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Posts Tagged ‘Regency Dandy’

I’ve become a Pinterest addict. I can’t help it. I have always collected images for my blogs from a variety of sources, including museums, other bloggers, and historical websites. When I can, I provide attribution. Pinterest allows me to share interesting images in an easy and public forum. Just look at my fashion Pins. I have divided them into the following categories: 18th and 19th century fashions. Click here to see the full 18th and 19th century fashion board.

1775-1799: Click here to see the full board.

1800-1810: Click here to see the full board.

1811-1820: Click here to see the full board.

1821-1830: Click here to see the full board.

Regency Dandy: Click here to see the full board.

I love how I can file my images in logical Pinterest Boards, such as the ones you see above. I’d been collecting images for my private files, but now I can easily share them. Other bloggers have discovered this social media as well, sharing their unique pins (images) with others. I am thinking in particular of Two Nerdy History Girls, Austen Only, Evangeline Holland from Edwardian Promenade, and Heather Carroll from Marie Antoinette’s Gossip Guide

Pinterest is supposed to represent one’s personal interests. My fashion boards, especially, represent my POV. I like to mix up portraits, accessories, costumes, and fashion plates, so that the viewer gains a sense of what a lady’s (or dandy’s) wardrobe might look like in a particular time frame. I often think hard about the combination, making sure to provide a mix. In a few months, I plan to subdivide my boards, to provide a story about fashion or architecture, from which a student of Jane Austen’s World can take away a unique story.

I do have one major beef. While most people repin my images here and there, there are individuals who will repin hundreds of my images in one sitting. Mind you, it has taken me months to assemble the boards that represent my interests. To see one pinner simply appropriate more than 20 images in one sitting burns me up.

If you decide to join Pinterest, enjoy yourself! I do encourage you to follow Pinterest etiquette, however. In all things ask yourself: What would Jane Austen do? Join Vic’s Pinterest account at this link: http://pinterest.com/janeaustenworld/

Please note: Green links in this post are WordPress Ads.

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Since the 18th century, satirists have had a fun time mocking dandies. In Hogarth to Cruickshank: social change in graphic satire, 1967, (Walker Publishing)  Mary Dorothy George classified 3 different kinds of print-shop dandies: 1.) the notorious dandy, 2) the effeminate dandy, and 3) dandies who were slavish in their imitation of  Beau Brummel.

Buckskin breeches, clawhammer coat, and riding boots. This ensemble from the Kyoto Costume Institute could well have been worn by Mr. Darcy as he toured the grounds of Pemberley.

I would add to those categories two more distinctions: the powerful dandy and the ridiculous dandy, or one who, from behavior or social standing, is a wholly ridiculous and insignificant creature. The latter exquisites, along with the slavish imitators and effeminate dandies, were fodder for cartoonists, especially Robert and Isaac Cruikshank, who took great glee in lampooning them in a series of hand colored engravings.

This exquisite was a wholly ridiculous creature, a true fashion victim.

According to Jane Rendell in a Pursuit of Pleasure, the word dandy may have originated from “jack-a-dandy”, a Scottish description of a person dressing up at a fair. The word dates back to the late 18th century/early 19th centuries. In the Dictionary of the Vulgar Tongue, published in 1788, Francis Grose describes the dandy:

Dandy.  That’s the dandy;  i.e. the ton, the clever thing

Dandy.  grey Russet. A dirty brown. His coat’s dandy grey russet the colour of the Devil’s nutting bag.

Dandy. Prat. An insignificant or trifling fellow.

An effeminate dandy required a great deal of care. Cruikshank.

Much later, the word “dandy” is used to describe “Satinist” – Obs. rare”1, [f. Satin sb. + -ist.] A wearer of satin, a dandy. A new English dictionary on historical principles: founded mainly on the materials collected by the Philological Society, Volume 8, Part 2, 1914.

Beau Brummel’s influence in modifying men’s behavior and dress ranged far and wide, influencing the Prince Regent and his set.

