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The Cult of Chiffon
An Edwardian Manual of Adornment
By Eric Pritchard, Rose Le Quesne Dover Publications, Inc.
Copyright © 2017 Eric Pritchard
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-0-486-81780-4
CHAPTER 1
On Things Seen and Unseen
Many of the pleasures of life depend on suggestion, but subtlety is a charm which is never sufficiently appreciated by English people, and certainly not by Englishwomen, who are not over given to methods of mystery either in their life or in their toilette. We are not, of course, an artistic nation: we are, moreover, blessed with little imagination; but in matters of dress foreign influence is daily making itself more obviously apparent, and is beginning to teach us that the individuality and character of a woman are expressed in her garments, especially those which are unseen. That a woman of refined taste and surroundings can be impervious to the beauty of a night-gown or the cult of a chemise, is incomprehensible. There is something so hopelessly vulgar in beautifying only the "outside of the platter"; and I must say that among the better class of Englishwomen their lingerie (or ling-ur-ie as it is called in "the vernacular") leaves much to be desired. It is in the details "invisible" that refinement is expressed; they give the measure also of a woman's sense of beauty; and the woman possessed of the laudable desire to appear lovely in her husband's eyes will not fail, if she be wise in her generation, to give this part of her wardrobe careful consideration. There still exists, alas ! a class of Englishwomen who consider dainty undergarments to be suggestive of evil, and insist that virtue can only be found in drab-coloured merino combinations — thick, rough, and high to the neck, and calico trimmed with "everlasting" embroidery. On top of such garb will the respectable British matron place her well-boned and substantial coutille corset — a veritablé armour — generally in that peculiar shade of grey so popular with the well-meaning "Mother of Many." Then over this again will she very possibly impose a flannel petticoat of equally unlovely hue, which at one time at least possessed the virtue of colour, until scarlet went out of fashion. Above this will appear another petticoat, either of silk, the chief charm of which lies in the "rustle," or some substitute advertised as being capable of doing something "as good as" rustling. For the moment, let me leave out of the question the woollen bodice and the camisole of utility. Consider the incongruity of an outer attire of silks and satins. Can one wonder that marriage is so often a failure, and that the English husband of such a class of woman goes where he can admire the petticoat of aspirations?
Now, is it absolutely necessary to put up with these hideous types of garments? All our best shops, nowadays, can provide pretty, dainty lingerie at moderate prices; though, on the other hand, we can, without doubt, easily spend a small fortune on delightful trifles of this description. Some women who dress in peculiarly hideous garments do so on the plea of health; and we hear a lot about hygiene, but hygiene need not of necessity be synonymous with ugliness.
The corset of to-day at its best is quite the most hygienic and beautiful little garment yet produced, chiefly, perhaps, because there is hardly anything of it; but it does prevent the innumerable strings, which are so indispensable, from dragging and cutting. Yet a very large section of women will condemn this corset as ridiculous, simply because it is pretty and fashionable, and consequently not extremely cheap (though they may be had from a guinea). Of course there are all sorts of foolish women who hopelessly injure themselves by wearing their corsets too tightly laced. As a matter of fact, there never was a time when tight-lacing was less in favour, and to-day the most approved type of smartness is supple elegance; the woman most admired being tall, slight, and of graceful carriage; she is not a stiff creature encased in whalebone armour.
