The Dreamstress

The last few dresses I’ve shown you were so crisp and precise, almost clinically perfect, even if you didn’t necessarily think they were attractive.  I decided it was time to find something a little softer, with a bit of layering and randomness.  And who better fits that bill than Lucile, the designer who made layering, embellishment, and a blurred line between lingerie (late Edwardian style) and luxurious partywear her calling card?

Last Week:  an 1880s reception gown in two parts

Last week’s dress really boiled down to: were you team bows, or team no bows?  Team bows thought the bows tied the dress together, and cleverly hid the problem often caused by 1880s front ruched skirts (aka, what’s the point of the ruching?).  Team no bows…just didn’t like them.

FTR, I’m from Hawai’i, so obviously I’m team bows #letsgobows

There was also some discussion of whether the train made sense or not, if the bodice and skirt made sense together, and lace colour.

The Total: 7.5 out of 10

A teeny tiny improvement on the week before, but hardly what could be called a roaring success.

This week: A Lucile evening dress in tulle, lace and satin

This Lucile gown was sold at auction a few years back, and definitely wasn’t in the best condition.  Some of its embellishments are crumpled or missing, and there are marks and stains (most obviously at the underarms)

Evening gown, silk satin and silk net, with appliques and beading, Lucile, Lady Duff Gordon, ca. 1914, sold by Augusta Auctions

Despite the condition issues, I think the design intent of the gown is still clearly visible. It features Lucile’s characteristic layering of fabrics and textures, with multiple layers and hues of delicate tulle and detailed beading over lace over lush satin over yet another layer of embroidered and appliqued lace.

Evening gown, silk satin and silk net, with appliques and beading, Lucile, Lady Duff Gordon, ca. 1914, sold by Augusta Auctions

The mix of subtly blended colours: sky blue and evening purple with pinks, yellows and greens in the flowers, is a classic Lucile touch.  It’s experimental and inventive without relying on vivid, loud colours.

Evening gown, silk satin and silk net, with appliques and beading, Lucile, Lady Duff Gordon, ca. 1914, sold by Augusta Auctions

The dress is notable for featuring one of Lucile’s most famous touches: pulled up or slit skirts which revealed large expanses of [stockinged] legs.  Lucile said “If I never did anything else in my life, I showed that a woman’s leg can be a thing of beauty, instead of a ‘limb,’ spoken of only in the privacy of a fitting room.”

Evening gown, silk satin and silk net, with appliques and beading, Lucile, Lady Duff Gordon, ca. 1914, sold by Augusta Auctions

While her ‘mannequins’ may have shown off the full length of stocking, Lucile’s clients inevitably chose a more modest version of the look, with layers of lace and tulle keeping the legs rather more discreetly veiled.    That’s exactly what this dress shows, with a froth of lace and ribbon embellished tulle obscuring the opening of the picked up skirts.

Evening gown, silk satin and silk net, with appliques and beading, Lucile, Lady Duff Gordon, ca. 1914, sold by Augusta Auctions

Evening gown, silk satin and silk net, with appliques and beading, Lucile, Lady Duff Gordon, ca. 1914, sold by Augusta Auctions

Evening gown, silk satin and silk net, with appliques and beading, Lucile, Lady Duff Gordon, ca. 1914, sold by Augusta Auctions

What do you think?  This dress is classic 1914, and classic Lucile, with every possible embellishment of the era.  Does it work?

Rate the Dress on a Scale of 1 to 10

A reminder about rating — feel free to be critical if you don’t like a thing, but make sure that your comments aren’t actually insulting to those who do like a garment.  Phrase criticism as your opinion, rather than a flat fact. Our different tastes are what make Rate the Dress so interesting.  It’s no fun when a comment implies that anyone who doesn’t agree with it, or who would wear a garment, is totally lacking in taste.

As usual, nothing more complicated than a .5.  I also hugely appreciate it if you only do one rating, and set it on a line at the very end of your comment.

I’ve got a real soft-spot for ca. 1880’s fashion.  There’s something about the combination of a fairly sleek silhouette and a ridiculous amount of trim that just tickles my fancy.  It was also an era of experimentation and whimsy: silly pockets, and every type of embellishment you could imagine combined.  Of course, some examples of the era pull off the ridiculousness better than others.  Will this week’s Rate the Dress tickle your fancy?

Last Week:  a ca. 1860 dress in stripey plaid

Mixed results on last week’s dress.  Most of you liked the sleeves, although the trim was controversial.  The fabric was hardly an unmitigated success: even if you liked the fabric’s colours and pattern you weren’t entirely on-board with the combination of print and cut, and thought the stripe-heavy plaid wasn’t suited to gores.

The Total: 7.3 out of 10

A rather mediocre score after the perfection of the week before.

This week: an 1880s reception gown in two parts

There’s an interesting tension to the aesthetic of this gown.

Dress in two parts, 1880s, Fashion Museum Bath

The skirt is absolutely conventionally fashionable for the early 1880s, with its pleated ruffle at the hem, front ruching, ribbon bows, and trained back.  But there’s just a hint of the aesthetic movement in the bodice.  It’s only a tiny suggestion, but the puffed oversleeves with their ruched cuffs, straight waist, and front gathered bodice all hint at an alternative view of fashion.

Dress in two parts, 1880s, Fashion Museum Bath

There’s some rather clever elements to this dress if you look closely.  The way the stripes are used on the bodice to create the impression of a separate centre front panel.  The buttons on the waistband, which may mean the train is detachable (and possibly even a later addition to the dress?).  Alternatively, the buttons may be a way to fasten the bodice to the skirt.  They could be part of the skirts waistband, and fasten through the bodice to hold the two parts perfectly in place.

Dress in two parts, 1880s, Fashion Museum Bath

What do you think?  Is this hitting the sweet spot of ca. 1880 fashion?

Rate the Dress on a Scale of 1 to 10

A reminder about rating — feel free to be critical if you don’t like a thing, but make sure that your comments aren’t actually insulting to those who do like a garment.  Phrase criticism as your opinion, rather than a flat fact. Our different tastes are what make Rate the Dress so interesting.  It’s no fun when a comment implies that anyone who doesn’t agree with it, or who would wear a garment, is totally lacking in taste.

As usual, nothing more complicated than a .5.  I also hugely appreciate it if you only do one rating, and set it on a line at the very end of your comment.