Prinny’s set, or the Prince Regent’s friends, consisted of the Earl of Sefton, the Duke of Devonshire, Lord Manners, “Poodle” Bing, and the Duke of Beaufort, serious dandies all. Somber and rich, these men epitomized the powerful, restrained dandy. Image @The Georgian Index

In Jane Austen and Representations of Regency England, Issue 33; Issue 61, Roger Sales identifies Henry Crawford and Tom Bertram of Mansfield Park as dandies: Tom because he is the quintessential Regency sports man, as well as rich and handsome; Henry, because of his mode of address, which shows a haughty attitude towards rural workers, and because he fashions his conversation “into exquisity little mirrors to reflect his own sense of superiority.” Henry makes elegant bows and frequently mocks others. His manners, like Beau Brummel’s, verge frequently on insolence – his stance is one of ennui and superiority at the same time. While Henry is not as handsome as Tom, he commands a room with his personality. I would classify Tom and Henry as notorious dandies, for both pushed the limits of what was considered proper behavior. The more modest Edmund Bertram would never behave like either man.

Hessian boots

John Thorpe of Northanger Abbey belongs in the category of the ridiculous dandy. He drives a gig, but imagines it to rival a phaeton, which is like comparing a toyota corrolla to a sleek jaguar. John uses cant, and one imagines that his clothes are too loud and his shirt points too high.

Great coat with numerous capes, a favorite menswear item described by romance writers.

As for Mr. Darcy, his looks and dress are effortlessly elegant. He doesn’t try to impress; he simply is a superior man. His arrogance, which Elizabeth Bennet found so off putting at first, comes naturally, for he is placed securely high in society. His inheritance and the cares, responsibilities and duties that great wealth bring exemplify the qualities of a gentleman who is a cut above the rest.  Beau Brummel, I imagine, would have found very little fault with Mr. Darcy.

Two dandies by Cruikshank dresssed to the nines. While exquisitely rigged out, they take tea in a mean hovel of a room. Note the ragged curtains and table cloth, the dishes on the floor and the wash hanging on the line overhead.

While the term dandy has come to mean many things, among my favorite cartoons of the Regency era are those that make sport of them. These caricatures must have been popular then, and are irresistible to view now.

A Dandy Fainting, or an Exquisite in Fits, Cruikshank. This scene at a private box at the opera gives one a sense of how similar it is to today’s private boxes at a stadium. Note the table with food and drink; the couch, and the curtain that allowed for privacy.

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The Parks of London by Mary Elizabeth Brandon, 1868, on Dandyism.net discusses the dandies parading up and down London’s fashionable parks. After visiting that site, return to read some of my older posts about Hyde Park and the pleasure gardens.

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James Purefoy as Beau Brummel

Of course it became a fashion to exaggerate the Beau’s fastidiousness concerning his toilet. He is said to have employed at least two glovers to make his gloves — the first being entrusted exclusively with the making of the thumbs, the second with the fingers and the rest of the hand; to have made his blacking with champagne, to have had the ties of his cravats designed for him by an eminent portrait painter; to have engaged three hairdressers arrange his hair, one being entrusted with temples, one with the front, and the third his occiput [back of the head].

Quote from: Once a Week, by Eneas Sweetland Dallas, 1864,   p 242-243

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Even as women freed themselves for a short time from the confinement of corsets, the Regency dandy, following the Prince Regent’s fashion, began to constrict himself into a wasp-waisted and broad shouldered look. For men of a certain challenged physique, firm waists and tight stomachs were achieved through laced corsets. The sculpting of wide shoulders, bulging thighs, and fine calves was accomplished by well-placed pads, as the satiric image below shows.

 

Lacing a Dandy, 1819

 

There can be no doubt, indeed, that just as the large cravat resulted from defects in the royal neck, so the stays in later years became necessary to restrain the unwieldy proportions of the royal waist, and assumed by the dandies as an act of compliment to their patron. The caricatures of the day exhibit an Illustrious Personage lifted up and struggling to insert his legs into a pair of “leather”s of a size he was anxious to appear in –  which are securely lashed to the bed posts to give a sort of purchase in furtherance of his efforts – just as in 1784 stories were told of Monseigneur d’Artois, the brother of Louis XVI of France,  needing the aid of four tall lacqueys to put on and off, without creasing, his small clothes of a special make and kind. – Once a Week, Volume 10

 

Prince Regent at his toilet, Hugh Bonneville, Beau Brummell, This Charming Man, 2008

 

Corsets continued to be relatively popular among the ruling and military classes for the rest of the 19th century, and retained a significant following during the first part of the 20th century.

