You may know the Victorian convention of a Language of Flowers, but did you know that the American 1950s had a langauge of bows?
Allow me to illustrate.
So neat, right?
One of the first museums we visited during our stay in New York was the Tenement Museum. It’s located on the Lower East Side, in an area that’s always been an immigrant area. Today, it’s mainly populated by Latin American immigrants but over the years it has been home to German Jews, Eastern-European Jews, Italians, Irish and virtually every single immigrant wave that made it to America over the years.
The museum entrance is right on the corner of Orchard street. You have to be a part of a tour to visit the actual museum building, 97 Orchard Street. They had four different tours to choose from: Hard Times, about immigrants during the Great Depression, which we chose, Sweatshop Workers, Irish Outsiders and Exploring 97 Orchard Street. You can read more about the different tours here.
I think they run two different tours each hour, and we chose the Hard Times one which ran about 10 minutes after we got there. There was plenty to look at in the museum store, so we didn’t just have to stand and wait.
The tour was led by a history student and it took us a little down the street in a group of about 10-15 people to 97 Orchard Street. It’s a building which was bought by the museum in the 1990s but which stood empty, except for the basement, between the 1950s (I think) until it was bought and renovated, partially, by the museum.
The different tours offer a look into different immigrant areas and the Hard Times tour takes you into the home of a German Jewish family in the 1860s and 70s and the home of an Italian family in the 1930s. During both of these periods the US experienced an economic downswing and there was a focus on this during the tour.
We were taken into the building and then shown upstairs to the two rooms that the German family, the Gumpertz, lived in. These were the actual apartments they had occupied and they were restored like the late 1860s. We were then given an extremely detailed account of their life during the 1860s depression. I won’t go in to too much detail because it won’t make much sense if you weren’t there, such a big part of the tour was the impact the building gave you, but it involved husbands running of, wives and children being left destitute and then pulling themselves up by their bootstraps until they reached such a level of prosperity they could afford to leave the Lower East Side.
One of the focuses of the tour was the difference in the charitable attitude of the government during these two times. The tour guide was very personable and funny, and she encouraged us visitors to participate with questions and would ask us our impressions about the different times which gave it a really nice touch.
The Gumpertz family lived four, then three people, in two rooms and one was converted into a sewing studio. I assume they all slept in the same room, if not the same bed. They had no gas and no electricity, and no running water inside the building. All residents in the building shared a toilet in the yard.
It is also interesting to note that during the 1860s the Lower East Side was known as Klein Deutschland, or Little Germany, and was made up of both Jewish and non-Jewish Germans. This wouldn’t change until Eastern-European Jews started arriving in the 1870s and 80s when the area would start changing, and Yiddish would become the majority language rather than German. It was around this time Mrs. Gumpertz moved from the area. I had no idea there had ever been a thing like Klein Deutschland, and in Manhattan too!
The other family, the Baldizzis, lived in three rooms, some 50-60 years later, adjacent to the Gumpertz of yore.
Most of the info about this apartment, both in how it looked and how it was to live there, comes from Josephine, daughter of the Baldizzis. Her family was the last to stay in 97 Orchard Street before it was closed for residents. She and her family lived through the Great Depression and although she remembers the hardships, she also remembers not wanting for much because she had her family with her and they were close. She also remembers the help the government issued during the Great Depression. She received men’s shoes in one instance, in a charitable act.
You can read more from The Tenement Museum blog here.
As I said, a large part of the tour was exploring how attitudes towards charity, received and given, were during the two different eras. The 1860s were very big on self-sufficiency. This is something I also mention in my post about Ellis Island. The prevailing attitude for a long time was that you should not become a burden to the state. And, indeed, the state had very few ways to help people who could not support themselves. This attitude had changed by the 1930s and the Great Depression, in part because of the Great Depression, and the Baldizzis received a weekly shipment of food, and used clothes and shoes.
If I had been in NYC longer, I think I might have gone back to visit another of the tours because it was really brilliant and I’m sure the other ones were equally as interesting. I can definitely recomment the Tenement Museum, if you’re interested in immigrant histories iand the immigrant experience.
I’ve just been to New York City – for the first time in my life! The trip was great despite overwhelming heat and humidity which was taxing for my Scandinavian constitution, and despite Manhattan being almost too big to take in during my stay of a mere 14 days.
Being the historically inclined nerd that I am, I knew I had to visit Ellis Island, America’s once-upon-a-time gateway. The trip took most of our day, but in my opinion was well worth it. Since Ellis Island is, well, an island, you sail from Battery Park on the same ferry that takes you to the Statue of Liberty, should you be so inclined. The musem is technically free, but you pay for admission to the ferry and there is no other way of getting to the islands.
