Thursday, July 9, 2015

Wearing History's 'Smooth Sailing Trousers': A Review

Finally I've gotten around to writing my review of Wearing History's read-to-wear Smooth Sailing Trousers which I have owned since December last year.

Before Lauren embarked on her ready to wear line, I had actually been eyeing off the pattern that these are based off (that Wearing History's pattern store also sells) for quite some time. So naturally when the Kickstarter campaign to fund the line was announced I jumped at the chance to back Lauren's business venture and to get myself some pre-made trousers.

These trousers are based on mid 1930s to early 1940s women's sportwear styles. Similar to these  styles below:

Image courtesy of Wearing History
Image courtesy of Wearing History

Katherine Hepburn, c. 1940s

As modern bodies are a bit different to those of our grandmother's generation Wearing History has taken the time to slightly alter the design of these trousers, namely shortening the crotch length for ease of wear, whilst still staying true to the aesthetics of the era.

Image Courtesy of Wearing History

I was super excited when getting these trousers in the post as I don't own anything like them. I absolutely adore the way that they look with tied blouses and cropped tops, although you could definitely wear them with any top you choose (I personally tend to shy away from period blouses as I find I look a bit too costume-y, but that's just my preference).

The trousers are extremely well made and I was lucky enough to get mine with the lovely shell button that came with the first production run. The sizing is true to what is listed on the website and the length is perfect for my average 5'5" height. The fabric is a lovely soft, lightweight denim so perfect for spring or a mild summers' day (Australian weather that is, if you're in northern Europe you could wear these all summer long!)

Side view - trousers are paired with a cropped top from Forever 21

The only problem that I have with the trousers is the fact that the fabric is non-stretch. Let me start by firstly saying  that issue with the fabric has NOTHING at all to do with the style of these trousers or their production, but rather with my body shape. I completely understand why Lauren at Wearing History chose to design these trousers with a non-stretch fabric as it is period correct and her clothing aims to be as authentic to the 1930s/40s as possible.

I don't have a very defined waist, so rather than the nice hourglass that most vintage and modern styles and sizes are designed around, my torso is a rectangle. So, I always have problems when it comes to fitted clothing. Particularly when it comes to choosing a size when I'm buying or sewing 1930s to 1960s styles.

Wearing History has a pretty great sizing selection and when I ordered these, I got the size 28 (for 28 inch waist). The problem is, my waist is actually 29.5 inches, which means I probably should have got the size 30. HOWEVER, my hips are only 38 inches. So technically my waist measurement corresponds to the size 30 but my hips measurements correspond to the size 26-28.

Wearing History Size Chart

Although the site states that if you are between sizes to go up a size, I'm not only in between but completely out of sync with the size guide (as I am with most). This is not the fault of Wearing History, but simply down to my non conventional anatomy (although it seems I am not the only one, Lauren from American Duchess also recently outlined the issue she has with vintage styles and her similar body shape here). So, if I buy clothes to fit my waist they are too big in the hips and butt, if I buy clothes to fit my hips and butt, they are too small in the waist. It's an ongoing issue!

One way I might remedy this is to wear some period correct shape wear such as girdle, which I will try in the future. Until then I just avoid wearing them when I plan to eat a lot whilst sitting down, as the waistband tends to get a bit tight! I'm even thinking of buying the pattern to these so I can make them in other fabrics and better tailor them to my body shape in a way that you can only do if you make them yourself.

Overall I do love these trousers and I can totally recommend them and Wearing History to anyone who is interested in 1930s and 1940s fashion. Also, I cannot wait for Lauren's next line to come out and see what else she has up her sleeve!

Back view
Smooth Sailing Trousers are available here on Wearing History's website for US$94.99. I've also attached the product description from the website below:

Product Description
The Smooth Sailing trousers were inspired by mid 1930’s to early 1940’s sportswear fashions
A mid-point between modern and vintage trouser fit, rise (crotch length) is slightly longer than modern rise, but shorter than the very low rise of authentic vintage trousers. (For more info about rise and vintage trouser fit,  check out my blog post by clicking here)
A slim fit through the waist and high hip, and a looser fit from the hip down
Two front release pleats with topstitching detail
An invisible zipper at the side, with a button and buttonhole fastening at the waist
Made of 8 oz 100% cotton indigo denim with a generous hem- pre-wash before altering length.

Sunday, June 14, 2015

Current Research on Early Modern Material Culture, Dress and Accessories!

