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Seven little looks into my life

Here are seven things I’ve been doing over the last week and a bit:

1. Organising

A couple of friends and I spent a delightful day sorting my pattern stash and sorting  it into 6 big boxes.  I still need two more boxes, one for menswear and one for my printed-out patterns, but it certainly feels tidier!

Organising the pattern stash thedreamstress.com

Of course, as soon as we did this I realised I’d missed an entire box of 1940s patterns!  That’s OK, I can sort them and add in these two latest additions to the stash while I do so.

2. Sewing  

Yes!  Lots of it!  I’ve been demolishing the UFO pile, but I have also been working on a historical project:

18th century sewing thedreamstress.com

I know.  It is not exactly exciting at the moment.  It will get there.

3. Celebrating spring

Iris flowers thedreamstress.com

My bluebells and rock irises are well up, and the full irises are just starting.  I can just tell that my first two tulips are going to be yellow and coral, respectively, but the freesias are still just masses of green buds.  So exciting!

Mr D & I named the first two irises Beth & Cecily, because they are lovely and delicate and won’t be with us for very long, and I have a macabre sense of humour (although I had to tell Mr D we couldn’t name them Rose and Daisy, because that was just weird).

4. Spending time with friends

1880s pound cake thedreamstress.com

A friend made this fabulous  pound cake from her great-grandmother’s 1880s cookbook.  The cake had no leavening agents at all, depending on the  eight eggs in it to rise and be light.

My friend said “The cookbook said I could omit some of the butter and sugar for a lighter cake, but I figure go hard or go home.”

Oh my god.  I love my friends so much!

(the cake, btw, was delicious, especially with lemon curd filling and lemon icing)

5. Doing some reading

Felicity the cat thedreamstress.com

I’m currently working my way through ‘Last Curtsey’, Fiona MacCarthey’s account/memoir of the last season of debutantes to make their curtsey to the Queen in 1958.  It’s fascinating, if a little anaemic – I’d hoped for something meatier  from someone who is both a former deb and a respected historical author.

6. Buying fabric and having new experiences

Vintage bird linen thedreamstress.com

I went to an auction this week for only the third time in my life, and bought something at one for the first time!  My other two auctions were a fine art auction  at Southeby’s in New York (they were selling 18th & early 19thc. horse paintings – a genre which I was, and still am, both ignorant and indifferent to, but it’s not often you get the opportunity to go to an auction as Southeby’s, so if you do, you should!), and a car auction.

At this week’s auction I bought a lot of vintage upholstery fabric, specifically for this piece of vintage linen, which makes my heart go pitter-patter, and may get turned into a blind for our lounge.  Sadly I had to leave the auction before the whole bolt of vintage Liberty chintz came up.  Boo.

7. Cuddling Felicity

Felicity the cat thedreamstress.com

Obviously!

Terminology: What are Bizarre silks?

Bizarre silks are silk fabrics (obviously) that were fashionable in Europe from the mid 1690s to the 1720s.  They featured large, asymmetrical  designs, vivid colours, fantastical floral designs which were Oriental in inspiration, and an emphasis on the diagonal ‘serpentine line’ which would later come to characterise the Rococo style.  The first bizarre silks were woven in Lyons, France, but by the early 1700s they were also being made in Spitalfelds, England, and to a lesser extent in Italy.

The  name ‘Bizarre Silks’ is not period – it wasn’t used until 1957 when art historian Dr. Vilhelm Sloman coined the term to describe the style.  Dr Sloman believed that bizarre silks were made in India and imported into Europe, but subsequent scholarship has made it clear that they were exclusively produced in Europe.

According to my research, there is no particular set of term that was used in the late 17th & 18th centuries for the fabric design – they might be described as Oriental, but generally they were just the popular style, and no particular distinction was made between the large, florid, asymmetrical designs, and earlier more formal Baroque designs (another term that wasn’t used until in-period) and lighter, more naturalistic later Rococo silks (ditto as with Bizarre and Baroque).  It’s only with the perspective of time that we’ve made a clear stylistic distinction between the design periods in silks, and have needed to come up with a comprehensive name to describe the group.

Here is a formal, symmetrical earlier Baroque silk:

Compared to a  wildly patterned, asymmetrical bizarre silk with clear Japanese influence:

The development of the patterns seen in bizarre silks was  influenced  by the rise of  trade in  Indian chintzes and Chinese silks, facilitated by the English & Dutch East India Companies, in the 17th century.  The English and French  fabric industries were hugely impacted by the flood of imported fabrics, and took measures to protect and promote their industries.  Some of these measures were legal: France passed laws prohibiting the wearing of Indian chintzes in 1686, and England passed similar laws against the importation or wearing in 1701 and again in 1720.  The other response was to cater to the new desire for exotic patterns by creating them at home and specifically tailoring them to the tastes of the local market: the result was bizarre silks.

Like actual Indian chintzes and painted Chinese silks, bizarre silks featured exotic plant-shapes, unusual mixes of vivid colours (printed Indian chintzes, unlike their Western counterparts, were colourfast and washable), and asymmetrical patterning.

