Pregnant with another Halloween idea

 

Bjork's version of Leda: What you might want to avoid

I’m racking my brain for famous historical or mythological pregnant women. They are hard to find indeed! The virgin Mary is by far number one. No competition. But from there on down, they sharply dwindle in renown.

But there is always the possibility of going as one of Jupiter’s objects of desire, with your male partner in the guise of the form that Jupiter took for the deed. Here are some examples:

1. Europa and the white bull.

2. Leda and the swan. Note: try to avoid looking like Bjork’s famous catastrophe.

3.  Semele and a torn heart.

4. Callisto and Diana.

Klimt's version of the seduction of Danae. Obviously, this isn't a costume, more of an inspiration.

5. Danae and the shower of gold.

There is also the possibility that you could modernize the theme, and go as some made up Greek beauty. For example, you could be Preggynae and have your husband/lover/father of your child/partner/whatever dress as a bottle of beer or expensive consumer item. Whatever form your seduction took.

None of these are really my style. But I’m throwing them out for whoever would be interested.

In the meantime, I will struggle to recall more famous Halloween-costume-worthy pregnant women.

Halloween Approacheth

 

Arnolfini Wedding. The gown is awfully green.

Since I’m with child and all, it would be absolutely perfect to go as either 1. The Arnolfini Marriage  2. The virgin Mary  3. Mary of Burgandy.

They all have some advantages. The Arnolfini costume would be easy to sew, but the challenge would be to avoid the temptation to make it look differently than how it is painted. Van Eyk was very detailed in his gown, and one would have to remain faithful to the painting. Also I have the urge to do one of those fantastic 15th century headdresses, which would rule this one out entirely.

Agnes Sorel, Queen of Beauty, Queen on Heaven

Being the virgin Mary would limit my color scheme, and I would have to amazingly sprout long golden wavy hair. It would, however, quickly explain itself, since everyone knows who she is. But I hate to be irreverent, for I do take these things seriously. I am clearly not a virgin, and some might think it rather pompous to dress as the Queen of Heaven and mother to the son of God. There is always the Agnes Sorel version of the virgin, but I’m sure all that exposure would feel uncomfortable. Christmas and Halloween are both such wonderful holidays, and perhaps bringing Mary into the Halloween mix would be a tad too greedy and over-enthusiastic. All of us, I’m sure, are annoyed by people who try to wear slight spring clothes when there is still snow on the ground, or when neighbors hang Christmas decorations in early November. We laugh at their impatience, and condemn them for their lack of sense.

Mary of Burgandy would be the most satisfying, and provide the greatest artistic license but how many people know who Mary of Burgandy is? She was incredibly historically/dynastically important, was amazingly rich, sired numerous historically/dynastically significant children and lived a rather exciting life. But I have learned my lessons from Halloweens past: it’s best to be a character that explains itself. People tire of the lengthy explanations, however interesting they are.

So where does that lead us? Well, I’m not really sure.

While rifling through a seldom-used computer, I found a photo of the venetian costume being worn. Pardon the smiling face, and the modern context.

What lovers of Victoriana can not live without

Someone has decided to read the works of 900 Victorian authors and compile them into a companion. Perfect bedtime reading. Just who is this guy? I’m not sure whether to fear or love him for his fanatical energy and focus. Even without having read a page, I respect him for taking up the challenge and bringing it to a bound completion. Wow. It’s possible he’s created the ultimate reference for intellectual Victorian enthusiasts.

War of the Specialists: Late 19th Century views on Women’s Health

  

 

 

Where do babies come from? From women, duh.

 

Fads in medicine come and go. In lucky cases, the field at large will benefit from the fad, taking from it what was good and what worked and leaving behind that which proved to be wrong. In the grand scheme of things, when there is a fad in medicine the entire population is used as test subjects. When the fad is over, it is quickly forgotten and people move on to the next movement.

