The Dreamstress

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A pretty post that took almost two years…

I was going through my old photos a few days ago, looking for something specific, and I came across a whole event/photoshoot I forgot to blog about…from December 2013!

Better late than never I guess!

Last December Te Papa (the national museum) had an exhibition of Impressionist artwork from the MFA Boston, and some friends and I decided we ought to go in period dress and pretend we were seeing the art for the first time.

Things came up, and in the end there were only three of us: the Comtesse, the awesome Daniil, and I. But we went anyway, and had a delightful time, and even got an impromptu back-of-house tour thanks to a staff member who was so taken with our outfits, so it was well worth while!

And afterwards, we headed out into the summer evening, and got some photographs with Te Papa:

I‘m wearing my Japonisme ensemble (one of my earlier attempts at historic costuming, and I’d do things very differently now, but still one of my favourites):

The Comtesse is wearing her first full historical garment: a Regency gown. She went from not sewing at all, to making a corset, and then making this dress! Seriously impressive!

You know what else she made? Her shoes!

I love this photo: you can tell how much fun we’re having, and how windy Wellington is!

We’re entirely surrounded by native plants in this photo. The red flowers are pohutakawa (the classic symbol of summertime and Christmas in NZ), the plants behind us are NZ flax (harakeke), and the tussock grass is native too.

Since we were having so much fun, the Comptess and I headed off to the Embassy cinema (where the LotR Return of the King world premier was held), for the beautiful Art Deco lobby, and the moreish florentines and tea.

And more photos!

We occupied the chaise longue (I really want a chaise longue, but I’m having trouble imagining a place in our house where it wouldn’t look silly – they need space):

The Comtesse did Madame Racamier, with shoes off, because as long as you’re in a white 1900s frock and have a chaise, you really have to!

And we had fun with mirrors:

Fun times! Good memories!

Rate the Dress: Emily Warren Roebling is presented at court, three ways

Published by The Dreamstress

I’m running a bit late, so I haven’t tallied the totals for last week yet, but I’ll get to those shortly.

For this week’s Rate the Dress I present someone who is undeniable awesome: Emily Warren Roebling. Emily is famous as the Chief Engineer of the Brooklyn Bridge. Her father in law started the bridge, but when he died her husband took it over. He became extremely ill with decompression sickness, Emily looked at the bridge and though ‘yep, I can do this.’ For the next fourteen years, Emily oversaw every aspect of the bridge’s construction, from calculating the curves needed, to testing the materials used, to liaising with everyone from the workers to the politicians.

When the bridge was finally finished, Emily didn’t rest on her laurels: instead she helped with relief efforts during the Spanish American War, helped organise a World’s Fair, travelled extensively, and got a law degree from New York University (while she was in her 50s or 60s). As you do.

Undeniably awesome!

From a Rate the Dress awesome perspective, Emily gives us a unique opportunity to Rate a Dress in all possible views.

Here is Emily at the time of her presentation to Queen Victoria in 1896 by Carolus-Duran:

Portrait of Emily Warren Roebling by Charles Emile Auguste Carolus-Duran, 1890s, Brooklyn Museum

She wears a yellow silk satin with white lace sleeves, and brocaded or embroidered skirt presentation gown with a mauve velvet court train. On her head are the prerequisite ostrich feathers and veil, and on one arm the required full length glove. Her other glove must be held out of view in the other hand, which holds up her train.

And here is Emily in the same outfit, in real life:

Emily Warren Roebling, 1896

Carolus-Duran’s portrait may have been painted in large part from this photograph, or from another from the series.

But wait, there is more!

Here is the extent ensemble:

Emily Warren Roebling’s Court presentation gown, 1896, Metropolitan Museum of Art, 2009.300.941a—e

The gown is possibly by Worth, and as you can see, it has many details that do not make it into Carolus-Duran’s painting: the embroidery of the underskirt and bodice is simplified into subtle texture, the train and skirt ornamentation omitted entirely, keeping the focus on the sitter, rather than the dress.

We’re looking at the dress (well, the whole ensemble) today though. As an example of the ultimate in 1890s formalwear for a woman of a certain age (Emily was in her 50s), does the court gown hold up? Is it suitable regal and elegant?

Rate the Dress on a Scale of 1 to 10

A tale of sewing secrets revealed…

Published by The Dreamstress

One of the things that I really love about fashion history is that clothes are both individual and societal stories. There are general overall societal truths and trends, but there are also examples in every period of people creating things that were totally unique, making do, and making things up. There are a lot of examples of quite unique innovations in early NZ fashion history, as people attempted to follow European fashions with limited resources and without access to a full range of materials and patterns.

This particular story of someone’s clever make do, and the unfortunate reveal of their secret has always amused me.

During the recent windy weather I was meandering along Kaponga Road in the evening when I espied a fair damsel turning the Bank corner. She wore one of those arrangements the ladies call a ‘waterfall’ which the wind blew to one side, and shewed to my horrified gaze, a neatly tied bundle of straw, doing service as an improver.

The story is recounted in Eve Ebbet’s In True Colonial Fashion: A Lively Look at What New Zealander’s Wore. Sadly, Ebbet does not tell us the name of the writer, or the date (only that it was from “the years when the bustle was in fashion”). I’m working my way through her original sources, and hope to discover more precise details.

It’s not precisely a sewing secret, but it’s still great inspiration for the Sewing Secret’s Challenge

The fair damsel’s ‘waterfall’ ensemble may have looked a bit like this, but probably wasn’t nearly as fancy:

Walking dress, 1880s

In addition to finding the original source for Ebbett’s quote, I’ve also discovered that I need to do a terminology post on waterfall bustles, as a quick scan of sources reveals they referred to slightly different styles across the bustle era, and that the term is a bit muddled and confused – more research is needed!