“Members Shall Discourage the Wanton Destruction of Birds, and Interest Themselves Generally in their Protection” Or: In the Name of Fashion: Feathers, Carnage and Protest in Victorian England: - a Guest post by Jayne Shrimpton

In June I wrote about Victorian attitudes to animal rights, including vegetarianism and the birth of the NAVS (National Anti Vivisection Society) and the RSPCA (Royal Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals)

Following this, I spoke with Jayne and was thrilled when she agreed to write a guest post for me on the RSPB (Royal Society for the Protection of Birds) and how it came about.

I knew Jayne had an extensive set of historical photographs, and I was thrilled when she decided to include some of them to accompany her article. The photos’ included in this post are probably the best on this blog anywhere.

Quite enough chatter from me, here is Jayne’s guest post:

Many dress history enthusiasts would agree that sumptuous feathers and plumes have helped to create some of the most visually stunning millinery, accessories and trimmings over the centuries. But beneath the glamorous paintings, fashion plates and photographs and carefully-preserved hats and costumes lurk cruelty and devastation – disturbing facts that reveal the dark side of fashion.

An obsession with feathers

Since the Middle Ages birds’ plumage has played a significant role in western dress. As early as the 12^th century feathers were used to embellish Venetian masks and by the 15^th century feathered trimmings were an established element of aristocratic dress, expressing wealth and status. Ostrich feathers were worn with jewels as hat decorations during the Tudor era and single ostrich feathers or plumes (clusters of feathers) remained fashionable over hundreds of years. Other feathers in vogue during the 17^th and 18^th centuries included osprey, heron, peacock and even vulture feathers, worn with a flourish in vast hats or ornamenting the exaggerated ‘macaroni’ wigs of the 1770s - described by the artist and writer, Mrs Delany, as ‘waving plumes, preposterous Babylonian heads towering to the sky’. By the later 18^th century, the fashion for feathers had extended lower down the social scale, leading to the near-extinction of wild ostriches. 

In the 1820s and 1830s, ‘Romantic’ extravagance influenced fashion and as garments, headwear and other dress ornaments grew ever more exuberant and inventive, fur and feather accessories were much admired, from swansdown boas (‘tippets’) and enormous fur or feather muffs, to wide-brimmed hats trimmed with ostrich or marabout stork feathers. Ostrich plume headdresses were also a requisite of Court dress – a tradition that prevailed through the 18^th to 20^th centuries.

1820 Fashion plate from La Belle Assemblee showing Court dress and ostrich plumes.

Victorian novelties

As material wealth increased for the rising Victorian middle classes, so the pace of fashion accelerated and the desire for display and novelty became more pronounced. At the same time colonial expansion across the globe and the exploration of distant lands introduced new and ever more exotic commodities and natural specimens to European markets: these included previously unknown varieties of birds, fuelling the fashionable demand for feathers, wings and even entire birds to decorate hats and other articles of dress. To the plumage of numerous native British birds such as grebes, gulls, egrets, herons, finches, jays and pheasants – to name but a few - were now added a rich and vibrant assortment of feathers and body parts of exquisite and, in many cases, rare species of bird including the humming bird, lyrebird, bird of paradise, quetzal and scarlet tanager.

Fashion’s favourite

Early in the Victorian period feathers were used mainly for millinery: for example in the late 1830s and early 1840s the precious male bird of paradise plume was much admired for bonnet trimmings. By the late 1850s hats were returning to fashion - headwear that provided a solid base for decoration and heralded the era now recognised as the most destructive for the world’s bird population – the years broadly spanning 1860 until 1921. Neat hats of the 1860s were often trimmed with the tip of an ostrich feather or a bird’s wing, or were circled with feathers. Then during the 1870s, as fashions grew more elaborate again, there was a marked increase in the use of feathers (and fur) to decorate hats and other items of women’s dress. Feathers were incorporated into day and evening headdresses and hair ornaments and by mid-decade whole stuffed birds were appearing on headwear, mounted on wires and springs to convey an impression of ‘natural’ movement. 

Carte de Visite, 1865

By this time feathers might also be incorporated into items of jewellery such as earrings and corsage (bodice) ornaments, while stylish muffs were often made entirely of feathers or stuffed with eiderdown. Fans also became ultra-fashionable during the 1870s and 1880s, trimmed with a light feather edging of marabout or formed entirely of natural or dyed feathers of different varieties, including cock, pheasant and pigeon feathers. Screen-type fans were also popular in the last quarter of the century: often these were adorned with a small stuffed bird such as a tiny iridescent humming bird.

Late Victorian feather fans

The most bizarre and - some would say – repulsive trends in late-Victorian millinery occurred in the 1880s. During the latter half of the decade hat crowns grew tall, offering a generous display area for not only entire birds, perched upright or posed with wings outstretched, but, in the most extreme examples, an extraordinary array of animal and organic matter, from stuffed mice and reptiles to leaves, twigs and grass – a contrived habitat in miniature on the head.

As ladies’ hats grew wider and increasingly plate-like during the 1890s, crowns and brims were literally heaped with complex arrangements of bows, flowers and plumage – so much so that it is difficult to find an image of a fashionable late-Victorian hat that doesn’t feature feathers, wings or a whole bird.

Hunting, shooting and taxidermy

The Victorian passion for birds and feathers and apparent lack of concern about wearing dead creatures on the person went hand in hand with the popular pastimes of hunting and shooting. Many birds whose plumage, heads and bodies ended up as fashionable women’s dress ornaments were unashamedly pursued by sportsmen, who thought nothing of targeting whole colonies of birds. The art of taxidermy had also been progressing since the mid-19^th century, reaching its commercial heyday in the 1880s and 1890s – a pursuit that not only complemented hunting and shooting, but was even recommended in contemporary publications as a genteel pastime for women. 

 Chapter Illustration for 'Taxidermy' by Urbino & Day, 1884

Slaughter and carnage

Feathers and birds for use in the fashion industry, especially for millinery, fetched high prices and hunters operated all over the world. Both Paris and London were important auction centres but London was the world’s principal feather mart, one London auction record alone listing more than one million heron and egret skins sold between 1897 and 1911. Ostriches were farmed commercially from the late-1880s in South Africa, marking the beginning of a lucrative world-wide industry and introducing more humane methods of obtaining the desirable feathers, although wild ostriches (which can’t fly) were still hunted in some countries, being pursued on horseback until they dropped from exhaustion, then shot or clubbed to death. Many other birds were the victims of shockingly inhumane actions and almost unbelievable cruelty: for example, the wings of living gulls were sometimes pulled off, leaving them to die in slow agony in the sea, while young kittiwakes (a small species of ocean-going gull), whose attractive markings were especially admired, suffered a similar fate - their wings hacked off while they were still in the nest. Other fledglings were left to fend for themselves after the parent birds were thoughtlessly killed. 

Protest and early legislation

In some enlightened mid-Victorian circles there was growing concern about the wholesale destruction of native British birds for their skins and plumage, although motivation was primarily conservationist, rather than emotional, reflecting genuine fears for the future survival of certain species. Particularly worrying was the trade in ‘grebe fur’ - the skin and soft under-pelt of the breast feathers of the great crested grebe - commonly used as a fur substitute in ladies' clothing. Once the fashion for ‘grebe fur’ caught on, the superb head frill feathers of the adult grebes' breeding plumage also became highly desirable in the millinery trade. The feathers could only be taken by killing the birds and as a result the numbers of great crested grebes fell rapidly to the point where they became almost extinct in Britain and Ireland, by 1860.

A leading protestor was eminent ornithologist, Professor Alfred Newton, who campaigned especially for the protection of birds of prey and seabirds during the breeding season and was instrumental in seeing the first legislation passed in 1869 - the Sea Birds Preservation Act. This was designed to reduce the effects of shooting and egg collection during the breeding season and gave limited protection to many species including the auk, diver, eider duck, gannet, grebe, guillemot, gull, kittiwake, loon, oyster catcher, petrel, razorbill and tern. Other legislation followed, notably the Wild Birds Protection Act of 1880, but the disturbing trends continued, especially the wearing of ever more exotic feathers in ladies’ hats, which was alone responsible for the extermination of millions of egrets, birds of paradise and other rare species.