 

1812 Regency a la mode

 

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Gentle Reader, Those of us who have read The Scarlet Pimpernel by Baroness Emmuska Orczy know that Sir Percy Blakeney pretends to be an effete dandy. Unbeknownst to his wife, who cannot conceal her disappointment in her foppish husband, he smuggles people out of  France during the French Revolution and away from danger. Sir Percy, despite his heroics, is a bit of a clothes horse. Here, then, is his opinion of cravats after he accidentally on purpose spills wine on Monsieur Chauvelin, for whom the public admiration for the Scarlet Pimpernel was a source of bitter hatred.

Sir Percy Blakeney, Richard E. Grant as the Scarlet Pimpernel

Sir Percy Blakeney to Monsieur Chauvelin: “Sir, my most abject and humble apologies. I’ve completely drowned your cravat! How can I possibley make amends for such clumsiness?”

Martin Shaw as Monsieur Chauvelin

Monsieur Chauvelin, Ministry of Justice: “It’s of no consequence. It’s only a cravat.”

Richard E. Grant as Sir Percy aka The Scarlet Pimpernel

Sir Percy: “Only a cravat! Oh, my dear sir! A cravat is the apotheosis of all neckwear! A cravat distinguishes a man of refinement from the merely ordinary. It sneers at the severity of the stock. It is the only item of dress that expresses true individuality. And whether it be made of lace or silk or the finest lawn it thrives on ingenuity, on originality, and above all, on personality down to the last skilled twist of bow or knot.”

Jonathan Coy as the Prince of Wales

Prince Regent: “Bravo, Percy! Bravo!”

Bravo, indeed! More on the topic

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rolinda sharples men ballRolinda Sharples’s 1817 painting of the Cloak-Room, Clifton Assembly Rooms is a familiar one to most Jane Austen fans. This image graces many book covers and has been used for depicting life in the Regency era. Looking closely, one sees that the assembled party seem to be enjoying the occasion as they wait and chat. A lady’s maid is helping a woman exchange her shoes, a man holds a lady’s fan, and the ladies are wearing an assortment of pale dresses, and colorful headwear and shawls. John Harvey, author of Men in Black, 1996, a book about the predeliction men have had over the centuries for wearing black, noted on p. 37 that Rolinda’s painting illustrates the direction that fashion was taking in the 19th century:

The white-haired man to the left is dressed in the older style, with light-coloured knee-breeches and lighter stockings. The stooping man to the right is a transitional type, wearing black knee-breeches, black stockings.

Cloak Room, Clifton Assembly Room, 1817, Rolinda Sharples

Cloak Room, Clifton Assembly Room, 1817, Rolinda Sharples

The man to centre-left is dressed as Brummel dressed, in skin-tight black trousers.

The above style and the two previous styles would have been familiar to  Jane Austen, for she died the same year that this painting was made.
Rolinda Sharples Clifton detail of brummel type

Rolinda Sharples Clifton detail

It is the man to the right of him, in looser black trousers, who is dresed as the century was in future to dress. The men at Mr. Rochester’s party [in Jane Eyre] would all be in his style.

These links do not describe formal menswear, per se, but the are descriptive of men’s clothes of the era:

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tying-cravatA recent post on this blog mentioned the film, Beau Brummell: This Charming Man. One scene in the movie was particularly memorable. In it the prince regent, played by Hugh Bonneville, asked Beau Brummell (James Purefoy) how he tied his cravat. Instead of showing him, the Beau invited the prince to watch him dress. Mr. Brummell was known for his sartorial splendor and for his meticulousness in tying a rectangular linen cloth.

The adoption of increasingly complex neckties by fashionable young men in the 1810s and 1820s swiftly attracted the attention of satirists and caricaturists. Brummell’s own legend revolved around a description of his morning dressing rituals, whereby his valet would present a gathered audience of friends and followers with Brummell’s failed knots on a silver platter – evidence of the master’s perfectionism in matters of the wardrobe.  – The London Look

Brummel was the bane of his washerwoman and long-suffering valet, discarding a dozen snowy white, painstakingly ironed linens before he had achieved the perfect look. But he wasn’t the only “exquisite” who strove for perfection.