Ellis Island, for those who may not know, was where all 3rd class passengers, immigrants to the USA, must dock before being given admittance to the USA. If they made it through they would become citizens of America but this was not always a given. In any case, it is a fascinating piece of history.
Once you arrive at the Battery Park you may be overwhelmed by the size of the queue. It is huge. We were told there would be an hour wait to get on the ferry, which almost disheartened several of my family members who unlike me are not that interested in history, but once we actually got in the queue it only took about half an hour. You’re in a line overlooking the New York harbour and you’ve got a view of Lady Liberty and the small islands, so it isn’t that bad, in my opinion. Just don’t be an idiot and forget sunscreen like yours truly.
There is an inside airport style security check and once you’re through, you get on the ferry. They run every 15 minutes and there are several so don’t worry about missing one. Your ticket is good for the whole day, so you don’t have to worry about rushing through the museum to reach a ferry back. We didn’t get them online because we didn’t have a printer but they have some sort of time/queue-saving feature if you do that which could be worth looking into if you’re not up for queueing. I’m sure it could be much worse than 30 minutes.
As you can see we had great weather for the ferry trip. Again, remember to wear sunscreen. I had a mean sunburn by the time we went home, mostly from sitting on the ferry deck on the trip out. The ferry docks at Liberty Island where you can choose to get off, but we stayed on the boat and went from there to Ellis Island.
The ferry docks by the main entrance to the Ellis Island Immigration Museum. It’s a peculiar red and white building, and to me it doesn’t look very austere and foreboding, but I imagine that 3rd class immigrants docking at the same site would experience the sight very differently from me. Of course, my future life doesn’t hinge on whether or not I make it through the building, about which, more later.
The entrance hall is very big and at first sight rather confusing. You’ll be offered audio guides which are well worth accepting. Back in the day this hall was both the entrance and exit hall for the immigrants arriving from overseas and hopefully, after they were cleared for entry, for a short ferry ride to the land of their dreams. The large hall is divided in two by a display of old suitcases. A guide told me the entrance hall had been laid out a bit like a ship, but I didn’t see it. On the other side of the display is a chronological exhibition called Journeys: The Peopling of America. This exhibition detailed the reasons why people left home and what happened once they arrived starting with the religious colonies and tying the immigrant history in to the immigrant present of the USA. For those of us who paid attention in history class there was little new to be found and I mostly spent my time “Scandinavia-spotting” that is looking for mentions of my countrymen who left for America. There were a couple mentions of Danish mormons but mostly it was the Swedes who left for America.
The exhibition also had these little booths you could lean into. Once you did an audiotrack would play that only you could hear if you leaned in. These were all from diaries and notebooks and speeches and letters written by immigrants, or about immigrants from different periods in time. There was an excerpt from a Puritan woman’s account of crossing the Atlantic while “big with child”, a freed slave’s account of his time spent on the slaveship that brought him to America, an Indian chief’s exasperated account of his people being beat, an Irish child’s story of arriving as an indentured servant, an excerpt from an anti-Chinese and a pro-Chinese immigration speech and so on. This was by far the most interesting aspect of the Journeys: The Peopling of America exhibit because it was so personal. Once we were through this exhibit we went upstairs to the Ellis Island-specific exhibits.
The upstairs is mainly a big hall. When Ellis Island was in use, it was the waiting room which the immigrants would be ushered into upon arrival. Here they would wait for quick medical checks and hopefully they would be ushered through quickly. If you were unhealthy or deemed unfit for entry for other reasons, you might suffer detention on Ellis Island or even be sent home.
As you can see above the waiting immigrants would be waiting in long queues until they finally could go up to the clerks at the front of the hall. The clerks would perform brief medical checks, like checking their eyes, whether they had any handicaps and for visible signs of mental illness. If you were suspected of having, say, a mental illness you would be marked with chalk on your clothes and brought into an adjacent, smaller room where you would be expected to assemble a puzzle so the clerks could determine whether you were mentally ill or not. If you had an eye illness that was feared, you might be detained or even sent back to where you came from.
Most of all, the early 20th century state wanted to make sure the immigrant in question would not become a burden of the state. You must be able to provide for yourself and not have to rely on charity for your keep. The most haunting story I heard was of an Italian woman who had arrived with her children and grandchildren, but because of an illness, had been sent back to Italy while the rest of the family was given admittance into the country. Her granddaughter, by the time she told this story (it was an audio-recording) was an old woman who was still torn up by the memory.