Royal Society for the Protection of Birds (RSPB)

In 1889 the embryonic Royal Society for the Protection of Birds (RSPB) was formed as a pressure group campaigning against the use of bird skins and feathers in the millinery industry. First called The Plumage League, the organisation was founded by Emily Williamson (wife of the explorer and writer, Robert Wood Williamson) at her house in Didsbury, Manchester. The rules of the newly-formed Society were straightforward:

‘That Members shall discourage the wanton destruction of Birds, and interest themselves generally in their protection 

That Lady-Members shall refrain from wearing the feathers of any bird not killed for purposes of food, the ostrich only excepted.’ (1889)

In 1891 the Didsbury group joined forces with Mrs Phillips and the ladies of the Fur and Feather League in Croydon to found the Society for the Protection of Birds. The new organisation began as it meant to continue, producing its first publications in the same year - two pamphlets and three leaflets, including W H Hudson’s ‘The Osprey, or Egrets and Aigrettes. Leaflet no 1: 

Destruction of Ornamental Plumaged Birds’.

In its earliest days the Society consisted mainly of women and, ironically, some of its staunchest supporters were exactly the kinds of high-ranking society ladies who might have been expected to wear fashionable feathers, including the Duchess of Portland, who became the Society's first President, and the Ranee of Sarawak. A number of other influential Victorians, including Professor Newton, also lent their support to the cause of the SPB, which gained widespread publicity, leading to a rapid growth in membership and a widening of its aims. 

In 1897 the Society acquired its first London offices at 326 High Holborn, with paid members of staff, and in 1898 moved to 3, Hanover Square, renting offices from the London Zoological Society. The growing influence of the SPB led Queen Victoria to confirm an Order in 1899 that certain military regiments should discontinue wearing osprey plumes. Finally, just 15 years after its foundation, the Society received a Royal Charter in 1904 from Edward VII, becoming the Royal Society for the Protection of Birds.

Hat, c. 1909 - 1912

The final ban

Despite the early success of the RSPB, the international trade in plumage continued to prosper. By 1898 the export of egret feathers from Venezuela had resulted in the killing of up to two and a half million birds, while over 41,000 humming bird skins from Central and South America were sold in London during 1911 alone. The Edwardian era produced some of the most lavish and decadent displays of feathers in dramatic hats and sinuous trailing boas, a fashionable trend that ensured the continuing endangerment of many bird species worldwide. In 1908 the Importation of Plumage (Prohibition) Bill was first introduced to Parliament: this prohibited the importation of the plumage of any bird (including skin or body of a bird with the plumage) into the United Kingdom, with the exception of the plumage of African ostriches and eider ducks. However the bill was not passed for another thirteen years, until 1921, and didn’t come into force until April 1922. By then the world had changed, fashion had moved on and ornate feathered hats and accessories were no longer in vogue.  

Many thanks to Jayne for agreeing to do this, and for the amazing pictures she sent over to accompany her article. 

If you like, you can catch Jayne every year at ‘Who Do You Think You Are, Live’ and you can visit her website at www.jayneshrimpton.com

“But Why All This Constant Change and Varying of the Fashions?” Or: Ladies Fashions in 1877:

As an addendum to last week’s ladies and fashion posts, I have added this article that I found in the periodical The Leisure Hour from June 1877. It concerns similar fashion related themes, though this article is sixteen years older than those posted last week concerning ladies fashions.

Interestingly, this article also mentions a man I have blogged about a few weeks ago, fashion pioneer Charles Worth, who, according to this article, worked at Jays Mourning Warehouse in London. (Though this is the only place I have seen that information.) 

The article deals chiefly with the way fashion in London worked, and why the ever changing tide of fashion was (and, I suppose therefore, is) a good thing.

Ladies Fashions

Changes of fashion in dress are proverbially frequent and great. My first recollection of my own mother is that of a pretty, delicately made young lady about the middle height, with black eyes, ivory complexion, and dark glossy hair, arranged on the top of her head in five or seven immense upright loops or bows, whilst over the forehead, it was arranged in French curls.

She wore a myrtle green brocaded silk dress, short enough to show the ankle and foot enclosed in white silken hose and black satin shoe. The body was cut low in the neck, but not nearly so low as evening dresses are now worn. Round the throat was a neckerchief of black net, covered with flowers worked in silk with a tambour needle, tied with studied negligence.

The huge leg-of-mutton sleeves were well stiffened out at the shoulders and tight to the wrists, where, one above another, two or three tight gold bracelets were clasped.

It needed a pretty woman to look well in such a costume, and hose were hard times for the very tall or the very stout. But even this costume was a great improvement on the dress worn some years before, specimens of which a certain old wardrobe contained, and which were sometimes lent us to play at “dressing up” and wearing “trains.” Those horrible dresses had the lowest of low bodies and the shortest of round waists. The worst of them – when the fashion had reached its height, I suppose – measured only a few inches from the neck to the waist, and the bust was fitted with the minuteness of a skin. I am sure the body did not exceed three inches in depth. The sleeves were equally short, and puffed, so as to stand out each side of the shoulders like wings. The skirts were short and gored tight to the form, measuring at the widest part barely three yards round.

The only merit they possessed was economy of material, for I remember hearing that my mamma and grandmamma each had a present of a china crepe shawl from abroad, which was either a shawl or a dress-piece., and mamma’s was made up into one of the very dresses I can remember as contained in the old wardrobe.

It was quite plain, except a row of small tabs round the neck, made of white taffetas by way of a berthe, and a very full, pinked-out rouche round the extreme edge of the skirt.

It is said that fashion always repeats itself after a lapse of years. Let us sincerely hope this very “undress” style may never come in again. A narrow scarf and long gloves were considered sufficient additions for walking abroad in mild weather. Addison relates an amusing story of his astonishment in visiting a remote country village to find the rural ladies attired in the very latest London fashions, till, on enquiring , he learnt that they had not changed their style of garments for ten years, and that the new “mode” was the revival of an old one. Apropos of this, I look up at my great-grandmother’s portrait. There she sits, good lady, a beauty in her days, in a damask robe of the new “peacock blue,” with square-cut body and Dolly Varden sleeves with their white frills, and brown hair dressed off the face, for all the world like a young lady of the present day, save for a peak to the stomacher.

Ladies’ attire has never been so artistically arranged or so generally becoming in any age as at the present day, and the ill-favoured never before had such a good time of it. She must be plain indeed who looks so now. Neither is our present style of dress costly. The universal “polonaise” tunic takes but little material, and the fashion of making the gown, or “costume,” as it is the order of the day to call it, of two materials, gives scope for doing up old dresses and utilising remnants.

Some readers may ask why the designs for ladies clothing are prettier at the present time than of yore.

Everyone knows that the fashions in dress emanate from the sister capital, the gay metropolis of “La belle France.” Worth, the great man-milliner, if he has to answer the grievous charge of tempting to ruinous extravagance, has yet, certainly inaugurated the reign of improved taste. Racking his own brains, and employing the most valuable assistance regardless of cost, to design shapes and forms in garments that shall enhance beauty and conceal its absence as much as possible, and at the same time follow out the laws of good taste, every successive effort has achieved a fresh success. The impetus once given, others have joined in the contest.

In France artists of some note are not too proud to draw the design of a garment or the pattern to be embroidered on it, and the manufacturers of articles of dress for ladies are not niggardly in making the reward worthy of their acceptance. Besides this, there are persons who obtain a good living by merely designing dresses. Amongst others, I could mention a certain Frenchman who announces his annual visit to London in a fashionable journal about February with a stock of bijouterie, false hair, and “designs for ladies’ dresses.” These designs are drawn and coloured by hand on tinted cardboard , and fetch from one to five guineas each.

He will only show two – or, at the outside, three – to a customer, and if a purchase is not made, he returns them to his portfolio, refusing to show any others, with a polite, but final “Then I have nothing which will suit you.”

But if purchased, one or two more will be brought out to tempt the customer to further outlay. These designs are most frequently sold to West end shops and high-class milliners.

