Last post on fans I promise!
Here is another one from my collection compared to one in a museum.
The top fan is owned by the Met and the bottom fan is the one I own.
Their date is c. 1820-40 which corresponds with the letter that came with my fan.
Unfortunately I can’t figure out where I put the letters. I remember at the time I was moving and thought ‘I will put this letter here where it will be safe and I’ll never loose them because I would rather loose my hand than give this box up’. At least I know they are in my flat somewhere.
The bottom is a terrible photo and I apologize! I took it as a security precaution incase the movers got lost on their way to my flat. I can assure you that the back of the Met’s fan corresponds with the exact decoration on the back of my fan.
Seriously? This fan just popped up on my pinterest dashboard and I thought hold up! That looks familiar?
That’s because mine is practically identical (keeping in mind that there are some decorative variations to the paintings). Edit: Second thought not exactly identical but there are enough similarities to make me happy.
The top photo belong to the Fitzwilliam Museum and the second photo is the one in my collection.
The museum has the object listed as: “Chinese feather brisé fan. Goose (?) feather fan with ivory sticks and guards. The front is painted with blue peonies and pheasants, the reverse, less detailed blue peonies (?). The tops of the lower sticks (gorge) and guards are decorated with a gilt relief. Metal rivet (?).”
My favorite part is their date: circa 1815 to 1825
Thanks to everyone for your kindness and your encouragement during the Your Wardrobe Unlock’d Competition. In the individual category competition I have made it through to the final round and I should know something after Friday when the voting closes! Everyone has been so kind and supportive and each and everyone of you have been greatly appreciated! Wish me luck!
Philippe & Gaston ca. 1925
The Met says: The 1920s was the era of the flapper - a liberated woman who danced all night, sipped cocktails and frequently smoked. She was a carefree spirit and this was expressed through her dress. Hemlines rose and waistlines dropped, creating a tubular silhouette. Sheer and delicate fabrics were used, revealing more skin, and heavy beading was a common adornment, for the beads would catch the light and sparkle while the wearer was in motion. For a fabulous night on the town, a lady had to have the appropriate wardrobe and this evening dress is a perfect example of a well-made dress of the period. It is a visually appealing piece with the combination of the ombré fabric and the refined beadwork. The floating panels on the skirt are a classic design element of the 1920s dresses and would have been quite eye-catching
The Met says: A rare example made from the heads and feathers of gulls, this accessory set represents the passion for using bird feathers and bird parts to decorate hats and other high-style fashion accessories in the 19th century. The practice ended in the early 20th century as birds were becoming extinct in order to supply the fashion industry. Even among examples from the period, this set stands out for its unusual design. The nestling of the two heads on the muff enhances the overall sense of warmth provided by the object, while the neckpiece draws attention to the wearer’s own swan-like neck. A set like this would have been been worn by an elite member of society who could afford to be somewhat unconventional in her taste.
My what lovely fans! Shall I share a secret with you?
The Met owns the first.
The second is currently sitting on my desk. Letter and everything.
ca. 1820–40. This officially marks the second oldest piece of history I own.
Fancy dress costume, 1911
Paul Poiret (French, 1879–1944)
Seafoam green silk gauze, silver lamé, blue foil and blue and silver coiled cellophane cord appliqué, and blue, silver, coral, pink, and turquoise cellulose beading
The Met says: Poiret’s “The Thousand and Second Night” party revolved around a fantastic evocation of the East. For the occasion, Poiret required his 300 guests to dress in oriental costumes. Those who failed to do so were given the choice of leaving or outfitting themselves in Persian-style clothes designed by the couturier, including the highly controversial “harem” trousers that formed part of his spring 1911 collection. Poiret thus used the occasion of a private party, staged as a cross between an elaborate fashion show and an extravagant theatrical performance, to promote his latest creations.
Denise Poiret, who played the role of the “favorite” to Poiret’s “sultan,” endorsed her husband’s “harem” trousers by wearing them under a wired skirted tunic. Two years later, in 1913, Poiret launched this crinoline-hooped silhouette in a theatrical production of Jacques Richepin’s historical drama,Le Minaret, to be quickly followed in Poiret’s fashion collections of the same year. A fancy-dress costume worn in the privacy of an exclusive party became the prototype for a “minaret” or “lampshade” tunic worn in a theatrical production. Thus publicized, the silhouette was then modified for the fashion public.