Clerks would also ask immigrants to read from a card in their native language, to make sure they were literate, or they would ask them how much money they had, to make sure they would not need to rely on charity to make their way in America. One woman, arriving from Hungary, explained how her mother, a woman in her 30s with several children, had been taken in to a small room and with her daughter acting as the translator, had been asked to put together 2 and 2. The clerk wanted to be certain she would not need help to maange her household. The woman explains how her mother, a housewife and mother of many years, had stared at the clerk in disbelief and then asked her daughter: “He asks me this, whether I know what 2 + 2 is?”
On either side of the Great Hall there is a series of small rooms. In the one end, they lead you through the small rooms that were used for more private examinations, medical and otherwise. They lead you through all the eventualities that might happen to you at Ellis Island as an immigrant. Maybe you coasted right through and were able to meet up with your loved ones at the Kissing Gate downstairs. Maybe you were detained because of an illness, or maybe you had to pass tests designed to determine mental illnesses. Maybe you would be sent to the hospital. Maybe you would be sent back.
Ellis Island had everything. It had dining rooms, and one was kosher for the many Jewish immigrants. It had a hospital with children’s wards, maternity wards, mental illness wards, surgical wards. It employed several thousand people at its most busy and millions of immigrants came through.
This exhibition ended in the last stops for immigrants at Ellis Island. There was money to be exchanged. I indulged in a little Scandinavia-spotting with my sisters and we found these items.
There were many, many, many different religious societies in America at the time, and they all extended charity towards those of a similar religious persuasion when they arrived at Ellis Island. Jewish charities would sponsor Hebrew and Yiddish religious texts to the Eastern-European Jews when they arrived, and I believe it was also with the help of wealthy Jewish New Yorkers, Ellis Island had a kosher kitchen installed.. Mormon missionaries would sponsor Christmas gifts for Mormon converts. Catholic churches would collect clothes from their members and give them to the Catholic immigrants. With the state at this point very unwilling to provide charity for its citizens, the religous communities took it upon themselves to help where they could.
Since single women were not allowed entry into America without a male relative, women who arrived as picture brides, would often be married on Ellis Island and then leave with their American husbands.
On the other side of the Great Hall there is another exhibtion. This one deals with the reactions both in in the US and overseas to the mass immigration that took place during Ellis Island’s years of operation. This was really interesting because it showed not only what happened to immigrants before and after immigration, but also official and societal reactions to their arrival, whether good or bad.
I’m taking a break from the racist responses to immigration but believe me, I have more proof. And it ain’t pretty.
This exhibition had much, much more to see. There was so many adverts for transatlantic cruises I couldn’t distinguish one from the other, there were walls covered in passports, and photographs taken in the homes of immigrants, as well as the many responses, good and bad, to their arrival. There was proof of people who flourished and people who, to put it mildly, didn’t. It was a really interesting testament to the immigrants who arrived during these years and probably my favourite part of all of Ellis Island.
There was also a nice referal to Angel Island, located in San Fransisco. This was where the Asian immigrants would arrive, and it served much the same function as Ellis Island did to the European immigrants in New York. If I’m ever in San Fransisco (I live in hope) I really want to visit!
The vast majority of immigrants who came through Angel Island were Chinese. Other nationalities were processed quickly but it was common for the Chinese immigrants to be detained for weeks, if not months, before allowing them admission to the US. The Chinese were also the first specific nationality to be targeted by racist laws concerning their admission into the US by the US government.
That was my visit to Ellis Island! I’ve got a few more NYC centric posts planned. In the meantime, enjoy this picture I took over Iceland, with the sun rising, on my way home!
I can’t find that much info on these two. One description of this photo names Alexander as a Prince of Sayn-Wittgenstein-Sayn, a placename that could only come out of a Germany. I would love to see pictures of them as adults, but alas, google is being fairly disobliging right now.
Doesn’t it just scream aristocratic decadence? I wonder what the photographer was thinking of these two.
About ten years ago, a Big Deal (TM) was happening in Denmark. It was the television premiere of “Titanic,” the epic film which starred Leonardo DiCaprio and Kate Winslet and to this day holds a special place in my heart. For days leading up to the television premiere the same channel had been broadcasting various other film and TV productions of the same story. I don’t remember the names of any of these productions, although I do recall that one of them was in black and white which just goes to show that Titanic’s story is an endless source of fascination for the public.
