Feeds:
Posts
Comments

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.

Read Full Post »

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.

Read Full Post »

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.

More on the Topic:

Read Full Post »

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

Read Full Post »

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

 

Read more on the topic:

Read Full Post »

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

Read Full Post »

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:

Read Full Post »

Older Posts »

Follow

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.

Join 4,610 other followers