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An early-19th century gown at the Honolulu Museum of Art

Over the last year I’ve been gradually showing you images that I took when I was last in Hawaii  of some of the beautiful historical garments at the Honolulu Museum of Art. You’ve seen the amazing embroidered cisele velvet 18th century man’s suit, a late 19th century Turkish tea robe that had been altered for wear by a Western woman, and a teaser-taster of all the textiles.

Today I’m showing you what was possibly my favourite of all the things I photographed:

Dress, 1st quarter of the 19th century (with alterations), Honolulu Museum of Art

Dress, circa 1810 (with alterations), Honolulu Museum of Art

Can you guess why?  Yep -it’s totally swoon-worthy, angels sing, yellow gold silk!

And the fabric itself is just amazing:

Dress, 1st quarter of the 19th century (with alterations), detail of fabric, Honolulu Museum of Art

Dress, circa 1810 (with alterations), detail of fabric, Honolulu Museum of Art

Dress, 1st quarter of the 19th century (with alterations), detail of fabric, Honolulu Museum of Art

Dress, circa 1810 (with alterations), detail of fabric, Honolulu Museum of Art

I’m not even sure how to describe the fabric – it’s a quite soft, lightweight silk, in a sort of brocade weave, but with the floating wefts reversed to the front of the fabric.  Very unusual, and not something I think I’ve ever seen before.  The small overall pattern, however, is quite common in early 19th century gowns.

Those of you who have looked closely at the photo above will have noticed something odd.  That isn’t hand-stitching on the bodice front!

Dress, 1st quarter of the 19th century (with alterations), Honolulu Museum of Art

Dress, circa 1810 (with alterations), Honolulu Museum of Art

No, it’s not.  There are some weird, slightly inexplicable, alterations to the bodice front.  I think originally it may have looked a bit more like this 1810s gown from Abiti Antichi, with a shaped bodice front, but at some point after the introduction of sewing machines the front was altered to be completely flat, with no room for a bust curve.  The rest of the dress still has the original hand stitching.

Dress, circa 1810 (with alterations), Honolulu Museum of Art

Dress, circa 1810 (with alterations), Honolulu Museum of Art

Dress, 1st quarter of the 19th century (with alterations), Honolulu Museum of Art

Dress, circa 1810 (with alterations), Honolulu Museum of Art

The alterations make me wonder about the ruched trim around the neck.  How much of it is original, and what did the neckline look like before the alterations?  Unfortunately, in the short amount of time I had at the HMA I wasn’t able to inspect the dress in enough detail to determine how much of the trim was altered, though its definitely hand-sewn around the back edge.

Dress, 1st quarter of the 19th century (with alterations), Honolulu Museum of Art

Dress, 1st quarter of the 19th century (with alterations), Honolulu Museum of Art

The bodice back, and the rest of the dress construction, is entirely hand-sewn, and quite typical of the early 19th century, with armscythes that are set well back, seams defined by narrow piping, fullness only at the centre back, and back ties to fasten.

Dress, 1st quarter of the 19th century (with alterations), Honolulu Museum of Art

Dress, 1st quarter of the 19th century (with alterations), Honolulu Museum of Art

The bodice of the dress is lined with linen, with a seperate piece of linen at the bodice back that fastens independently underneath the outer silk (the image two up, and the final image in this post, both show this detail).

Dress, 1st quarter of the 19th century (with alterations), Honolulu Museum of Art

Dress, 1st quarter of the 19th century (with alterations), Honolulu Museum of Art

The handstitching on the dress is beautifully done, and very even throughout, but not tiny: there are 10-12 stitches per inch.

