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Clothing for a Fortnight in 1916, thedreamstress.com

A Fortnight in 1916: the physical effects of living in 1916

At the start of the Fortnight in 1916 project, one of my rules was that I wasn’t allowed to continue the experiment if it put my health in any danger.  Happily, except for some minor blood blistering from a bad corset, I came through  the experiment in perfect health – probably  even better than if I’d spent it living 2016 style.

My main worry about the fortnight was the cold.  Would using less heating in the middle of winter, and wearing nothing but wool stockings on my lower legs, increase my chance of chillblains or a bad chest cold?

I hadn’t managed to make a wool union suit, and compared to the layers of socks and merino thermals I usually wear  in winter (the July standard  is  two layers of socks, heavy jeans, and at least three layers of wool on my torso), my 1916 wardrobe seemed quite insufficient.  Every day I would be wearing a single pair of thin-ish merino stockings, cotton combinations, a one-layer cotton corset, corset cover, two cotton petticoats, a thin-ish wool skirt, cotton blouse, and a wool cardigan.  It didn’t seem like much!

It worked.

I was  lucky in that we have been having a very mild winter, but even in the properly cold days we had, I was toasty warm and comfortable.  I hardly even wore the cardigans.  Even in cotton, all the layers, with space between them, were fantastic insulation.  The corset kept my core nice and toasty, and with my core warm, my extremities were a lot warmer too.  My feet were never cold in their stockings (learn how to make your own here), and I didn’t struggle with wearing stiff heeled shoes all day (which I had worried about).

Maintaining a comfortable body temperature was also helped by how much I moved around:  the corset made sitting on anything but a straight chair less-than-fabulous, and lounging on the couch was definitely out of the question.  I didn’t get nearly as much writing as I had hoped completed in the fortnight, because I never wanted to sit down.

I was so astonished and pleased by how warm I was in every circumstance, that I’m now trying to figure out how to incorporate the effect into my standard winter wardrobe.  It’s a bit tricky, as I need to be able to sit comfortably for much of the day in my regular life, and the corset does not facilitate that

I was so warm I only got very mild  chillblains doing laundry 1916 style, when my hands were damp for hours on end outside in the wind, which would usually give me a very bad attack.  The lack of chillblains could partly be because I’d recently been in Hawaii, and I seem to have a slight buffer before getting them again after being summer warm, but I’d been back in NZ for two weeks before the Fortnight experiment started, so that buffer should have worn off.

Here is an example of  what my chillblains looked like at their very worst, at the end of the Fortnight:

The Fortnight in 1916 chillblains thedreamstress.com

Note the swelling on the right finger compared to the left

While chillblains weren’t too bad, the Fortnight was VERY hard on my hands in other ways.  Lots of dishes, lots of laundry, and no rubber gloves.  It’s easy to see why methods for achieving soft, white (sorry, period racial overtones definitely come into play here), un-callused hands appear so prominently in advice columns and advertisements at the time.

Here are my hands after my second round of doing laundry, circa 1916:

The Fortnight in 1916 1thedreamstress.com1

The Fortnight in 1916 thedreamstress.com

The Fortnight in 1916 thedreamstress.com

It took me weeks to get them back into shape, and get back to nice strong nails, with no hangnails.  And I’m not even remotely precious about my hands in ordinary life.  It would be hard to keep your hands in good condition doing 1910s housework: you really might be able to tell social status by hands.

So, I was nice and warm, my hands were trashed, what else happened?

Well, despite cooking everything in butter, the lack of vegetables in my diet, the high amounts of carbohydrates, and a sweet dessert most days, I actually lost two kilos over the fortnight.

I weighted myself numerous times a day in the week running up to the fortnight, and the days after, and my post-Fortnight high and low weights were definitely 2 kilos (almost 5 lbs) lighter than my pre-Fortnight high and low weights.

My theory is it was the extra exercise from walking everywhere, doing so much physical labour in housework (let me tell you, doing laundry was a workout), some reduction in appetite from wearing a corset, and simply the effort of wearing all the clothes I was wearing.

In addition to loosing two kilos, I lost two inches of waist circumference.  I was really impressed, as the corset I wore every day gave me very little  waist compression, but it was enough to do something.

Despite the weight loss and waist loss, I have no intention whatsoever of taking up the 1916 weightloss diet.  Living in the corset made it too hard to do the computer work I need to do on a daily basis, and you have to do a ton of exercise to retain muscle tone in your back and stomach if you wear a corset full-time, as it does the work those muscles would usually do.    I couldn’t wear the weight of clothing I was wearing without a corset.

