The Dreamstress

Last week’s Rate the Dress was a cherry-bedecked Worth gown, and while it got a lot of love, the general consensus was that the cherry pattern  wasn’t quite balanced properly across the dress, and the pigeon breast wasn’t entirely working, even if one was a fan of pigeon breasts.  Plus, the sleeves had so clearly seen better days that it was hard to envision exactly what those better days looked like.  So, all these pulled the dress down to a nice-but-not-fabulous 8.1 out of 10.

This week’s Rate the Dress is 110 years earlier than last week’s, an entirely different colour, and an entirely different style of dress, and yet to me there is  an aesthetic resonance between the two.  Something in the back pleats, the very round flowers, and the puffed cuffs its shown with in the fully dressed version make me think of the two dresses together, and so showing you this one this week just makes sense:

Robe à la Polonaise, 1780—85, American, silk, Metropolitan Museum of Art, 1970.87a, b

The Met describes this close-backed 1780s dress of floral silk as a Robe à la Polonaise, and while there is considerable discussion in the historical costuming world if that is the correct term for all dresses with picked up skirts, I’ve left the descriptor as the museum has applied it in this case.

Robe à la Polonaise, 1780—85, American, silk, Metropolitan Museum of Art, 1970.87a, b

The dress features vivid yellow silk, of the shade often described as Imperial Yellow, ornamented with even rows of pink flowers (probably peonies), around which flutter moths and butterflies.  The silk was almost certainly hand-painted in China, and imported into the West.  In Chinese iconography, the combination of peonies and moths symbolises the attraction between men and women, which would certainly give the dress a very flirtatious appeal!

Robe à la Polonaise, 1780—85, American, silk, Metropolitan Museum of Art, 1970.87a, b

The petticoat and front edges of the overskirt are ornamented with self fabric trim with rounded pinked upper edges, and vandyke pinked lower edges, all pressed into crips pleats.

The Met has paired it with an elaborately embroidered fichu, mushroom hat, puffed cuffs, dress cane, and green shoes.  What do you think of the overall style, and the museums styling?

Rate the Dress on a Scale of 1 to 10

Last week, rather than having a standard Rate the Dress, I did my annual Rate the Oscars post.  So we have to go back a fortnight to Henrietta Cavendish Holles, Countess of Oxford, and her blue-striped riding habit.  While some of you really loved it, and most of you agreed that she was wearing it with confidence, the universal opinion was that it just wasn’t working, and the riding habit came in at 6.5 out of 10 – which is right where most of the votes were clustered.

For this week’s Rate the Dress I’ve picked one based on my recent obsession with 1890s-1910s gored skirts, thanks to the Scroop Fantail skirt.  You could get a very similar shape to the dress below from the Fantail by adding a second side gore, and gathering the side and back gores, instead of pleating.  And adding lots, and LOTS of petticoats! (yes, I’ve been looking at museum catalogues for four months while I worked on the Fantail, thinking ‘yes, if you just did x and x very simple  adaptations, you could make it from the Fantail!)

I have mixed initial feelings about this dress whenever I look at it, because I usually hate cherry patterned things because they are such a cliche in vintage fashion.  However, after the initial reaction, I try to do what I always do with period fashions, and envision it within the context of its time: before anything with cherries was an instant cheap, lazy way to make something ‘vintage’.

Evening dress, House of Worth (French, 1858—1956), Jean-Philippe Worth (French, 1856—1926), 1898, French, silk, rhinestones, Metropolitan Museum of Art, 2009.300.1099a, b

The fabric of this dress is warp-patterned silk, and would have been anything but cheap and cliched in its time.  It’s a slightly unrealistic depiction of cherries, showing both the fruit and flower at the same time, but each is depicted with an attention to detail worthy of a botanical print.

Evening dress, House of Worth (French, 1858—1956), Jean-Philippe Worth (French, 1856—1926), 1898, French, silk, rhinestones, Met 2009.300.1099a, b

(can we all pause for a moment of utter happiness while we note that the above photo gives a rare glimpse of how the skirt opens)

Evening dress, House of Worth (French, 1858—1956), Jean-Philippe Worth (French, 1856—1926), 1898, French, silk, rhinestones, Metropolitan Museum of Art, 2009.300.1099a, b

Though the skirt is a classic, timeless style, the  bodice of the dress is very much of its time, transitioning towards the soft frills of the Edwardian styles, and already displaying a pronounced pigeon breast.  Aptly for a ball gown, the dress is as extravagant from the back view as from the front, as that is what would be on display to the room as the wearer  was held for a waltz.

Evening dress, House of Worth (French, 1858—1956), Jean-Philippe Worth (French, 1856—1926), 1898, French, silk, rhinestones, Metropolitan Museum of Art, 2009.300.1099a, b

What do you think?  Is it three cheers for cherries, or all a bit over-ripe? (I should really love fruit-themed historical things.  The puns are all so deliciously (har har) bad).

Rate the Dress on a Scale of 1 to 10