Fashion

This fashion accessory, popular since the 1700s, would have a mirror inside the lid and carry toothpicks made of bone or ivory. In Sense and Sensibility, Elinor and Marianne Dashwood first encounter Mr. Robert Ferrars while he is putting in an order for a custom toothpick case. (Image credit: Science Museum, London. CC BY 4.0)

This particular ring was created to remember a dead loved one, but it is similar to the ring Edward Ferrars wears in Sense and Sensibility. Hair was considered a highly personal memento because it does not decay. In this period, couples used hair jewelry as a token of fidelity and love; later, in the Victorian period, the use of hair jewelry as a lover’s token was almost entirely eclipsed by its use as a mourning object. (Image credit: Auckland Museum. CC BY 4.0)

Kashmir (or cashmere) shawls are named for the area where they originated: the Kashmir Valley in the northern part of the Indian subcontinent. Unlike the British-controlled areas to the south, Kashmir was a province of the Afghan Empire from the 1750s to 1819, when it was annexed by the Sikhs. This shawl is one of many made to suit European tastes; such pieces became popular in Britain in the late eighteenth century, usually as gifts brought back by East India Company members and other travelers. Besides keeping women warm, Indian cashmere shawls were popular for their designs, softness, and size—and for their expense and rarity, which made them elite status symbols.

Weavers in both Edinburgh and Paisley, Scotland, as well as Norwich, England, capitalized on the trend in the early 1800s by producing similar shawls that used wool and silk instead of cashmere, imitated the designs and colors of imported shawls, and were sold for a fraction of the price. For example, in the 1810s a genuine imported Kashmir shawl cost £70–100 while a domestic Paisley shawl cost £12.

The size and intricate border of this shawl would have added to its expense. This close up shows its pattern and muted colors, demonstrating how Kashmiri weavers adapted their traditional designs to sell as exports for European customers.

Fans came in a range of materials and styles in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. An essential accessory for women, fans regulated temperature, could be used to make flirtatious gestures, and helped conceal identities at masquerade balls. Women of all classes carried fans, from simple ones made of paper and wood to richly decorated fans made of tortoiseshell, ivory, gold, or mother-of-pearl.

Painted ivory fan, French, c. eighteenth century

Paper, net, and ivory fan, French, c. late eighteenth century

Brisé fans were made of decorated and/or carved sticks only, held together by silk cord or ribbon, as seen here.

Bone and silk Brisé fan, Italian, c. 1800–20

Classical images were a popular fan decoration.

Ivory, silk, and metal fan, French, c. 1800–09

Bone, silk, metal, and wood fan, French, c. 1800–15

This popular handbook instructing readers as to how to be a gentleman was originally written as a series of letters by Philip Dormer Stanhope, 4th Earl of Chesterfield (1694–1773) to his illegitimate son Philip Stanhope. First published as Letters to His Son on the Art of Becoming a Man of the World and a Gentleman (1774) by Stanhope’s widow, the handbook was reprinted numerous times and in several variations; later versions were reorganized by topic and included advice from other sources. The version excerpted here, edited and organized by the Reverend John Trusler, was first published in 1775 and ultimately appeared in over twenty editions; later printings included a second part “particularly addressed to young Ladies.”

Dress

Neatness of person, I observed was as necessary as cleanliness; of course, some attention must be paid to your dress.

Such is the absurdity of the time that to pass well with the world, we must adopt some of its customs, be they ridiculous or not.

In the first place, to neglect one’s dress is to affront all the female part of our acquaintance. The women in particular pay an attention to their dress; to neglect therefore yours will displease them, as it would be tacitly taxing them with vanity, and declaring that you thought them not worth that respect which every body else does. And, as I have mentioned before, as it is the women who stamp a young man’s credit, in the fashionable world, if you do not make yourself agreeable to the women, you will assuredly lose ground among the men.

Dress, as trifling as it may appear to a man of understanding, prepossesses on the first appearance, which is frequently decisive. And indeed we may form some opinion of a man’s sense and character from his dress. Any exceeding of the fashion, or any affectation in dress whatever, argue, a weakness in understanding, and nine times out of ten, it will be found so.