As some of you may, or may not know, I'm currently in my second year of a PhD researching women's structural undergarments - bodies, farthingales, busks, bum rolls, stays and hoop petticoats - and femininity in England and France from 1560-1740. I've recently spent the last five months living in London as a visiting research student at Kings College London, undertaking archival research for the project, presenting at conferences and networking. Now I'm currently in Paris completing the French part of my archival research (in between drinking too much red wine and eating too many pains aux chocolats)! If you want to know more about my research click here.

I've met so many incredible people in the last few months who are working on early modern material culture, particularly dress and accessories. One thing I dislike about academia is that our work tends not to be as accessible to the general population as most people don't have subscriptions to academic journals and our books tend not to be targeted at the wider audience. However, one of the things I love about studying early modern dress history is that so many people are interested in it - which is obvious as the online costuming and historical sewing community is massive! In many ways my work has benefited from being part of this online community, and my blog is in some way, an attempt to bridge the divide between these two flourishing areas of dress history.

So what better way to do that than feature some of the work of the early modern scholars whom I met on my research trip on my blog. So without further adieu...

Alice Doolan

I had the pleasure of meeting Alice at the Matter and Materiality conference that we both presented at at the University of Cambridge. Alice is about to submit her PhD dissertation and has recently been awarded a EHS fellow position at the Institute for Historical Research in London. Alice's thesis, titled 'The Fabric of Life: Linen and Life Cycle in England, 1678-1810', is part of the The Spinning Project, headed by Professor John Styles, which aims to "provide a comprehensive history of hand spinning in England between 1400 and 1800", or in other words, textile production, economy and use. 
In particular, Alice's project focuses on the significance of linen in daily life, within the home, at work, and on the body. Here research explores how relationships with linen were influenced by materiality, life cycle, status and gender whilst paying particular attention of the textile properties of linen in surviving garments and in the linen trade in England. She has a number of current and forthcoming publications that you can find access to here.

To find out more about her research go to her academia page or her personal blog

Giulia Mari

Giulia Mari is in the first year of her PhD at Kings College London working with Professor Evelyn Welch. Her PhD is looking at male legs and leg wear in sixteenth-and-seventeenth-century England. Provisionally titled ‘Talking Legs in the English Renaissance: shifting concepts of manhood in Tudor and Stuart England, 1550-1700’, her PhD will trace the evolution of self-fashioning, display, male fashion, physical activities, knowledge of anatomy and issues of gender in early modern England as a tool for redefining the meaning of masculinity, manhood, and effeminacy in the period. I had the pleasure of presenting a paper with Giulia at a conference, and am super interested to see where her research will take her!

To find out more about her research go to her academia page or her personal blog.

Sophie Pitman

Sophie Pitman is a second year PhD student under the supervision of Professor Ulinka Rublack working on dress in early modern England. Her thesis titled ‘Tailoring the city: the making of clothing and the making of London, c.1560-1660', explores the culture of clothing in early modern London particularly how it contributed to the development of early modern London and, in turn, how London’s rapid growth changed the making, wearing, and meaning of clothing. Sophie has been closely working with the Museum of London collections for her research. I've also been to one of Sophie's talks on tailoring, particularly the relationship between between tailor and customer, and customer and clothing, in early modern London and it was fascinating.

To find out more about her research go to her academia page.

Rebecca Unsworth

Rebecca Unsworth is in her first year of a collaborative PhD at both Queen Mary University and the Victoria and Albert Museum. Rebecca's PhD is titled "Every Man Well Appareled" and looks at men's fashion in early modern Europe, particularly networks of news and fashionable exchange. Her research aims to learn about how men learnt about new fashions in Europe, how they were circulated and how it affected what was worn. Her work has already taken her jet-setting across Europe to Spain and Germany, and she is particularly interested in grounding dress history in the materiality of the objects themselves, rather than abstract notions of fashion. 

To find out more about her research go to her academia page or her personal blog

Will Tullett

Will Tullett is a second year PhD student at Kings College London working on smells and smelling in the long eighteenth-century Britain, with particular focus on perfume. He has a couple of publications coming out and is currently organising an upcoming workshop with the Victoria and Albert Museum on perfume - so keep an eye out for that as anyone in the UK will be able to buy a ticket to go along to the class!

To find about more about his research visit his academia page.

There are many more people out there doing stuff, and this blog post is by no means representative of the lively field of material culture studies at the moment, these are just the scholars I've had the pleasure of working with whilst in the UK. But I hope that it brings our work to a larger audience and encourages interactions between those in the academic community, the historical sewing community and beyond!

