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Terminology: What is a reticule or indispensable?

Since I don’t want my HSF-marathon posts to get monotonous, I’ve come up with the clever idea of combining them with other thematic posts, for double-goodness.  Today I have a cute finished project, and a long overdue terminology post.

First, some terminology:

A reticule is a small drawstring bag carried as a purse by a woman in the 18th and early 19th century.  It was also used as a synonym for any kind of purse or handbag carried by a woman.

The name comes from the latin reticulum, meaning a net or mesh bag (the same word has given its meaning to reticle – the cross-hairs (or net) in a firearm scope or telescope).  It entered English, as so many fashion words did, from the French, in this case, reticule.

Fichu de Velours, Redingote de Merinos, Costume Parisiene

Fichu de Velours, Redingote de Merinos (and a tasseled reticule), Costume Parisiene

The word was first used in the 1730s, but remained relatively uncommon through the 18th century.  The Memoirs of the Reticule states ” I am not aware of any mention of the reticule until after the French Revoluton.” At the end of the 18th century, as fashions changed from full skirted dresses that could easily conceal pockets, to slim garments of light fabrics that would show unsightly bulges over pockets, that reticules came into their own.  Easily made, easily carried, they were the indispensable accessory of the last decade of the 18th century and the first three decades of the 19th.  They were, in fact, so very indispensable that they were also known as indispensables.

Reticules might be indispensable useful, but they weren’t beyond reproach.  Older women continued to prefer pockets, and reticules were seen as being almost risque, because they were essentially pockets, and thus an undergarment which was suddenly carried on the outside.  One could liken them to corsets in the modern world – while it is acceptable to wear a corset as evening wear, it’s still a bit suggestive, and certainly not appropriate for conservative dress.  Reticules were also condemned for being masculine, because men carried their money and other items outside their dress, in pocketbooks and bags, and women hid their items away in pockets.  Now women had a purse of their own that could literally be passed from hand to hand (and the obvious metaphor of pockets vs purses especially when your purses are the usual reticule shape all becomes a little well, obvious and weird about this point).

Reticule, 1818—30, Mexican, glass, silk, Metropolitan Museum of Art 2009.300.1902

Reticule, 1818—30, Mexican, glass, silk, Metropolitan Museum of Art 2009.300.1902

Even if not scandalous, the idea of women carrying their private belongings externally, in their hand, was considered ridiculous.  The Almanac des Ridicules, 1801, begins with a little rhyme about reticules and their riduculousness to the effect that a woman looses her reticule, and wants to post a sign “don’t do a thing, says her husband, you will always have enough ridiculousness.”  Reticules were already widely known as ridicules by this time.

Walking outfit, Ackerman's Repository, Vol. 5, Feb. 1, 1811

Walking outfit, Ackerman’s Repository, Vol. 5, Feb. 1, 1811

Although reticules ceased to be as important as fashion accessories once styles changed, and stiffer handbags, and full dresses with pockets, came into fashion as the 19th century progressed, reticules were still used, both as fashion items, and as a term to designate a specifically feminine carry-all.  In 1867 a small dictionary was entitled:  ‘The Reticule and Pocket Companion, Or, Miniature Lexicon of the English Language’.  A  male user would carry his edition in his pocket, but a woman, rather than having a purse, would have a reticule to carry hers in.  

One of the many advantages of reticules was how easy they were to make.  Stiff leather purses required special tools and strong hands, and were the provenance of leather workers, but any seamstress could make a reticule. The 1831 American Girl’s Book: Or, Occupation for Play Hours, has a whole chapter devoted to reticules, with instructions on ten different varieties, from a ‘melon shaped reticule’ to a ‘pocket book reticule’ (instructions for making all the reticules, with illustrations, begin on page 262 for those who are interested).

While the drawstring bags were never at the height of fashion again, reticule was used to describe small handbags and drawstring workbags into the early 20th century.