Dress, circa 1810 (with alterations), Honolulu Museum of Art

Dress, circa 1810 (with alterations), Honolulu Museum of Art

The original construction details are also beautifully done: fine, even back gathers whipstitched into the centre back:

Dress, circa 1810 (with alterations), Honolulu Museum of Art

Dress, circa 1810 (with alterations), Honolulu Museum of Art

A discreet drawstring runs through the high waist, to snug it in under the bust (unfortunately I didn’t note if the drawstring was an original silk piece, or a later replacement):

Dress, circa 1810 (with alterations), Honolulu Museum of Art

Dress, circa 1810 (with alterations), Honolulu Museum of Art

The drawstring fastens the dress at the back waist, and the linen under bodice also fastens with a tie at the back, with the outer bodice hooking over it. The thread that is holding the hook on is not the same as the rest of the thread, so I wasn’t able to determine if it was a later addition, or if it has simply been re-sewn on after coming loose (as often seems to happen with hooks).

Dress, circa 1810 (with alterations), Honolulu Museum of Art

Dress, circa 1810 (with alterations), Honolulu Museum of Art

The images I’ve shown you are every single one I took of this dress.  I wish I’d taken more!  Even with the alterations, it’s such a fantastic garment, with such beautiful details of construction techniques circa 1810.  I’m so grateful for the HMA for allowing me to explore their collections, and for being such gracious hosts.  Next time I go home I’m going to try to schedule a couple of days in Honolulu so that I can examine it, and some of the other treasures in the HMA, in more detail.

Maybe Mr D wants to spend Christmas in Hawaii this year so I can go to the Sheer Delight exhibition…

Terminology: what are ikat, abr, warp-printing and chine?

Ikat (also spelled ikkat), abr (also spelled ebru), warp-printed and  chine (or chine a la branche) are different names for variants of the same technique: fabric woven from yarns which have been pre-dyed (using a resist method) or printed with the intended pattern, producing a characteristic soft, blurred pattern once the yarns are woven into a cloth.

Robe à la Polonaise (detail) ca. 1780, British, silk, Metropolitan Museum of Art 1981.245.2

Robe à la Polonaise of chine silk (detail) ca. 1780, British, silk, Metropolitan Museum of Art 1981.245.2

Strictly speaking,  ikat  and  abr  are created by pre-dying the threads with a resist dye method before weaving, and  chine  and warp-printing are created by printing the warp threads before weaving, though the line between the two different techniques, both in which fabrics are called which, and in how the fabrics are produced, is as blurred as those on the fabrics they describe.

Ikat is the Indonesian term (from the Malay mengikat ‘to bind’), and is the most commonly heard name for the fabric in modern times.  18th century fashion enthusiasts will know the French name, chine or chine a la branche, which specifically refers to multi-coloured warp-patterned fabric, and Pompadour silk, a later English term for the same fabric.  More prosaically, English-language sources also call it by the technical description of ‘warp-printing’.   Finally, there is the Turkish terms abr, which literally means ‘cloud’, an apt description for the soft edges of the resulting designs.

The ikat dyeing and weaving technique goes back millenia, and was developed independently in different parts of the world: there are very old examples from Japan, Indonesia, Turkey, Yemen, and pre-Columbian South America.

Fragment from an Ikat Shawl, late 9th—early 10th century, Yemen, Cotton, ink, gold; plain weave, resist-dyed (ikat), painted, Metropolitan Museum of Art, 29.179.10

Fragment from an Ikat Shawl, late 9th—early 10th century, Yemen, Cotton, ink, gold; plain weave, resist-dyed (ikat), painted, Metropolitan Museum of Art, 29.179.10

Ikat, under the name chine,  became popular in Europe in the mid-18th century as part of the craze for Eastern designs and fabrics.  The name chine literally means ‘Chinese’ in French, because of the fabric’s association with China and the East.  Though the first examples probably did come from China, by the 1760s France was producing its own warp printed chine fabrics.

