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Morning Dress, England, 1834-1836, cotton, National Gallery of Victoria, CT13-1987

Rate the Dress: Good Morning in the mid 1830s

I’ve got a real soft spot for 1830s day dresses. I like how romantic they are, and how ridiculous they are. Most of all, I like the fabric. It was such an inventive period in textile design, with new technology contributing to a profusion of interesting experimental textiles. Today’s dress features one of those fabrics: a cotton print with geometric and floral patterns in fawn and green.

Last Week: a late 1910s dress with very modern embroidery  

Ratings on last week’s dress started with rave reviews, and gradually slid down the scale, so that the last batch of ratings were pretty mediocre. There’s some interesting psychology there.

Those who loved it liked the experimentation and modernity, and could imagine family members wearing it. Those who weren’t so impressed found it awkward and uninteresting.

The Total: 8.6 out of 10

Exactly the same as last week! Although, unlike last week there was actually one rating for 8.5

This week: an 1830s morning dress of printed cotton

This week’s Rate the Dress was rather a random choice: I had an idea for something quite different, but went through my ‘Rate the Dress’ possibilities album it instantly caught my eye:

Morning Dress, 1834-1836, National Gallery of Victoria
Morning Dress, England, 1834-1836, cotton, National Gallery of Victoria, CT13-1987

I’m not sure exactly why, but I like the juxtaposition between this week’s dress, and last week’s. Both garments are from eras when fashion was undergoing a huge change, and when there was a lot of experimentation, both in silhouette, and materials.

Morning Dress, England, 1834-1836, cotton, National Gallery of Victoria, CT13-1987
Morning Dress, England, 1834-1836, cotton, National Gallery of Victoria, CT13-1987

There’s a great contrast between the silhouette of this dress and the 1910s embroidered frock. The latter so sleek and simple, the former so full and romantic, all puffs and gathers.

Morning Dress, England, 1834-1836, cotton, National Gallery of Victoria, CT13-1987
Morning Dress, England, 1834-1836, cotton, National Gallery of Victoria, CT13-1987

And yet, in the way both play with geometry and lines, and use a fairly restrained palette for impact, there are similarities as well.

Morning Dress, England, 1834-1836, cotton, National Gallery of Victoria, CT13-1987
Morning Dress, England, 1834-1836, cotton, National Gallery of Victoria, CT13-1987

This week’s dress is slightly less formal than last weeks: it’s a morning dress, for wearing earlier in the day, to less formal events. You’d put it on to look nice while receiving visitors, to go visiting yourself, or for running simple errands or doing your shopping. It would be worn with a pelerine, fichu, or chemisette with large falling collar. It might be paired with a shawl if it was cold enough, and would need a bonnet if you were going outside.

Here’s a similar, but slightly more formal and fashionable, morning dress for visiting:

etching National Gallery of Victoria, Melbourne Felton Bequest, 1926  Photo: National Gallery of Victoria, Melbourne
Morning Visiting Dress 1830-1840 hand-coloured etching National Gallery of Victoria, Melbourne Felton Bequest, 1926 Photo: National Gallery of Victoria, Melbourne

What do you think?

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.

1760s Frou-Frou Française thedreamstress.com

The Frou Frou Française – Finished!

Seven years after I started it, my 1760s Frou Frou Française is finally, finally done!*

1760s Frou Frou Francaise thedreamstress.com

I tweaked the bodice fit slightly, fixed the sleeve ruffles, and finished the trim, and here it is in all its floofy glory!

1760s Frou Frou Francaise thedreamstress.com

The occasion for finishing it? Self imposed deadlines 🤣

My friend Nina has been making a française out of the most gorgeous Burnley & Trowbridge silk and we wanted to do a photoshoot together. I wanted to take advantage of the spring rengarenga lily bloom.

We decided if we just set a date for the shoot, we’d have to be done in time.

1760s Frou-Frou Française thedreamstress.com

As it turned out, we hit the very beginnings of the bloom season, AND picked a day that was 12 degrees celcius, with a howling southerly wind taking it well into single digit temperatures for our shoot. So if I look pale and pinched it’s not just makeup, and there’s a decidedly purple tinge to our hands!

1760s Frou-Frou Française thedreamstress.com

The photographer was Nina’s friend Leon of @apped_as. We’re still waiting for his photos: these were all taken on my camera by his lovely wife with my camera settings – so a combined effort.

1760s Frou-Frou Française thedreamstress.com

There will be 18 gazillion more photos as they come in, and I talk through the trim and construction. But for now, prettiness! And a massive hooray for a seven year project finally wrapped up, and a major 2020 goal ticked off my list. And a huge thank you to Nina for pushing me to do it!

But wait, there’s more: I’ve made a page for the Française! I’ve neglected that part of my portfolio badly in the last few years. It’s good to do a little work tidying it up.

1760s Frou-Frou Française thedreamstress.com
1760s Frou-Frou Française thedreamstress.com
1760s Frou-Frou Française thedreamstress.com
1760s Frou-Frou Française thedreamstress.com

Did I mention wind?