Man’s bizarre silk sleeved waistcoat, France, c. 1715. Silk satin with supplementary weft patterning bound in twill (lampas). LACMA M.2007.211.40

Man’s bizarre silk sleeved waistcoat, France, c. 1715. Silk satin with supplementary weft patterning bound in twill (lampas). LACMA M.2007.211.40

Designers took some of their inspiration from actual experiences in India and the far East (the English  East India company actually sent textile designers and weavers out to India from the 1660s onwards), from textiles that were sent back from India, China, and Japan (the first kimono to reach Europe were given as gifts to officers in the Dutch East India Company in the 1650s), from botanical books, and new plants reaching Europe (stylised pineapples, which were brought to Europe from South America in the 1660s are a common motif in bizarre silks), to which they added a huge dash of fantasy and imagination.

This unusual variant of bizarre silk features Oriental inspired scenes:

Dress, petticoat, and stomacher (dress) possibly Dutch, About 1735; dress restyled about 1770 France, MFA

Dress, petticoat, and stomacher (dress) possibly Dutch, About 1735; dress restyled about 1770, France, MFA Boston

The large scale patterning of bizarre silks was  complemented by changes in fashion around 1700, where the slimmer lines of 17th century mantua began to give way to fuller, more rounded styles which better displayed the large designs of bizarre silks.

Evidence suggests that bizarre silks, while expensive and luxurious, were more likely to be used for informal garments, such as banyan and informal mantua, while formal garments like robe de cour and English court mantua were more usually made from earlier styles, or the lace inspired and more naturalistic florals that would replace it.

This mantua in 1720s fabric showscases the fabrics large-scale design, which is transitioning from the full bizarre style, to the more delicate abstract lace-inspired designs of the  1730s onward.

While Bizarre silks were used for a full half a century, there were changes in the most popular styles and aesthetic across that timespan.  You can see a good brief overview of the changes in this exhibition.

Fabric designers who made bizarre silk designs include English designer of Spitalfields silks, James Lehman (1688-1745), who is considered to be one of the first English designers of bizarre silk, Christopher Baudoin (1660, 1739), and Joseph Dandridge (1665-1746).  French and Italian textile designers of the same period are not so well document.

Bizarre silks fell out of favour in the 1720s, giving way to more delicate motifs based on lace, and then large floral designs, and finally the small, naturalistic designs of the height of Rococo.  Gowns of bizarre silk continued to be seen throughout the 18th century, as the fabric was so durable and valuable that older gowns were re-modelled to fit current trends.

The fabric of this gown was woven in the 1730s, and the gown was re-styled again in the 1760s.  The fabric shows the clear move to more naturalistic florals, with the last vestiges of the bizarre style still evident.

Dress (robe a la anglaise) about 1735, restyled 1763, Silk; brocaded plain weave 1990.513a-b, MFA Boston

Dress (robe a la anglaise) about 1735, restyled 1763, Silk; brocaded plain weave 1990.513a-b, MFA Boston

Sources:

Arnold, Janet.  Patterns of Fashion: The Cut and Construction of Clothes for Men and Women c. 1560-1620.  London: Macmillian.  1985

Brown, Clare.  Silk Designs of the Eighteenth Century from the Victoria and Albert Museum.  London: Thames and Hudson. 1996

Cumming, Valerie and Cunnington, C.W.; Cunnington, P.E,  The dictionary of fashion history  (Rev., updated ed.). Oxford: Berg. 2010

Ginsbert, Madeleine (ed).  The Illustrated History of Textiles.  New York: Random House.  1991

Rothstein, Natalie.  Woven Textile Design in Britain to 1750  (The Victoria and Albert Museum’s Textile Collections  series). London: Canopy Books. 1994

Scott, Phillipa.  The Book of Silk.  London: Thames & Hudson Ltd.  1993

Thornton, Peter.  The ‘Bizarre’ Silks.  The Burlington Magazine  Vol. 100, No. 665 (Aug., 1958), pp. 265-270, London.

Rate the Dress: ’20s plays with paisley

Last week I showed you an 18th century Robe a la Francaise made up in a floral cotton.  It lost some points for the asymmetrical front fastening (which I actually thought was brilliant – it repeated the rococo serpentine line of the dress fabric), and even most of you who loved it felt it was not quite a star of the show dress, giving it an overall 8.4 out of 10.

Since last week’s dress was a formal garment  done in a fabric that we think of as informal, this week’s dress is an informal garment, a playsuit, done in a fabric that we think of as formal, silk.

This simple ’20s playsuit is made from lightweight blonde (unbleached) silk, trimmed with bands of silk printed in an unusual paisley inspired design in turquoise, vermillion and lime green.  The playsuit has a matching tie belt and bolero in the same paisley silk, the bolero further trimmed in the lime.

While the playsuit is identified as Japanese, it was almost certainly Japanese for the Western market – feeding the Western taste for Eastern silks and exoticism.

Let’s take a closer look at the ensemble:

There appears to be foxing on the bolero, and the silk  has almost certainly darkened and browned with age.  There is also a hint of a mend to the silk near the neckline, indicating the fragile nature of the fabric.  The playsuit was probably bought and worn as a limited use item: a fun ensemble for a vacation, unlikely to be worn again, or for a specific event.

What do you think? Is it the perfect bit of sartorial fun for that all-important pool party, or for showing off on the lido deck?

Rate the Dress on a Scale of 1 to 10.