Friday, May 15, 2015

Document Focus: Wenceslaus Hollar's Ornatvs Mvluebris Anglicanus and 1630s English Fashions

I've recently been going through some of the engravings done by seventeenth-century artists, particularly the Bohemian Wenceslaus Hollar who worked extensively in England, and Abraham Bosse, a French engraver. I love, love, love the engraving styles of the early seventeenth century, and particularly the styles of both the artists that I've mentioned. 

As a historian working on dress these types of engravings are also particularly useful to understand what types of clothing people wore and how they wore it. Although, keep in mind, that as an artistic medium these drawings can be prone to exaggeration or artistic licence. However, for the most part Hollar seems to have liked to draw people from all walks of life and in various social situations, so you can assume that they must have been somewhat realistic representations. 

The prints below come from a particular work Ornatvs Mvluebris Anglicanus or The Severall Habits of English Women, from the Nobilitie to the contry Woman, as they are in these times, 1640. Although the British Library also dates some of the pictures to 1638. In all probability, many of these engravings were first sketched in the late 1630s and not published until 1640. There are no captions that accompany the pictures, but they appear to progress from elite dress to common dress and that's how I've ordered the ones below. All of the pictures and more, are available via the University of Toronto's Wenceslaus Hollar Digital Collection

 Fashionable Gowns 

These fashionable elite women both wear the gowns of the 1630s that consisted of bodices with high waistlines and elbow-length full voluminous sleeves, a stomacher, a petticoat skirt and a falling lace collar.  The bodices were often boned, as the extant example from the V&A is below with whalebone, buckram and canvas, and the stomacher would also have been stiffened with heavy fabrics, whalebone or a busk. 

Bodice. 1630-1639. England.  Victoria & Albert Museum, London

Although it seems that the bodice of the gown could also be incorporated into the skirts as the picture of the woman on the right depicts. A tailoring bill for Queen Henrietta Maria from 1634 mentioned "one Gowne of black satin, The Sleeves, Stomacher and forepart with a lace throughout." Women also wore foundational garments underneath such as the bodies belonging to Dame Elizabeth Filmer at the Manchester Galleries discussed here


A curious case is the 'hungerline' or French 'hongreline'. When I was examining the household bills of Henrietta Maria of England, I came across numerous references to a "hungerline", for example in a bill from 1632 it states that the Queen's tailor made a "Satten hungerline imbrodered with gold and Silver sticht and garnished with whalebone and lyned with taffaty." The bill also makes references to an un-boned "carnacion satten hungerline imbroidered and stitched and lyned with white taffetie..." 
So it left me wondering - what is a hungerline? This is where my French comes in handy. According to French sources, a 'hongreline" was a short French-style waistcoat that was derived in style from the justaucorps which was a coat worn by men (by 1690 it was described in Antoine Furetière's dictionary as a short-sleeved shirt with large tabs). Alfred Franklin in Corporations ouvrières de Paris Du Douzième Au Dix-Huitième Siècle (1884) noted that it was common among rural women and servants in France. However, considering there is ample evidence of it in Henrietta Maria's wardrobe  and it is depicted on bourgeois women (see below), it seems that it was popular even among the upper classes. The style was probably brought to England by the French Henrietta Maria when she married Charles I in 1625. The only visual image I've been able to find that depicts a hungerline is this French one, from 1629, which unfortunately only gives us a side view. 

Translation: "The clothing of a bourgeoise lady of Paris in a simple skirt and a modern style of hongreline when she wants to leave her neighbourhood." 
Isaac Briot, 1629. Bibliothèque nationale de France, Paris. 

Some French sources state that the main features of the hongreline was it's "basques grandes/flottantes", ie. the large and flowing lower part of the bodice. However, the main difference I can see between a hungerline and a normal gown bodice or waistcoat, and the reason I have chosen Hollar's picture above, is the sleeve detail. The drawing above depicts a sleeve that contains two parts - the bigger embroidered upper sleeve that stops at the elbow, and a lower sleeve that comes out from underneath and finishes at the wrist. The sleeves also seem to have been heavily embroidered as description in Henrietta Maria's bills describe, and maybe even had decorative button detail that mimicked a man's coat sleeves, as is very obvious on the next picture below. It may well be though that this style is one that will never be completely recovered from history.