Finally, in case you are wondering how long it took for the corset-pinch blood blisters I got on day three of the Fortnight to go away, the answer is just over two weeks.  Here is what they looked like the day after the Fortnight ended:

The Fortnight in 1916 thedreamstress.com3

They were more obvious in real life than the photo shows.

So, that’s what living in 1916 did to my body.  It would be really interesting to see what would happen over a longer experiment.  Would I continue to loose weight at the same rate, or would my body adapt?  I’d definitely take much more care of my hands, were I to attempt it again.

The Historical Sew Monthly Challenge #9: Historicism

The Historical Sew Monthly Challenge #9 is Historicism:  Make a historical garment that was itself inspired by the fashions of another historical period.

Up until the early 19th century, to the best of my knowledge (caveat: my pre 1660 fashion history is pretty weak, so I’m happy to be corrected here!) historicism in fashionable dress was predominantly focused on emulating and borrowing from ancient Greek and Rome.  I say fashionable dress, because regional styles in certain areas often used elements that went out of fashion in the main centres decades, if not centuries, before.  This isn’t historicism in its truest sense, because its a case of styles stagnating, rather than intentionally borrowing from the past.

Depending on how you look at historicism, one exception to the reliance on ‘the ancients’ as an inspiration from the past is the robe de coer.  The robe de coer, based on Louis the Sun King’s favourite elements of female dress in his youth in the 1660s and 70s, was implemented as the required court dress in France in the late 17th century, and spread from there to other courts around Europe.  It remained the official dress until the fall of the French monarchy at the end of the 18th century, and while it was updated somewhat to match current styles, it retained clear traces of its 17th century origins to the end.

Read more about robe de cour here.

Sofia Magdalena’s wedding gown, robe de cour, worn at the wedding at the Palace Church November 4, 1766.

Sofia Magdalena’s wedding gown, robe de cour, worn at the wedding at the Palace Church November 4, 1766.

Historicism really took off at the end of the 18th century thanks to the obsession with all things classical that was sparked by excavations at Pompeii and Herculaneum.

Wedding dress, 1799, MFA Boston

Wedding dress, 1799, MFA Boston

Evening dress, ca. 1810, French, cotton, metallic thread, Metropolitan Museum of Art, 1976.137.1

Evening dress, ca. 1810, French, cotton, metallic thread, Metropolitan Museum of Art, 1976.137.1

Turn-of-the-19th century accessories could also have a Grecian flair, as seen in these sandals from the Bata Shoe Museum:

Silk and leather sandals, 1795-1805, Bata Shoe Museum

Silk and leather sandals, 1795-1805, Bata Shoe Museum

And tiara  modelled after laurel wreaths:

Tiara wreath, 1815 Victoria & Albert Museum

Tiara wreath, 1815 Victoria & Albert Museum

Historicism stayed trendy, even as the Greco-Roman fad faded from the 1810s onwards.  The next big focus of interest was the Renaissance and Elizabethan ages, evoked through frilled fichu which echoed Elizabethan ruffs:

Fashion plate, 1813

Fashion plate, 1813

And standing, pointed ruff collar, as well as the  segmented, puffed  sleeves known variously as mameluke, marie, juliet or gabrielle sleeves, the later of which names hint at the Renaissance heroines they were meant to evoke:

Ackermann's fashion plate 4, Seaside walking Dress, 1815

Ackermann’s fashion plate 4, Seaside walking Dress, 1815

Sleeves also featured elaborate slash effects, based on Renaissance examples:

Attr. to Joseph Krafft, Portrait of Henriette Rottmann, 1820, via wilnitsky.com

Attr. to Joseph Krafft, Portrait of Henriette Rottmann, 1820, via wilnitsky.com

As skirts widened in the 1830s and 40s, design elements were lifted from the last period of full skirts, the 18th century.  Note how the fichu robings on this 1840s dress so clearly echo the wrapped fichu of later 18th century styles:

Dress with fichu robings, 1840s, The Centre de Documentació i Museu Tèxtil de Terrassa

Dress with fichu robings, 1840s, The Centre de Documentació i Museu Tèxtil de Terrassa

Robe de matin à l'Anglaise avec des manches en amadis jupon coupe à grand volant de mousseline fichu à double garniture Cette femme est coëffee d'un chapeau de Vegogne a long poil avec un ruban au tour, Gallerie des Modes, 1782, MFA Boston

Robe de matin à l’Anglaise avec des manches en amadis jupon coupe à grand volant de mousseline fichu à double garniture Cette femme est coëffee d’un chapeau de Vegogne a long poil avec un ruban au tour, Gallerie des Modes, 1782, MFA Boston

Possibly the simplest and most direct form of historicism is the use of older fabrics, and the re-making of older fashions, into newer styles.  18th century brocades silks were particularly popular for  re-use, as in this 1840s evening gown:

The 1860s saw a brief neoclassical in fashion, usually in accessories, such as the following  diadem, though the vogue (fashionable in some places, obligatory formal occasions at Napoleon IIIs court) for white evening gowns draped in gauzy fabrics which helped Charles Worth to make his name could also be argued to be an example of the neoclassical revival.