Not much was known about women’s health before the 19th century. Really. And much of what was known, wasn’t really known but was assumed based on cultural expectations. In the 19th century, medicine became more specialized. Treatments for female ailments beyond the old, tradition laudinum and port, became more varied and one could shop around. The fields of gynecology and psychology were in their nascent stage, though the borders between the two remained very murky. Early specialists in both fields fought passionately over contested territory, and women’s medicine may as well have been Alsace-Lorraine.

It was commonly assumed throughout much of medical history, that the female reproduction system and the female neurological systems were one and the same, or just so intertwined that there wasn’t much difference. For example, in the medieval period, it was believed that a woman’s womb could wander throughout her body, causing a myriad of afflictions: irregular cycles, sores arms, nervousness, stiff necks, cramped feet, and so forth. The only relief for the “wandering womb” was regular sexual intercourse (with husband of course), a prescribed diet, and prayer.

Though this may sound comic to you or I, one must remember that it wasn’t until the early 20th century that irregular menstration was studied in any kind of scientific manner. Even Freud, who revolutionized the field of psychology, adamantly believed that morning sickness came from a woman’s hated of her husband and a desire to abort his baby, not as an evolutionary survival mechanism to protect a new mother from rotten food. The mind and body of a woman could not be separated, for that was a culturally assumed male power.

Prior to the 1870s, the medical fad known as “alienism” reigned over treatments and diagnosies. The treatment was simple: the “ill” woman would be seperated from the rest of society, where she could recover in a healthful, removed environment. Illness was defined very broadly, with symptoms ranging from bodily sores, to aches and pains, eye strain, numbness or paralysis, to nervous collapses.

Eventually, the Alienism was replaced with Somatic medicine, where a diagnosis could only be made on specific criteria. It was a step in the right direction, yes, but it still had some major flaws. For example, there weren’t that many diagnosies to chose from, and most diagnosies had such a broad range of symptoms that to categorize someone in one of the few choices was not hard. If one didn’t fit into a category, you were basically screwed.

Starting in the 1860s, Alienists fought the Somatic types in heated medical discussions and pamphlets. Somatic Medicine was to win, and in court. At the trial of political assassin Lewis Payne the legal definition of insanity was addressed quite publicly for the first time in history. It was an momentous decision in American history, as well as medical, when specialist doctors from the varying camps were called in to give testimony as to the moral and mental health of the accused. Traditional doctors argued that from a moral perspective, he must be insane. More modern doctors argued that he couldn’t be, because he didn’t meet the rather primitive three criteria. Payne was found guilt and sentenced to hang, an event that demonstrated a clear legal need on the part of the medical industry to define precisely the ailments of their patients. Psychological diagnosies had legally been taken away from the realm of morality, and were governable instead by a necessary set of criteria and a clear definition. 

Good advice.

Their first attempts to legitimately diagnose psychological conditions (remember, most ‘women’s’ conditions were ‘psychological’) were laughable, as they needed to be made without all the knowledge of biology and bichemistry, and the mountains of data the medical industry as today. Proto-psychologists (including Freud) called themselves neuresthenics, and their primarly purpose was the study of what they called neuresthenia.

Neuresthenia can basically be described as, well, anything. But it was the first step in the developing field of psychology to diagnose of functioning though ‘ill’ patient, and prescribe a treatment other than a long vacation or incarceration. Financially, it was a boon. Proto-psychologists  were given a blank check for treating respectable, financially well-endowed patients, enriching their pockets and attracting others to the field.

Neuresthenia, unlike other previous diagnoses of the sort was respectable, a disease of fashion, afflicting members of the well-to-do classes. The doctors declared that it was the price the affluent “paid for American progress,” that the complexity of modern life, dense population and competition lead to a “great variety of and severity of nervous disorders of this class.” 

What was this disease? The list of symptoms was two pages long, and could include everything from sweaty hands, fears, fear of fears, dryness of the skin, exhaustion, convulsions, numbness of the limbs, eye strain, female ailments or lack of decision. So, basically anything. What treatment did they use? Usually it was dependent on cultural association, based on class, gender, and age. So, vague and subjective. It remained a popular diagnosis until the end of the 19th century.