1760s Frou-Frou Française thedreamstress.com

* Well, you know. Done-for-now. The sleeve bows need to be moved 5cm. The sleeve ruffles could be rotated 2cm. Or I might completely re-do the sleeves. The trim will probably continue to grow and change and get added to. And I’d like a second stomacher…

Dress, 1915, Silk with openwork embroidery, Goldstein Museum of Design, Gift of Charlotte Karlen, 2004.001.007

Rate the Dress: Embroidery goes modern

This week on Rate the Dress we’re looking at a garment from the end of WWI, featuring a very modern application of a very old technique: embroidery.

Last Week: a 1780s dress in apricot and peach

Votes on last weeks dress fell into two camps. Camp #1 felt that the dress was the epitome of all that was best in 1780s fashion, and rated it 9-10. Camp #2 felt it was a little weird and unbalanced and basically hated the trim – but that it was still an OK dress, so you rated it 6-7.5.

The Total: 8.6 out of 10

And, as happens with two divided camps, a rating that reflects neither: there wasn’t a single rating for 8 or 8.5! Yet here we are…

This week: a late 1910s dress with very modern embroidery

I’ve had this dress on my ‘to-be-rated’ list for a long time. This week seemed the perfect time to bring it out. One of the criticisms of last week’s dress is that it was too old fashioned in its choice of fabric. This dress is very modern in cut, fabric, and embellishment.

Dress, 1915, Silk with openwork embroidery, Goldstein Museum of Design, Gift of Charlotte Karlen, 2004.001.007
Dress, 1915, Silk with openwork embroidery,
Goldstein Museum of Design, Gift of Charlotte Karlen, 2004.001.007

The Goldstein Museum of Design dates this dress to 1915, but I don’t think it’s quite that forward thinking and revolutionary. I would date it to 1918-22. The slimmer skirt, very slightly dropped waist, short sleeves, and flat collar are all in keeping with a very late ‘teens-early 20s date. The real giveaway is the tabard effect at the back of the dress.

Dress, 1915, Silk with openwork embroidery, Goldstein Museum of Design, Gift of Charlotte Karlen, 2004.001.007
Dress, 1915, Silk with openwork embroidery,
Goldstein Museum of Design, Gift of Charlotte Karlen, 2004.001.007

This slightly odd variant trend was very a la mode 1918-22, and appeared both in caped variations at the back of the dress, as in this example, and as apron-like hangings at the front. Most fashion plates and patterns show the tabard worn under the belt or sash, so this loose variation is unusual – or styled incorrectly. It may be as fashion-forward as the rest of the dress, and anticipate the many cape effects seen in 20s fashions.

Dress, 1915, Silk with openwork embroidery, Goldstein Museum of Design, Gift of Charlotte Karlen, 2004.001.007
Dress, 1915, Silk with openwork embroidery,
Goldstein Museum of Design, Gift of Charlotte Karlen, 2004.001.007

Speaking of fashion forward, let’s talk about that embroidery! It’s a very simple concept, used to great visual effect. Rectangles of satin stitch in black or ivory are interspersed with cutwork/broderie anglaise rectangles.

Dress, 1915, Silk with openwork embroidery, Goldstein Museum of Design, Gift of Charlotte Karlen, 2004.001.007
Dress, 1915, Silk with openwork embroidery,
Goldstein Museum of Design, Gift of Charlotte Karlen, 2004.001.007

The resulting pattern is both a nod to the beading lace seen on so many pieces of Edwardian lingerie, and a extremely modern touch that evokes Cubist art and skyscrapers (and anticipates computer programmes).

Dress, 1915, Silk with openwork embroidery,  Goldstein Museum of Design, Gift of Charlotte Karlen, 2004.001.007
Dress, 1915, Silk with openwork embroidery,
Goldstein Museum of Design, Gift of Charlotte Karlen, 2004.001.007

Note the clever placement of the embroidery across the bodice: mirroring the hem decoration, and minimising the bust.

Dress, 1915, Silk with openwork embroidery, Goldstein Museum of Design, Gift of Charlotte Karlen, 2004.001.007
Dress, 1915, Silk with openwork embroidery,
Goldstein Museum of Design, Gift of Charlotte Karlen, 2004.001.007

I don’t feel that the display is quite doing the dress justice. The mannequin is a little too tall and long in the torso for the dress. It’s also a garment that would be brought to life with the right accessories: it needs stockings and shoes, a hat and a parasol. They aren’t exact duplicates, but here’s some ideas of how the dress might have been styled in its time.

Note the wrapped sash on the white with blue, and the pink numbers, and the vest effect at the shoulders on the green plaid and blue dress with the poppy hat – elements you see in the dress we’re looking at. The pale apricot dress has a tabard bodice.

Fashions for May 1918, The Deliniator

Slim skirts and flat collars for summer 1918:

1918 July, The Designer Magazine. Day, afternoon and sports wear for summer.
1918 July, The Designer Magazine. Day, afternoon and sports wear for summer.

It may be 1919, but hems are still almost at the ankles, although short sleeves are in:

Anna Q. Nilsson and Ethel Clayton — 1919
Anna Q. Nilsson and Ethel Clayton — 1919

See the flat collars, and the slightly dropped waist, with sash effect on the red and white number:

The Delineator, Fashions for July 1921

What do you think? Is this fashion forward done right?

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.