XXX.FASHIONABLE DRESS.
WE are often asked why we do not speak out plainly, in the way of counsel and reproof, about the absurdities of fashionable dress, now so apparent? What good would it do? Almost every paper has spoken plainly, or hinted—the worst kind of speaking, however unmistakable—on this subject, and what is the result? Week by week the fashion-plates are increasingly monstrous, until at last we are uncertain whether it is abona fidefashion plate we are looking at or “Punch” and “The Budget of Fun.” Neither could take greater liberties or more atrociously caricature “the human form divine.” And, what would be very amusing if the weakness did not excite so much pity, those who urge us to contribute our mite toward a reform, a more Christian mode of dress, are themselves marvellous structures,—a pile, composed of frizzed, braided, curled, and puffed hair, under which a small, delicate face appears; a dress fringed, flounced, puffed, and trailing, with hoops and panniers protruding like a dromedary’s hump; and all this miserable deformity borne about on high heels and the tips of the toes, the discomfort and pain of such unnatural locomotion accepted and endured because it isthe fashion. Yet these fair inquirers appeared wholly unconscious that their own disfigurement was a stronger appeal for aid than any words could have been.
Why not begin this reform in your own dress? Brush your hair smoothly, and give us the satisfaction of once more seeing what the head is, as God made it; take off yards of silk, lace, and fringe, and show us your natural, gracefulfigure. You who move in what is called fashionable society can do more by such independence than all that can be written. Try one season, and mark the change you would effect. “O, we couldn’t think of such a thing! ‘As well be out of the world as out of fashion,’ you know. It would make us so very conspicuous by our singularity. We think it would not bemodestto take such a stand. No one person can effect the change: it must be simultaneous.”
Ah, had all reformers reasoned so, what would now be the condition of the civilized world! But Fashion is a tyrant; and we fear volumes written on the evils which she brings will do little good until women have learned to defy her. A few in every age have done valiantly in their attempts to dethrone her, but she changes so often, and so abruptly and entirely, it is difficult to keep track of her. As far back as we can search, the whirligig of fashion has been in perpetual motion, unceasing in its changes. The advice and admonition of age and experience have little influence towards checking this long-established tyranny. The old look sadly upon the vagaries of the young; but if they glance back to their own early days, would they not recall equal absurdities in the fashions of that period, or on a moment’s reflection, perhaps, even the dress and style to which they still pertinaciously adhere may be liable to the same criticism?
We vividly remember the look of dissatisfaction on our grandmother’s face (a dear little woman, nearly eighty years old), whose keen black eyes flashed ominously as we came before her for inspection, dressed for our first party. We stood, at fourteen, a full head the taller, but were abashed at the dignified air of authority with which she descanted on the ridiculousness of our attire. A very narrow skirt, with a few gathers in the back, three small pleats on each side,—it took but six or seven yards then for a dress,—a full waist, with a narrow band round the neck like a baby’s slip, andthe belt almost under the arms; a large lace “Vandyke,” or cape, over the shoulders; the hair combed high on the top of the head and tightly tied, and the length twisted into a knot or bow, and kept in place by a big tortoise-shell comb, the top of it full three inches high and six or seven inches round; and this placed back of the hair. Our first high-topped comb! What a wonderful work of art it was in our eyes! And the dress—ourfirstsilk—of changeable hues, like the silks which are now coming again into fashion,—how stylish it did look! We thought every one must recognize its elegance. Yet here was this “little grandma,” whose judgment, next to our mother’s, was infallible, looking with disdain upon it, and turning our whole outfit into ridicule! It was heartbreaking! And for our first party! Fourteen was very young to go to parties in those days, but, being tall for our age, we were invited by mistake we presume. At the present timeyoung ladiesof three and four send out and receive their cards, and with gloves and fans, frizzled hair, and flounced dresses, mimic the affectation and absurdities of their elders. We have no sweet, simple childhood any longer.
But how was our revered critic attired? The soft, white hair, still quite abundant, was brushed straight over from the brow, not tied on top, but rolled as tightly as it could be drawn over what was then called a pillow,—now it would be, we presume, arat,—and fastened on the top of the head by two long silver pins with arrow-heads; a spotless white mull cap with a very high crown and deep frill was put on over this pillow and tied with a broad black satin ribbon in a bow on top; a string of gold beads, a square of white lace folded over the shoulders and crossed in pleats in front, under the dress of heavy black satin; the waist of said dress made long down to the hips, with a point before and behind, the skirt not trailed but immensely full; veryhigh-heeled slippers; and on her arm a large black satin bag, orreticule, embroidered with white beads, in which was the ever-present knitting-work, completed the costume. And this queerly dressed little grandmother scoffed at our newer style as being the height of absurdity. Her dress appeared appropriate to her, because we had never seen her otherwise attired; but with all affectionate deference to her superior wisdom, we thought it very ugly, and would have shrunk in disgust from wearing it ourselves; and doubtless our new dress in which we then rejoiced would strike our grandchildren now as equally undesirable.
So fashion changes, and words of expostulation are wasted. But in this age of improvement, when we turn our backs on the things of old while something new is daily being developed or invented, the wonder is, that in the realms of Fashion we see so little purely original. Like a poor horse in a treadmill, she goes the same circuit, and about every fifty years she finds the end, and is compelled to return and reproduce, with some strange additions, but few improvements, the styles our grandmothers and great-grandmothers wore. The high heels, hoops, trains, and panniers of to-day are but the renewal of the fashions of a semi-barbarous age, which, once buried, should never have been revived.
Addison, in many of his writings (see particularly papers 98 and 127 in the “Spectator”), severely criticises the prevailing fashions of his day. Many of these same deformities our better instructed women have for a year or two past foolishly reproduced. We may not quote his words, because the homely language of that period would shock our greater refinement, (although if it could be arranged for opera or theatre, his wholesome counsels might be listened toin publicwithout a blush!).
There is much to be said, aside from the absurdity of the style, and its destruction of all grace and beauty, of thegreat extravagance which must attend the present fashions, breaking up many homes and alienating true love; and the permanent injury done to health, subjecting its devotees to long years, perhaps, of discomfort and lingering sufferings or an early grave.