We should likewise proportion our dress to our persons; we cannot be neat without it. Should the fashion make every thing large, a little man is to keep a mediocrity, or he will be laughed at. Suppose it was the fashion to wear large capes; was a little man to wear a large cape, he would be nothing but cape; if, when others’ hats are broad-brimmed, his should be so too, the man would be lost, and the hat (not he) be thought to walk about the streets; which would be as ridiculous to the eye, as for a painter (contrary to all rules of proportion) to draw a large arm to a little man, or a little leg to a great one.

There are few young fellows but what display some character or other in their dress. Some would be thought fearless and brave; these wear a black cravat, a short coat and waistcoat, a large hat fiercely cocked, and are flash all over. Others affect to be country squires; these will go about in buckskin breeches, brown frocks, and great oaken cudgels in their hands, slouched hats, with their hair undressed and tucked up under them to an enormous size, and imitate grooms and country boobies so well externally, that there is not the least doubt of their resembling them as well internally. Others, again, paint and powder themselves so much, and dress so finically, as leads us to suppose they are only women in boys cloaths. Now a sensible man carefully avoids all this or any other affectation. He dresses as fashionably and well as persons of the best families and best sense; if he exceeds them, he is a coxcomb; if he dresses worse, he is unpardonable.

Dress yourself fine, then, if possible; or plain, agreeable to the company you are in; that is conform to the dress of others, and avoid the appearance of being tumbled. Imitate those reasonable people of your own age, whose dress is neither remarked as too neglected or too much studied. Take care to have your cloaths well made, in the fashion, and to fit you, or you will after all, appear aukward. When once dressed, think no more of it; shew no fear of discomposing your dress, but let all your motions be as easy and unembarrassed, as if you was at home in your dishabille.

Le Beau Monde was published from only 1806–10 and was unusual in its inclusion of hand-colored fashion plates, such as this one, featuring groups of fashionable men and women. The man on the left is in formal evening wear—“full dress”—including stockings, knee breeches, double-breasted tail coat, and a chapeau bras (a formal bi-corn hat). The man in the middle wears more causal “half dress,” including a patterned waistcoat, top hat, and fashionable top boots worn for riding. His deliberately styled hair shows the shift in men’s fashion after 1795 (due to William Pitt’s hair powder tax) toward shorter, curled, natural hair instead of wigs. Both men wear starched muslin cravats at the neck and watch fobs at their waists. The woman on the right wears a pink pelisse (an outdoor coat) over a white dress with a long train; her hair “is formed into tasteful curls” with a white lace handkerchief “thrown carelessly” on top.

This illustration shows 14 ways to tie a man’s cravat. Though the styles are all ones worn in the period, the text itself satirizes some of the extremes this accessory could take.

A close friend of the Prince Regent, the witty and dashing Beau Brummell exerted a significant influence on men’s elite fashions at the beginning of the nineteenth century; those following his example adopted more streamlined tailoring and greater attention to personal grooming. In this image, Brummell wears a dark coat, an elaborately tied cravat over a high collar, trousers, and top boots with tassels. His hair is cut in the Brutus, just one of many named haircuts for men from the period.

In Jane Austen’s lifetime, both men’s and women’s fashions radically shifted. One marker of the major changes in men’s fashion was the figure of the dandy that emerged by the 1780s. The product of Beau Brummell’s influence on men’s fashion extremes, a dandy was a man overly devoted to his clothes and appearance. Unlike earlier Macaronis—fashionable men characterized by large wigs, fastidious tastes, and extremely ornate clothing—the dandy lasted (in some circles) as a model of a worldly, aesthetically focused man throughout the nineteenth century. The wide variety of upper-class dandies here illustrates some of their fashion extremes, including nipped-in waists (often via corseting), tight coats, high starched neckcloths, curled hair deliberately styled to look windblown, and tall hats. (Image credit: Courtesy of The Lewis Walpole Library, Yale University)

