There is no hint of the tragedy of Waterloo hovering about Ackermann’s fashion plates for June of 1815. Not only did news travel much more slowly in the early 19th century than it does today, but journals took a lot longer to typeset and print. This month’s fashion plates both feature white, one a ballgown of “French figured gauze, worn over a slip of white satin” (plate 28), the other a carriage dress of white satin. The lady of the ballgown is a bit shorter, and more plump, than one is used to seeing in fashion plates of the era, which I (being rather short myself) quite enjoyed! The figure on the gauze of her gown looks to be of a floral nature, complimenting the “wreaths of lilac” separating the skirt from a blond lace trim border.

 

I’m quite impressed by the rich ornamentation at the hem of the carriage dress’s pelisse (plate 29): “clusters of leaves made in white twilled sarsnet, headed (? or beaded?) with tull.” Look at the sharp points of those appliqués! Very difficult handwork there! And though the description doesn’t mention it, the print shows the dress under the pelisse with another quite detailed ornamentation round its bottom, a pointed zig-zag trim, perhaps ornamented with beads. Not to mention that “superb shell trimming of white satin ribbon and tull” around the lady’s neck. It looks so fuzzy; I wish I could reach out and skim a finger across it!

 

 

This month’s needlework patterns: one row of vines, and another of bouquets. I’m thinking I may need to include a character in a future book who eagerly awaits the arrival of Ackermann’s every month, just so she can get started on a new needlework project…

 

 

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Frills are the name of the game in May 1815’s fashion plates, with both the walking dress of Plate 24 and the Evening dress of plate 25 trimmed on bottom an around the neck with white flounces. Though in the print they appear to my eye to be made of lace, the walking dress’s deep full flounces above the hem and neck are described as being made of “French cambric” “richly worked.” Perhaps that fabric was embroidered using one of the needlework designs featured in one of Ackermann’s earlier issues?

 

 

The rich ornament on the hem of Plate 25’s Evening Dress is described as “garnet yewer.” The word “yewer” does not appear in Fairchild’s Dictionary of Textiles, and as the only definitions in the Oxford English Dictionary refer to water pitchers and udders (!), I’m wondering if this might be a typo. Especially as the trim in question is decidedly not red, but white, in the fashion plate. But I’m having a hard time figuring out what might be the correct wording. Any guesses?

Both prints give us a clear look at each lady’s footwear, and how those dainty slippers were kept on her feet. The walking dress features “sandals of green kid,” with 3 bands of ribbon lying flat across the top of the foot before crossing round the ankle and tying in a tiny bow. The white kid slippers look to have only the 3 bands of ribbon—I wonder, in the days before elastic was invented, how well such ribbons would have held a slipper on the foot?

 

This month’s magazine features fabric samples for ladies’ dresses. Sample one introduces another word with which I am not familiar: “kluteen.” Again, I could find no definition for this word in Fairchild’s nor in the OED; perhaps the typesetter for this edition of the magazine was unusually careless?

 

The “Japanese betilla muslins” of samples #2 & 3 were a little easier to identify; Fairchild’s lists “beteela,” “bethilles,” and “betilles,” all types of Indian muslin. Why these samples are deemed “Japanese” I’m not quite sure (especially as the copy tells us they were manufactured in Britain). But the description assures readers that “since the interchange with Parisian fashions and the rage for colors have taken place, they are becoming the leading article of the day.” I can picture a morning dress being made from one of them, can’t you? But I think I’d like one more that was made from sample #4, the “pink and blue printed muslin, of extremely delicate appearance.” Perhaps I’ll have to send one of my characters off to J. and T. Smith’s in Tavistock Street in a future book?

 

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Daytime wear is the subject of March 1815’s fashion plates, which feature  one walking dress and one morning dress. The walking dress (plate 13), departs from the previous two months’ focus on pale colors; our model here is decked out in a lush purple velvet pelisse, described as “evening-primiose-coloured.” Curled satin trim runs along each side of the front edge of the pelisse; tiny capes, “trimmed to correspond,” just cover each of the lady’s shoulders. An immense bonnet, styled “French,” looms over this wearer’s head, with an equally impressive ostrich feather topping it. I don’t imagine you would be hard to spot in a crowd if you wore that hat!