So, for this TV premiere a good friend and I had begged our parents to let us stay up late (I think the showing began around 9 PM and ended around 12 PM which was SCANDALOUSLY late when you consider that we were like 12 years old.) Furthermore, my friend’s mother was out of town so we were alone in the house and got pizza and candy and had a grand old time, only slightly sabotaged by the fact that she had new braces in that hurt her teeth and I couldn’t laugh because I’d hurt a rib during P.E.
I was mightily excited for the TV premiere, and I watched all of the other Titanic (and in my opinion lesser) productions in the days leading up to it. Because I am a Type A personality, I also researched Titanic until I was blue in the face.
Among the books I found was one that focused primarily on the class divide on the Titanic. It went into great detail describing the first class, second and third class accommodations. It also picked out real-life examples of people who travelled on the different tickets and ultimately their fates. Because I was 12 and already at that point more than normally interested in historic fashions (which is to say, interested at all) I fixated on the upperclass women with their amazing clothes and ridiculous hats. For some reason, one name in particular stood out to me (I have my speculations as to why, but they’re best left out of this blog post), and for some reason, ever since then, her name still stands out to me.
Yes, reader, you may have guessed it. It’s Madeleine Talmage Astor and I suspect my fascination has to do, in parts, with some morbid romanticism I’d rather not own up to.
Most recently, in all this brouhaha surrounding the Centennial (which I guess I’m buying into since it is, in fact, today) I’m excited to see how she is portrayed in Julian Fellowes new Titanic mini-series.
Sadly, I imagine that Madeleine will be mostly overlooked except for some short mention about her scandalous marriage to John Jacob Astor. But to me, Madeleine remains the most interesting person involved in Titanic’s disaster.
Madeleine was born June 19th, 1893 and grew up the second child of William Hurlbut Force and his wife Katherine Arvilla Talmage. She had one older sister, also named Katherine. William Force was the head of a shipping and forwarding firm in Brooklyn, and they were not “old money” but he supported his family well enough to enter his daughters into New York’s good society. Growing up in Brooklyn, Madeleine attended Miss Spence’s Finishing School, which to this day remains a Brooklyn institution of higher learning, and by all accounts was a popular and well-liked young woman. She would ride horses in Central Park, played tennis and put on plays with her schoolmates.
By the time Madeleine was entered into society, during a debutante’s ball in December 1910, she had already met John Astor, and this meeting would shock good society all across the world for many different reasons.
The name “Astor” may be familiar to some of my readers. If it is, it’s because at one point the Astor family was the richest family in the world. The Astors built an American empire on real estate, business and investing. John Jacob IV’s grandfather, the original John Jacob Astor, was the first multi-millionaire in the United States. There are several buildings in New York that bear the name Astor. The most famous is probably the Waldorf-Astoria hotel.
By the time Madeleine met John Jacob he was 45 years old and newly divorced in a time when divorce was still hugely taboo. There is some evidence that Mrs. Force, the mother of Katherine and Madeleine, wanted Katherine to marry Astor, but he instead took a liking to Madeleine. Astor was 29 years her senior, and his oldest son from his previous marriage, 1 year older than Madeleine.
Today it might be hard to understand that attitude towards divorce in the early 1900s, but divorce was extremely hard to obtain even when instigated by the husband. We don’t know whether it was John Jacob or his first wife, Ava Lowle Williams, who instigated the divorce proceedings but I am fairly certain that Astor’s wealth helped smooth over the process.
However, the troubles didn’t end with Astor’s divorce. After meeting Madeleine in the summer of 1910, Astor announced his intention to marry her in the fall but due to his divorce, not many ministers were willing to marry the couple.
Another objection to their marriage apart from the age difference and the divorce was the class difference. Astor, the richest man in America, came from a family of “old money” and Madeleine, although a socialite, a member of good society, and the child of a rich father, did not, nor did she have an old name or illustrious connections.
There isn’t much known about Madeleine and John Jacob’s courtship, except that they met in Bar Harbor, Maine during the summer of 1910. They were married the September 9, 1911 at The Beachwood, an old Astor estate in Newport, Rhodes Island, foregoing a traditional church ceremony. Astor had approached first one clergymen, Rev. Edward A Johnson, to officiate the wedding but this man had refused (and was, by many, applauded for his decision. This led to Astor offering another clergyman, a methodist, 1,000 dollars to officiate the wedding. He also refused, but someone at last was found.