But let me now utter a word of warning, and one of advice at the same time, to the woman who is not perhaps possessed of the ideal figure of to-day. Extremes are dangerous in matters of dress, and it is unreasonable of fashion to demand that a woman's waist should suddenly appear in an entirely different place, making the figure below absolutely flat. The true ideal of beauty in dress consists in making the very best of Nature's mould, by supplying what is deficient, or concealing what is in excess. This end may be accomplished by suggestion or by material means; but let me tell you that a woman's individuality is perhaps more strongly defined by the style of corset than by anything else. Of course, as time goes on, she gives way in part to one mode or another; but the woman who really understands the true art of dressing never develops into a mere fashion-plate. And though command of money enables her to buy all that is best in London, Paris, and Vienna, she very rightly objects to a style which is not her own. For instance, the straight-fronted corset is quite out of place on some people. It is rather apt to throw the figure out of proportion, by giving enormous spring on the hips, and at the same time, by flattening the figure below the waist in rather an unnatural manner, it gives a false impression of squareness of build. It certainly possesses advantages for a stout woman, and if cut long enough is extremely comfortable as well as becoming for her. But why should an abnormally stout and an extremely thin woman wear the same corset simply because it is the fashion? Out of extremes comes individual perfection. Therefore my advice to the woman with, and the woman without, a large dress allowance, is to go to a first-class corsetière, and to consider very seriously the individual points of her figure, and to learn how best to hide her bad points and bring out the good in accordance with the proportions which Nature has given her, with due regard at the same time for comfort and health. Of course there must be a certain subservience to the fashion of the hour. No woman should be with less than three pairs of corsets in wear at once, all of exactly the same make; for a dressmaker is greatly to be pitied when she has to fit a woman who is perpetually changing the style of her corsets, and the wearer suffers in proportion. It is simply a waste of a beautiful gown to fit it on an unsuitable corset: my sympathy goes out to the designers and fitters of such frocks, for they had better by far be left upon the lifeless lay model than appear to disadvantage on a living figure they do not fit. The woman who wears exactly the wrong corset is almost as hopeless as she who wears none at all. That reminds me, by the way, that we have not heard so much lately of that latter lady. There was a time when she raved against the corset from platforms, almost as loudly as she shrieked against the brutality of man. Is she out of date, or has she taken a new craze? She does not enter largely into the world of dress, so I really know very little about her. But wait, I am not sure I shall not come across a very similar type when I discuss the clothes of the athletic woman, but of that more anon.
And now, to talk of the hundred and one deliciously dainty garments that are to be found in the wardrobe of the well-dressed woman, who does not consider that lovely lingerie only belongs to the "fast." How extremely becoming is a pretty chemise, and how varying are the styles in which it is made; but only one or two can we all make peculiarly our own. Universally becoming as is the empire chemise of the moment, it does not suit the very thin woman, who requires as many frills and furbelows as possible, and these should fall well over the corset. Now I do not consider that these matters always represent money. Of course the wealthy can have real lace and silken underwear, but the best plan for those who cannot afford these luxuries, is to get one or two good patterns and give them to a clever needlewoman to be copied in an inexpensive soft white muslin. Never commit the error of buying indifferent fabrics and laces, for neither muslin nor silk is exceptionally dear at any time, and at the present moment they are both particularly cheap. The wise woman with a limited dress allowance will invest a great deal of it in underwear. For the cult of Chiffon has this in common with the Christian religion — it insists that the invisible is more important than the visible. And the fashions of the invisible do not change very quickly. Why any woman nowadays, when she can get dainty muslin and silk chemises at very small cost, should invest in longcloth, I cannot imagine, unless perhaps because the latter is the last lingering emblem of puritanical England, which still influences the cut of our chemises and the quality of our petticoats.
One word on the matter of warmer underwear. In this climate many of us are obliged to wear silk and wool mixtures next the skin, and this in cream or pink, cut low at the neck, and trimmed with lace and insertions, run through with ribbons, is both comfortable and pretty wear under the chemise.
The petticoat is very much a question of taste, and what a lot there is in this garment ! Of course the sensible woman judges according to her outward raiment. She will aim at making her petticoat, even if it be plain, perfect of its kind and complete in every detail. There is a decided fancy, and a very sensible one it is, for wearing silk or satin knickers in the country under our tailor-made frocks, with detachable linings of flannel, linen, or washing silk. These are warm and cosy, and altogether delightful for the present style of practical dress. There are some women of fashion who remain faithful to the flannel petticoat, but not that associated in our minds with parish needlework societies, and the annual distributions at Christmas to the poor. It is more often a dainty garment of silk, lined with flannel, or the finest white or pink flannel, beautifully embroidered, or finished with insertions of lace, fitted with as much care as that bestowed upon the outer skirt, while the cut here is as necessary as in the dress itself. Over this may be worn, during the day, a petticoat of satin, brocade, or silk, inserted with wonderful guipures. Deep lace, too, on brocades to match the corset, is a pretty trimming. The fancy in petticoats for the moment is more in favour of silks, brocades, and such sumptuous fabrics than of masses of muslin and lace. But the latter, to my mind, are always delightful. In London, unless we always have a carriage at command, a white cambric petticoat can hardly retain its dainty crispness, especially if it has been exposed for an hour or two to the pitiless ravages of the muddy streets. In details of this sort the individual woman will consider what is practical and in good taste. Never let the desire for fashion, or even beauty, run you into hopeless incongruity in the matter of a petticoat. Recollect that incongruity is never smart.
The cache-corset, like the chemise, may be a dream of beauty. These dear little baby bodices show a great amount of hand-work, representing care and thought, and a correct appreciation of all that is best in underwear. But it is impossible to lay down hard-and-fast rules in lingerie; for, first and foremost, we all have to be guided by the question of expenditure. But it is as well to remember that other qualities than those of a long purse are required in the selection of an outfit in under-clothes and such like garments. Some women have a predilection for everything white, and this is a pretty cult, suggestive and simple. But still the question of colour may be considered. Some women look their worst in white, and their best in blue, pink, yellow, etc. Dare I whisper also of a strong fancy amongst many immaculate people for black undergarments? This affectation is chiefly noticeable amongst Americans, and wonderfully becoming it is to a fair skin. I fancy I hear exclamations of "What a horrid idea," but I assure you that the people who adopt a peculiarity of this description are seldom deterred from wearing what they wish by such a domestic detail as the washing bill. There is something curiously effective about black silk, silk gauze, or finest cambric, trimmed with beautiful white lace. This is an extravagant notion, and would be in most instances generally unbecoming, so it need not be taken seriously into consideration.
What utter rubbish it is for the ordinary man, and particularly an Englishman, to attempt to criticise woman in matters of dress; for the clever woman does not allow him to have much chance of knowing anything about it, disguising, as she does, the details of dress and toilet in a mask of mystery. To begin with, supposing a woman to have a certain sense of modesty as well as of vanity, she is not going to let her casual male acquaintances into all the secrets of her womanly vanities or weaknesses; no, most certainly not, and least of all her husband, if she wishes to preserve his admiration and love. I am perfectly sure that the woman without mystery and without coquetry is far from attractive to the ordinary man though she be the most virtuous and careful of wives. To disregard the male critic in the matter of lingerie is indeed an error. Men of taste and refinement like pretty women and pretty things, although they do not precisely understand the details wherein the charm lies. Let me therefore advise the irreconcilables among my married friends not to shriek loudly with the company of disappointed spinsters, about the brutality of mankind, but to try, for instance, the expedient of a much - befrilled petticoat or some illusions in robes de nuit. Do not immediately write such advice down as coarse and unpleasant, but look at the pathetic side of the matrimonial life of many of your intimate friends, and will you not admit the soundness of my advice? And why in the name of the sisterhood of women should we leave all the pretty arts and subtleties of everyday life to a class of women less favoured than ourselves ? That a woman, sweet of Nature, should lose all that is dear to her owing to a lack of poetry and imagination in the sordid and petty trifles of everyday married life is one of life's saddest little ironies.
Some charming nightgowns of the moment are far from being extravagant. Lots of women nowadays wear silk, and a really good washing one can be procured at about 2s. 11d. per yard. Now supposing you have a good French model as a pattern, — one of a simple description for preference, — you can easily have half a dozen or so made without a very large expenditure. After white, pink is the best washing colour; blues and mauves, even of the best, are apt to fade. Yellow, if it suits you, is charming, but these are matters of individual taste. Recollect that the clearest colours are the most generally becoming for bedroom wear. I think silk night-gowns look best very simply made with finest hand-stitchery, arranged with a few tucks, and tied with a large bow of washing chiffon, silk, or point d'esprit.
There is no doubt that we Englishwomen are at last beginning to understand and admire the poetry of dress, and look upon it from an entirely different standpoint. Take, for instance, the fashions of to-day, culled from those of three periods of French history, when women's influence was strongest, and luxury and extravagance reigned supreme. And is it absolutely necessary to temper and modify, so far as we do, all the delightful coquetries of the French with the solidity and practicability which is inherent in the British mind? We women of England are essentially a sporting race, and the best-dressed woman of today, who can ride straight to hounds, and looks charming in the saddle, can look still more deliciously attractive and feminine in the tea-gown she dons at twilight.
(Continues...)
Excerpted from The Cult of Chiffon by Eric Pritchard, Rose Le Quesne. Copyright © 2017 Eric Pritchard. Excerpted by permission of Dover Publications, Inc..
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