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Rate the Dress: Jean-Phillipe’s turn-of-the-century flower garden

I had anticipated that last week’s leopard-print suit would elicit a variety of responses, and I was not disappointed.  A few of you were utterly horrified, many of you were thoroughly delighted, and some of you belonged to the camp, best expressed by Melissa, that while the outfit was the “18th century equivalent of metallic platforms, it is fabulous anyway.”  Thanks to the less impressed, the rating came down to 7.7 out of 10 – pretty good for a guy in a leopard print suit!

Since we looked at fauna last week, let’s rate a flora themed frock this week.  If you want flowers, I do believe this 1902 evening gown by Jean-Phillipe Worth fits the bill perfectly:

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

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

The dress is a walking flower garden and a froth of femininity, with lace and diamantes and satin bows and flower garden chine silk which is appliqued to the lace.

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

The romantic flower garden theme and delicate femininity of the dress are further emphasized by the soft pastel colours, and the blurred soft focus of the chine silk.

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

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

The intriguing layout of the floral pattern, with distinct areas of unpatterned space, and a strong overall pattern, is very characteristic of late 19th century and early 20th century Worth textiles.  It’s slightly unexpected and challenging and provides a bit of tension to counterbalance the overwhelming sweetness of the frock, but could also be considered a bit awkward and clunky at certain angles.

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

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

What do you think?  Is the dress too frilly and saccharine for your taste, or is this the way to do über-feminine in the Belle Epoque?

Rate the Dress on a Scale of 1 to 10.  

Steampunk Afternoon Tea

A few weekends ago I attended a lovely Steampunk themed afternoon tea organized by the fabulous Emily of Ever So Scrumptious.

Steampunk afternoon tea thedreamstress.com

I didn’t make anything new outfit-wise for the the tea, but it was the perfect opportunity for me to wear the 1883 in Every Way pleated skirt myself for the first time.

Steampunk afternoon tea thedreamstress.com

Some people did manage to make new outfits – Sarah had just finished her fantastic striped Victorian ensemble.  I own some of the same fabric.  It’s fascinating stuff – silk cotton, green in some lights, blue in others, and distinctly brown in others.

Steampunk afternoon tea thedreamstress.com

Afternoon tea was held at the Wellesley Hotel, a fantastic old hotel with great staircases, a beautiful atmospheric lobby, and a fascinating collection of art – and taxidermy.

Steampunk afternoon tea thedreamstress.com

Every time I’m at the Wellesley I discover something new.  This visit’s find was their records of the atmospheric measurements in Wellington, including the record for the day of the Wahine  disaster.

Steampunk afternoon tea thedreamstress.com

Check out the plummet in atmospheric pressure.  They say it was the worst extratropical cyclone in New Zealand’s history, and the reading supports it.

Right, back to fabulous steampunkery.  And tea.  Mmmmm…tea.

Steampunk afternoon tea thedreamstress.com

And guys in steampunk-esque military uniforms.  I think we should replace business suits with steampunk esque military uniforms as the standard dress for me.  The world would be so much more elegant.

Steampunk afternoon tea thedreamstress.com

Of course, if you look at the track records of societies where significant portions of the men wore military uniforms, it wasn’t a good idea.  Sigh.  Scratch that.  We’ll have to find another way to achieve male sartorial elegance.

Steampunk afternoon tea thedreamstress.com

Speaking of sartorial elegance, and Friday’s post, I was slightly lacking.  The saturday of the steampunk tea was not a good day for me – I woke up at 2am with a rare migraine, and spent two hours in the shower before trying to go back to bed with every available painkiller.  Up until an hour before the tea I wasn’t sure if I could sit upright and keep any food down.  Hiding under the covers was way more important than ironing the skirt, so my pleats were less than precise.   And you know what?  I’m totally OK with that.  At least I managed to make it out to the tea, and spend time with my friends.

I did have to sit facing away from the lights and windows, and wasn’t as perky as usual, but the painkillers and caffeine finally took effect, and by the time we toured the hotel after tea I was quite chipper.

Steampunk afternoon tea thedreamstress.com

I LOVE that lobby.  I want to move into it.

Steampunk afternoon tea thedreamstress.com

And the twisting staircase?  Fabulous.
Steampunk afternoon tea thedreamstress.com
That’s me, at the very bottom with the grand piano.  Waving goodbye.

Goodbye!

Why my garments don’t always looked perfectly pressed

I’ve been asked why my historical garments don’t always look perfectly pressed in my photos.

There are five reasons for this (what a lovely coincidence, it means this works perfectly as Five for Friday):

First, my garments are made from fabrics that are as close to historically accurate as I can manage, which means they are made from natural fibres (silk, wool, cotton and linen), which don’t always press as crisply and smoothly and permanently as synthetic fabrics, nor stay as crisp and pressed.  This makes them look rumpled, but its also part of their charm, and part of what we value them for.

Think of Princess Diana’s wedding dress, and how rumpled it looked as she got out of the carriage.  If the woman about to become the Princess of Wales can’t have a perfectly pressed, non-rumpled dress out of certain silk fabrics, it’s not possible.

For an example of this, look at the photos that Mandi Lynn of A La Mode photography took for the Radio New Zealand photoshoot.  I spent hours ironing and steaming every single layer of these frocks, they went straight from the steamer on to the models, and straight from there in front of the camera.  The frocks are as perfectly and pristinely pressed as possible, and yet there is still a suggestion of rumples and wrinkles.  It’s simply the nature of some fabrics, particularly silks.

