Latest Posts

Rate the Dress: 1870s Japonisme swags & sparkle

I truly never know what you will make of a dress!  I thought that last week’s sheer red aerophane number would be just too wacky.  The 1820s are such a wacky era to start with, and this was a particularly out-there example.  But, while it only managed one 10, the overall reaction was very enthusiastic.  A few of you couldn’t get past the part where our modern mind screams ‘but her undergarments are showing!’ (trust me, that’s not how it would have been seen in period – I think I’m clearly due up to do a whole post about that!), but despite that (I know, it is so hard to stop looking at things from a modern perspective, and try to imagine it in period, I catch myself doing it all the time – like the way I hate fringe 😉 ) it came in at an eminently respectable (heh heh) 7.8 out of 10.

This week I’m staying within the same general colour scheme, and sticking to a fabric with a similar shot effect.

This afternoon or reception dress by New York based dressmaker Martha J de la Mater combines chrysanthemum patterned silk brocade, russet brown shot silk taffeta, bead fringing, and fanciful, almost theatrical, even for the 1870s, skirt draping.

The chrysanthemum patterned silk brocade shows the influence of Japononisme, quickly becoming popular in the wake of Japans opening its borders to the West after centuries  of enforced isolation.  Japanese goods and artwork had been trickling into the West since Commodore  Perry and the Convention of Kanagawa in 1854, and  were prominently featured at the 1876  Centennial International Exhibition in Philadelphia, setting off a huge craze for all things Japanese in America.

The dress isn’t quite complete, as it’s clearly missing its buttons, and would have benefited from a bit more in the way of skirt supports, but hopefully you can look past these to envision it in its prime.

What do you think?  A gorgeous showcase of how up-to-date the wearer was, or a misplaced mania for the newest fad?

Rate the Dress on a Scale of 1 to 10

The Levin Medieval Market thedreamstress.com

The Levin Medieval Market

There aren’t a lot of historical costuming events in New Zealand, and one that I’ve never managed to get to is the annual Levin Medieval Market.  Levin is only an hour and a half up the coast from Wellington, and I (finally) had the weekend free this year, so I decided it was time to go.

I put the word out to friends, and not only did Hvitr & Madame O put their hands up, Hvitr already had a 10th c Viking outfit, and Madame O committed to making a 1360s ensemble like mine if I’d help her with the pattern.  Juliet came down from Palmy, and we four went to the fair!

Very conveniently, Juliet’s parents live in Levin, so we Wellington girls headed off just past 7am (gah), drove up, met Juliet there, got dressed, and then headed out

I was warned ahead of time not to get too excited about how medieval the day would be: I was told to expect standard market fair with the Order of the Boar doing fighting demonstrations and a few other re-enactors.

The Levin Medieval Market thedreamstress.com

I’m really glad I had the warning, because it was very true.  It was a few reenactors, maybe 15 stalls with any real relation or attempt to be anything medieval, 30 stalls with handmade things ranging from fabulous to twee, and another 30 stalls selling imported tat.  And two stalls with plants that Juliet and I drooled over but couldn’t buy for reasons of practicality.

The Levin Medieval Market thedreamstress.com

There weren’t really any reenactors doing anything but battle-y stuff either, which was quite sad.  I would have loved to have seen a tent about food, or textiles and clothing.  (Psst, if anyone involved is reading this, if you’ll give us a tent or pavilion space like the one the musicians have down below, I’ll show up with 3-4 other people in 14th c dress and we’ll sit and sew and do clothing and sewing demonstrations all day!  We could probably even wrangle some food historians to talk about our lunch.)

The Levin Medieval Market thedreamstress.com

Much to my surprise, our group  had the most accurate medieval clothing  of all the women  I saw.  We ran into one person I know could have beaten us, but she’d worn her old first attempt for reasons of practicality.  We were all reasonable beginners in the era, so I was hoping for some really polished, impressive outfits, but alas, either everyone else focuses on other things, or they had all decided to save their outfits for a less hot day.

Even more to my surprise, we didn’t get asked questions about our outfits, or asked for photographs!  There weren’t many people dressed up, but I’ve still never felt more anonymous in period attire.  It was lovely, but very odd.  (I did have a tiny run-in with a costume snark (wearing totally modern cheap polyester clothes, natch) who sniffed because my outfit wasn’t entirely hand-sewn while I was chatting to a Morris dancer about how we were handling the heat while standing in line for the loo.  She then proceeded to declare that the Morris dancers outfit wasn’t right either.  C’est la vie!)