The lack of a church was not the only unorthodox part of the marriage service as Madeleine also deigned to wear white, and instead wore a blue semi hobble-skirt and instead of a veil, a peach basket hat. With the Astor family the closest thing the United States at the time came to a royal family, the couple were treated like the celebrities of the day. Encyclopedia Tritannica’s pages on John Jacob and Madeleine has press clippings from the New York Times that describe the couple well before their marriage, and they read like a more polite version of today’s glossy magazines.
To escape the gossip surrounding their marriage, Madeleine and Astor went away immediately after the wedding, to Egypt (there was a huge Egyptian revival going on at the time) as well as Paris where they travelled for several months. Abroad, they met Molly Brown (later dubbed The Unsinkable Molly Brown) who unlike many Americans didn’t shun them because of the circumstances around their marriage, and ended up travelling them before they decided to return home.
About 8 months into their honeymoon, Madeleine and John Jacob decided to return to America. The reason was very simple: Madeleine had fallen pregnant and they wanted their child to be born in the United States. The timing of this pregnancy turned out to be exceedingly unfortunate as the quickest boat home turned out to be the Titanic. Naturally, they travelled on a first-class ticket, in suites C-62-64, along with Astor’s manservant, Mrs. Astor’s maid and Astor’s dog, Kitty.
As we all know, Titanic’s journey took a turn for the tragic when two days in on its journey, it hit an iceberg. By this time of night Astor was at the cardtables and Madeleine already in bed. Reports have many witty things to tell about Astor and one story goes that upon hearing they had hit an iceberg promptly replied “I asked for ice, but this is ridiculous.” It has later been refuted, as apparently, Astor was not the kind of man who made jokes. Another story goes that he went to free the dogs, kept in kennels, away from their human companions.
It is certain that he went first to his wife’s aid and helped her dress warmly. The couple went first to the upper decks as instructed, where it is said that Madeleine lent her shawl to a cold child. After a while, they went inside the gymnasium where John Jacob cut up the lining of a life vest to reassure his wife that it would work as promised.
Eventually, they moved back outside where Astor tried to persuade his frightened wife to go into a lifeboat, along with her maid and nurse, and after a while managed to persuade her. In the book “Lost Voices from the Titanic” by Nick Barrett it is relayed how he originally asked a member of the Titanic crew whether he could accompany Madeleine into the life-boat due to her delicate condition. Being denied, Astor didn’t despair but instead set about getting as many women as possible into the lifeboats before they were lowered into the sea.
From a letter (shared in “Lost Voices from the Titanic”) by W.H Dobbyn writes of a meeting with Madeleine Astor after her return to New York.
She got into the boat, thinking he would follow her for there were a number of vacant places, and the deck about them deserted. He asked the officer if he might go with her, and was refused. She was terribly frightened when she found herself alone, and the boat being lowered. She remembers his calling to her if she was alright or if she was comfortable, and that he asked the officer the number of the boat, and he said something she could not hear. Her boat had gone but a little way when the Titanic sank. She thought she heard him calling, and she stood up and cried that they were coming, but the people in the boat made her stop, and apparently they made no effort to go back toward those cries for help. There was no light in her boat, and anyone in the water, only a few feet away, could not see them. You would be terribly sorry for her if you could see her and hear her tell the awful tragedy. She is so young and she cared so much for him.
John Jacob Astor’s body was never recovered. Madeleine gave birth to their son, John Jacob Astor VI, on the 19th of August, 1912. In his will Astor stipulated that Madeleine should have full use of the different houses belonging to his estate, as well as giving her a very generous inheritance. However, should she remarry she would lose all entitlements to the Astor fortune.
As it happened, she did re-marry, first to her childhood friend William Hurt whom she later divorced. Her third husband was boxer and film-star Enzo Fiermonte whom she also later divorced before she died of a heart ailment in 1940.
There is something about Madeleine’s story that is endlessly fascinating to me. Perhaps it was the way this girl was treated like the celebrities of today. Perhaps it’s her marriage to a man so much older than her and the shortness of their marriage. I wonder what might have happened to them if they hadn’t boarded the Titanic? Would they have been able to withstand a return to America, having their marriage dissected by society and the newspapers? Would Madeleine have been endlessly accused of marrying him for the money?
UPDATED: Because WordPress refusedd to post this at a scheduled time, the date of this post says the 13th of April but rest assured it was posted, with some difficulty, today the 14th of April.
I was looking through the lovely Copenhagen Cycle Chic blog because of a wee bout of homelessness. I found this post of vintage Copenhagen cyclists that I simply had to share. I love their amusement at the camera.