18th century Dreamstress photoshoot by Mandi Lynn at A La Mode Photography

17th century Dreamstress photoshoot by Mandi Lynn at A La Mode Photography

And here is Queen Victoria in her wedding dress by WInterhalter.  Note the silk of her skirt, both smooth and rumpled:

Queen Victoria poses in her wedding dress

Second, by the time photos have been taken, my garments have usually been lived in and worn for a fair bit.  They have been put on a model, often crammed into a car with as many other models in big dresses as can safely and legally fit in a car.  If I’m wearing the dress, I’ve probably had to drive in it.  Then they get sat in, moved about in, pressed against, etc.  They stop looking absolutely pristine and freshly pressed.

I actually value the bits of wear that my costumes get: both the momentary wear of sitting creases, and the longer-term wear of dulling finishes and worn hems.  It makes them look real, and lived in.  Sometimes movie costumes look too perfect and freshly, and I’m not able to maintain the suspension of disbelief that makes the film believable and enjoyable.

There is plenty of historical evidence to support wear, tear, rumpling and crumpling happening in period.  Women attending balls wrote of coming home with wilted ruffles, torn flounces, and a general state of dishevelment, and cartoons satirized the wear to clothes that happened at the crush of the royal court in England, with attendees arriving with feathers proud and frocks pristine, and leaving looking no better than the beggars who had lined the way there, hoping for a bit of largesse.

Here we are, all freshly pressed and dressed, taking tea, before a talk and photoshoot.  By the time the talk and photoshoot happened a certain amount of sit creasing would inevitably have set in

Ladies taking tea thedreamstress.com

Third, sometimes I specifically want an un-pressed look for historical accuracy.  There is both painted and photographic evidence that period frocks weren’t always perfectly pressed.  Ironing was difficult and time consuming; not everyone had the time, equiptment and inclination. At certain periods, there was actually a cache attached to the crisp, square creases of a garment just removed from the dressmakers box, so garments were purposefully left unpressed.

Here is Charlotte Bonaparte, Napoleon I’s niece (and at one point his potential wife, though thankfully he decided such a marriage was a bit too squiggy (probably not in those words) and married someone he wasn’t related to instead) in a beautiful sky blue silk gown, with marked horizontal creases across the front of her gown.  The creases are probably an indication that the gown was brand new, fresh out of the box and never worn – indicating both her family’s wealth, and probably also alluding to her youth and untouched status.

Portrait of Charlotte Bonaparte, 1808, by Jean-Pierre Granger

Portrait of Charlotte Christine Bonaparte (later Gabrielli), 1808, by Jean-Pierre Granger

As another example, here is a lovely late Victorian couple, posed in what may be their wedding finery with boutonnières and corsages.  Her gorgeous silk satin skirt is puckered at the seams, has a badly finished hemline, and is quite creased, and yet, this was at a time when a posed studio photograph was still a momentous occasion.

1890s couple, the woman in a creased silk satin skirt, via valerieanasolaris on Flickr

1890s couple, the woman in a creased silk satin skirt, via valerieanasolaris on Flickr

Fourth, sometimes I just don’t press things.

I’m a busy woman.  I run my own business, work over 8 hours a day 6 days a week, write an almost daily blog, sew, teach Baha’i children’s classes every fortnight, do other volunteer work, and manage to keep my house reasonably tidy, my husband and I reasonably well fed with home cooking, and some semblance of a personal and social life going.

My garments involve a lot of fabric, and a lot of pleating and gathering and trim which make ironing difficult.  Ironing one of my outfits properly takes, on average, at least an hour.  For a talk with 6 models and myself, that’s an entire  work days worth of ironing (with teeny breaks for tea and lunch).  And it has to be done very shortly before a garment is worn, which leaves me little time to deal with models getting sick, pouring rain requiring change of venues and alternate frocks, or any other emergencies.

For proper talks and photoshoots I usually manage it (with lots of help from the models and other volunteers), but when it is just for a personal event I often decide I’d rather spend an hour with Mr D, wash the dishes, have a nap, play with Felicity, etc, than iron a dress.

Sometimes Fiss and I just need to cuddle with a cup of tea and a good book

Sometimes Fiss and I just need to cuddle with a cup of tea and a good book

Finally, photography can seriously emphasise wrinkles and creases.  A dress can look quite acceptable in person, with any creasing lost in the movement, but when you see a photograph of the same garment, the static pose and lighting make any creases glaringly obvious.  Our 1890s woman in her silk skirt probably looked much less creased and rumpled in person.

For an example of this, lets look at pictures of my 1913 Carte Blanche dress at last years Aethercon ball.  It had been an incredibly full-on and stressful day for me, I wasn’t sure if I was going to make the ball, the weather was terrible, and I wasn’t up to wearing the heavily corseted frock I’d meant to wear.  Carte Blanche was a last minute solution, and I couldn’t be bothered ironing it.  It’s also made from tussah silk, a very which means that even at its most freshly pressed, it looks slightly rumpled.  Completely un-ironed, it was very creased, but different photographs make it look more or less creased:

1913 'Carte Blanche' Poiret inspired dress thedreamstress.com

Un-ironed Carte Blanch dress seen with a flash – tons of wrinkles

1913 'Carte Blanche' Poiret inspired dress thedreamstress.com

Un-ironed Carte Blanch dress seen without a flash – wrinkles are there, but less obvious

One day I’ll have lots and lots of space, and ideal storage situations so my dresses don’t crumple, and professional irons and steamers, and people other than me to do the ironing and steaming every single time, but for now, my dresses are going to have the occasional completely crumpled moment.  Unless you want to come over and do the ironing for me? 😉