So now, the day in photos!

One of my  favourite stalls was a blacksmith who travelled around in his own caravan-house, with a portable forge, and…

The Levin Medieval Market thedreamstress.com

…wait for it…

The Levin Medieval Market thedreamstress.com

…his pet chickens!

The Levin Medieval Market thedreamstress.com

The chooks got let out of their coop at the market, and just wandered around, foraging in the very nice grass, and being adorable.

The Levin Medieval Market thedreamstress.com

We had lunch very near their stall, so we threw them a few bits from our picnic.

The Levin Medieval Market thedreamstress.com

We brought a full picnic, because while there were food stalls I (wisely) distrusted that they would have eats I would be enthusiast about.

We packed nice cheeses and breads and swamp dragon eggs (green and scaly with big hard round yokes) and fire dragon eggs (green and stripey and bright pinky-red inside) and rhubarb and ginger cordial, and Hvitr got ambitious and made delicious venison pies from a Medieval recipe:

The Levin Medieval Market thedreamstress.com

Yum, yum!

The Levin Medieval Market thedreamstress.com

Madame O bought amazing antique loom drops from when NZ had a larger textile production industry:

The Levin Medieval Market thedreamstress.com

I desperately wanted some (of course!) but couldn’t think what I would do with them.  As soon as I got home I realised I could have used them to make a really neat coat-hanging rack for our entry, which we really need!  Gah!

The Levin Medieval Market thedreamstress.com

Juliet admired beautiful NZ made wool blankets (but it was too hot for them to be really appealing):

The Levin Medieval Market thedreamstress.com

And both Juliet & I bought beautiful hand-whittled wooden spoons from a maker who was sitting there whittling as he sold.  We noticed them early in the day but decided we would come back for them later, and when we did we found the ones we wanted, with spiral handles, had already sold.  Alas!

Maker to the rescue: he took the ones we liked best, and quickly whittled in some spirals for us!  Now we have gorgeous spoons (mine is heading to my parents in Hawaii) and a great story!

The Levin Medieval Market thedreamstress.com

The best part of the market was after lunch, when the events had died down a bit, when we discovered that the horses from the medieval horseback demonstrations were just chilling in little stalls, and we could go pet and cuddle them:

The Levin Medieval Market thedreamstress.com

The Levin Medieval Market thedreamstress.com

The other best part was after the market, when we hung out in Juliet’s mum’s much cooler garden and took pretty pictures:

The Levin Medieval Market thedreamstress.com

The Levin Medieval Market thedreamstress.com

The Levin Medieval Market thedreamstress.com

The Levin Medieval Market thedreamstress.com

We have decided that the day was wonderfully fun, but next time we’re just going to have our own picnic, so we can get up at a more civilised hour, and pick a cooler location (where we don’t have to walk to the carpark).

And I have decided that wimples are where it’s at, because I forgot to apply sunscreen to my chest and got a rather nasty sunburn.  Ouch!

Terminology: Sequins vs. Spangles (& their history in fashion)

When I first became really interested in fashion history in my early teens, and poured over historical costuming books and museum catalogues and saw mentions of sequins and spangles I assumed they were the same thing, and that ‘spangle’ was just a posh term for a sequin.  As I studied textiles in university, and began working for museums, I realised that museums generally use very precise, specific terms (hmmmm…I wonder where my love of terminology comes from!), and that a spangle and a sequin might be  different things.

As  I’ve researched sequins and spangles I’ve realised that the use in terminology is sometimes very specific and precise, and that sometimes the terms are used interchangeably (see: how to make a fashion historian grumpy).

Many costume books use the terms to mean exactly the same thing, as do some museums.  Some sources  that make a distinction  describe a spangle as a sequin with the hole at the top edge, rather than in the centre.  Other sources describe a sequin as any decorative disk, while spangles must be metal – so all spangles are sequins, but plastic sequins (as we get today) are not spangles.  To make things really confusing, some sources say spangles are circular, and sequins can be shaped, and others say exactly the opposite!

Gah!

Which is right?  When in doubt, go back to the history, and work from there.

Spangle  was the English word for decorative metal disks in the 16th-early 19th centuries (and possibly earlier).  In this period these disks were almost always  made by taking a very thin gold (or other metal) wire, and twisting it around a narrow rod to form a very tight spiral coil.  The spiral is then snipped in a line all the way up, so that it falls apart in dozens of C shapes or jump rings, which are hammered flat, with only the tiniest gap at the opening of the C.

The other option for creating a decorative disk is by  punching shapes out of a sheet of metal, and poking holes in the centre.  These  could be created in a variety of shapes (while coiled spangles can only form circles), and had holes only in the middle, with no line or gap, however subtle.  Decorative disks formed in this fashion are usually called  sequins, not spangles.

So, based on historical precedent: spangles are formed by coils and have seams, and sequins are solid disks.  This is the most consistent usage I can find in textile books and museum catalogues but it is no means universal.

Sequin is regularly  used as a generic term for a decorative flat metal disk.  Not all museums make the sequin/spangle differentiation: the Metropolitan Museum of Art, for example,  identified almost all its disk-decorated items as being decorated with sequins, while many of its earlier items almost certainly actually decorated with seamed disks (i.e. spangles).  Spangles are also sometimes used as a generic ‘decorative disk’ term, particularly in British English.  One group that does almost invariably uses the ‘spangles-are-coiled, sequins-are-punched’ distinction is embroiderers.

Historically, I’m able to find instances where both terms are used in advertising from the 1890s to the 1930s, such as this 1901 ad for ‘spangle and sequin nets‘ being sold in preparation for a royal visit to NZ, or this one from 1903, or this one from 1913 (with a fashion image that may show such a net!).  Unfortunately it’s not clear what the difference between a spangle net and a sequin net was at the time.  Both are mentioned in newspaper descriptions of garments worn to gala events, such as this Tennis Euchre Party & Dance in 1910 – in my mind I visualise the sequinned items as being quite closely packed and overlapping, such as the blue dress from 1909 below, and the spangled items as being quite sprinkled, as in the Lady Maude Warrander laurel dress featured in Janet Arnold.

Sequins are an incredibly old form of decoration: punched metal disks used to ornament clothes dating to at least 2500BC have been found in India.  Small gold disks were  sewn onto the garments  in Tutankhamen’s tomb, and Leonardo da Vinci drew a sketch for a sequin-making machine.

Leonardo da Vinci’s sketch for a device for making sequins. Sketch from the Codex Atlanticus housed at the Biblioteca Ambrosiana in Milan.

The name is much more recent than the ornamentation: it comes from the longest-minted coin ever: the Venetian Italian zecchino coin, debuting in 1284, and lasting until Napoleon conquered Venice in 1797.  The coin was incorporated into a number of different traditional garments: punched and sewn to women’s vests and headdresses, as secure, portable valuables.    The French pronounced the zecchino ‘sequin’, and when Napoleon rendered it obsolete as a currency, the name became applied to the use of metal disks as decoration.

While sequins are, as far as I can determine, much older, spangles are more common in extent garments until the Victorian era, as they were easier to make. Technological advances during the Industrial Revolution made punhced-disk sequins easier to create, and  the introduction of non-metal sequins, in the form of celluloid sequins in the 1900s, electroplated gelatin sequins in the 1930s (which were exactly as durable as they sound – try not to sweat too much while wearing a dress decorated with them!) and more recently, plastic sequins, have almost completely supplanted coil-formed spangles.

The name ‘sequin’ entered English as part of the fashion for adopting French fashion works (such as fichu for neckerchief, and corset for stays) in the first half of the 19th century, just as punched disks began to replace coiled disks in popularity.

And what about paillettes? Generally paillettes are larger sequins, and are always flat (where sequins today can be faceted), though this, like sequins and spangles, isn’t a universal usage: sometimes paillette is uses as a straight synonym with sequin.

Pair of gloves, English, 1660s, Leather embroidered with silver and silver-gilt thread, silk ribbon and spangles, V&A T.225&A-1968

Pair of gloves with finger pieces extending into points, English, 1660s, Leather embroidered with silver and silver-gilt thread, silk ribbon and spangles, Victoria & Albert Museum, A T.225&A-1968

Waistcoat, England, Date- 1730-1739 (made) Silk satin, silver thread, spangles, silk thread; hand-sewn and hand-embroidered, Victoria & Albert Museum

Spangled and embroidered ladies jacket, 1600-1620, Victoria & Albert Museum

Fan 1770-1790, Powerhouse

Fan, third quarter 19th century, American, cotton, sequins, Metropolitan Museum of Art, 1937, C.I.37.46.21

Evening Dress, 1909, Callot Soeurs, Paris, Silk mesh embellished with celluloid sequins and paste gems, Gregg Museum of Art & Design, 2003.014.208

Further reading:

A History of Sequins from King Tut to the King of Pop, Smithsonian Magazine

After Tutankhamun – a description of the sequins in his tomb