Neuresthenia was a huge step in the right direction for psychology. But, it turned every woman’s reproductive cycle into a battleground, and the fighting was fierce. Gynecologists would diagnose a woman’s ailments such as cysts or irregular cycles to a woman’s nervousness that had compromised her organs. She would usually be put under a knife, as surgery was the most common treatment.

A Doctor discovers the physical location of the female ego.

Proto-psychologists would diagnose her problem was simply being her nerves, and the threat of a progressive civilization. They criticized gynecologists as frauds, claimed that if a doctor were to “manipulate the uterus” of a woman “her mind is polluted, she is unfit for marriage.” Furthermore (Bremer), “all her thinking becomes concentrated on her womb, her egotism… assumes immense proportions” leading to divorce, failed marriages, and scores of unhappy, wronged men.

Gynecologists retorted by claiming that “women… are more nearly neutral than men, and the deprivation of their sexual glands is less felt by them… [feminine] castration has been followed by a marked change in disposition and temper, and always for the better.” (Gilliam, 1896) A woman was either sterilized or left to suffer as a sacrifice to progress.

Obviously, it was best for a woman to have as little to do as possible with the medical industry. Though I have no statistics on the successes or failure of these operations (and most of them that are available are suspect), it would be a safe guess, I think, to assume that they were not all successful. If a woman went to an aspiring and ambitious gynecologist specialist (specialist doctors could make upwards of $50,000/year in the 1890s), he would seek to use her as an example to further his career. He may leave her alive, but missing more than she needed to lose. If she consulted a psychologist, he might tell her that her pain is from nervous exhaustion and hysteria, not from an ovarian cancer or cyst. Even worse, some doctors were notoriously lazy. Though all symptoms may point to, say, a dead fetus, there were reports of doctors intently choosing not to examine the womb out of laziness, and the subsequent bleeding from the birth killed the mother. The risks were there, indeed.

 By 1890, the first fetal heart beat was heard. By 1920, neuresthenia was completely forgotten, as disorders began to get their own specific names and causes. And the cleaned-up field of gynecology had successfully made its split from that of psychology and relied on tactics other than surgical removal. On the other front the territory of Psychology had opened up with books of disorders to study and treat, leaving women’s plumbing to the specialists it had previously denounced as butchers. I think we are all much happier with the way things are today.

Greatest Creative Project Ever

I am about to embark on the greatest creative project I have ever started. It’s bigger than a bustle gown. It’s bigger than an Edwardian corset. And it should last, in total, about nine months.

In an effort to get my homefront ready for this endeavor, there needs to be some organization and furniture relocation. The areas of wasted space are the first battlefields. Today, a logical place to start was the “laundry room,” which is really more like a laundry, sewing, and out of season clothes room. When the house was built, it was the bedroom of the domestic help, situated near the back stairs and above the kitchen. The capped gas lines still have their Eastlake plates to this day, and heat comes from an ironwork vent that used to be above the Victorian stove in the kitchen below. Since the room wasn’t meant for a member of the family, it is the only room in the house to have one window only. And, it faces north, and is a dreary corner of the second floor. After moving in, I cheered it up by painting it soft yellow and hanging some lightweight Laura Ashley floral curtains so the neighbors can’t watch me hang my delicates.

This out-of-the-way room if filled with boxes of stuff, much of it forgotten. And it’s really great stuff: jewel-colored silks, upholstery fabric I bought just because I liked it, antique Edwardian-buckled silk-covered shoes, ermine muffs, ecclesiastical gold brocades, antique laces, old costume designs and so forth. I bought lots of fabric before Fabrics and Findings closed, most of it for cheap. To admit, this is a sad commentary on my disorganized and acquisitive nature, and this is also just the first layer. Beyond the laundry room, there is the giant closet. Then the other giant closet. Beyond that is the attic. And even beyond that is my mom’s attic, filled with costumes I made before the house when I was prolific though less skilled.