Robe à la Francaise (detail), French, 1760s, chine silk, LACMA

Robe à la Francaise (detail), French, 1760s, chine silk, LACMA

According to the Kyoto Costume Institute, the fabric was frequently worn by and particularly associated with Madame de Pompadour, and so is sometimes called ‘Pompadour taffeta.’  However there is a bit of doubt and confusion around this term.  First did Madame de Pompadour even wear chine a la branche?  If Madame de Pompadour did ever wear a dress of chine silk, she would have been on the forefront of the fashion (which is, of course, entirely fitting with her character) as the first examples of chine silk gowns date from the mid-1750s.  Pompadour died of tuberculosis in 1763.

Dress, 1755—65, French, silk, Metropolitan Museum of Art, 50.168.1ab

Dress of chine silk, 1755—65, French, silk, Metropolitan Museum of Art, 50.168.1ab

The first usage of the term, in English, not French, of course, dates to 1762, when Mr.  Clarke “dressed in pompadour, with gold buttons; and his lovely Dolly in a smart checked lutestring, a present from her mistress”  are mentioned in Smollet’s  ‘The Life and Adventures of Sir Launcelot Greaves.’  However the fabric described by Smollet may not have been a chine taffeta at all, but a different fabric altogether.  Further references to fabrics as Pompadours confuse the matter even further.  Almost ever decade of the 19th century called a fabric ‘Pompadour’, usually meaning something that combined flowers and stripes, though the ground ranged from wool to dupion to specifically black.  When reading a reference to Pompadour silk/taffeta/chine it’s difficult to tell exactly what fabric is meant by the reference.

Robe à la Française, 1760—70, French, silk, Metropolitan Museum of Art C.I.60.40.2

Robe à la Française, 1760—70, French, silk, Metropolitan Museum of Art C.I.60.40.2

In 1768-9 the barely-teenage Marie Antoinette was painted in a gown of chine silk in a portrait that was sent to her prospective bridegroom so that he could see his intended bride.  The gown in the portrait is more fashionable than grand, and Marie Antoinette wears no jewels except for the ubiquitous pearls.  It’s an interesting portrait: the gown gives an impression of culture, worldliness, knowledge.  Or perhaps her gown was just meant to give a subtle nod to France’s textile industry, as the chine for Marie Antoinette’s dress was likely have to been woven there.

Marie Antoinette in a dress of chine a la branche, at the age of thirteen; by Joseph Ducreux (1769)

Marie Antoinette in a dress of chine a la branche, at the age of thirteen; by Joseph Ducreux (1769)

Chine silks reached the heights of their popularity in the 1770s & 80s, and though they were still considered exotic, and certainly luxurious, they were far more likely to have been made in France than in China.  France was even weaving chine combined with velvet: an incredibly difficult, and thus expensive, process.

Jacket, late 18th century, Kulturen

Jacket, late 18th century, Kulturen

Chine  gradually fell out of fashion in the 1790s, though there are a few examples of chine, both in silk and, more unusually, in cotton, in Regency dress, and 18th century  chine  fabrics were likely re-used throughout the  19th century.

Evening overdress, 1797—99, British, silk, linen, Metropolitan Museum of Art, 2009.300.219

Evening overdress, 1797—99, British, silk, linen, Metropolitan Museum of Art, 2009.300.219

Peignoir, India (fabric)  Great Britain (garment), 1812-1814, muslin dyed in the ikat technique, V&A

Peignoir, India (fabric) Great Britain (garment), 1812-1814, muslin dyed in the ikat technique, T.798-1913  V&A Museum

Chine saw a major re-surgence in popularity in the 1840s-1860s.  In contrast to the larger, softer, more abstract chines of the 18th century, or the very simple geometric chine of the first decades of the 19th, mid-19th century chine silk tended to be more literal; with smaller, brighter, easily recognisable floral patterns.

Gown of warp printed silk satin, late 1840s, Augusta Auctions

Gown of warp printed silk satin, late 1840s, Augusta Auctions

Ball gown, warp printed silk, 1840s, Whitaker Auctions

Ball gown, warp printed silk, 1840s, Whitaker Auctions

In 1859 Theodore de Banville described an old woman “dressed in the most irritating height of fashion. Over a dress of  pompadour taffeta  in white with designs of flowers, fruit and birds she wore a tulle mantelete, striped in velvet with two great flounces in chantilly lace.”