Women’s clothing silhouettes changed radically during Jane Austen’s lifetime. This print contrasts the full dress of the 1760s (left) with that of 1787. The older woman’s wide hooped skirts are open to show her petticoat underneath; her elbow sleeves with large ruffles, lace cap, fan and high heels complete the formal apparel. The younger woman’s dress features straight petticoats, not hooped ones, though even these petticoats would have had some volume due to fabric draping in the back. Her wide-brimmed, feathered hat would protect her face from the sun, and the dress’s shoulder capes and buttons reflect the influence of masculine military dress, often seen in riding habits of this period. This slimmer silhouette eventually shifted into neoclassical, high empire-waisted dresses of the type seen below. (Image credit: Courtesy of The Lewis Walpole Library, Yale University)

The woman here wears full, formal dress of the 1790s with wide hoops, open skirts showing a richly decorated petticoat, a decorated stomacher, lace fichu around the neckline, and ruffles at the end of her elbow sleeves. The man’s full dress of stockings, knee breeches, waistcoat, long jacket, lace cuffs, and tied cravat all are in rich fabrics to indicate wealth. All figures have styled powdered hair or wigs; the man’s hair is tied back with black ribbons, the woman’s swept up in a lace and ribbon headdress.

This dress showcases the shift away from hoops to a slimmer silhouette for women. Such clinging dresses, with waistlines directly below the breasts, were meant to evoke the classical styles of ancient Greece and Rome. The article accompanying the depiction of this dress details its “bodice of pink or rose-coloured velvet, with a puff sleeve of white satin.” The rest of the dress is also white satin with a stomacher decorated with buttons of “diamond, or paste” (fake diamonds). The woman’s accessories include white gloves and shoes, pearl earrings, and a small pink velvet reticule, a kind of handbag. The article cautions that reticules (or ridicules) are “no longer worn, except at the evening party.”

Starting with its first issue, The Lady’s Magazine (1770–1847) offered its readers regular “fashion intelligence,” which later became a permanent, monthly feature. The updates on the latest trends covered fashions in both Paris and London. Many of these garment types are mentioned in Jane Austen’s novels and letters.

Walking Dress

Military pelices and spencers are the prevailing habiliments among the dashers of the haut ton. The colours are pale blue, with black ornaments, or black velvet, with jet ornaments of the diamond. The above are considered as the most genteel. Green and scarlet are likewise worn; but they border too much on the canaille.

Morning Dress

Of cambric, made short, with a number of tucks round the bottom, made high in the neck with a collar; long sleeves; the waist confined with a cord and tassel. Embossed cambric muslins will be much worn this season for morning dresses. The colours are dark.

Head Dresses

Cap of entire lace, crossed on the right side with a Parisian wreath of pink and scarlet; from the left side there is an end which falls on the left shoulder. The hair curls in front, and a tuft of hair appears on the top of the head.

Large rolled turbans will be much worn this season, in compliment to the Mameluke chief.

The military bonnet of black velvet, ornamented with scarlet, or royal purple, with a small feather in front. Silver bear muffs and tippets are much worn.

Evening Dress

Plain muslin dresses, with worked borders round the bottom, interspersed with rows of lace, and sleeves to match; plain fronts. Neckkerchiefs are universally worn, composed of alternate stripes of lace and muslin.

General Observations

The dresses are made very short-waisted, and very low in the back; and in almost every part of them there is lace. For full-dress, crape is much worn. Ostrich feathers of all colours are universal. Pelices and spencers of velvet and cloth are much worn. The most favourite colours for them are dark-green, sky-blue, and black: the military fronts are generally adopted. For undress, silver bear muffs and tippets are worn: for dress, swansdown.

The prevailing colours for shoes are black jean, white kid, and purple; but are so extremely long-quartered as to but barely admit the toes.

The Italian sarsnets are quite out, with the exception of a few of the checks, which are of the richer sort.

The following distinguished personages are expected to set the fashions after Christmas: the duchess of Bedford, marchioness of Herford, lady Hamilton, and lady Ann Smith.

