#threadtalk

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If I'd seen this gown as a kid, I would have danced up and down with excitement. Okay, that's a lie: I'd probably do the same if I saw it right now.

Petal pink. Moiré taffeta. A sculpted bodice. Gorgeous plunging neckline. Whew. Usually 1860s gowns go a little too hard for me, but this is just perfection. Though it's 1863, you could certainly see it in the 20th century with no problem.

We're solidly in the crinoline ages, but I think the trim work certainly foreshadows the later shape of the bustle.

Alas, though the gown is from the Museum of Vancouver, I have no further details. Either way, it is an absolute gorgeous work of art.

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Oh, saints. This dress combines so many things I love in one place!

First of all, we’re in the late 1830s (by my guess), a time of dress transition. You can see the influence of the Romantic with those sleeves, but the hint of later Victorian gowns in the bodice shaping. The particular bodice here is fan-pleated, which is pretty self-explanatory if you look at the way the fabric is both pleated and fanned out. I do adore the result. 

But, ahem, that damask? That color? Purple, always. Of course. For a 200 year old dress, the hue is still so striking. It is not Perkins Purple, however, as it’s two decades too early for that.

The weave? I damn near fell out of my chair looking at it. It’s one of those cases where I wish there were even higher resolutions so I could zoom in and see the stitches. Alas, we are not yet there in terms of technology, so I will instead cope with this.

And then it gets better. Because that silk damask? It’s almost 100 years older than the dress itself. UGH I LOVE IT SO MUCH. Could it have been Spitalfields? Maybe! It’s hard to say because we don’t have the provenance. 

From the Maryland Center for History and Culture.

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© CSG CIC Glasgow Museums Collection

That is the bluest kind of blue, and given its date (1866-1867) we know it's been dyed with the technologically cutting-edge aniline dyes of the period. As the museum (the Glasgow Museum) notes, some dresses of this era faded with time, but not so in this case.

You can already see the shape of this gown streamlining slightly, the bodice creeping toward the more tailored, masculine styles of the 1870s and 1880s. The monochrome look was very popular at the time, with the then-new House of Worth (who at the time was working with Bobergh). You can see very similar gowns from the duo at the Met, in fact, often in a gorgeous lavender hue.

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You can smell the springtime blooms on this remarkable 1882 gown from the House of Worth. It's got all the pieces of late 19th century fashion I just adore, including those sculptural influences. Doesn't it almost look like the kind of detail you'd see on marble statues.

So, this is silk, silk, and silk. Silk flowers, satin, and some gauzy bits, too. The Met doesn't give us any details other than "silk" but it doesn't take a fashion forensics expert to recognize sheers.

One of my favorite things about the 1870s and 1880s is the playfulness with symmetry. Until this point, the vast majority of Western fashion really focused on symmetry in everything. Which is, of course, very lovely. But alongside the rise of mass industrialization came a shift in composition, a desire to fiddle with the rigid structures and emulate nature and, perhaps, a little chaos, too. Perhaps that's one of the reasons it's so very appealing to me.

There's a whole lot more about Charles Frederick Worth over here if you're interested. He was quite the character.

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I can practically smell the candy cane on this British dress from 1849! Surprise, though--it isn't a holiday gown... it's a wedding gown!

As many folks know, the concept of the white wedding dress is fairly modern, dating to the middle of the 19th century. And even then, it wasn't ubiquitous. Wedding gowns weren't the "wear it once" they are today, and many women sought to find dresses they could later incorporate into their wardrobes. Even my grandmother, who married in the 1940s, wore a brown dress for her wedding. Part of that was a financial decision, of course, but I love the idea of colorful, practical wedding wear, too.

This dress is silk damask, which is always exciting for me. That means the pattern is reversible! Not something you would notice by just looking at it.

In classic 1840-1850 transitional wear, it's got a lot going for it: the very tailored waist looks very 1880s, while the silhouette is firmly in the 1840s. Those candy cane arms, though!

From the Bowes Museum.

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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.

From Augusta Auctions.

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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.

From FIDM.

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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.

Source: https://digitaltmuseum.no/021069530963/overkjole-med-skjort