So, though I may not be able to make historical costumes for a while, I have lots of them I had forgotten about to brighten my days. Reuniting with them is like finding a $20 bill in a pair of pants you haven’t worn for a few seasons. It’s like it’s better than free, because it has memories attached to it. And, you are happier with old costumes than you were when you finished them. Though you hated the way the neckline turned out on that purple velvet houpplande years ago, you think it doesn’t look so awful now that your frustration is so distant. Or that thing that you put away in contempt after you whipped it up for some party now looks clever and creative. I realized there was a lot there I had previously cast off that wasn’t too bad.

Burgeoning Bellies of the Houppelande period

Happily for my current circumstance, I recalled that I went through a 15th century period for a while, a period when if you weren’t pregnant the clothes would do their best to make you look so. So if I need a costume (just in case) I have plenty that will foot the bill. Most of them came from a time when for some bizarre reason, my overriding goal was to make costumes as indestructible as possible. So they weighed a ton, and were stitched over multiple times. I would sacrifice delicacy for durability. But they were still beautiful.

If I run out of things to do – which is both physically improbable but sadly likely at the same time – I will take on projects for the sake of them: make a corset or a gown just for the fun of it. After all, skiing is out this year.

And the possibilities for humorous discussion on Victorian female medicine and gynecology are endless…

Extreme Shopping: Grand Bazaar, Istanbul

Lo, those who believe themselves capable and serious shoppers. Here is a challange! If one wishes to test one’s mettle, try the Grand Bazaar in Istanbul, and return humbled!

It’s a veritable wonder of the world, a labyrinth of stalls and shops, tiny passageways, dimly lit rooms, glistening jewels, and forceful characters. Long, roofed passageways or ’streets’ are lined in tiny, doored and windowed stalls organized roughly according to the category of the merchandise. The stalls overflow past the named, arabic-arched gates of the structure, like growths clinging to their source of energy. The bazaar is indeed engertic.

It one of the largest – if not the largest- shopping structure on the face of the planet, but beyond that, the structure and layout of this institution require veteran skill or super human mental processing adaptability – or lots of luck – to survive with pride and panache intact.

This is no American mall, where one peruses the familiar brands and choses a store based on brand association. In a true exotic tradition, the exterior of the shops don’t reveal much of their inner character. They are tiny and forbidding. Merchants will invite you to see their wares once they have determined you are not thieves, and will work for the sale, possibly with impatience to force quick, potentially foolish decisions. Some are much better at accessing their customers than others, and realize that aggression would serve only as a repellant. I would imagine, though, that the rough and tough approach would work with teenagers, fearful of incurring adult anger, or inexperienced tourists used to Disneyland and club Med.

Layout of the Gran Bazaar

Despite the crowded and cramped ’streets,’ and the closet-like stalls, the place doesn’t smell. This is surprising, considering that much of Istanbul does have a strong scent: diesel exhaust,  smelly feet and bodies, cigarette smoke, gritty age, and water. Lots of water, from the Bosphrous and from the fountains. Though it makes sense that the 500+ year old bazaar would smell of something, it was well-ventilated and remarkably devoid of any particular aroma, until one enters a booth. Then you would smell the wares: wool from antique the carpets, ceramics from the pottery, tarnishing silver, supple leather. I was highly impressed by this.

What does one buy there? Try kilim carpets, pillow cases, jewelry, fabric, ceramics. But don’t expect any extreme bargains if you are 1. a woman or 2. speak English. You will get a discount from typical American prices, but I didn’t find any freebies. I suppose though that if the Grand Bazaar were such a tremendous bargain, all of the wares would have been bought up systematically by large outfits ages ago.

None of the items sold have price tags, and the vendor reveals the price of each item on request with some hocus pokus. Jewelers will remove their merhcanise and weigh it. Carpet salesmen will have them amazingly memorized. Sterling ware shops will consult some hidden books. Haggling works well, and one should always use it. But it can invoke anger, frustration and bullying. Don’t be fooled by such techniques. One merchant refused to sell to us ever after we refused an amount, expecting us cave in out of some fear of retribution. Don’t be intimidated. They won’t follow you, and if they resort to such tactics their wares are probably no good.

Some merchants will have more than one booth. Their main, showcase booth with be on a main street. But off these main streets are tiny little alleyways that contain additional booths and more and varied wares. If one expresses an interest in an item, but doesn’t find the item is specifically appealling enough, one may be offered a chance to visit these. I suppose if one had oodles of time, one could visit all the booths and not be so dependant on the good nature of the merchants to show additional items. If the sole purpose of my visit to the fabled and ancient city of Istanbul had been to master the Grand Bazaar, I probably would have approached it more scientifically and systematically. True, there would have been many a furious merchant when I jotted down my notes. But if their wares were good, they wouldn’t have been so intimidated by such tactics. But my time was limited to a few hours, and my interests were not necessarily specific.

There are a few merchants that are easy to deal with. A particular ceramics merchant gave me a free bowl with a purchase for my future children and allowed me to rest for a while in the luxury of air conditioning. Another, though his prices were steep, was fair, and not forceful. Usually those who have good wares will fall into that category, and beware of the others.

We heard stories of a carpet shop owned by a crazy American lady. That is her title. Literally. She was something of a landmark. I imagined that the merchants that we delt with – who were all male – would consider that bringing up her existance would in some way make us feel at home. I was slightly tempted to visit but thought better of it. If I wanted to see a crazy American lady there was no need to travel to Istanbul.

Vintage Bathing Suits

Yes! Yes! Yes!!! Bring this back, and I might start going swimming again.

http://ideas.blogs.nytimes.com/2009/07/17/back-to-the-vintage-bathing-costume/?hp

Wouldn’t it be wonderful to go to the beach or pool without having to see too much?! It’s not a modesty issue, its one of politeness and common sense. One can be proud of oneself, one’s body and one’s skin without having to expose as much of it as possible on the public.

Please, start leaving a little to the imagination. You and the rest of the world will be happier.

American Power and the Progressive Movement

Where the wealth was in 1900, and where the power was not

By the mid 1880s, the United States was the wealthiest nation in the world. But it was still with Europe where the real international political power lay. Most of us learned the term laissez-faire in high school and learned to apply it to Belle Epoque America. But the situation was a bit more complicated than that. It wasn’t so much that the government left business alone, it was that the government was weak in general both in the international diplomatic sphere and in it’s own backyard. And due to this and despite it’s wealth, the U.S. had little sway with other governments (Zakria, From Wealth to Power).

In any case, without wealth, no rich America. Without strong government, no strong America. And, nothing can be accomplished without either. In 1900, the U.S. had the former in spades. It was during the Progressive Era that it built the latter.

Disinterested and/or weak?

The economic situation in the U.S. reflected this money rich, power poor state. Though the exact amount is unknown, it is estimated that over 45% of the U.S. wealth was held by the top 1%, a high in U.S. history, and not to be rivaled again until the last 20 years. The gap between rich and poor was tremendous, making a democracy rather ineffective.

Being a member of the incredibly shrinking middle class was perilous. Despite our vision of 1900 America, with it’s small, traditional, stable middle class families gathered around the parlor table, attending church, and calling on friends for tea, the professional middle class was in constant siege. Wages were uneven, unreliable, and members of the professional middle class would emulate their betters by employing monopolistic strategies to building practices and businesses. The noble, idealistic middle class man who struggled for honor and virtue amidst the smut – the Horatio Alger – was not really a viable model for behavior in such a cutthroat environment. But the progressive movement did what it could to turn him into a deity.

Intolerance (1916) Lillian Gish survives against corruption in Babylon, the French Revolution, and the Modern Era thanks to her beauty and virtue

I did a paper in my undergrad years on Fatalism and the Horatio Alger mythology in Pre-World War I Silent cinema. If the movies of that period weren’t on cigarette fairies or other silly, plotless fantasies they were most likely on a virtuous young man who is “a hard worker… an unusually intelligent man not in the least affected by his popularity, and very keen, businesslike and thrifty… not the usual ‘get-rich-quick’ type” (from Hirsch’s 1916 description of the iconic Chaplin). In the 1980s, we glorified the ruthless career woman or the ’save-the-whales’ energetic blonde who managed miraculously and incredulously through spunk alone. For the males, it was the reckless, self-indulgent Risky Business Tom Cruise or, conversely, the male that panders to either of the aforementioned females. Either would work. In the 1990s – a period of decadence to be sure – it was the hopelessly, emotionally self-obsessed. In 1900, it was Horatio Alger.

Creation of the Food and Drug Administration saving many from rancid meat and the like that those nasty Robber Barons were trying to feed the poor

The political changes that occurred during this era were huge. To name a few: women’s suffrage, anti-trust legislation, railroad legislation (40% of the billionaires in 1900 derived their wealth from RR), birth of the Food & Drug Administration, permanent income tax, and  Prohibition. All of these are grand, and I’m sure helped everyone a great deal. There was also the Spanish American War, a sheer exercise of press and governmental power if there ever was one. But more importantly for America, they allowed the government to interfere with money and war with the mandate of the people, setting it up to reign in power when Europe was wiped out economically and politically by the Great War and thereafter World War II. After World War I, a European power was lucky if it’s government and currency were stable, much less expanding in influence. Power abhors a vacuum, and America was poised and ready there to fill it with it’s assembly line and memory of a top-heavy wealth distribution. It was a perfect alignment.

When a Train station was a tourist site in itself - the lost Penn Station

All of this influenced fashion and art. As was previously mentioned, the S bend corset died with the rise in government. So did the long skirt. Modern fashion was born from the ashes of the old world, growing out of the nutrients left by the dead and decaying Belle Epoque. To say that corsets and long petticoats died due to the feminist movement is like saying that Marie Anntoinette was guillotined because she said “let them eat cake,” or like saying that feminism succeeded because of a few spunky women. Feminism succeeded because the time was ripe for it and it made economic and political sense. Something had to fill the void.

I prefer a good Olmsted Park to the flat and concrete

But other than fashion, one of my favorite aspects of the Progressive Movement, and one that many of us take for granted, was their obsession with habitable living, grand structures, and park-building. We owe much to their foresight in this manner, both on the micro and macro scales. Floor plans opened up, decoration was lighter and airier. Dark-stained woodwork, and somber-colored Victorian painted ladies were washed in white.

On a larger scale Progressives felt little or no compunction to allow decaying, shoddy buildings to remain where they were, and would gleefully demolish blocks of city to build glorious and harmonious parks and public buildings. Think of the lost Penn Station, Grand Central Station, Olmsted’s later work on Niagara Falls and Buffalo, the Chicago World’s Fair and public works buildings across the U.S. of the Beaux Arts era.

It is a challenge to avoid idealizing the past in Upstate New York. Architectural monuments of the era are sometimes sad reminders of lost glory and promise in many decaying East Coast cities, that is, those that survived the scourge of urban renewal. One wishes that government would reorient itself to preserve grace and pride rather than tear it down and replace it with cheap superficiality. Being born and raised in Upstate New York, by logic and observation, leads to an appreciation for the remnants of that done several generations before and a suspicion of that done afterwards. I would imagine that those raised elsewhere, say Shanghai or California, would have a much different view. And I’m sure that my stodgy ancestors were none too pleased with what was going on when they were alive and kicking. Idealization of the past should never be taken too seriously.

In case if it’s not obvious, I have not started my Edwardian costuming project yet, and may need to postpone. Hence the dramatic history lesson. They are much easier.

Now everyone, go do something productive… you will be happy.

Givenchy on Edwardiana

Edwardian styles have been creeping back into couture.

Givenchy Edwardian

The whole purpose of the Edwardian silhouette with it’s s-bend corset, white shoulders, ’stuffed’-like bosom, hip-hugging skirt, and flared hem, was to personify the elegance of the exaggerated female form: Small waist, curving hips, delicate, subtle yet substantial, and a generous, matriarchial busom. It was smooth, lacey, art nouveau, like abstract arabesques and ascanthus curves.

What is that [on the left]?! Ridiculous in Ivory!? This is not Edwardian. This is insane, like storm troppers pretending they are on a picnic out of attrition caused delirium. What that has to do with the Edwardian period, I just don’t know.

There is no poured-in fit, no pronounced curves, no grace. She looks like she is in a straight jacket, possibly in pain. The bolstered shoulders are made no more feminine with chiffon. The hair does nothing to balance the look out, only exaggerating her sticky legs and arms. The skirt looks stretched and pinned on contrasting with the verticality of the arms, legs and hair, not liquidy and flowing to complement curves and lengthen the line. Miniskirts are never complimentary unless you need some instant hips – and there are lots of easier ways to get those – for they do the worst: cut the line in half, shorten the legs. When mixed with an Edwardian top, she looks like a mummy princess trying to make her way into a career in a lame attempt for world domination.

Amazingly enough reviewers have praised Fall 2009 designers for their optimism. I’m hoping this is another one of their insert-random-stock-phrase-in-review-moments, or else one must conclude that their judgemental and interpretive abilities have been affected by Stockholm Symdrome. For if this is Givenchy’s interpretation of Edwardian updated, he then implies that the graceful woman of 2009 is uphappy, bound, miserable, and disjointed. Would you like to be one of those?

Fiat overlay

I have lots of yards of French manufactured black silk embroidered ecru silk organza to work as an overlay for the gown. It got it for such a good price, practically stole it.

Most of the tone on tone white/ivory/off-white type fabrics I was finding were cheaply made or ridiculously expensive. And it’s just as well. Though I love the all white look of Edwardian period, I must say that it’s not so much fun. Flat white is hard to appreciate and color photo, and that’s the reason why so many brides opt for champagne or off white detail. The detail can disappear in a white blur.

So far, I still plan on using the cutwork for the hem. The antique swag lace will border the bottom of the overlay, and possibly be used in other places as well. I have so much of it, and it’s not the type to gather. I will need to be creative so as to appreciate and employ the significant quantity.

For the base, I think I will hunt down a lighter colored ivory silk.

 

… now it’s time to go get some sandpaper and strip some Eastlake drawer hardware. I love old houses.

Edwardian Stunners

 

The texture is incredible

 

The Immortal Lily Langtry

 

Princess Maud of Great Britain, Queen of Norway. A rare instance of dark drama.

 

Rose tinted photo. The bottom of the skirt is very full. An ivory overlay with gold and ivory lace overtop a rose colored base. Stunning.

 

Edwardian Gown Fabric

A recommendation: this may not be the best time in the universe to make an Edwardian gown. Competition comes from numerous quarters for Edwardian-compatible beauties. Wait until fashion changes to reduce the competition.

Unfortunately, there is a lot of overlap between the Edwardian costumer’s demands and that of the bridal demographic, since Edwardians liked their gowns light and frothy, and in pale colors. Light, gossamer and net-like fabrics are also popular with designers recently. So it’s impossible to find a bargain. Here are some fabrics I’m looking for:

- Mousseline: Silk. I’m not sure if it is really findable – unless I can find it abroad – except in Hermes scarves that cost +$700. And one would need a lot of those scarves to make a gown.

- Point d’Esprit: My current fave. There is a lot of overlap with the bridal and lingerie industry, and the stuff happens to be fashionable right now, too. Finding it in silk is tres difficile. 

- Silk Net or Embroidered Net: Both fashionable with designers currently, and popular with brides.

- Silk Tulle: a lot of noise on the market for silk tulle. There is the crappy, crafty bridal tulle sold in 40 yard bolts for $10 a piece or in small circles for favor projects, then there is the designer silk tulle that starts at $50 a yard and caters to upscale brides. Pas facile.

- Lace

Chiffon and Crepe is findable in numerous colors. One may be forced to head in that direction, giving up on the airier, lighter, stuff. One could move into a much heavier direction with the gown, towards darker colors or velvet. The problem in that is it defeats the purpose of making a light, airy Edwardian. Velvets, particularly those in dark colors, were not popular from 1900-1910. In fact, they were reserved for the older ladies. Dark colors, likewise, were used only for common wear, not fine gowns. The Edwardian period liked everything light, including their houses, their interior woodwork, and interior design. It was a departure from the dark, cluttered Victorian era.