The Well Dressed Colonial Woman

by Tamera Lynn Kraft

During the Revolutionary War, fashion often was adapted to the times. Many women boycotted cloth made in England, but calico which was banned in England was a mainstay of Colonial life. Women who lived near larger cities had more available to them then women who lived further west. Wherever they lived, the well dressed colonial woman had certain staples in her wardrobe.

The Basics: Colonial women dressed in layers. In the South, they wore less layers than in the North, but they still would not be seen in public without these basic layers. The first thing a woman would put on is a shift, a natural colored short loose linen gown. Next a colonial woman would wear a stay on the upper part of her body to help her posture. Next would come a hoop petticoat. Sometimes a woman would also wear an outer petticoat. Her gown would open in the middle to show her outer petticoat. In cold weather, she would wore more than two petticoats for extra warmth.

Dresses: A colonial women would wear a gown which was a bodice and skirt open in the middle to reveal a petticoat. A vest like garment called a stomacher would add a touch of color to the outfit. Kerchiefs of white or black silk or lace would be worn above the stomacher for modesty. Pieces of fabric were sewn on ether side of the dress called compreres and were sometimes laced with cords. Every gown except formal dresses were covered with aprons to protect the fabric and keep it from getting soiled. The aprons were even worn to church when women wore their Sunday best. Fabrics were usually simple cotton with checks, stripes and floral patterns, but ballgowns were made of silk or brocade.

Accessories: Every colonial woman wore a cap over her hair to keep it clean since she rarely washed it. For formal wear, women's hairstyles were elaborate coiffures or wigs, sometimes powdered. Hats were sometimes worn on top of their caps or wigs, but were not worn often due to war shortages. Shoes were leather with metal buckles or laces and were either flat or had high clunky heels. For jewelry, even poor women would wear miniature cameos on silk necklaces or bands.

Tamera Lynn Kraft has always loved adventures and writes Christian historical fiction set in America because there are so many adventures in American history. She has received 2^nd place in the NOCW contest, 3^rd place TARA writer’s contest, and was a finalist in the Frasier Writing Contest. Her novellas Resurrection of Hope and A Christmas Promise are available on Amazon and at Barnes and Noble.

Adventures in Historically Accurate Costuming, Part 3

Reed for boning, unbleached linen, twill tape ... ready!

So, as things turned out, I wound up in our hometown-to-be the first weekend of November and missed attending the RevWar event in Camden. Finishing out my 18th century ensemble has been put on hold for now, but I’ll talk about my experience with doing a fully boned pair of stays ...

I explained how the cardboard mockup gave me severe cramping across my lower back and hips. I’ve wondered, with my history of back issues (an injury at age 15 made chiropractic care a near necessity over the years), how much of wearing stays was the 18c way of dealing with chronic pain, since at that point they were as much about support as shape, especially among working classes. Infants and children wore specially made stays as well, because society during that era believed that developing bodies needed the support.

Inside of the stays...center is front

Determined to get a rudimentary pair of stays made, I ordered ash boning reed (essentially the same thing used for splining on caned chair seats) and a few other supplies. The wood boning is preferable to other materials because of its flexibility and breathability—using all plastic or metal poses the danger of overheating during summertime wear. For the fabric, I needed three layers: outside, interfacing, and lining. I cut the outer layer from a rough, unbleached linen, the interfacing from white linen left over from my shift, and the lining from the unbleached linen. (I should have switched the interfacing and lining.) I’d made a mockup of cheap muslin and tried it on, and found that it fit well enough I could pretty much just cut out the pieces according to the original pattern. So much for the cardboard mockup being accurate. :-)

Outside of stays

It was also recommended that I not assemble the stays as directed by the pattern (each layer as one), but by pattern piece, sewing the layers together on the boning channels before assembling them as a whole. Also, I made the stays front-lacing as well as back lacing, so I edged the front and back openings alike, following the directions for the back.

Lacing holes--I've hand stitched the edges of one, but not the others!

After sewing in channels and and assembling the two halves of the stays, I inserted one length of boning into each, and made holes down the front and back openings for the lacing (not cutting the fabric, but poking a fine knitting needle through, then a thicker one, and using a heavy embroidery needle to pull the twill tape through the holes for lacings). At that point, there wasn't time to finish out the stays before trying them out for my book launch party.

Pattern for pockets, and other goodies

The fit was amazing! Just enough support and shaping that I shouldn’t have to alter the dress much, if at all. And they are comfortable enough for several hours’ wear, without pain. (No photos of this part, sadly!) I did discover that I'll need to beef up the boning--two lengths per channel--for strength and rigidity. I'll also need to attach the lining before trimming the edges and attaching the binding, which I hear can be a job all its own, depending upon whether I use linen or soft leather. I'm told the soft chamois pieces sold at auto parts stores work great for this.

Pattern for cap

After the book launch party, I’d planned to continue construction on the ensemble—finishing the stays, adding a colonial ladies’ cap and possibly pockets—but all that came to a grinding halt in favor of preparations for my husband to travel to his new job and then my last-minute househunting trip out there. But I have plans to complete the ensemble, after our move.

Any questions on the process? Details you want to ask about? I’m happy to share or clarify!

Adventures in Historically Accurate Costuming, Part Two

So, picking up the saga from my first post on sewing an 18c outfit ...

I decided I needed a shift (the sleeves on my cotton medieval chemise were far too full to fit inside the very fitted ones of an 18c gown), basic stays (I planned to make a cardboard mockup as phase one of fitting for “real” ones, and I’d heard of at least one person wearing the mockup to an event, so that couldn’t be so bad, could it?), an under-petticoat made over from an old linen skirt, and a basic gown and matching petticoat. I’d purchased some linen, both white and natural, on sale a few months ago. I was working from plans I’d found online at a source recommended by those experienced in the hobby of period reenacting. This meant no pattern as such, just measurements taken on myself and then translated to lines, angles and curves on a folded length of fabric. (I found the shift instructions on marariley.net. Great site overall for information on period dress!)

First attempt at cutting out the body of the shift

I’ll spare you the bulk of the story, but my first attempt at a shift resulted in a garment that was absolutely HUGE. A fellow seamstress very kindly gave me a piece of linen she’d purchased then found unsuitable for what she’d wanted, so I tried again. Much better—the neckline is still too wide, but I realized the directions are intended for use of a drawstring, which I didn’t plan on doing. (There’s actually less provenance for a drawstring neckline than a plain, flat seam.)

Coming up with a workable cardboard stays mockup was also interesting. Using a JP Ryan pattern for mid-18^th century stays, I cut each piece separately, minus seam allowances, the boning lines parallel with the corrugation, then taped them together.

First stays mockup, taped and ready for laces

The first stays mockup--so long! So awkward!

 (See how the tabs stick straight out, especially along the back and sides?)

My second mockup, shift, and petticoat

Wearing them was both easier and harder than I expected. Easier, in that I expected the support aspect but they weren’t as constricting as I was afraid they might be. I could move around easily, although they certainly make you sit up and pay attention to your posture, which was their intended purpose. Harder, in that I experienced some cramping across my hips after wearing them for longer than 20 minutes. I kept reminding myself I only had to be able to wear them for a couple of hours, and that real stays would, by all accounts, be much more comfortable. In search of a better fit, I cut new pieces—shorter this time, and made them front-lacing with a stomacher (a separate, roughly triangular piece for the front), which didn’t work very well. In desperation, I reinforced the front sections, which had buckled a little in the fitting, and made it more closely laced in front, then with lots of tape reinforcement across the tabs to make them lie down, called it mostly good.

Finally, it was time to take the plunge on the gown. Using the JP Ryan pattern for a gown l’anglaise, I first did a bodice mockup in unbleached muslin (right now it doubles as the lining—I might redo it later in linen). The fit was decent enough, so with much fear and trembling, I began cutting on the fabulous lightweight worsted wool suiting I’d found online. It’s described as “maroon” but depending upon the light, it looks cranberry or claret. Regardless, it was wonderful to work with. The bodice went together fairly well ...

Pleating the skirt before attaching

That point is awfully bunchy ...

   ... and then came the skirt, with its yards of hand pleating, and eventually sewing—by machine, because it’s an area that won’t show. I did have to redo a bit of the seam, near the point of the back, since it puckered and bunched the first time.

Once I had the lining mostly in and put together the matching petticoat, I had to try everything on again. I pinned the front with a few long florist’s pins, and my daughter helped me mark a hem. That was just a couple of days before the conference ....

Separate skirt and matching petticoat

The gown wouldn’t really be “finished,” but I did manage to get white linen sleeve flounces put in. At the last minute I decided to go with pinning the front closed, and guess what? It was also easier than I expected to weave the pin in and out, and make it secure. I felt a strange new fellowship with the women of the eighteenth century ...