Sources:

Hiner, Susan. Accessories to Modernity: Fashion and the Feminine in Nineteenth-Century France. University of Pennsylvania Press. 2011

Monroe & Francis, The Spirit of the English Magazine.  1831

Riberio, Aileen.  Fashion in the French Revolution.  B.T. Batsford Ltd: London. 1988

Waugh, Norah.  The Cut of Women’s Clothes: 1600-1930.  Faber and Faber: London.  1968

Knitted pineapple reticule in the Kyoto Museum’s 1800-1810 collection

Knitted pineapple reticule in the Kyoto Museum’s 1800-1810 collection

One of the most famous, and certainly most charming, reticule fashions was for pineapple shaped reticules.  Many sources credit the trend to a fashion for exotic fruits inspired by Josephine de Beauharnaises homeland of Martinique, but pineapples had been a symbol of ultimate exoticism and luxury in European arts and fashion since their introduction into Europe in the 17th century.  They were grown in greenhouses across Europe from the 1720s, and in the late 18th and early 19th century you could even rent pineapples for your dinner party centrepieces, to give your event that final touch of wealth and elegance.

Historical examples of pineapple reticules were usually knitted or crocheted, but in my usual “I can’t knit, but how can I replicate this style” way, I’ve been working on sewn versions of the pineapple reticule for years now.  American Duchess won my first one in a giveaway, and I was thrilled to see in a recent photo that she still carries it.

For the HSF, to cross a few more challenges off my list, I’ve made another pineapple reticule.  This is my fourth attempt, but I’ve misplaced at least two along the way.

Pineapple reticule thedreamstress.com

Pineapple reticule thedreamstress.com

It’s not as cute as the crocheted versions, but I like it!  So what challenges does it cover?

#1:  Bi/Tri/Quadri/Quin/Sex/Septi/Octo/Nona/Centennial  — pineapple reticules were most fashionable in the first decade of the 19th century, but there are examples from as late as 1830, so this one is definitely plausible (or as much as it can be in its inaccuracies) for 1813.

#7: Accessorize  – It’s a reticule!

#9: Flora and Fauna  — It’s a pineapple!

#11: Squares, Rectangles & Triangles  – Two rectangles and 11 triangles = one pineapple reticule.

#21: Colour Challenge Green  — The green leaves and bottom should make it qualify, right?

#22: Masquerade  – This ones a teeny bit of a stretch, but since it’s not perfectly historical, and it is quite fantastical, I think it works.

#25: One Metre  — Clearly not a lot of fabric in it!

#26: Celebrate  — Since pineapples were so celebratory, I think I can count this one as well.

Pineapple reticule thedreamstress.com

The Challenge:  #24: Re-Do

Fabric: scrap of orange-gold silk with pintucks, scrap of green silk (both from stash, and free)

Pattern:  my own

Year:  1800-1830

Notions:  Ribbon (icky poly satin, so I need to find a better alternative

How historically accurate is it?  The idea of a pineapple reticule is accurate, but the materials (despite being silk) and execution are not.

Hours to complete:  2ish.  Fun little evening project.

First worn:  Not yet, but it will make appearances with Regency gowns.

Total cost:  $0

Knitted pineapple reticule in the Kyoto Museum’s 1800-1810 collection

Knitted pineapple reticule in the Kyoto Museum’s 1800-1810 collection

HSF Challenge #24: Re-do: Evening violet tap pants

In attempting to do ALL the challenges in one fortnight I’m having to be at least a teeny, tiny bit practical about some of my projects, which means not  everything  will be as elaborate as the Greek Key dress.

Besides, one of the challenges was Starting Simple!

So, a simple item: little silk tap pants:

Tap pants thedreamstress.com

Tap pants thedreamstress.com

Tap pants thedreamstress.com

Tap pants thedreamstress.com

So what challenges do the tap pants cover?

They aren’t quite as a multi-challenge as the Greek Key frock, but they get a few checked off the list:

#0 (the bonus challenge): Starting Simple  – Such a simple practical garment

#3: Under it all  — They are going to go under ALL my summer frocks!