Bicycles have been a fixture of Copenhagen life since their invention in the 1900s.
Another anecdote from the life of Sara E: my grandfather used to cycle back and forth between the country of south Zealand (Sydsjælland) and North of Copenhagen as part of the Danish resistance movement.
For more Titanic fashions, check out this post from Madame Guillotine: Titanic fashion, 1912.
Let’s start up with clearing up a few things.
1) I am keeping this blog running HOWEVER since I’m currently in the home stretch (spoiler: I’ve never ever seen a game of baseball in my life) of my final year as a University student updates may be a bit sparse until I’m done with exams etc.
2) I’ll be posting a couple of posts related to the “anniversary” of Titanic’s demise. I hate using that word to describe such a sad event, but it seems it’s the best word English can offer.
3) This blog has a new layout! And whenever I find the time to make one, a new header too!
Unless you’re living under a rock, you may have noticed that Titanic’s Centennary is coming up right soon. You may also have watched Downton Abbey (which I thought was called Downtown Abbey for the longest time). I’ve watched most of Downton Abbey, mostly for the costumes because the drama in season 2 turned me off most of the characters, to be honest.
I’ve long since been fascinated with historical fashion. My mother recently reminded me that I could often be found looking through books on historical fashion I had brought home from the library, studying them quite intently.
So since the centennary of Titanic is coming up, I though I might take a look at what the ladies of Titanic and Downton might be wearing. Think what you want about the 1997 Titanic movie, Kate Winslet’s costumes were porn for fashion nerds.
Beginning with the basics, the silhouette of the Edwardian lady changed quite a bit with the advent of the S-shaped corset. The difference is illustrated below. Putting it into the words the new style of corset would push the torso forward, by putting pressure on the stomach and spine.
The gowns above show us what wearing the corset would make a gown look like in action. You can tell how the bust tips forward, and the stomach slopes inward. The dress shown from the back is interesting also, because it shows that wearing an S-corset almost creates a mini-bustle effect, harking about 30-40 years back in time.
Necklines were often high (if you can even call the above example a neckline). Ball gowns were more liberal with the amount of cleavage shown, but walking gowns, evening dresses and basically anything not used at balls would close at the neck or envelop the neck itself in fabric. This can also be referred to as “My Biggest Nightmare” in a gown. I can’t abide turtlenecks, and however much I adore the dress-type above I could never dress like that day in and out.
The pink dress almost reminds me of 1790 post French Revolution gowns. I think it’s the bodice.
Of course, it takes more than just a gown to complete an outfit.
Turn of the Century hats grew to astounding sizes and were elaborately decorated. I love how over the top they are.
And also these swim costumes, because they are amazing and I want to wear them everywhere, except, perhaps, the beach.
So that’s an insight into what Turn of the Century, Edwardian, Gilded Age, Nouvelle Vague, whichever term you prefer, ladies might wear out and about. Now, should I work my way backwards through fashion history or not? Decisions, decisions.
Errr…. That is Vogue at Le Grand Trianon, the home of Louis XIV’s mistress, Francoise-Athénäis, the marquise of Montespan. It’s an impressive building with rooms kept completely in reds or yellows or reds which is enough to awe any visitor. But until October visitors are treated to another form of grandeur. At the Grand Trianon there is an exhibition called The 18th Century Back in Fashion which features pieces from the haute couture, but also ready-to-wear, collections of several modern/contemporary designers.
I thought I’d show off a couple of the gowns exhibited among the 56 pieces at the exhibition. The pieces can usually be found at the Museum Galliera. Apart from the modern gowns, authentic 18th century pieces can be seen, for comparison.
Seeing these amazing dresses etc. in the flesh, so to speak, in such an impressive place was definitely the highlight of our visit to Versailles.
The photos are taken by Julie Ansiau. I make no money from this, all rights reserved to Vogue and Julie Ansiau.
Pink taffeta by Doutzen Kroues, inspired by Fragonard. 2007.
Pale green tulle. 2011.
Bit big for a bedroom, mind.
This gown was created in relation to Sofia Coppola’s Marie Antoinette.
Amazingly over the top.
I mean, w-o-w.
I had to include this because of the gorgeous fabric used.
He was just a genius, wasn’t he?
Isn’t it amazing how the 18th century fashions were relevant in the 50s and continue to influence fashion until today?
Sometimes I think I missed my calling as a Goth. I could totally wear this.
I just love this one.
The entire slideshow can be seen here.
And just to finish, here’s a portrait of Madame de Montespan herself: