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Terminology: What is a chesterfield coat?

The chesterfield is a man’s overcoat with simple vertical seams, no side-back piece, and a velvet collar, usually in grey with black.

The velvet collar is the defining feature of the chesterfield (as the fitted waist has since been lost) and is said to be based on the black strips that supporters of the old regime sewed on their jackets after the execution of Louis XVI in 1793.  This last bit, while quite romantic and appealing, is, alas, probably apocryphal.

Coat (Chesterfield), 1929—30, American, wool, silk, Metropolitan Museum of Art

According to The Encyclopedia of Fashion, the coat was named after Phillip Dormer Stanhope, 4th Earl of Chesterfield, .  This seems somewhat improbable, Stanhope died in 1773.  As the first known use of the term was in the 1840s, it seems likely it refers to a 19th century Earl of Chesterfield, perhaps the 6th Earl of Chesterfield, who cut a bit of a swath in London the 1830s and 40s.  There are certainly references to it as a Lord Chesterfield coat, indicating a link between the Lord and the coat.

The Chesterfield was interesting as a fashion innovation not because of its velvet collar, but because, unlike earlier coats, it did not have a waist seam, and was cut quite loosely around the body.  This meant that Chesterfields were true overcoats: they could be put on over most other garments, and taken off easily when indoors.

Chesterfield fashions for October 1901, via Wikipedia

Though they may only have begun as a fashion in the 1840s, they quickly became popular even in the far fashion outposts of the British Empire as Chesterfield coats were being imported into NZ as early as 1853.  There is an even earlier reference to men’s ‘Chesterfield wrappers‘ in 1848, and these may be the same thing.  Certainly by 1858 they were a common, and recognised, cut of coat.

The early Chesterfield coats were quite loose overcoats, such as this Chesterfield of melton that was  stolen in  1880  (the account is quite amusing), but at the end of the century the style saw a revamp and became more fitted.

The revamp of the  Chesterfield corresponded with a surge in popularity, and a the rise of a number of specific variants, including  an 1890s  caped variant, and the 1900s town-posh DB Chesterfield (with velvet collar) and the country-rustic SB Chesterfield, with cape.  There were even regional variants, and evinced by this  1890 advertisement for  Zealandia clothing, including a Chesterfield coat.

Thornton’s Sectional System of Cutting Gentleman’s Garments  (1893), written right at the forefront of the change, describes:

The Principal Characteristics of the Chesterfield…the turns of the collar and lapels are bold in character, in keeping with the general outline of the garment, and all the details arranged in accordance with the requirements of a winter overcoat… The buttons are of horn or smoked pearl…The edges are double stitched…Sometimes the seams are strapped, a style which produces a very good effect.

The pattern for the Chesterfield (left) in the Sectional System book

Along with the more fitted style came another variant: the double breasted Chesterfield, which has been one of the more common Chesterfield styles in the decades since.

Despite the popularity of double breasted Chesterfields, you could, and can, still get the single breasted styles.  In 1912 one of the latest styles was a “Gent’s Single Breasted Chesterfield in grey tweed with velvet collar, turned back cuffs, fly front fastening, and lined with Italian cloth”

Even bigger than the double-breasted innovation was the gender leap the overcoat made.  The loose coat fit perfectly with the more active outdoors lifestyle women were beginning to adopt.

Double-breasted ladies Chesterfield jacket (far left) featured in the 1907 National Cloak & Suit Company catalogue

Their introduction into women’s wordrobes, not surprisingly, also saw a huge adaptation in the coats style as they were re-structured to fit female bodies, and (let’s be honest here) the whims of women’s fashion.

Ladies outerwear in the National Cloak and Suit Company catalogue, 1907. The two on the right would be Chesterfields if they had velvet collars.

Today Chesterfields are usually grey or black wool, but in past decades Chesterfield could come in all sort of wool fabrics.  The Sectional System mentions the many suitable woolens available.  Chesterfields coats are advertised in melton cloth and beaver in New Zealand  in 1900, and again  in 1903

Intriguingly, one 1870s advertisements in New Zealand indicate Chesterfield as  a type of cloth, rather than a type of garment.  This may have been a single confused seller though, as other tailors clearly indicate that they are  a garment.

Chesterfields are still worn today, both by men and women, though they have yet to return to the peaks of fashion they saw in the mid-19th century, at the turn of the 20th century, or from 1920 to the 1960s.

Vogue pattern for a Chesterfield coat, 1959 via the Vintage Pattern Wiki

As 20th century fashions changed drastically, the Chesterfield changed with it, and the definition of what is and isn’t a Chesterfield stretched somewhat.  As the Chesterfield is most defined by its velvet collar, a jacket that is not technically a Chesterfield in the rest of its styling, but which has a black velvet half-collar, may be called a Chesterfield jacket, or be said to have a Chesterfield collar.

Suit with Chesterfield collar, England, ca. 1954, Morton, Digby, Tweed lined with silk velvet and half-lining of crêpe de Chine, plastic, V&A

For more interesting info on Chesterfields check out this article at the Gentleman’s Gazette.

Sources:

O’Hara, Georgina,  The Encyclopedia of Fashion: From 1840 to the 1980s.  London: Thames and Hudson Ltd.  1986

Merriam-Webster Online Dictionary

Rothstein, Natalie (ed) Four Hundred Years of Fashion.  London: V&A Publications.  1984

Thornton, J.P.  The Sectional System of Gentlemen’s Garment Cutting.  1893

Shell’s dress: a very meaningful fascinator

It’s been a while since I have posted about Shell’s wedding dress, but I always meant to tell you about her fascinator.

Shell’s fascinator was a combination of need and happy circumstances.

First the need:

  • Shell had always planned to make a fascinator to wear, but as the day approached we were all super busy and running out of time.

Then the happy circumstances:

  • Shell’s mother had sent lace motifs clipped from her own wedding dress, and satin from her Grandmother’s wedding dress, which we hoped to incorporate into Shell’s dress, but the dress was too far along by the time they arrived.
  • Emily of Ever So Scrumptious had a collection of kereru feathers from her backyard (yes, she got permission from DOC to keep them) that she offered to Shell for her fascinator.
  • Shell’s mother-in-law to be crocheted her a series of flowers for her fascinator and the bridesmaid’s fascinators.
  • And of course, we had the gorgeous embroidered buttons that Madame Ornata had worked.
  • And finally, I found a bluebird feather in my stash.  I’m not  exactly  sure how it got there.  I have a nasty suspicion that I found it tucked in a suitcase pocket, which means I collected it on a trip when I was 16 or so, and it went back and forth and back and forth and back and forth between Hawaii and the US, and then came to NZ.  Sorry DOC.  But I might be totally wrong.

As the day of the wedding approached and we all started panicking about finishing details I jokingly suggested to Shell that in order to use the bits from her mother and grandmother’s dress she should just stick one of the lace motifs on her head, pile the other stuff on top of it, and call it good.

At first we laughed and thought the lace motifs would be ridiculously big, and wouldn’t work.  And then I looked at them again, and said “try it on”.  And we pinned a lace motif on her head, and stuck feathers and flowers on it, and it looked amazing.

So we took the whole thing down, just as we had bobby-pinned it on her head, and I sewed it together.  And it looked  amazing.

The lace motif is the base.  We realised after we pinned the whole thing together that we had chosen a motif with age stains, but it was the only motif with that exact shape, so it stayed.

An embroidered button featuring a Missouri bluebird anchors the crocheted flower.

Two tall kereru tail feathers, and the one (possibly illicit) bluebird feather add angular dimensionality, while tiny kereru breast feathers and some ostrich tips from my stash, soften the whole look.

Finally I  used the satin from her mothers dress to make little scrunched flowers with burnt edges to tuck under the crocheted flower.

So there is Shell’s fascinator: a bit of her grandmother, a bit of her mother, a bit of her childhood home & old country, a bit of her new family, a bit of her new country, a bit of her friends and their talents, and even a tiny bit of me.

After the first ceremony in NZ Shell and Richard flew to the US to have a ceremony with her family there.  Due to potential problems with transporting kereru feathers out of NZ and back into the country, Shell left the fascinator here, but took materials (not feathers) to make another one to wear in the US.

For her second fascinator I made her another set of flowers from her mother’s dress.  These ones came out looking like dogwood, which are one of my favourite flowers.  After the flowers were done Shell told me that Missouri’s state flower is the dogwood.

 What a happy chance.

Rate the Dress: Summer of 1778

Despite the possible oddness and uncomfortableness of a boned skirt, and not everyone getting the Japanese influence (it was the best sort of influence – very subtle, most Japanese in that respect, among others!) most of you soundly approved of last week’s green party frock, and it rated a perfect 9 out of 10.

You’ve already seen this fashion plate featuring a very summery yellow and lilac frock of 1778 in my post on sabot sleeves, but I thought it deserved a closer look.

Gallerie des Modes et Costumes, Robe à la Circassienne, 1778, MFA Boston

The fashion plate describes the dress as (roughly – my French is pretty bad)

A Circassienne dress in the new style, of gauze in a sulphur colour, with trim in lilac gauze.  The flounce trim is in the same colour as the dress, as is the bottom of the sabot.  The whole thing trimmed in lilac and purple, even to the headdress

What do you think?  Do you like yellow and purple, or is the whole thing a bit twee, with all its pastels and ruffles and bows and polonaised skirts?

Rate the Dress on a Scale of 1 to 10