Pomanders (from the French pomme d'ambre) were items of jewellery that contained fragrant aromatic substances such as ambergris, musk, clove or civet, and commonly hung from the neck or the waist. Popular since medieval times they were believed to ward off infection during times of plague (as it was thought that disease was transmitted through foul air). However, by the eighteenth century they were used mostly to cover up bad smells, particularly in cities such as London were the streets were often filled with household waste and excrement. They also took part in the social etiquette practices of the day. 

Pomander. 1600-50. European. Victoria & Albert Museum, London

One of my fellow researchers, Will Tullett from Kings College London, is working on smell during the early modern period, and has looked extensively at Pomanders. You can check out his research here.


This woman wears a waistcoat, a petticoat, falling lace band and also holds onto a fan. More interestingly though she appears to have a purse dangling from her waist. In the seventeenth century purses such as this were rarely used to actually carry money, as women such as the one depicted in this engraving rarely engaged in commercial exchanges that required cash. These purses could also contain mirrors (which is probably indicates what it was most commonly used for). They could also be used to carry around sewing materials or sweets, and other bits and pieces. 

Purse, 1600-1630. England.  Victoria & Albert Museum, London


Muffs in the seventeenth century, as they are now, were design to keep the wearer's hands warm when outside. They are believed to have first come about in the sixteenth century, possibly originating from the fur trim that was common on the cuffs of a gown. Most muffs during this period appear to have been made from fur, although there are fabric muffs such as this one from the eighteenth century, so it is totally plausible that they were also made from fabric too. In my archival research on English royal wardrobes I've actually never come across a muff, well, in tailoring bills anyway. So I'm not sure exactly where they were sourced. Nor have I been able to find any extant seventeenth-century examples in museum collections. The best we have from the period is other drawings from artists like Hollar, such as:

In fact that there are SO many engravings of muffs by Hollar. It would seem that really really liked women's muffs (double entendre intended)!



The woman on the left wears an over cape, a muff and has a purse dangling from her waist. Whilst the woman on the left wears a fashionable gown with a falling lace collar and holds a muff. What both women have in common is that they are wearing masks. 
Masks were, believe it or not, worn frequently in the streets of England during the late sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. Full faced masks were used primarily to shade the wearer's face from the sun's rays, as the wearers were usually aristocratic women whose pale skin reflected their position in life. They were held in place on the face by holding a glass bead that was attached to the mask between the teeth, which would have made it quite difficult to talk! Some of these masks have survived and were made from black velvet and silk/leather, such as this one found in the wall of a sixteenth-century building in England. Or the one below which comes from a fashion doll and dates to the 1690s.

Dolls Mask, 1690-1700. Victoria & Albert Museum, London

The masks in these picture though are not fulled faced, and so were probably not used for sun protection. Instead they could have been used by women to disguise themselves. Samuel Pepys, in a diary entry from 18th February 1667, describes such a woman at a playhouse he attended: 
"And one of the ladies would, and did sit with her mask on, all the play, and, being exceeding witty as ever I heard woman, did talk most pleasantly with him; but was, I believe, a virtuous woman, and of quality. He would fain know who she was, but she would not tell; yet did give him many pleasant hints of her knowledge of him, by that means setting his brains at work to find, out who she was, and did give him leave to use all means to find out who she was, but pulling off her mask. He was mighty witty, and she also making sport with him very inoffensively, that a more pleasant 'rencontre' I never heard." 


Hats like this were worn by both men and women during the seventeenth century. Hats could be made from felted beaver or rabbit fur, such as the one from the Victoria and Albert Museum below, or from leather such as this example also from the V&A. They could also have really tall, narrow "steeple" crowns such as this one which were favoured by the Puritans who wished to distinguish themselves from the ostentatious cavaliers. Over the course of the seventeenth century vast amounts of beaver fur used in hat making in Britain was imported from their colonies in North America, making them more affordable as the previous European Beaver was scarce as it had been nearly hunted to extinction. According to the V&A the felting process involved the fur being removed from the animal pelt and then heated to fuse it together. It was then moulded into shape around a wooden form, dyed, trimmed and smoothed. 

Felted Hat, 1590-1670. England. Victoria & Albert Museum, London

The woman in this picture is most likely a middling class city woman. Felt hats were common among all classes of people in the seventeenth century. They were used as riding headwear for elite women and as everyday wear for the gentry and middling classes. Hats were also particularly common in rural areas of Britain, understandably as rural people usually spent more time outdoors in fields. However, as felt hats were still expensive they would probably have had similar styles made from leather. 