This figure wears a green spencer (a short women’s jacket), a white muslin walking dress, and half boots. Her “Oldenburg bonnet” is “formed of white figured satin, inlet with blond lace, ornamented with a full trimming of the latter round the edge.” She carries a small reticule, a kind of purse made fashionable when, as waists got higher and skirts narrower for women, the large pockets that were worn under clothing in the previous century became impractical.

This figure is ready for a walk or carriage ride. She wears an Austrian shawl cloak, “composed of pale dove-coloured cloth, lined throughout with rose-coloured satin or sarsnet, trimmed entirely round with a broad sable fur.” Her “Circassian turban cap” is made of crimson velvet and completes a colorful outfit the fashionable, turban-wearing Isabella Thorpe from Northanger Abbey would likely approve of.

This plate shows women buying fabric at the fashionable drapers Harding and Howell of Pall Mall.

from Chapter 7

On the Details of Dress

… Hear what a male writer has observed on the fashion of exposing the bosom! A woman, proud of her beauty, says he, may possibly be nothing but a coquet: one who makes a public display of her bosom, is something worse. This writer insinuates too much; for we believe that so far from our females being actuated in this case by any unbecoming motive, they too commonly act from no motive at all; save that blind and mistaken one which we have so much condemned—the heedless adoption of an absurdity, because it is the fashion! But let the inconsiderate beauty remember, that where two motives can be assigned to an action, the world will generally adopt that which is least favorable! …

… [A] diversity of colours bespeaks vulgarity of taste, and a mind without innate elegance or acquired culture. Where doubt may be about this or that hue being becoming or genteel (as it is very possible it may neither be one nor the other), let the puzzled beauty leave both, and securely array herself in simple white. That primeval hue never offends, and frequently is the most graceful robe that youth and loveliness can wear.

Colored fashion plates such as this would distinguish a magazine or conduct book from the competition. Both empire-style dresses depicted here have the style’s characteristic high waistlines; daywear normally covered the chest while evening wear was usually lower cut. Embellishments such as cord and lace, as well as caps and hair ribbons, complete these daytime ensembles.

This miniature portrait shows a young woman in fashionable empire waisted gown made of white muslin. Though Jane Austen’s fiction rarely describes clothing in detail, in Northanger Abbey the fashion-conscious Mrs. Allen approvingly notes that Miss Tilney “always wears white.”

James Gillray’s prints frequently mocked the social mores and fashions of his time. This print, which shows a fashionable tea party of two women and a military officer, satirizes the fashion of flowing muslin gowns. The fabric really was, as Gillray’s image suggests, extremely flammable—a characteristic that occasionally caused accidents of the sort depicted here.

Muslin, a finely woven, lightweight cotton fabric, first came to England from India in the early 1600s, though it was then banned from 1700 to 1744 in an effort to protect the domestic textile industry. After the ban’s repeal, muslin became a popular fabric choice for women of all ages and across classes. In the 1780s, manufacturers in Scotland became able to produce muslin of sufficient quality to compete with Indian fabric; though the fabric continued to be imported from India, production of fine cotton also became a major industry in Scotland.

Since its initial 1797 publication, this religious conduct manual for women was quite popular; its sixth edition appeared in 1805. Jane Austen wrote, in a letter to her sister (dated 30 August 1805), “I am glad you recommended ‘Gisborne,’ for having begun, I am pleased with it, and I had quite determined not to read it.” These excerpts give a sample of Gisborne’s views on modern fashion and dress.

from Chapter 5

On Female Education

… [T]hat fondness for the arts of dress and exterior decoration, to which the female sex, anxious to call in every adventitious aid to heighten its native elegance and beauty, feels itself inclined by an inherent bias, is stimulated and cherished in the years of childhood; and instead of being sedulously taught to restrict itself within the bounds which reason and christian moderation prescribe, is trained up to fill whatever measure of excess shall be dictated by pride, vanity, or fashion. There are well-intentioned mothers who urge the necessity of taking pains to encourage in their daughters a certain degree of attachment to dress, of solicitude respecting the form and texture of their habiliments, lest they should afterwards degenerate into slatterns. It would perhaps be not less reasonable studiously to excite in boys a relish for the taste of spirituous liquors, lest in process of time they should impair their health by abstemiousness. An ancient philosopher defined woman to be “an animal fond of ‘dress.’” And the additional experience of two thousand years does not appear greatly to have invalidated his conclusion. It should seem, therefore, that with respect to this point, parental anxiety might repose its confidence on the unassisted energies of Nature. But further; there is no rule of conduct in principle more objectionable, no method of proceeding in practice more unwise, than to guard against one evil by encouraging its opposite. … The danger which you fear, is that your daughter may prove a slattern? Impress her with the advantages, the duty of neatness; train her in corresponding habits; teach her by precept, and whenever occasion offers itself, by example, the disgusting effects of deviating from them. Attach her thus to the proprieties without tempting her to the vanities of dress; secure the decencies of her person without ensnaring her mind.

from Chapter 7

Remarks on Propensity to Imitation. On Dress

… [W]e shall not greatly wonder that women in general, and especially very young women, feel an extreme repugnance to fall short of their neighbours in compliance with every fashion of the day not palpably criminal; and that so many are led with open eyes by the attraction of prevailing custom, indiscriminately to copy the pattern set before them by their equals and their superiors; and after following the crowd through unceasing fluctuations of vanity, of folly, of pride, and of extravagance, to attend it, to say the least, to the confines of vice. …

In things which in themselves are indifferent, custom is generally the proper guide. … And as long as the prevailing modes remain intrinsically indifferent; that is to say, as long as in their form they are not tinctured with indelicacy, not in their costliness are inconsistent with the station or the fortune of the wearer; such a degree of conformity to them, as is sufficient to preclude the appearance of particularity, is reasonable and becoming. It is modesty to acquiesce in the decision of others, on a subject upon which they have at least as good a title as ourselves to decide, and upon which they have not decided amiss. When other unobjectionable modes are generally established, the same reasoning indicates the propriety of acceding to them. But it neither suggests nor justifies the practice of adopting fashions, which intrench either on the principles of decency, or on the rules of reasonable frugality. Fashions of the former kind are not unfrequently introduced by the shameless, of the latter by the profuse; and both are copied by the vain and the inconsiderate. … Among the modes of attire more or less inconsistent with feminine modesty, those which ape the garb of the other sex are to be classed.[1] Their unpleasing effect is heightened by additional circumstances which very commonly attend them, and are designed perhaps to strengthen the resemblance; a masculine air and deportment, and masculine habits of address and familiarity. … [S]he who conceives that to imitate the habiliments of persons of the other sex, is a probable method of captivating them, is not a little unfortunate in her conjecture. Let her ask herself, in what manner she would be impressed by the appearance of a young man studiously approaching in his dress to the model of her own; and she will not be at a loss to estimate the repulsive influence of her accoutrements on those whom she copies. …

… From the complacency natural to all human beings, when employed in contemplating objects by means of which the flattering hope of shining is presented to them; she will be in the most imminent danger of contracting a distaste to serious reflection, and of being at length absorbed in the delusions of vanity and self-love. It is undoubtedly a matter of indifference, whether a lady’s ribbands be green or blue; whether her head be decorated with flowers or with feathers; whether her gown be composed of muslin or of silk. But it is no matter of indifference, whether the time which she devotes to the determination of one of these points, is to be reckoned by hours or by minutes. …

Another, and a very important benefit which results from fixed habits of moderation as to dress, and all points of a similar nature, will be clearly discerned by adverting to the irreparable evils into which young women are sometimes plunged by the contrary practice. The lavish indulgence in which they have learned to seek for happiness, becoming, in their estimation, essential to their comfort, will bias their conduct in every important step. Hence, in forming matrimonial connections, it exercises perhaps a secret, but a very powerful influence. The prospect of wealth and magnificence, of the continuance and of the encrease of pleasures supposed to flow from the pomp of dress and equipage, from sumptuous mansions, shewy furniture, and numerous attendants, dazzles the judgement; imposes on the affections; conceals many defects in moral character, and compensates for others; and frequently proves the decisive circumstance which leads the deluded victim to the altar, there to consign herself to splendid misery for life.

There are yet other consequences which attend an immoderate passion for the embellishments of dress. When the mind is fixed upon objects which derive their chief value from the food which they administer to vanity and the love of admiration, the aversion which almost every individual of either sex is prone to feel towards a rival, is particularly called forth. … Hence is it not very unusual to see neighbouring young women engaged in a constant state of petty warfare with each other. To vie in ostentatiousness and in costliness of apparel; to be distinguished by novel inventions in the science of decoration; to gain the earliest intelligence respecting chances of fashion in the metropolis, to detect, in the attire of a luckless competitor, traces of a mode which for six weeks has been obsolete in high life; these frequently are the points of excellence to which the whole force of female genius is directed. In the mean time, while the mark of friendship is worn on the countenance, and the language of regard dwells on the tongue, indifference, disgust, and envy, are gradually taking possession of the breast; until, at length, the unworthy contest, prolonged for years under confirmed habits of dissimulation, by which none of the parties are deceived, terminates in a violence of an open rupture. …

[1] From the account which Dr. Henry gives of English manners and customs at different periods, both sexes among our ancestors appear to have been as much attached to costliness, variety, and, I may add, absurdity in dress, as their contemporaries abroad, and each sex commonly as much as the other. …

This satiric print presents two sides of a clergyman’s life. The left, “Good Precepts,” shows the interior of a church and the parson preaching from his pulpit; he wears a black cassock and white Geneva bands at his neck, marking him as Anglican clergy. The right side, “But Bad Examples,” shows the same parson, now drunk, leaving a brothel with a prostitute who has picked his pocket of his watch and seals. The pair has swapped hats and is heading into Covent Garden while The Book of Common Prayer and playing cards fall out of his pockets. (Image credit: Courtesy of The Lewis Walpole Library, Yale University)

This print shows an officer attempting to teach soldiers how to present arms with their muskets, though the only the soldier on the right does so correctly. All wear the red regimentals of the British army. (Image credit: Courtesy of The Lewis Walpole Library, Yale University)

This plate shows the army uniforms for officers (left) and privates in the British Army during the Napoleonic Wars (1803–15). Officers, who needed to have a basic education as well as the funds necessary to purchase their commissions, were supposed to be gentlemen (though not all were), while most of the raw recruits who became privates came from the lower classes.

This painting shows a distracted maidservant pouring hot water on her employer’s leg, which is propped up because of his gouty foot. Her dress would likely have been made of linsey-woolsey, a strong, coarse domestic fabric made of linen or cotton and wool. The rolled up sleeves, cap, and apron suggest her labor behind the scenes to make the household run. The page standing behind the chair wears a powdered wig and red livery, denoting his public function in the house. To the far right a fashionable woman drinks while wearing a cap with lace lappets and a sack-back gown or robe à la française. While silhouettes and garment types were similar across classes for both men and women in this period, the material types and the volume of clothing a person owned varied widely. (Image credit: Yale Center for British Art, Paul Mellon Collection)

Taking care of clothing involved time-consuming labor, meaning that other tasks such as cooking were largely set aside on washing day. One load of laundry (washing, boiling, and rinsing) used about 50 gallons of water, which had to be hauled by hand. Delicate fabrics required special treatment and care, including ironing and starching. (Image credit: Courtesy of The Lewis Walpole Library, Yale University)

This satirical print depicts a crowded fashionable gathering featuring two card tables at which people are playing Pope-Joan. The young woman’s revealing dress, with its semi-transparent fabric and her almost bare breasts, demonstrates what the print’s caption ironically refers to as “fashionable modesty.” Turbans with tall, erect feathers were another extreme fashion of the period. (Image credit: The New York Public Library)