Dress in two parts worn by Sofia of Nassau, Queen of Sweden, circa 1850, Royal Armoury Collection, Sweden

Dress of chine silk worn by Sofia of Nassau, Queen of Sweden, circa 1850, Royal Armoury Collection, Sweden

Though it never returned to the popularity it had enjoyed in the late-18th and mid-19th century, chine fabric and ribbons continued to be used in fashion throughout the 19th century, and were produced in France  into the early 20th century.    The flower strewn Jean-Phillipe Worth dress that you found so charming as a Rate-the-Dress was made from chine silk.

Evening dress (detail of bodice), House of Worth, Jean-Philippe Worth, 1902, French, silk, rhinestones, metal, Metropolitan Museum of Art

Evening dress (detail of bodice), House of Worth, Jean-Philippe Worth, 1902, French, silk, rhinestones, metal, Metropolitan Museum of Art

Ikat, as a term, wasn’t used in English until the 20th century, but has since become, along with warp-printing, the most widely used and recognised term for the technique.  While  chine lost its original exotic connotations, ikat continues to be  used in fashion and furnishing to evoke a distinctly ethnic and organic feel.

Cocktail ensemble, Bonnie Cashin  (American, 1915—2000), Eunice Cashin (American) 1957, silk, wool, Metropolitan Museum of Art, 2009.300.3285

Cocktail ensemble of ikat, Bonnie Cashin (American, 1915—2000), Eunice Cashin (American) 1957, silk, wool, Metropolitan Museum of Art, 2009.300.3285

There is also a very rare variant of ikat, double-ikat, where both the warp and weft threads of the fabric are pre-dyed.

 Sources:

Cumming, Valerie and Cunnington, C.W.; Cunnington, P.E,  The Dictionary of Fashion History  (Rev., updated ed.). Oxford: Berg. 2010

Fukai, Akiko.  Fashion  : the collection of the Kyoto Costume Institute  : a history from the 18th to the 20th century. Köln [etc.]: Taschen. 2002. p.  56.  

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

“Printing of Silk Warps for the Manufacture of Chine Silk”.  Posselt’s Textile Journal. December 1907. Retrieved 12 December 2012.

Rate the Dress: Paquin’s pale flower

I’ll be perfectly honest with you.  I was NOT expecting you, on the whole, to like last week’s Rate the Dress.  I thought all of you would be calling curtains and poof and froof and Miss Havisham.  I mean, it had puffed sleeves divided by puffs with triple rows of ruffles at the edges, and layers and layers of puffed skirts, all surmounted by a puffed sash.  But you loved it!  Perhaps all that paleness made the puffiness work, because it came in at a respectable 7.7 out of 10 (not bad for a dress that did, in the end, get compared to curtains & Miss Havisham).

This week I’m sticking with pale, but going outside the date perimeters of the Historical Sew Fortnightly with a 1950s gown (though Massignac was the designer for Paquin from 1945 to 49, so I question the dating slightly).

Colette Massignac for House of Paquin, 1950s

Colette Massignac for House of Paquin, 1950s or 1945-49

This dress reminds me of the moonflowers that used to grow wild all along the roads growing up Hawaii.  They would bloom at dusk, and fade early in the morning.  Massignac may have been using the exact flowers as her inspiration: evoking a fragile night bloom for a delicate evening gown, using a pale colour to glow against the dark of night, and adding rows of diamantes or sequins to further catch the light.

What do you think?  Would the wearer of this dress be the blooming belle of the ball, or sad, wilted wallflower?

Rate the Dress on a Scale of 1 to 10

(and, as always, extra bonus points for anyone who can identify what collection this is from.  I’ve searched and searched, but all the sites link back to commercial sites that are using other images from collections I recognise, without crediting them, and their links send you to shopping sites).