The 1629 probate inventory of Arthur Coke, listed in part of his late wife's clothing "j [1] black beaver hatt with a bond of gold smythes - worke of starrs and half moones & iij [3] other bands of silver & gold", indicating that the bands on these hats could be incredibly decorative as well. Hats could also be pointed, looking like what we now think of at witches hats, such as the one worn in the painting Mrs Salesbury with her Grandchildren from 1675-6.

Portrait of Mrs Salesbury with her Grandchildren Edward and Elizabeth Bagot, by John Michael Wright. 1675-6. Tate Gallery, London

Ruffs & Collars

It is interesting that this particular lady is wearing a ruff as by the 1640s falling collars were more the norm. I've certainly found no evidence of ruffs in all the probate inventories and household bills that I've looked at from the 1630s/40s. Maybe this is an anomaly?

A more common "ruff" from this period. Ruff, 1620-29. England. Victorian and Albert Museum, London

Ruffs were particularly expensive to produce and to maintain: firstly they required a lot of fabric, they constantly had to be re-starched and bleached, and setting them back into shape was also time consuming and costly in terms of labour. Yet looking closely at this picture and comparing it to the ones above, from her dress this woman doesn't appear to be particularly elite. Possibly she is middling class which could explain why she is still wearing a ruff - fashionable tastes changed a lot more in the courts and among the wealthy than they did in the lower classes and if she was the wife of a merchant for example she could afford the upkeep of the ruff. Very intriguing indeed... 


This woman wears a coif, a falling collar, waistcoat and petticoat. She appears to also be wearing an apron, which indicates that she was most likely a middling or common class woman. In her right hand she also holds a pair of gloves. Interestingly if you enlarge the picture and look really closely at the embroidered detail on the waistcoat it looks just like this one in the V&A which is made from fustian and embroidered with silver thread and spangles:

Waistcoat, English, 1630-40. Victoria & Albert Museum, London

During the early seventeenth century a waistcoat was one of the most basic items in a woman's wardrobe. Both elite and common women owned waistcoats. A tailoring bill for the wardrobe of Queen Henrietta Maria from 1634 noted that she had ordered "one Petticoate & wastcoate of black Taby with twoe Silke & Silver Laces throughout." The probate inventory of Agnes Hilling, a Widow from Clifton England in 1634 records that when she died she possessed "wearing apparell" that consisted of "three gownes, three pettiocoatts, 3 Wascoats, one Aperne, a bond and diveres other things of her Wearinge apparell..." 


On the University of Toronto's website this picture is listed as "The Kitchen Maid". She wears a coif, waistcoat, and a couple of petticoats. She is carrying what I assume is vegetables and other foods for the kitchen that she works in. The most interesting detail of this engraving is her shoes, or really what I should say is attached to them. These under-shoes were called 'pattens' and were designed to lift the wearer out of the mud and waste of early modern streets. They were usually made from wood or metal and slipped over the shoes on the wearer's foot. Although primarily worn by common or country women, this pair from the early eighteenth century have pointed toes to fit a fashionable woman's shoe and a spot at the back for the heel to sit. The latchets are also covered in velvet which suggest that they would have been worn by a woman with wealth. 

Pair of pattens, Great Britain, 1720s-30s. Victoria & Albert Museum, London

For all their benefits in keeping shoes out of the city street muck, it seems that pattens must have been terribly difficult to walk in. The Burlesque "Scarronnides, or, Virgile travestie a mock poem" a modern retelling of the fourth book of Virgils Aeneid by Charles Cotton published in 1665 proclaimed that,  "But to the Church (forsooth) anon/ ...They must, and slipping on their Pattens / They went, as who should say to Mattens." On 24 January 1660 Samuel Pepys similarly wrote in his diary that, “I called on my wife and took her to Mrs Pierce's, she in the way being exceedingly troubled with a pair of new pattens, and I vexed to go so slow."

If you're interested in reading about the contents of the probate inventories of common women during this period, the Costume Historian has done a really great blog post about it here.

Sunday, April 26, 2015

'History, Bitches' gets undressed with: Bodies, Stays and Busks

Stay Busks, 18th-19th Centuries. Victoria & Albert Museum

My next podcast with Brittany from 'History, Bitches' is up! In this podcast we discuss bodies, stays and busks, and more particularly their influence on early modern sexuality and courtship practices. Much of the discussion is based on my article that's been published in the Journal of Gender and History, available here.

Click on the picture below to download the podcast for free off iTunes

Or go here to listen to the previous podcast on farthingales!

