Historical Longings: Robe a l'Anglaise

Let me just say this first: I am not a Rococo girl.

I'm not. I know I'm into Lolita, but my inspiration comes from Victorian and retro images, primarily. And yes, I know what I said about the cemise a la reine. That doesn't count, either. It's not a rococo line; it's really more of an early example of what would become the clothing shape for the regency period.

But.

For months now, I've been lusting after a garment I saw on Fairy Tale a la Mode. In a post she wrote about coordinating practice, she had this picture:

Honestly, I think that dress is perfect, and I want it. Even the color, somewhere between pear and olive, would match almost everything in my wardrobe. That failing, a beige-y ivory would work, too, or black or chocolate brown. But this green! And the cut! And I'm not a rococo girl, but it's so fabulous!

This, ladies, is the robe a l'anglaise. And I'm hooked.

Hailing from the mid-to-late eighteenth century, this is one of two major gown styles popular during that time.  The robe a l'anglaise had a fitted back:

  

Robe à l'Anglaise, 1770-75, Silk, metallic. The Metropolitan Museum of Art.

The look involves a full skirt and a 'robe,' which closes in the front but is open over the skirt. The back of the bodice comes to a point and is sewn into the skirt.

And, of course, there's the robe a l'francaise:

  

Robe à la française, 1760-70, Silk, cotton. The Metropolitan Museum of Art.

The skirt is full, and it is constructed in much the same way as the robe a l'anglaise (technically an overdress open in the front from the waist down), but the back was pleated and draped over the skirt. It was also known as a sack back.

Now, personally, I'm much more enamored with the robe a l'anglaise. The fitted back simply looks nicer, in my opinion. Not much else I can say to justify that opinion; just my aesthetic sense.

In terms of adding one to my own wardrobe, honestly, I'm torn. I could make one, and, in so doing, find the perfect olive fabric to match my wardrobe in a nice, sturdy, machine-washable variety. But I could also get one from, say, FanPlusFriend and save myself the cutting, sewing, and other madness that accompanies the making of such a dress.

One day, I shall acquire such a dress, though. And, when I do, it will be fabulous.

Historical Longings: Chemise a la Reine

Now, I'm not usually a Marie Antoinette girl. I find her absolutely fascinating as a historical figure and love the historical debate about her role in the onset of the revolution, but something about the extravagant wigs and excessive nature of her dress makes her less-than-appealing as a fashion icon to me.

But this dress.

The gaulle, or chemise a la reine, was introduced by Marie Antoinette in the early 1780s. In contrast to the highly structured garments worn by the French court and society at large, the gaulle was incredibly light, flowing, and simple. It consists of layers of thin muslin, loosely draped around the body and belted around the waist with a sash. Fashionable ladies of France and England quickly took up the trend.

There was, of course, scandal. The name "Chemise a la Reine" is a reference to the similarity the garment bears to the chemise worn at the time as an undergarment by ladies, a mocking moniker that notes that the queen looked, to many in the public, as if she had been painted in her underwear.

Despite the scandal, though, women wore it. The Duchess of Devonshire, a famous fashionista by any account, reported that she got one from Marie Antoinette. The fashion spread through England and France, and why shouldn't it? Look at these dresses.

They're frothy, fairly comfortable concoctions of draping and ruffles that are perfect for spring and summer.

I really want one. Preferably one that's been shortened to be appropriate for modern wear, but a historically accurate gaulle would do. I don't mean a mini-gaulle, of course; that would be ridiculous. No, I want a gaulle that's knee-length and just as full. I  Doesn't that sound like the world's most comfortable summer dress?

This dress gives you an idea what I'm looking for. It's a Lolita line, but without ruffles and frills and heavy fabric that would make the dress unbearable in summer.

Historical dresses: they're not just for paintings anymore.

We Interrupt Your Regular Broadcast for a Shameless Contest Post

As I've mentioned before, I love indie Lolita brands, so when I saw that Lady Sloth was running a contest, I simply had to enter. To enter the contest, I had to design my dream coord made with the lovely dresses she makes, and this is what I created.

A Walk Through St. James' Park by bespectacledbibliophile featuring a pearl necklace

The skirt is her St. James's Park skirt, which I think is absolutely lovely. I decided to take a lot of historical influence (by which nobody is surprised) and put together what is very much a rococo outfit. Unfortunately, I couldn't find a rococo-esque bodice in a color I liked in cotton, so I had to use one in satin.

To keep it from getting too fancy (a danger with satin), I tried to keep the accessories fairly simple. The leather boots have a low heel and minimal embellishment. The hat is straw. A simple choker and cameo ring are the only jewelry. The tights are simple. The bodice embellishments are only flowers.

An updo, of course, is the only way to wear the hair with this. There's too much historic influence not to. I'd even be half-tempted to do a hedgehog hairstyle to make it a little extra wild.

And, to anybody reading this, go. Enter the contest, or just gape at the pretties.

Historical Longings: A Series for November

If you're like me, November is a time when the media bombards you with things you don't have and the message that you need to have them by going out shopping on Black Friday. As such, I am writing a series of posts that will comprise my incredibly consumerist wish list.

There is a catch, however.

If you've been paying attention, you'll have noticed my penchant for historical fashion. The media, of course, misunderstands what items, precisely, I am the target audience for and so I am going to write a wish list not for items that are on the market but items that would have to be made in order to find their way into my wardrobe. Because all of them will be historical clothing.

I hope you'll embark on this insane journey with me and make your own wish list.

On Concerts and Fashion

A little over a month ago, I attended Amanda Palmer's concert at First Avenue in Minneapolis, Minnesota. I got beer splashed on me, had a very drunk girl fall on my feet, didn't get back until 1:30 in the morning, and had to go to work the next day running on almost zero sleep. And it was totally worth it.

I love concerts. I especially love concerts that offer a strong aesthetic in both audience and performance. This concert absolutely delivered. The music was fantastic, and there was a sense of theatricality going through both the performers and the audience. This concert was full of self-expression of all sorts, not the least of which was in the clothing that people chose to wear.

Amanda, herself, was gorgeous as always. She was sporting a bra, corset, gold leggings, tons of bracelets, stage makeup like crazy, and a lot of jewelry shoved in her bra and belt.

Just as awesome looking were my fellow attendees (sadly, I didn't get many pictures of the most fabulous outfits I saw, so I'm borrowing the ones I'm posting here from Citypages) I was amazed at how many different levels of clothing I saw, from people in t-shirts and jeans to full-out goth looks to hipster-y throwbacks to the 1980s. There was a woman in a kilt-like full skirt who was one of the nicest people I met. There were girls in corsets and guys in top hats. There were guys in corsets and girls in top hats, for that matter. Myself, I wore casual gothic/classic Lolita.

It was, quite frankly, a delightful mishmash of styles, and there were compliments flying in line as I waited for the doors to open. A young lady photographing for Citypages rushed by the line, picking out a few people every-so-often to photograph. I was rather surprised when I was one of them.

Seriously, wasn't everyone looking amazing? I think part of the fun of waiting outside the venue was looking at the incredibly wide variety of looks people were sporting.

Oh, right. And there was me.

Tights: Target
Blouse: Mossimo (several years old)
JSK: Bodyline
Underskirts: Handmade
Flowers etc.: Claire's and Target

The Citypages photo of me, unfortunately, did not feature a smile, so the only decent shot I got of my outfit where I don't look cranky was at 1 am in the parking garage. Ah, well, I'm pleased with it.

And all of this, of course, got me thinking about clothing as it pertains to concerts in general.

There are always people who attempt to mimic the performer's style as much as possible when they attend a concert, whether or not it's how they actually dress. And there are people who dress the way they usually do. And there are people who use concerts as an excuse to dress the way that they want to dress but can't due to work or some other social limitation.

I'm usually of the third type. I ramp up my clothing for a concert because I can, but I can see an argument for any of the options.

Personally, I'm not a fan of mimicking the artist's style, though. Taking inspiration from, certainly, but outright miming their aesthetic sense seems... off to me. Part of what makes people want to mimic the style is that the performer is unique visually and musically, and I find it more honest and more in the spirit of creation to take a little bit of their aesthetic and to blend it with your own. I know imitation is supposed to be the sincerest form of flattery, but I find that inspiration is: it's not finding an artist's work important enough that you wish to copy it, but important enough that it inspires you to try to create something as great. And, in terms of clothing, that leaves you a lot of wiggle room.

That's my personal take on the issue, though. If you disagree, that's fine. I won't judge you for your clothing choices so long as you don't judge me for mine.

Inspired Outfits: The Orphan's Tales

The inspiration that I get from books can be... varied. Sometimes, the tone they give me is so out of the ordinary for me that I just sort of follow along.

Such is the case with Catherynne Valente's books.

I love her books. They're poetic and shifting and mythic and folded, labyrinthine, over each other. But that doesn't really jive with the structure I usually have in the clothing that I like. They fit more with an ethnic and bohemian vibe.

But that doesn't mean they don't inspire me. And so I made these.

Golod was a strangely inspiring character in In The Cities of Coin and Spice. A beast composed entirely of teeth and hunger, I wanted there to be something off about this outfit. Ivory was a natural choice for the color, of course, but I wanted to emphasize both the fluid motion of the clothing and the sharp points of the teeth.

I'd probably pair this set with hollow-eyed makeup, just enough to make it eerie.

Zmeya was probably the most atmospheric character in any of the tales. A beautiful woman who, it is discovered, is much more serpentine than she seems.

I wanted this to be a bit exotic and belly dancer inspired. I didn't make the clothing white, although her description specifically mentioned white veils, because that sort of clothing doesn't get the same sultry effect across without a face attached. Instead, then, I went with a dark-toned palette and shifting fabrics with copious snake accents.

There are no shoes here, and this is for a reason. Zmeya was kept in specific chambers with no entrance but by the sultan's chambers.

Finally, Ajanabh. I loved Ajanabh. I sunk into its walls and wanted to live there. And I'm pretty sure that this shows through in this outfit.

Red shoes were a must, for the dancing master's cinnamon scented heels. A violin, too, for Agarfena. Black chiffon blouse for her smoky hair. The skirt and its dusty colors were lifted from the tone of the city. I merely followed the tone of a run-down city and found this.

Just a little more bookish inspiration for you, readers.

Clothing and Empowerment: Why I Look the Way I Do

A lot of people go, Oh I hate putting a suit on and how can you be comfortable in a suit? And it's like, because this is like medieval armor for me. When I put this on, it's like when you see in the movies and they put a breastplate on and there's a valet and he's standing next to him and a page, and they light a candle and whatnot and I kneel down in front of the thing and I cross myself and I kiss the end of my sword, and I look up at a picture of the king - oh fuck yeah! - and there's a giant purple crystal hanging over my head, and Nicol Williamson is there with a conical hat with mystic runes on it and shit, and an owl flies into the room and sits on his shoulder and looks at me knowingly, right? And then, I fucking put my thing on and they put my cape over me and I mount a giant horse and shit like that. That's what this feels like to me. I feel like I have the protection of the Lord, and that I might go on the crusades - safely - and return with massive booty, and sack Jerusalem, and even meet a Saracen girl. All those things go through my mind when I put my suit on.
--Greg Proops, from his Smartest Man in the World podcast

Yesterday, I realized something as I dragged my copper glitter eyeliner across my lashline and pinned my slouchy beret to my hair: this is my armor.

I don't mean armor in the sense of putting a barrier between myself and the world, an appearance that makes me unapproachable. No. The clothes I wear and, when I think to put it on, my makeup are one of my ways to feel strong and confident. When I wear them, I can walk up to people and chat with them more easily. I don't get flustered. I can speak confidently when others approach me. Cat calls don't get to me. Insults bounce off. The world can't hurt me. I am invincible. I am strong.

A lot of people may not get this. Ruffles and lace, corseted bodices, flowers pinned up and down the side of my head until I look like I have sprouted a garden... it doesn't compute. If I am to be strong, the world thinks, I must don traditionally masculine garb or some semblance of it. My clothing would assign me to a chair in the kitchen or by the window, waiting for someone to come rescue me.

That is, of course, bullshit.

Some people feel empowered by that, certainly. I'm not trying to discount that, but that's not the only way to feel strong. Some people feel empowered by wearing miniskirts. More power to you. Some people feel empowered by wearing suits. Awesome. Some people feel empowered by wearing clothing that allows them to move with ease. Go for it. Wear whatever makes you feel your most confident, your strongest, your wisest, your best.

I feel empowered when I am wearing full skirts and a heaping helping of barrettes.

And maybe I'll be the lady waiting at the window, the princess in the high tower. But it's even more likely that I'll be the crusading knight. Maybe I'll climb a mountain. Maybe I'll discover new places. Maybe I'll cross deserts to find something I can call holy. Maybe I'll meet a Saracen and communicate haltingly in mime until we come to some form of understanding.

And maybe I'll do it in skirts. With the way I feel when I put them on, nobody can stop me.