Hellenistic Revival gold Diadem by Castellani c1860, Christies

Hellenistic Revival gold Diadem by Castellani c1860, Christies

In the 1850s, helped by Napoleon III’s desire to gain legitimacy by positioning himself as the true heir to Napoleon and the French Monarchy, and by Eugenie’s fascination with Marie Antoinette, everything 18th century was fashionable again:

Empress Eugenie as Marie-Antoinette, 1854, Franz Xaver Winterhalter

Empress Eugenie as Marie-Antoinette, 1854, Franz Xaver Winterhalter

From bergere hats (learn more about them here):

To warp printed silks, which were called ‘Pompadour silks’:

Dress, American, about 1865, warp-printed figured silk taffeta, bobbin lace MFA Boston, 46.105a-b

Dress, American, about 1865, warp-printed figured silk taffeta, bobbin lace MFA Boston, 46.105a-b

(learn more about warp printed/chine silks  here)

And Louis or Pompadour heels (more about them here):

Evening shoes with Louis heels, 1875—85, French, silk, glass, The Metropolitan Museum of Art, 2009.300.1582a, b

Evening shoes with Louis heels, 1875—85, French, silk, glass, The Metropolitan Museum of Art, 2009.300.1582a, b

….the 18th century was a perpetually popular source of inspiration in the later half of the 19th century:

A dress featuring a 'Watteau' back, September, 1872 - The Young Englishwoman

A dress featuring a ‘Watteau’ back, September, 1872 – The Young Englishwoman

 

"Hat of blue straw, bergere shape" from the Auckland Star, November 1898

“Hat of blue straw, bergere shape” from the Auckland Star, November 1898

Tea gowns are one of the most frequent types of garments to utilise historicism, to the point that strong historical or exotic references are almost part of the definition of what makes a garment a tea gown.  Read more about them here.

Tea gown with 18th century inspired back pleats, ca. 1905, Callot Soeurs, silk damask, lace, Victoria & Albert Museum

Tea gown with 18th century inspired back pleats, ca. 1905, Callot Soeurs, silk damask, lace, Victoria & Albert Museum

The new century saw a new obsession with ancient Greek and Rome, called the neoclassical revival, and characterised by the raised waist of the Empire line.  Examples could borrow directly from Greek and Roman garments:

Evening ensemble, 1910, French, silk, metal, Metropolitan Museum of Art, 009.300.3221a—c

Evening ensemble, 1910, French, silk, metal, Metropolitan Museum of Art, 009.300.3221a—c

Or through the lens of early 19th century Neoclassicism:

Evening dress, House of Drecoll, 1910, silk, rhinestones, Metropolitan Museum of Art, 2009.300.2500

Evening dress,
House of Drecoll, 1910, silk, rhinestones, Metropolitan Museum of Art, 2009.300.2500

The Empire line came into vogue in 1908, but it remained fashionable into the late ‘teens and ’20s:

Paquin, 1918-1919, France

Paquin, 1918-1919, France

Historicism can  sometimes blend with exoticism, as in the 1910s and 20s fad for all things Oriental (hugely inspired by the Arabian nights), and, more obviously, in Egyptomania, which was took its cue not from modern Egypt, but from Ancient Egypt:

 Forsythe Apparel Clothing advertisement featuring Egyptianism & Rohsanara Crepe, 1923

Forsythe Apparel Clothing advertisement featuring Egyptianism & Rohsanara Crepe, 1923

Another element of 1920s fashions was a rebellion against the straight, androgynous line, particularly through Robe de Style, which borrowed freely from 18th century and mid-19th century designs for inspiration:

Mary Pickford in a Robe de Style, possibly by Lanvin, c. 1920

Mary Pickford in a Robe de Style, possibly by Lanvin, c. 1920

Libby Holman, by Sarony New York, c.1928

Libby Holman, by Sarony New York, c.1928

Smaller elements of the past made their way onto accessories like purses:

While  1930s fashions often look like the epitome of  sleek modernity, they often used elements of the past for  inspiration in small, subtle ways.  Designers looked back to the 18th century:

This evening dress comes from a very important dress making establishment and goes by the name of Charlotte Corday. Made up in white mousseline de soie with a red stripe, completed with a fichu of the 1790s Auckland Star, 11 January 1936

This evening dress comes from a very important dress making establishment and goes by the name of Charlotte Corday. Made up in white mousseline de soie with a red stripe, completed with a fichu of the 1790s Auckland Star, 11 January 1936

To the Romantic era:

In printed crepe-de-chine–powderblue scattered with flowers–this afternoon dress, with its little velvet bolero and corselet to match, and its 1830 sleeves, strikes an original note Evening Post, 5 September 1931 via Papers Past

In printed crepe-de-chine–powderblue scattered with flowers–this afternoon dress, with its little velvet bolero and corselet to match, and its 1830 sleeves, strikes an original note Evening Post, 5 September 1931 via Papers Past

And as recently as the 1910s, for touches such as these flounced hip ruffles:

Excella E3137 ca. 1930 frock

Excella E3137 ca. 1930 frock

And quirky statement pockets:

1930s nautical sailor dress

1930s nautical sailor dress

While most examples of historicism appear in women’s fashions, there are elements of menswear that looked back to earlier periods too.

This greatcoat, ca 1810, features buttons that nod to earlier periods, when menswear was more elaborate, and back vents, originally seen in the 17th century, which were originally intended to allow a sword to project through the vent.

 

While womenswear borrowed heavily from the medieval and Renaissance periods in terms of applied decorations in the 1820s and 30s, menswear sometimes took the simplest route of historical interpretation, as in this waistcoat made of  fabrics depicting jousting knights:

Weddings, as formal, traditional occasions, often involved clothes that evoke elements of the past, as seen in these mid-century wedding vests, with embroidered designs that give an obvious nod to  18th century waistcoats:

Breeches ceased to be standard menswear for business in the 1810s, but they  did not disappear entirely.  They were retained as standard attire for the most formal of occasions: at court, where mens dress retained all the elements of formal 18th century menswear into the early 19th century:

They also made appearances in the least formal type of outerwear: sportswear:

Gazette of Fashion and Cutting-Room Companion 1872

Gazette of Fashion and Cutting-Room Companion 1872

Note how much this sporting suit looks like a late 18th century example:

Men’s leisurewear, particularly robes and smoking jackets, often evoked earlier styles.  This dressing gown is heavily influenced by 17th and 18th century banyan in shape, and also has a more direct form of historicism: it’s made from an earlier 18th century paisley shawl, which has been cut up and re-used now that it is no longer fashionable:

This turn-of-the-20th century smoking suit nods to the 1860s with its vivid aniline dyed shades, and uses rolled collars and touches of quilting also borrowed from mid-century designs.

BEALE & INMAN, A GENTLEMAN'S SMOKING SUIT c. 1900 vivid red and purple silk satin suit comprising drawstring trousers and jacket, with quilted lapels and accents, sold at Christies

BEALE & INMAN, A GENTLEMAN’S SMOKING SUIT c. 1900 vivid red and purple silk satin suit comprising drawstring trousers and jacket, with quilted lapels and accents, sold at Christies

For more examples of Historicism, check out the V&A Nineteenth-Century Fashion in Detail book, by Lucy Johnson, which has a whole chapter on historicism.

And these pinterest boards:

Historicism (sadly in need of annotation and organising – will try to get to that).

Re-Use

Pompeii to Paris: Classical Inspiration

 

And these Rate the Dress posts:

1825 with Renaissance inspiration

1885 childrenswear with 18th century inspiration

A paisley tea gown featuring re-use and 18th century inspiration

A Grecian-inspired 1910 evening dress or tea gown

 

Other relevant posts:

A 1920s tea gown with a nod to the 18th century

Rate the Dress: Emerald green in 1914

Last week I showed you an early 1870s dress in pink and white stripes, with butterfly patterned lace trim, and black bows.  While not everything about the dress tickled my fancy, I thought the half &  half black and pink bows were a brilliant touch, but many of you did NOT agree.  In the same way, opinions differed greatly on whether the front to back skirt wrap was brilliant, or tablecloth-y.  In fact, the ratings were all over the range for the dress, bringing it in at a 7.4 out of 10.

This evening dress in deep green silk didn’t come with more of a date range than 1910-15, but the  fullness at the lower hips and tapering hem, paired with the skirt drapery, place it firmly in 1914, give or take a year.  The mix of textures is typical of the 1910s, giving complexity to an otherwise simple design.

What do you think?  

Rate the Dress on a Scale of 1 to 10