Plate 14’s morning dress is primarily white, but includes small touches of lilac to match plate 13’s evening primrose hues. A white petticoat trimmed with borders of needle-work is paired with a striped white spencer, tied under the bosom with “a bracelet” of unspecified material. It might simply be ribbon to match that adorning the wearer’s “melon cap,” coordinated to match the lilac kid half-boots. As in the past two months’ plates, this gown’s border, too, is a deep one.

 

 

In addition to the fashion plates, this month’s Ackermann’s has the added bonus of a letter to the editor, with “Remarks on Female Fashions.” The writer mourns the disappearance from the pages of Ackermanns of Arbiter Elegantarium, who in earlier editions of the magazine offered fashion advice (and remonstrance) to the women of England. He also mourns the current trend for all things French (“that vortex of frippery, buffoonery, and extravagance”), which, due to the cessation of hostilities with France, threaten the “contamination” of English “good taste.” The writer has a special abhorrence for overly large hats (of the type featured in plate 13), and the move away from the simpler lines of dresses of the earlier Regency period, ones that more closely mirrored “the best ages of antiquity.” So amusing to read these deprecations against fashion, especially when placed right next to the plates that extol such dress!

 

The magazine ends with several needle-work patterns for narrow borders or edgings. Perhaps some were used to make the embroidered embellishments on the flounce of the morning dress in plate 14?

 

Is the lady in the first of this month’s fashion plates on holiday by the seaside? Or is she the daughter or wife of a naval officer, watching by the shore, hoping to catch sight of the ship that will carry her beloved family member back home? She looks rather disappointed; has she given up looking through the spyglass at the sailing ship in the distance to gaze instead off into the distances of her own imagination?

The dress she wears, a round robe of lilac or evening primrose sarsnet, features trimming at both hem and neck of a quilling of blond lace edged with chenille (perhaps to keep the lady warm against September’s cool ocean breezes?). A “French hat” of white and lilac satin keeps the winds from ruffling the lady’s face-framing curls.

 

 

 

The second plate features an “Evening Half-Dress,” presumably to be worn for an informal evening at home. Though the copy describes it as “a plain frock,” its long sleeves (inset with lace) and its full flounce of blond lace at the hem and its quilling of lace around the neckline certainly give it a far less than plain feel. The dress fabric is meant to be “striped sarsnet Italian net of peach-blossom colour,” but the pigment must have discolored; the dress looks more purplish black than pink.

The lady’s position highlights her unusual hair style: short full curls in a row several inches higher than the nape, and curls in rows down he sides of the head, with the crown combed flat and straight. Lots of time spent with the curling iron to achieve that look, no doubt.

 

 

 

It’s been several months, now, since Ackermann’s has included its former fabric samples. I’ll continue to reproduce the needle-work patterns in their place. Thistle flowers leaning in one direction, with leaf fronts tilted in the other, echo the feeling of the wind in the first plate, I think.

 

 

 

 

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Extravagant trimmings are the order of the month for July 1814’s fashion plates. The morning gown on display features Vandyke lace and cotton ball fringe around its hem, as well as abundant lace and needlework around the collar. The cotton ball fringe is also used to confine the full sleeves in four or five places down the arm. The bodice is described as “full body, inlet lace or needle-work, confined by several drawings to fit the shape”—I’m wondering if “drawings” here refers to “drawing strings,” or whether some other means were used to make the bodice conform to the wearer’s figure.

 

 

This month’s evening dress begins with the extravagance of “a blond lace train, richly embroidered in silver lama, with a superb border of the same.” It is a bit difficult to see the details of the lace train in the actual print, so I’ve added a shot of a dress in the V&A Museum c. 1820, which features blonde lace as a trim, below the print. This gown features gold, rather than silver, embroidery, but you can imagine a similar effect. The Ackermann’s gown has the additional feature of “rich silver cord, and large bullion tassels, tied on the side in long loops and streamers”—handy for fidgety fingers no doubt, but all too likely to catch on passing furniture, I fear!

 

 

 

No fabric samples this month, just a detailed needlework pattern (perhaps for the collar adorning this month’s morning gown?)

 

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