And oh, look, they could also count for:

#25: One Metre  — 80cm of silk?  I’m in!

And I’m feeling excessively celebratory about the Greek Key frock, so I guess I am doing all 26!

I wanted to photograph them on Fanny, but I had a brain blip and forgot to press them before I put them on her.  Oops!

Tap pants thedreamstress.com

The Challenge:  #24: Re-Do

Fabric:  80cm of stretch silk @$12 per metre (on sale)

Pattern:  my own

Year: late ’20s-1938

Notions:  Thread, hooks and loops, domes (stash).

How historically accurate is it?  The construction and pattern are perfectly accurate, the lycra content, not so much.  Say 80%

Hours to complete:  2 – super fast and easy

First worn:  Not yet, but as soon as Wellington gets warm again (we’re having an cold spell after the weekends gloriousness) I’ll be pulling them out.  

Total cost:  $10

And I realise that this is pretty much the most boring post I’ve ever written, and that just won’t do.

The solution to all boringness is, of course, Felicity.  She certainly keeps my life interesting!

I do most of my hand-sewing sitting on the couch.  Half the time Felicity demands to be on my lap, on or under my hand-sewing.  The other half of the time, she sits on the broad, sloping back of the couch, like so:

Felicity the cat thedreamstress.com

She likes to sit just so that her paws can reach down and touch my shoulder as I sew.  She sits there and rests her paws on my shoulder, and falls asleep, safe in the knowledge that her person is right there.  I literally sew under the paw of my cat!

Felicity the cat thedreamstress.com

It’s pretty much the most adorable thing ever.

Sadly, she’s so far refused to do it for the camera.  I’ll keep trying to capture it though!

Rate the Dress: Felipe I, Duke of Parma circa 1760

Last week I showed you a striped 1820s dress with a variety of different trim ideas across the dress, and contrasting sleeves.  As a whole, certain bits of the dress you loved, other bits you hated: problem was there was no consensus as to which bits to admire  and which bits to condemn!  Some of you loved the purple sleeves, others loathed them.  I was among those who adored the bias striped trim at the hem, but many of you found it awful.  It was a very bitsy dress, and the bitsy votes came together at 7.4 out of 10, which impressed me considering all the criticism.

Many of you were also quite critical of the display, which I think is a bit harsh.  They are auction-house pictures after all.  It’s very generous of Augusta Auctions to make so many detailed photos available online in the first place, and they have a lot of stuff to photograph and dress: you can hardly hold them to the same standards as the Metropolitan Museum of Art!

This week it’s time for a men’s fashion on Rate the Dress.  It’s just been too long.

This is Felipe the I, Duke of Parma.

Felipe I, Duke of Parma by Laurent Pecheux (1729-1821), circa 1760

He’s got it all!  The chin to end all chins!  The dog with its eye falling off its face!*  Parquet!  Naked goddesses in the fireplace!  Gilded shell-bedecked furniture!  Basketweave patterned velvet breaches!  And a jacket to match, though it’s hard to tell under all the embroidery and medals and frogging, and oh, have I mentioned the fur cuffs that are each big enough to be a respectable muff?  Plus, he’s got lace at cuffs and stock, and snowy white stockings.  And let’s not forget his floral brocade waistcoat, or his brilliantly blue sash scarlet neck sash which display more medals and orders (I’m sure there is a proper name for the sashes but I’m tired and it’s late). Finally, you can just glimpse his hair bag, and the glitter of the buckles on his shiny, shiny shoes.  And is his coat lined in fur?

In other words, there is a lot  to take in.

Too much?  Or is it the excess of men’s rococo fashion that makes it work?  Does all the over-the-top-ness come together fabulously, or ridiculously?

Rate the Dress on a Scale of 1 to 10.  

*OK, that’s actually just a bit of light reflecting off the dogs hair, but unless you look closely all you see is alien-melty-dog-face!