ThreadTalk

You know me and yellow dresses. We have a thing.

This dress from the House of Worth has a whole lot going on. First, the sleeves are detachable so you can transform it as needed. This concept was quite popular at the time (this gown dates from 1888). It has lots of influence from the 18th century--especially with that pattern and the bodice--but employs more advanced tailoring and embellishments popular during its time.

This week's #ThreadTalk post is live over at the Schmatreon. A topic near and dear to my heart, it's all about guilds run by women and the lengths they went to keep their power in France. This ain't revisionist history, baby. It's just history.

The first thing that struck me about this 1905 gown was the black piping. This, my friends, is why velvet is one of the coolest materials known to mankind. Because of all the little fibers (making velvet is kind of like making a carpet) it soaks up light. So you get this deep, saturated black you'd not get otherwise. Plus, it's silk, so it would shimmer in the right light, too. The physics of velvet is so lovely.

Secondly, this dress just screams 1905. From the 1890s to the 1920s, fashion moved FAST. What we see here is the last gasp of that S shape corset as we head toward reformation dresses and the looser look of the 1920s. Though the lace is definitely a bit stained from its age, it's not hard to imagine this dress when it was shiny and new. The slight train and the blocking of lace and pattern just make this so whimsical. Not to mention those 18th century inspired sleeves! I think she's just a darling.

Speaking of sheer fabric, let's hang out in 1830 today. The 1830s are one of my favorite decades for the absolute bonkers direction things went in. Skirt hems went up, waistlines dropped, crinolines puffed, sleeves swelled, and hair went miles high with every kind of adornment you could imagine. For a truly exciting experience, search for hairstyles of the period and you'll see that the whimsical designs in Bridgerton weren't far off from the truth (just in the wrong decade).

This delightful dress employs aerophane in the construction of the flowers. Aerophane is unusual sheer, made of silk, and was only used until around the 1870s--but it had a lot of ideal qualities for the time. First, it had a beautiful shimmer, which caught the light of ballrooms for lovely effect. Secondly, it was ideal for embroidering and shaping, as it had an elasticity other sheers and nets did not have. Lastly, it held shapes, pleats, twists, and rosettes very well, so you could achieve remarkably artistic whimsy in borders and embellishments.

Here, the silhouette is absolutely darling. The pleats at the top of the bodice and that swooping neck hearken to the next two decades of peak Young Victoria.

It's easy to think that the Long Regency was a bleached muslin landscape in terms of color patterns, especially if you're a fan of costume drama. Like so many fashion generalizations, however, it's patently untrue. Yes, it was quite the fashion to wear pale muslin and silk, but it was far from the only color.

Take this gorgeous example from the 1810s. The use of patterns and netting adds quite a bit of visual excitement to what otherwise would be a very straightforward gown. However, the embroidered black netting absolutely transforms this piece into a total dream! I think we don't spend enough time talking about how sheers can really enhance designs and take them to a totally new level.

I absolutely adore the long sleeve over the cap sleeve, too. It's got an almost Medieval feel to it! And can you imagine embroidering on netting like that? Wow.

Our #ThreadTalk Dress of the Week is on one of my favorite topics: boys' dresses.

Right in the middle of the 18th century, we have this absolutely frothy pink gown that screams springtime. Yellow bows? Sign me up!

If there is a timeless shape, I'm willing to bet it's this one. Though this doesn't have quite the volume of some of the dresses in this period, it still endures again in the 1830s and 1840s, the 1870s and 1880s, and then again in the 1950s. A fitted bodice, a 3/4 sleeve, and a flared skirt. Plus that gorgeous scoop neck.

This robe à la française was owned by Mrs. Maria Altenburg of Denmark. It then had some adventures of its own, showing up later in Victorian Era costume parties! So it's likely it's had alterations. Most dresses of this era have.

I love the floral spill and the ribbon details! Really marvelous on every level. I am obsessed.

Blue gowns in this period (1765-1770) are rare, but this one just blows my mind because of the pattern matching situation going on.

Do you ever wonder why you don't see lots of dresses in the same patterns? That's because bolts of cloth were often made to order, or in such small batches that there would only be enough for one or two dresses--especially when there was this much fabric involved. Matching patterns with this much precision took incredible skill, and not a lot of room for mistakes.

According to the museum, this dress in in three parts: the petticoat, stomacher, and open robe. And they are "largely unaltered"--which is another rarity. Materials of this quality were often so sought after that the were re-cut and sewn decades, and sometimes, centuries after. Or, refitted to new wearers.

My #ThreadTalk dress of the week article has QUITE the title:

Lottie Barton: Minister of Aesthetics, Smuggler, and Baltimore Designer

That's a lot to pack into one essay, but I'm glad to do it. Even more fun when I get to dig into some primary sources.

Patrons, take note!

Hey, everybody! I'm doing an encore class of WRITING FASHION IN SPECULATIVE WORLDS! Next Thursday!

Brown dresses are often overlooked and so, too, is the entirety of the 1840s in terms of fashion. And that's understandable to some extent, buttressed as it is by the flamboyant 1830s and the young Victoria 1850s full of confectionary gowns and elegance.

But I have a soft spot for the 1840s, not the least of which is for the use of both monochrome and enterprising pleating and ruching.

This gown from 1845, from LACMA, has so much going on for it--but it all requires a closer look (and of course I've provided that). Making good use of sturdy silk taffeta, the modiste created an absolutely stunning bodice and sleeve to this dress, employing 18th century influences (like that faux lacing) and yet still predicting the drop shoulder that was so popular a few years later. The sleeves themselves are a work of art, with various techniques combined to add texture and dimension.

Nice day for a… blue wedding?

Indeed. Okay, no hate to white dresses here, but hasn't it been a little played out? After all, history is on our side. While white wedding dresses certainly existed before Queen Victoria, the theme still perseveres today to the point of boredom.

Take this gown from 1894. Between that bodice, the taffeta, the lace, and those absolutely over-the-top gigot sleeves, I'm in heaven. With the right hat and flowers, what look that would be coming down the aisle! Plus, you could always use it again later, you know, if things didn't turn out.

That gorgeous blue is, indeed, the product of aniline dyes (which the museum so nicely points out). Though they weren't uncommon by the time, they were still costly and impressive to behold.

This pink gown, replete with pleats, is utterly stunning. Dating from 1900, this comes courtesy of the amazing New Canaan Museum & Historical Society in Connecticut.

The pleats in bubblegum pink satin give a surprisingly modern feel to the gown's structure, but it's a fairly simple gown in terms of its silhouette. The train is lovely, and the stripes of silk accentuate the organic flow of fabric. The neckline hearkens back to the early Victorian period, and the bodice does as well. But fun fact--this is a changeable gown. It had two different tops! This would allow a woman to shift from day to evening wear.

Simple, elegant beauty. Whether you prefer to call it Georgian or Regency, this Empire waist design is certainly recognizable. Dating from 1810, just a year before George III was too ill to continue his reign. It was another 10 years, however, until George III passed away and George IV took up the mantle of King.

I love the elegance and simplicity of the early Regency period, and this gown happens to be in one of my favorite colors, too. The beaded and lace details on the sleeves and bodice are delicate and dainty, while that gold silk still has its luster.

Personally, I love how you can see this dress as part of the evolution from round gowns just earlier.

I may have written a dress very similar to this in my own Regency fantasy novel. Just saying. Yellow dresses are pure magic.

In another life, I wore banyans every day. What's a banyan? Well, the gorgeous dressing gown you're looking at is a very early example of one, dating from the early 1700s.

Banyans were popular among men in Europe, and the brighter the better. If you're watched Our Flag Means Death, you'll see how Stede really leaned into the trend. Banyans remained popular until they morphed into dressing gowns we're more familiar with today.

The design was based off of similar garments from India, and indeed are an example of immediate appropriation (read up on the British East India Company to get a sample of that) garments and designs.

This gorgeous example of a banyan is made of cotton and is similar to chintz in a lot of ways. In this case it's described as mordant painted and resist dyed rather than block printing, but they're very similar. Given the description from the museum, it appears the fabric was made in India and then assembled in the Netherlands.