Agrippine | CNCS
I finally got around to posting about The Dress like a Georgian Day Picnic last month at St. James’ Park, please click through to The Mended Soul for a step-by-step on making this gown.
One of my friends just texted me about this exhibition in Paris. I have a free ticket courtesy of the Eurostar, I am so tempted to just pop on the train and go see this:
« La mécanique des dessous, une histoire indiscrète de la silhouette » présentée aux Arts Décoratifs du 5 juillet au 24 novembre 2013
For more information on this exhibition click me!
I’ve been meaning to post this for some time now but I kept forgetting to share it.
I came across this fashion plate and immediately recognized the gown.
Costume Parisien 1810
Evening dress worn by the Countess of Palfi, date missing (1810’s?), Châteaux de Malmaison et Bois-Préau Malmaison.
Interesting to see the lining made of such a good fabric considering the lining was never seen and this was normally considered a waste of money and materials. Also, that is the most perfect pattern matching I have ever seen on a sack back.
Bunka Gakuen Costume Museum
Unfortunately the Musée Des Beaux-Arts De Lyon’s website is down but I can still share the inspiration for my new gown with you!
The original text reads: “C’est une robe-chemise blanche en mousseline de coton, à traîne, à manches courtes et au décolleté carré. Elle date de 1805 : On l’appelle demi-parure. C’est la tenue idéale que Juliette Récamier pouvait porter le soir pour briller en société ou aller au bal, mais ce n’est pas non plus une robe de Cour”.
Please forgive my terrible English translation (assisted by Google translate when I got stuck): ” A dress of white cotton muslin, train, short sleeves and square neckline. It dates from 1805 and is called a half-set. This is the perfect outfit that Juliette Recamier would wear in the evening (google translate says) to shine in society (?), or go to the ball, but this is not a Court gown. ”
And although my heart will ache, and I will cry such bitter tears, I will never regret our time, ‘I will smile for we will always have Paris’.
This is a small section from my travel diary that I wrote during a moment at the Jardin des Tuileries where I was the unfortunate witness to the end of a love story. I couldn’t move because it happened so close to me and there wasn’t really an escape but the words that decorate my journal are slightly smudged. I think I cried for both of them.
The Met says: Women with coquettish airs were imposing in robes à la française and robes à l’anglaise throughout the period between 1720 and 1780. The robe à la française was derived from the loose negligee sacque dress of the earlier part of the century, which was pleated from the shoulders at the front at the back. The silhouette, composed of a funnel-shaped bust feeding into wide rectangular skirts, was inspired by Spanish designs of the previous century and allowed for expansive amounts of textiles with delicate Rococo curvilinear decoration. The wide skirts, which were often open at the front to expose a highly decorated underskirt, were supported by panniers created from padding and hoops of different materials such as cane, baleen or metal. The robes à la française are renowned for the beauty of their textiles, the cut of the back employing box pleats and skirt decorations, known as robings, which showed endless imagination and variety.
Excerpt taken from Queen of Fashion: What Marie Antoinette Wore to the Revolution by Caroline Weber
“ Designed for his 2000 Christian Dior “Masquerade and Bondage” collection, John Galliano’s “Marie Antoinette” dress tells an unexpected story. True to the architecture of eighteenth-century court costume, the gown features tantalizing décolletage, a rigidly corseted waist, a ladder or échelle of flirty bows on the bodice, and a froth of flounced skirts inflated by petticoats and hoops. Its splendid excess evokes France’s most colorful queen … even before one notices the embroidered portraits of the lady herself that adorn each of its hoop-skirted hip panels. (Plate 1.)
But the two portraits deserve a closer look, for it is they that tell the story. On the gown’s left hip panel the designer has placed an image of Marie Antoinette in her notorious faux shepherdess’s garb—a frilly little apron tied over a pastel frock, a decorative staff wound with streaming pink ribbons, and a mile-high hairdo obviously ill suited to the tending of livestock. In keeping with the Queen’s frivolous reputation, the embroidered ensemble is more suggestive of Little Bo Peep than of lofty monarchical grandeur. On the right hip panel, Galliano offers a depiction of the same woman, also devoid of royal attributes, but this time in a mode more gruesome than whimsical. Here, she wears a markedly plain, utilitarian dress, with a simple white kerchief knotted around her throat and a drooping red “liberty bonnet”—the emblem of her revolutionary persecutors—clamped onto her brutally shorn head. This image portrays the consort trudging toward the guillotine, to lay her neck beneath its waiting blade.”
(Does anyone know who the first picture belongs too? I pulled it off of Pinterest last week and the only link back was google images).
“I like The Eiffel Tower because it looks like steel and lace.” ― Natalie Lloyd