Saturday, April 4, 2015

'History, Bitches' gets Undressed with: The Farthingale

Royal, military and court costumes of the time of James I, ART Vol. c91 no.6d, Shakespeare Folger Library

Recently I recorded two podcasts with my friend Brittany who I've had the pleasure of meeting whilst a visiting research student at Kings College London.

Brittany runs the 'History, Bitches' podcast series that explores women's history through the lens of provocative women and re-considers the contentious legacies they’ve left behind. As part of her new series where she is interviewing researchers in the field of women's history, she asked me if I'd like to take part.

In part one we look at one aspect of my research - the farthingale, whilst in part two we discuss bodies and busks (including the content of my published article on busks and sexual desire).

Click on the picture below to download the podcast for free off iTunes

Or go click here to stream online!

I hope you enjoy!

Monday, March 23, 2015

Artefact Focus: Four ways to Fasten the Bodice of an Eighteenth Century Gown

So you've decided to make an eighteenth century gown.

After you've finally determined which one - Mantua, Robe à la française, Robe à la anglaise, Robe à la polonaise, Chemise à la reine, Round Gown – to name but a few, you're faced with the question: how to you fasten the front of the bodice?

If you are making an earlier style of gown such as a Mantua or one that was worn with a stomacher, a contrasting and sometimes ornately decorated triangular panel that covered the stays underneath, the bodice of the gown was pinned to the stomacher.

Mantua, c. 1720-1730, England. Victorian & Albert Museum. T.88 to C-1978

Woman's Robe à la Française and Petticoat. c. 1760-5. France or England. LACMA. M.56.6a-b

However if you're making a mid-late eighteenth century gown, particularly the Robe à la anglaise, then the front panels of the bodice met and fastened together in the centre of the torso. But how?

Robe à l'anglaise, c. 1776. British. Metropolitan Museum of Art. 2009.300.952

Lucky for me I have access to a few extant garments from the eighteenth century that are in the collection of the Powerhouse Museum in Sydney. So I decided to do some research....

The garments housed in the museum show four different ways of fastening an eighteenth century gown.

Gown # 1: Hooks and Eyes

Satin Brocade Robe à l'anglaise, 1760-1770.


Hooks and eyes have been around for a very long time. Personally I've seen them on seventeenth century dress and in a melted pile as remnants of the Great Fire of London, at the museum of London. However, they first start to appear in English literature in the fourteenth century, although they could have already been around much earlier. This dress is strange in the fact that the front of the robe is made up of three panels. I personally haven't seen that before on historical examples, but then again my specialty isn't the latter eighteenth century so maybe it's not as uncommon as I think?

Anyway on to the fastenings:

Gown # 2: Ribbon

Silk robe à l'anglaise polonaise, 1765-1780
This particular example fastens with two bits of ribbon/material ties at the front of the gown. I'm not sure if the fastenings on this dress are original (the condition of a few leads me to believe that some may be newer editions added by conservation), however it still seems a plausible eighteenth century method.

Gown # 3: Press Studs

Silk Brocade Robe à la Française, 1770s
So this gown is interesting as it has press studs/snap fasteners.A quick Google search tells me that they weren't invented until 1885 by a German inventor, Heribert Bauer. So this leads me to believe that this dress was restored in the late nineteenth century or early twentieth century. I say restored because it doesn't appear to have been altered (thank goodness) like a lot of early modern clothes were during the nineteenth century were.  Although not an historically correct eighteenth century closure, if you already have some in your sewing stash then I say use them!

Gown #4: ???

Flemish Brocade / Satin, Robe a l'anglaise, 1760-1

So this gown doesn't have any fastenings. I'm unsure as to how they closed it in the photograph above, however, I assume they used pins. Pins are a very historically accurate option and were used for a variety of purposes throughout the early modern period, and as I mentioned above they were used to secure the bodice to the stomacher in early eighteenth century styles.

I hope you enjoyed! If you've seen or know of any other methods of fastening the bodice of eighteenth century gowns let me know!


Some one of the lovely ladies from the Historical Sew Fortnightly facebook page had a couple of very interesting and insightful things to say about the fastenings on these gowns: 

- Most late 18th century women's gowns with a centre front closing were also pinned, like those that had stomachers. I've found a modern demo here.

- Hook & eye fasteners generated a lot of discussion, some said that they were very rare, others that they were found most often pre-1780s. The difference seems to be between England and United States, they were rare in extant examples of English dress, but 50/50 in extant American examples. 

- The ties on gown number two are most probably additions by the museum for conservation or display purposes. 

- Buttons were also common on "compere fronts" during the 1760s/70s