer as the in/famous Our Flag Means Death breakup robe!) Other than me, it was an Angelica fest. Mme Kez wore the sample Angelica she modelled, and Averil sported another just-finished Angelica, in country appropriate linen, altered to be front fastening with hooks. And somehow we all, excepting Nina, forgot our bust bows. I don’t know how. Mine was sitting on my dressing table, complete with pin, when we got back. The Hattenburn Gardens …