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A 1910s-early 20s brassiere/bust cover, thedreamstress.com

An early 1920s brassiere

It’s been a long, long time since I’ve done a ‘Textiles on Thursday’ post and shown you a textile from my collection, so it’s time to remedy that.

For today, a fun, simple piece: an early  1920s brassiere / camisole:

A 1910s-early 20s brassiere/bust cover, thedreamstress.com

The brassiere is made of silk moire-taffeta with a jacquard woven pattern of morning glories.

A 1910s-early 20s brassiere/bust cover, thedreamstress.com

It’s trimmed with  a wide lace border at the top edge, which has been scooped  down and hemmed  under the arms:

An early 20s brassiere/camisole, thedreamstress.com

There are  vertical lines of lace over the front bust:

An early 20s brassiere/camisole, thedreamstress.com

And edging of beading at top and bottom.  Originally it would have had narrow silk ribbon running through the beading, to gather the brassiere in above and below the bust:

An early 20s brassiere/camisole, thedreamstress.com

The brassiere was held up by silk ribbon straps, with jacquard-woven patterns of harebells (one hopes that this is well after Victorian flower symbolism has been well left behind: otherwise this is a most un-promising garment, with morning glories for love in vain, and harebells for grief!)

An early 20s brassiere/camisole, thedreamstress.com

It measures 10″ deep at the centre front and back (8″ + a 1″ wide lace at top and bottom), dipping to 8″ under the arms, and 43″ inches around (44″ flat, with a 1″ overlap at CF).  Based on  the amount of gathering possible with the lace beading, and where the straps are set around the diameter, it was meant to be worn by someone with at least a 40″ bust circumference.

An early 20s brassiere/camisole, thedreamstress.com

The ribbon for the straps is 2″ wide, and 10.5″ long, from attachment point to attachment point.  There is 10″ between the straps (so 12″ from the midpoint of the strap) at CB, and 9.5″ at CF.

An early 20s brassiere/camisole, thedreamstress.com

It is entirely hand-sewn, with a combination of running stitches, running back-stitches, and tiny whip stitches:

An early 20s brassiere/camisole, thedreamstress.com

An early 20s brassiere/camisole, thedreamstress.com
An early 20s brassiere/camisole, thedreamstress.com

Sewing machines had been in common use for over half a century by the time this brassiere was made, and the woman who made this may have had one.   Despite the availability of machines, until at least the 1930s, certain items, such as very delicate lingerie and elaborate baby clothes, were still almost always hand-sewn.  This was in part because almost all the stitching used in an item like this brassiere  would be hard to replicate on a home sewing machine of the 1920s, and the item was so small it would be just as fast to hand sew as to machine stitch.  It was also  because the ready availability of machines gave hand-sewing a certain cachet, making it more likely to be seen on special, ceremonial items, like christening gowns and wedding lingerie.  Period writings also indicate that hand-sewing was seen as pure: appropriate for babies and brides.  In Anne’s House of Dreams, in preparation for her first baby Anne and her friends all make items for the expected arrival “every stitch…handwork” and “desecrated by no touch of machinery”.

The brassiere has clearly been worn: there is sweat staining evident under the arms:

An early 20s brassiere/camisole, thedreamstress.com

However, there is no visible mode of closing the centre front, except for tying the ribbons together, and no signs that it was pinned or basted closed:

An early 20s brassiere/camisole, thedreamstress.com

It’s a lovely little item: a wonderful example of how beautifully made so many vintage textiles are, and how a small scrap of really gorgeous fabric can become something wearable, and amazing.

Rate the Dress: mid-18th c Masquerade

Last week for Rate the Dress I presented a Dress-Off: two Lanvins from the same design, but with slightly different cuts and finishes. The vast majority of you found the dress in the foreground to be the more successful frock: more balanced in its cut, and the sleeve and neck designs.  Only two people rated the dress behind better.  Even in the less preferred design, Lanvin pulled it off, and both dresses rated well, with the dress in the foreground  coming in at 8.6 out of 10, and the one behind it at    7.3 out of 10.

This week, since it’s Halloween, we’re rating a fancy dress: or, possibly a theatre costume.

The woman in this painting is usually identified as Eva Marie Veigel, Mrs David Garrick.  Neither the sitter nor the artist have been completely verified, but she certainly bears a resemblance to other known portraits of Eva Marie, who was said to have been one of the most beautiful women in Europe (granted, this is an appellation that occurs so often in period biographies  that it must have been applied to at least half of the women in Europe in the 18th century!)

If this is Veigel, it was probably painted shortly after her marriage to Garrick in 1749.

Eva Marie is shown holding a mask, and dressed in an outfit that suggests a nod to Oriental dress, with a long, sleeved waistcoat, and a short-sleeved ‘Turque’ or ‘Sultane’ style over-jacket.

The outfit could be standard 18th century masquerade dress: a popular choice for portrait attire, or could hint at Eva Marie’s profession: as a dancer, and actress.

Fetishising other cultures in costumes is no longer quite the done thing in modern society, but in 18th century Europe adopting Oriental dress was a way to show off your intellectualism  and wealth.  It indicated your knowledge and awareness of the wider world, and your ability to afford the luxury fabrics of the east.  Has this outfit succeeded?  Is it beautiful, and interesting? What do you think of her ever-so-slightly exotic fancy dress?

Rate the Dress on a Scale of 1 to 10