A German prince, visiting London at the turn of the century, noted: “an elegant then requires per week, twenty shirts, twenty-four pocket handkerchiefs, nine or ten pairs of ‘summer trousers,’ thirty neck handkerchiefs (unless he wears black ones), a dozen waistcoats, stockings à discretion.” – Poet of Cloth

During Beau Brummel’s reign as the premier dandy, no self respecting gentleman would wear less than three fresh cravats in a day. This was in an age when the household duty most dreaded by women was laundering and ironing clothes.  Brummell was also known for his many innovations in tying the cravat. His biographer Captain Jesse wrote that Brummell’s collars were

“always fixed to his shirts and so large that before being folded down they completely hid the face and head; the neckcloth was almost a foot in height, the collar was fastened down to its proper size and Brummell standing before the glass, by the gradual declension of his lower jaw, creased the cravat to reasonable dimensions.” – Accessories of Dress, Katherine Morris Lester, Bess Viola Oerke, Helen Westermann, P 218.

This was easier said than done, for the fastidious Brummell was seldom satisfied with his creases in his first or second attempts. The Duke of Wellington, also a respected dandy, was known to wear only white cravats on the field of battle. Napoleon, who typically wore black stock, ironically chose to wear a white cravat for the first time during Waterloo in the Duke’s honor. From 1815 on the cravat was also known as a tie.

The Neckclothitania was published in September 1818 as a satirical document that poked fun at the most popular cravat styles of the time. Some of the cravats shown in the pamphlet were so elaborate and ridiculous that they clashed with Brummell’s idea that “style was essential in the quality of one’s linen rather than the extremity of it”. By 1818 colors were becoming fashionable, whereas in Brummell’s day only the purest white (blanc d’innoncence virginale) was acceptable.* The cloth for cravats was made of starched linen, though as some of the cravats styles evolved, a more relaxed, unstarched cloth was required for a looser, draped effect. By the 1830’s silk was used for neckcloths, as it still is used for today. In 1818, only a year after Brummell left for France, other cravat colors were introduced.

From Neckclothitania or Tietania, being an essay on Starchers, by One of the Cloth, published by J.J. Stockdale, Sept. 1st. 1818, engraved by George Cruikshank.

From Neckclothitania or Tietania, being an essay on Starchers, by One of the Cloth, published by J.J. Stockdale, Sept. 1st. 1818, engraved by George Cruikshank.

The following descriptions are directly from Neckclothitania:
The Oriental
The Oriental made with a very stiff and rigid cloth, so that there cannot be the least danger of its yielding or bending to the exertions and sudden twists of the head and neck. -Care should be taken that not a single indenture or crease should be visible in this tie; it must present a round, smooth, and even surface – the least deviation from this rule, will prevent its being so named. This neck-cloth ought not to be attempted, unless full confidence and reliance can be placed in its stiffness.-it must not be made with coloured neck-cloths, but of the most brilliant white. It is this particular tie which is alluded to in the following lines.

‘There, had ye marked their neck-cloth’s slivery glow,
Transcend the Cygnet’s towering crest of snow.’

The Mathematical
The Mathematical Tie (or Triangular Tie), is far less severe than the former. There are three creases in it. One coming down from under each ear, till it meets the kust or bow of the neckcloth, and a third in an horizontal direction, stretching from one of the side indentures to the other. The height, that is how far, or near the chin is left to the wearers pleasure. This tie does not occassion many accidents.The colour best suited to it, is called couleur de la cuisse d’une nymphe emue.’

Osbaldeston Tie
The Osbaldeston Tie differs greatly from most others. This neck-cloth is first laid on the back of the neck; the ends are then brought forward and tied in a large knot, the breadth of which must be at least four inches and two inches deep. This tie is well adapted for summer; because instead of going round the neck twice, it confines itself to once. The best colours are ethereal azure.

Napoleon Tie
Why this particular Tie was called Napoleon, I have not yet been able to learn, nor can I even guess, never having heard that the French Emperor was famous for making a tie – I have, indeed, heard it said, that he wore one of this sort on his return from Elba and on board the Northumberland, but how far this information is correct, I do not know. It is first laid as in the former, on the back of the neck, the ends being fastened to the braces, or carried under the arms and tied on the back. It has a very pretty appearance, giving the wearer a languishingly amourous look. The violet colour, and la couleur des levres d’amour are the best suited for it.

American Tie
The American Tie differs little from the Mathematical except that the collateral indentures do not extend so near to the ear, and that there is no horizontal or middle crease in it. The best colour is ocean green.

Mail Coach Tie
The Mail Coach or Waterfall, is made by tying it with a single knot, and then bringing one of the ends over, so as completely to hide the knot, and spreading it out, and turning it down in the waistcoat. The neck-cloth ought to be very large to make this Tie properly – It is worn by all stage-coachmen, guards, the swells of the fancy, and ruffians. To be quite the thing, there should be no starch, or at least very little in it – A Kushmeer shawl is the best, I may even say, the only thing with which it can be made. The Mailcoach was best made out of a cashmere shawl and had one end brought over the knot, spread out and tucked into the waist. This style was particularly popular with members of the ‘Four-in-Hand Club’.

The Trone d’Amour
The The trone d’Amour is the most austere after the Oriental Tie – It must be extremely well stiffened with starch. It is formed by one single horizontal dent in the middle. Colour, Yeux de fille en extase.

Irish Tie
This one resembles in some degree the Mathematical, with, however, this difference, that the horizontal indentture is placed below the point of junction formed by the collateral creases, instead of being above. The colour is Cerulean Blue

The Ballroom Tie
The Ballroom Tie when well put on is quite delicious – It unites the qualities of the Mathematical and Irish, having two collateral dents and two horizontal ones, the one above as in the former, the other below as in the latter. It has no knot but is fastened as the Napoleon. This should never of course be made with colours but with the purest and most brilliant blanc d’innocence virginale .

horse-collarHorse Collar Tie
The Horse Collar has become, from some unaccountable reason, very universal. I can only attribute it to the inability of its wearers to make any other. It is certainly the worst and most vulgar, and I should not have given it a place in these pages were it not for the purpose of cautioning my readers, from ever wearing it – It has the appearance of a great half-moon, or horse collar – I sincerely hope it will soon be dropped entirely – nam super omnes vitandum est.

Hunting Tie
The Hunting or Diana Tie, (not that I suppose Diana ever did wear a Tie) is formed by two collateral dents on each side, and meeting in the middle, without any horizontal ones – it is generally accompanied by a crossing of the ends, as in the Ball Room and Napoleon. Its colour Isabella – This cloth is worn sometimes with a Gordian Knot.

Maharatta Tie
The Maharatta or Nabog Tie, is very cool, as it is always made with fine muslin neck-cloths. It is placed on the back of the neck, the ends are then brought forward, and joined as a chain link, the remainder is then turned back, and fastened behind. Its colour, Eau d’Ispahan.

By 1828 Beau Brummell had lived in France for 9 years, a disgraced exile. But his influence in men’s fashion lived on.

His collar was copied and grew to extreme heights that covered the ears and were held away from the neck by whale bone stiffeners, and meant men could no longer turn their heads to see, but had to turn their entire bodies. It did however spawn an industry of publications and experts who taught men of fashion how to tie their cravats. – The Regency Neckcloth

The book The Art of Tying the Cravat (demonstrated in sixteen lessons as shown in the illustration below) was originally published in 1828 by H. Le Blanc Esq.

Plate B, The Art of Tying the Cravat

Plate B, The Art of Tying the Cravat

The fronticepiece of Mr. Le Blanc’s book shows an engraving of the author wearing an elaborate white cravat, the acme of full dress London fashion in 1828. In that year there were 32 types of cravats. Those made of black silk or satin were for general wear, while white cravats with spots or squares were considered half dress. The plain white cravat was admitted at balls or soirees where colored cravats were prohibited.
Text not available
The art of tying the cravat demonstrated in sixteen lessons, including thirty-two different styles, By H. Le Blanc.

The following description comes from The Art of Tying the Cravat:

americaineTHE Cravate Americaine is extremely pretty and easily formed, provided the handkerchief is well starched. When it is correctly formed it presents the appearance of a column destined to support a Corinthian capital. This style has many admirers here, and also among our friends the fashionables of the New World, who pride themselves on its name which they call Independence; this title may to a certain point be disputed, as the neck is fixed in a kind of vice which entirely prohibits any very free movements –  The Art of Tying the Cravat

Read more about this topic at these links:

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James Purefoy as Beau Brummell

James Purefoy as Beau Brummell

In 2006 the BBC commissioned four films in celebration of The Century That Made UsBeau Brummell: This Charming Man is the tale of a self-made man whose innovations in male dress influenced men’s fashions for all time. James Purefoy plays the  handsome masculine dandy who dared to think of himself as the prince regent’s social equal. The prince, who was at first amused by Brummell, would watch him shave and dress in the morning. Then one day Brummell overstepped his bounds and insulted the prince. He quickly fell out of favor. Mired in debts he could not pay and with his gambling out of control, Brummell fled to France in 1816. He died in poverty in a mendicant hospital for the insane in 1840.

Hugh Bonneville as the Prince Regent before his transformation from fop to dandy

Hugh Bonneville as the Prince Regent before his transformation from fop to dandy

The prince regent after Beau Brummel ltransformed him

The prince regent after Beau Brummell transformed him

The film concentrates on a period in Brummell’s life when he reigned supreme as a fashion arbiter. While I found the story fascinating to watch, I thought the music ugly and distracting and totally unsuited to the 18th century. Beau Brummell: This Charming Man can be rented through netflix or purchased as a DVD. The following YouTube scenes provide a good overview of the film. The first clip is the movie’s trailer.

In the next scene, Beau Brummell describes the dandy style as “No wigs, no powders. We don’t use scent. The dandy uses trousers. The dandy washes. The dandy is clean, the dandy is neat.”

This video clip is the most interesting of all. While Brummell stands in front of his mirror shaving in the nude, the dandy set looks on. In this scene they are awaiting the prince regent’s arrival.

beau_brummell_dvd_cover

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Ingres Portrait of Bernier, 1800

Detail of a portrait by Ingres of Bernier, 1800

The cravat rose in popularity during an an age when cleaning dirty linen and ironing clothes presented an enormous challenge. Influenced by Beau Brummell’s penchant for wearing simple clothes and snowy- white cravats, these intricately-tied neckcloths became all the rage among the gentleman of the upper crust. The lower classes, for lack of servants and resources, wore a simpler version of the neckcloth in the form of a square folded and tied around the neck.

Men’s neckcloths hark back to ancient traditions in Egypt, China, and Rome where these pieces of cloth denoted a man’s social status. During the Elizabethan period a high ruffed neckline forced a stiff posture and confined movement, which only the leisure class could afford to adopt. Servants, tradesmen and laborers had to wear more functional clothing in order to perform their duties. During the mid-17th century the French adopted the fashion of neckerchiefs after seeing Croatian mercenaries wear them. The French courtiers began sporting neckcloths made of muslins or silk and decorated with lace or embroidery. These soft cloths were wrapped around the throat and loosely tied in front.

The cravat as seen in Regency portraits attained its distinctive appearance under Beau Brummell’s expert fingers and experimentation with his valet. Brummell’s philosopy of simple menswear was in stark contrast to the dandified Macaroni who pranced about in wigs, lace, and embroidered waistcoats.  In Beau Brummell, His Life and Letters (p 50), Louis Melville writes:

“Brummell’s greates triumph was his neck-cloth. The neck-cloth was then a huge clinging wrap worn without stiffening of any kind and so bagging out in front. Brummell in a moment of inspiration decided to have his starched. The conception was, indeed, a stroke of genius. But genius in this case had to be backed by infinite pains. What labour must Brummell and his valet, Robinson – himself a character – have expended on experiment to discover the exact amount of stiffening that would produce the best result, and how many hours for how many days must they have worked together – in pivate – before disclosing the invention to the world of fashion. Even later, most morning could Robinson be seen coming out of the Beau’s dressing room with masses of rumpled linen on his arms – “Our failures” – he would say to the assembled company in the outer room.

Two examples of cravat styles

Two examples of cravat styles

Regency dandies who wore enormous cravats that prevented movement of their necks – similar to the effect Elizabethan ruffs had – were known as les incroyables or the “incredibles”. Can you spot them in the contemporary cartoon below? To learn about the social implication of extreme fashion in pre-Napoleonic France, click on this link and read Les Incroyables et Merveilleusses: Fashions as Anti-Rebellion.


More links on the topic:

  • Regency Reproductions: Scroll down to read about neck cloths. Includes a free cravat pattern and illustrations of how to tie a neckcloth.
  • Francis Morris, “An Eighteenth Century Rabat”, The Metropolitan Museum of Art Bulletin, Vol. 22, No. 2 (Feb., 1927), pp. 51-55   (article consists of 5 pages)

Middle illustration from H. Le Blanc’s The Art of Tying the Cravat.

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With the love of nature and classical statuary, the young male body became prized. British tailoring enabled better fit and thus could reveal the new athletic ideal. The lower body was encased in extremely fitted coverings that left little to the imagination.

The above quote comes from the Kent State University Museum website, which features the following links to an exhibition entitled “Of Men and Their Elegance”: 1780’s – 1830’s: Sir, You Have Forgot Your Horse! and 1840’s to 1880’s: From Undress to Full Dress. To completely experience this site, click on the headings under the images, and you will be taken to an explanatory page.

The Dandy, Regency Life. Find a short history and description of dandies on this informative site.

Brassiere Pattern, circa 1800: Click on the photos for details. It comes from this amazing living history site. Click on Civilian Clothing, and go to women’s clothing

Comment about dyeing cloth . Unfortunately, no citations were quoted in this informative comment, written by syntenin_laulu. However, I found a source related to the topic, which includes the history of dyeing cloth: How to Dye Cloth, by Sophronia Gallop

There wasn’t really much specific gender distinction in colour (certainly not for small children). Ladies’ riding habits particularly (worn not only for riding, but for every kind of outdoor activity, travel and informal winter wear) occupied pretty much the identical colour range to men’s coats. There was far more of an age distinction – the older you got, the darker and more subdued were the colours you wore.

Strong and bright shades of all colours were expensive and therefore desirable, either because the dyestuff itself was costly (e.g. the cochineal used to make true scarlet) or because it took repeated dyeings to make the colour take well (e.g. a really good navy blue), or because they could only be got by skilled over-dyeing with more than one colour (e.g. bright green) . Good black was expensive and stylish; cheap black dye did – and still does – quickly fade to grey, or go patchy or rusty.

Printed fabrics in more than one colour had been expensive until the end of the 18th century as they had to be hand-blocked. With the rapid development of roller-printing, they now came within the price-range even of the working classes. Printed fabrics were still fashionable, and the latest and nicest prints still much sought after; but the mere fact of wearing printed fabric no longer signalled luxury.

In women’s fashion, the “must-have” colour changed from season to season, and in modish circles a colour such as poppy red or celestial blue might be a sign of (relative) poverty simply because it was obviously “last year’s colour”.

One wrinkle you might use is re-dyeing. Very few outer clothes were launderable, partly because of the non-fastness of the dyes of the period but also because the different fabrics used for the outer layer and the lining would shrink differentially. Coats, habits and gowns could be brushed, aired, sponged, and treated with things like fuller’s earth and hot sand to draw out grease-marks; but sooner or later your good garment would acquire a conspicuous stain, or just become incurably grubby-looking. The solution was to send it to the dyer (many launderers were also dyers) and have it re-dyed a stronger colour. That would give your coat or gown a new lease of life, but I bet a sharp-eyed person could always tell (“That redingote Miss Bates is wearing isn’t new, it’s her old one dyed”).

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In “To Cut a Regency Coat”, Suzi Clarke, a British costumer, goes into great detail on how to make this man’s Regency garment.

The basic man’s coat for the first twenty-five years of the 19th century changed very little. It was cut to fit very firmly across the shoulders, with a shoulder seam that sloped into the back armscye. There was a center back seam, and the side seams curved toward the center back from the same armscye, narrowing in towards the waist. The center back continued on into the skirt, although occasionally there was a waist seam. The two front skirts were cut in one piece with the body, usually with a “fish” or dart at waist level early in the century.

All these coats were beautifully cut and sewn together, the stitching being very neat and small. English tailoring at this time was the envy of the fashionable world, and these coats were of the time of the famous George “Beau” Brummell. The top coat belonged to a banker, Mr. Coutts, and was made by the famous tailor, “Weston” of Savile Row, mentioned in Georgette Heyer, and possibly Jane Austen. It was lodged at Coutts Bank, together with other items of clothing, in 1805, and donated to the Museum of London many years later.

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