So, I wore my gown for the ACFW conference and had a fabulous time, but after about three hours, my hips and lower back were in some moderate pain. I sadly exchanged the ensemble for a hot shower and comfy modern clothes. By the time I left the conference, I’d decided to get at least the skeleton of a pair of real stays finished by the time my book launch party rolled around—they couldn’t be any worse than the cardboard mockup—but that’s a tale for another segment!

The lovely Beth Goddard & I at ACFW

(Since I came home from conference to the news of a job offer out of state for my husband, and an impending move, my attending the author signing at the November reenactment is currently in question, but I promise to finish with either a recap of that or a review of what I’ve learned about this particular brand of research! Thank you all so much for your patience.)

Adventures in Historically Accurate Colonial Costuming

[With a nod to Laura Frantz's post "Dress, Shoes, and Stays - Oh My!"]

So ... I’ve always been a perfectionist. Painfully so, and one of the lessons I’ve had to learn as a mother of many is knowing when to let go of the Quest for the Perfect.

Here is one time when I just couldn’t, quite. :-)

A participant in the 2006 Parker's Ferry event

Several years ago, when I first began research on my Revolutionary War novel, Loyalty’s Cadence, I joined a Yahoo group for researchers and living historians, called 18cWoman (18^th Century Woman). That list is no longer in existence, but its replacement, 18cLife, has been fairly active. Over the years, the kindly folk there have answered my story questions on everything from regulations about British campfollowing wives to Colonial Christmas traditions. I’ve also witnessed countless discussions about proper clothing for period reenactments and living history events. These people tend to be meticulous in their research and attention to detail, so when the idea of sewing a “real” eighteenth century outfit occurred to me, I brushed it aside. Again—and again. :-)

Okay, I finally thought, IF my historical ever sells. It would be cool to wear one to booksigning events. Then came my first contract for Defending Truth, and the project lurked in the back of my mind through the months of writing and revising the novella. As a challenge to my sewing skills, it would be as much a creative endeavor as the writing, and it was just as important to me to get the research right.

So, a quick overview of 18c (eighteenth century) women’s wear from the skin outward:

• Shift: the equivalent of 18c underwear, made of pure linen for its availability and breathability. The quality of the linen was determined by one’s station and wealth. “Chemise” is the French word, more commonly in use in the nineteenth century.
  
  
  

  

  JP Ryan stays pattern

• Stays: basically the predecessor of a corset, which again is the French word and not in use until later. Often referred to as a “pair” of stays, referring to the two halves, or “bodies,” which is where the word “bodice” comes from (“a pair of body’s”). In the 18c and before, as much of a support garment as for shaping, like an 18c lumbar belt. In use as early as the 16^th century, and worn by babies and children as well as adult females. (That scene in Pirates of the Caribbean, where Elizabeth wears stays for the first time, is inaccurate in so many ways ... )

• Pockets: a bag or two, sewn to a cloth tape and tied around the waist for access through side slits in the skirts. Often highly embroidered, and NOT worn on the outside to attract marriageable men ... 

• Petticoat: essentially a skirt, at least one, more often two. These were often linen, quilted cotton, silk, or wool. Working women wouldn’t bother to match the petticoat to their jacket or gown, but dressy gowns often had a matching petticoat. 

• Gown: an open-fronted garment with sleeves, more or less embellished. Fastened down the front with straight pins (yes! it’s true!), or hooks and eyes. The open skirts are sometimes hiked “a la polonaise.” Made of linen (striped or plain), wool, silk, or a block-printed cotton (see Debra’s recent post about fabrics). In lieu of a gown, women also wore jackets, shortgowns, or bedgowns (for undress/casual wear around the house).

• Apron: also of linen, pinned and/or tied over everything to catch workaday dirt and grime.

• Cap: a very fine linen, of varying ruffled styles, but NOT the “gathered circle mobcap” style so often seen in ‘70’s historical dramas.

Summer-weight worsted wool

So, when planning this, I had to consider a few things: time, place, cost. The first event I wanted to wear my gown to was the 2013 ACFW conference, held last weekend. The main event is a Revolutionary War reenactment in early November. More historical accuracy would be appreciated at the latter than the former, so I knew I had leeway with finishing and construction to begin with. Cost was a factor because, well, 100% fiber fabrics are usually not cheap, especially for period-appropriate gown fabrics. When inquiring on 18cLife, I was told that drapery-weight cottons were the thing, not quilting cottons (and I had to be careful of the print); linen, but be careful of stripes; wool, usually a summer-weight worsted suiting, and not a twill weave; or a silk print or brocade. Just the thought of trying to choose overwhelmed me. Then, a particular wool went on sale, only to be out of stock by the time I made a decision, so I was back at square one ....

[to be continued!!!]

Ladies Hatwear in Early America

In early America a woman thought herself only partially dressed if she left her home without a covering for her head, even if it was only a simple white cap.  But hats were considered more than a fashion accessory; they were functional.

photo by Luigi Crespo

LINEN CAPS and cotton kerchiefs were worn for indoor work, such as cooking and cleaning, but when stepping outside a lady often required greater coverage for sun shade or warmth, depending on the season.  In that case, she might don a QUILTED HOOD.  For shading delicate faces and necks, a wide-brimmed, flat-crowned STRAW HAT was the fashion, although not always practical, as it could be swept away with the slightest of winds.  These crowns were typically so flat, in fact, that some rose only about a half-inch off the brim.  They could be worn with the hat brim straight out; but more often, the brim would be drawn around the face like a bonnet, tied down with ribbon strings and then fastened under the chin or behind the head.

Braiding straw for hats such as these became an occupation of many women and a good means for them to earn, being a task they could pick up along with their usual domestic chores.  Many did a brisk business selling their hats to local stores.  Skilled straw weavers learned different weaving patterns and the art of wielding a handheld splitting tool.  The finest of these types of straw hats were woven from imported Leghorn straw.  Ordinary wheat straw produced a coarser finish, yet it served its purpose just as well. 

 

Straw hats were simply dressed with a band of ribbon around the crown, but experienced milliners might line the under brim with a patterned fabric of cotton or silk.  For a more elaborate style, the hat would be covered entirely in silk so as to disguise the straw and then trimmed with silk or paper flowers and perhaps a delicate bit of netting.   Every season called for new linings, more elaborate trimmings—silk, crepe, feathers and ribbons.

Felt hats in white or black were made similar to those of straw.  The COCKED HAT was a popular 17^th century style and was worn mostly for traveling or riding.  It looked much like a man’s tricorn with three sides of its brim turned up toward the crown.  The upturned brim might be trimmed with braid, ribbon or fur and even an elaborate ostrich plume.

Calash

The CALASH originated in England, where the latest hairstyles grew so large they created a demand for bonnets which could cover the head without mussing the coiffure.  Calash bonnets were usually made of green silk stretched over hoops of cane.  The fabric in back of the calash was gathered together and held in place with a button or a bow.  It was drawn up over the head by the pull of a cord, but when the wearer moved indoors, she could push it off to fall back in folds like the hood of a calash or gig carriage.  The calash was introduced by the Duchess of Bradford at around 1765 and it remained in fashion throughout the Revolutionary War until the early 1800s.

Poke Bonnet

The Federal period brought new styles.  The wide-brimmed hats of the 18th century were replaced with close-fitted bonnets, one of the most popular being the POKE BONNET.  Though the style was not entirely new, it came into widespread popularity during this time as being the most engaging of ladies’ hats and boasted a stiff, projecting brim that surrounded the face like a funnel and was tied in a wide bow under the chin with its ribbon straps.

The COAL SCUTTLE BONNET was tied in the same way but had a shorter brim and the hat was shaped like that of a coal scuttle.  TURBANS, adorned with ostrich plumes, pearls and pins, also came into fashion but were not very long-lived.  The BONAPARTE HAT was helmet-shaped and trimmed with a laurel wreath.  At times, it would be worn cocked to one side.

Millinery Shop

These are just some of the more popular hats of early America.  Of course, like in our modern times, new styles developed and changed frequently as many local village milliners copied the fashions of Boston, New York, London and Paris.

Lisa Norato is the multi-published author of Prize of My Heart, an inspirational, seafaring historical from Bethany House, set during the Federal era. A life-long New Englander, Lisa lives in a historic village with homes and churches dating as far back as the eighteenth century.

Research On A Shoestring: Fashion

We writers are a cheap lot. Many of us don't have a big budget for our research books. And let's face it, not everything we need or want or think we need can be found on the Web. In four years of managing the gift shop at Kent Plantation House in Alexandria, Louisiana, I gleaned some great, cheap fashion resources.

For the writer on a tight budget, Dover Publications is one of your very best friends. There's a ton of cheap, great resources there for nearly any time period and subject you can think of. But this post is dedicated to fashion, so I'm going to share a few tips for building your fashion research library without breaking the bank.

Tom Tierney. He is a costume historian, and an artist. Among other things, he does paper dolls for Dover. As of this writing when you type his name into the search box at Dover's website it comes back with 160 results. He's done everything from classic movie stars to American presidents and the musical Mikado.

But I want to specifically point your attention to his American Family series. He's done a variety of periods, including American Family of the Colonial Era and American Family of the Federal Era. If you read this blog, these two are must haves for your library.

What makes these paper dolls truly stand out is multiple generations of the family are represented. There are grandparents, parents, older teens and grade school age. The dolls are in period correct undergarments and each page of costumes includes a detailed description. Best of all they're $6.95. Coloring books are usually $3.95.

There are dozens of other gems hidden at Dover. Fashion plates from Godey's Lady's Book turned into paper dolls. Coloring books for anything you can imagine, paper dolls of Queen Victoria and Empress Eugenie, Emperor Franz Joseph, Byzantine era, French Baroque, American Family in the Pilgrim Era, Marie Antoinette, ancient Egypt, Shakespeare, Henry VIII and his wives, Carmen Miranda and Vivian Leigh. And I've barely scratched the surface here! You can even get reprints of Sears catalogs. I have one of fashion from the 1920's.

Dover is a great resource no matter what you're researching. And if you're a homeschooling mom, the coloring books are an excellent learning tool. My mom has at least fifty Dover coloring books that we used as part of school. And just looking through the search right now to write this post, I see at least three coloring books that I "need" for my own research purposes. (and so I can color in them)

In Ye Olden Days - Fashion Babies

Ever wonder how people kept up on fashion back in the day? I mean, in the 18th century fashion was EVERYTHING. Even here in the colonies--in fact, a London man described our balls and gowns as far more fashion-forward than anything to be seen in London. (Not his exact words, but that's the gist, LOL.) But it wasn't exactly the age of full-color magazines . . . nor of Fashion Weeks. They didn't have Style or E! and certainly couldn't browse Ideeli daily for awesome bargains on designers.

So they looked at dolls. Yep, that's right. Marie Antoinette was more than a leader of France in the late 18th century, she was the unanimously agreed upon leader of fashion the world over. And whenever Marie Antoinette appeared in a new style, her peeps would make miniature versions of it for dolls and send those dolls to every major port.

It may have taken two months, but those "fashion babies" arrived on our doorsteps and brought detailed examples from the Queen of Fashion into our lives. And so, though it moved at a snail's pace compared to our changes from season to season now, styles changed far more quickly than they had in centuries prior.

 

All thanks to prettily made up baby dolls. =)

In Ye Olden Days: A Men's Fashion Primer

Dressing women is fun. All those beautiful dresses and accessories and shoes and hair and hats. Alas, our novels are not populated only by women. Men show up too. While not as diverse as women's fashion in the 18th century, the men still got their gaudy on.

We all know men wore breeches in the 18th century. Those funny pants that come to the knee, and from the knee down is either a white stocking or a leather boot. You're probably wondering why there's a picture of Captain Hook over there. The reason is simple: Everyone knows Captain Hook.

What everyone does not know is he's wearing the typical clothing of an early 18th century man. With the exception of the massive feather and cartoon shoes, obviously. We see something very similar in the opening scenes of Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man's Chest. Except Will is wearing boots. Elizabeth's father, Governor Swann, also wears knee length coats in the first three films. I'm particularly fond of the one he's wearing in At World's End. You know, when he's dead.

Men's clothing is always simpler than women's, in regards to getting dressed. In the 18th century it consisted of breeches, shirts, waistcoats (what we call vests), and coats. The coats is where you find the most variety.

For the first half of the century coats like the one pictured here on the right, and the one Captain Hook is wearing, were the norm. This style of coat is called a justaucorps.

That lace at the throat is called a cravat. Cravats continued in fashion through the Civil War. They could be as elaborate as the lace one pictured here, or as simple as a solid colored piece of cloth to match the waistcoat.

Most men didn't wear royal blue and bright red. This red one, oddly reminiscent of Captain Hook's, is from France circa 1750. You can see how the front of the coat is cut different from the blue one above, and different still from the one Captain Hook wears that buttons all the way down. Though in cartoon land you can't see the buttons.

The working man didn't have money to spend on lace ruffles and fancy embroidery and expensive dyes. His wardrobe stayed in the earth tones category. Blacks, browns, fawn, tan. Everything we associate with the farmers during the Revolution.

Of course, no 18th century man is complete without a tricorne hat. Other types of hats existed, such as the ever popular slouch hat. But who thinks of slouch hats when they hear 1700's? Not me.There's a good reason for that. The slouch hat was a farmer's hat. The tricorne hat is what anybody who was anybody wore. It's not hard to imagine a young man from the country pinching pennies away to buy himself a tricorne hat.

You didn't really think I'd talk about Pirates of the Caribbean and not include a picture, did you? This one from Dead Man's Chest--with Governor Swann front and center--shows some excellent examples of tricorne hats, wigs, and wouldn't you know it! One of those outlandish prints that were so popular in the 18th century. They didn't just show up on women.

Now, if your character is in the Navy or the Army, I'm afraid I'm of no help. Military uniforms throughout history are well documented and easy to research. If you're researching uniforms, don't forget the buttons!

An 18th Century Ladies Fashion Primer

This is my first post to Colonial Quills and I'm so happy to be here. I'll be sharing about fashion, textiles, and colonial Louisiana.

Unlike the 19^th and 20^th centuries, fashion in the 18^th century didn’t change very much for several decades. One can identify a dress from the 18^th century with only a couple of tools in her arsenal.

The first is silhouette. When most people think of dresses in the 1700’s, their mind immediately conjures up the riotous cartoons from Louis XVI’s France. Cartoons of wild, towering wigs decorated with birds or fruit or even boats. The cartoonists weren’t just lampooning Marie Antoinette’s wigs. They were going after the pannier too, which reached ridiculous proportions in the 1750’s and was brought back by Marie.

I found this picture from the University of Michigan. I have no idea if the photograph is in their collection or if the pannier and stays is in their collection. It’s a good example of a pannier and stay of the time. I don’t know the date, but I’m guessing it’s from sometime in the 1750’s to the 1770’s.

There are stories of Catherine the Great, Empress of All The Russias, once having worn a pannier that was eight feet across from one end to the other. The blue dress here is a British court dress from the 1750’s in the collection of the Metropolitan Museum of Art in NYC.

At the beginning of the century, the silhouette wasn’t all that different from the 15^th and 16^th centuries. Full skirts, three-quarter length sleeves with lace at the cuffs, ribbons, embroidery and sometimes garish prints. That silhouette flowed into the mantua, a cone shape silhouette so popular that for decades, tailors and seamstresses were often called mantua makers.

From the conical shape of the mantua, came the pannier. Introduced probably in the late 1740’s for court dress, it quickly became popular, reaching its zenith of size in the 1760’s with the above referenced dress worn by Catherine.

Only in France did the pannier continue to be popular. In the 1760’s a style of dress commonly called the saque dress came into style. While still having that definitive big hips silhouette, it was much smaller and featured what I think is one of the most flattering things in all of historical costume: a pleated back that fell from the neckline to the floor in one graceful piece of fabric. See what I mean? I love it. These two dresses are also at the Met in NYC.

From here we enter the 1770’s and the styles seen at Colonial Willamsburg and on the American Girl doll Felicity. The pannier is still present, but it’s continuing to shrink in width. By 1785, panniers had almost completely disappeared and the silhouette returned to a more normal shape. But if you look closely at the skirt, it’s not hard to imagine where the bustle of the 1870’s and 1880’s came from. There truly is nothing new in fashion. If you look back far enough, with the exception of the mini-skirt, it’s been done before.

In 1790, the pannier is dead, never to be resurrected. The silhouette is columnar in form, with a skirt that’s losing fullness by the year and a waistline that’s moving up. In 1800, the Regency/Empire style is in full force.

The second tool is fabric choice, though it’s not as reliable as silhouette. Western block printing was perfected in the mid 1700’s and this led to an explosion of elaborate, striped floral fabrics. For some reason they also loved bows and ruffles. Lots of them. At the same time. On fabric with very busy patterns. Particularly in France. It’s really quite easy to see why French fashion of that century was a favorite subject for cartoonists.

Next time we’ll take a look at men’s fashion. As boring as that is, it must be done.