But our own English people are not lax in inventing designs. Nay, it must not be forgotten that the now celebrated Worth, the guide of Parisian fashion, is an Englishman, once a member of the staff of assistants at a well known mourning warehouse in Regent Street, where they have at the present time head clerks who are employed constantly in designing new robes and mantles, and who draw well.

Some of our readers will say “But why all this constant change and varying of the fashions? Why cannot we establish one good style and keep to it? Why need women waste their money in constantly shifting the cut and custom of their garb?”

Here are three questions which need three answers.

Why this constant change?

But for this change manufacturers would grow stagnant, commerce would flag, and factory hands and needleworkers starve. Had not each woman of our community better be taxed a little in a frequent change of clothes, than half our women – and men and children too – starve? I ask those well meaning people who propose to save in clothes and give in charity, whether it is better to pay wages to working folk, or first to make, and then to feed, a race of paupers? Do not suppose that I am advocating or apologising for undue extravagance. The thrifty woman knows how to cut and turn her own and her children’s raiment. The honest woman will not spend more than she can afford; and why should the rich woman not disburse a little of her surplus wealth, and “make good for trade”?

I have yet another plea for fashion cleanliness and health. It is not goof for health to wear garments too long a time. They all imbibe, not only the impurity of the atmosphere, but some of the emanations of the body. We change our linen frequently, but the more thrifty among us make our dresses, mantles and such coloured garments as are dark and long-wearing, last a considerable time. It is well that we should not make them last too long. As long as they do not look shabby, we are tempted to overlook the question of health. Indeed, I believe it has never occurred to some minds. The cheerfulness a new garment induces is referred altogether to vanity, and the airy freshness imparted by cleanliness forgotten. So much for the part taken by purchasers and wearers of new dresses.

But the vendors of clothing and the dressmakers combine to make the changes of fashion as frequent as possible that their own trades may flourish. And in this conspiracy the ladies of rank join them. It is always the desire of women of position to wear a different style of dress from that of the populace, and this can only be achieved in these days of progress and equality by a constant succession of changes. As soon as my Lady Duchess appears in a new style, Mrs. Citizen, with the assistance of her mercer’s manufacturer, who has also been on the qui vive, has a clumsy copy of it.

No sooner is Mrs. Citizen seen in her new splendour than Betty, through the medium of a maker for the million, equally alert, is arrayed in a grotesque caricature of the thing. When I speak of a clumsy copy and grotesque caricature, I do so in no invidious spirit, with no absurd prejudice of aristocracy. It is a literal fact. The original design is almost always graceful, however peculiar it may be. The manufacturer and dressmaker of inferior capacity who copy it in inferior, and perhaps, unsuitable materials, too scantily or too amply cut, render an exaggerated caricature.

The ordinary female pedestrians of the lower-middle classes represent almost always a burlesque of the original fashion; and so as Dame Fashion gets reproached when Bad Taste should have all the blame.

“This is all very well,” says a crusty old gentleman at my elbow; “very well for an excuse. But look at your ugly fashion-plates; look at your journals for women-folk; what can you say in extenuation of them?” I reply, “There are fashion-plates and fashion-plates. You know nothing about it. In the first place, the newest and most elegant fashions are never published in fashion-plates. Our English aristocratic ladies have their dresses made by modes not yet published, and the French are in advance of them. It is not till a mode is going out of vogue with the crème de la crème in Paris that it is drawn and printed in French journals. We English are often a year behind the French, and if we have from a good source all their newest-printed fashion-plates, we should find such dresses in vogue in England just twelve months later. All our best coloured fashion-plates come from Paris, and have the name of the English journal that issues them printed on them after their arrival, or sometimes by the Parisian houses to order.

As for the smudgy, uncoloured prints we sometimes see, the best of them are stereotypes or casts from French woodcuts, badly printed. Some of the French originals of what look but ugly pictures as they are issued in England, are very beautiful and delicate in execution and graceful in appearance. The blottiness of the print seems actually to abolish the grace of the design.

But the inferior pictures of fashion, both coloured and black-and-white, are imported from Germany. The German fashions are for the most part clumsy copies from Parisian designs, and are often ugly and inelegant, as well as coarsely executed and ill-drawn. They are also much cheaper.

Many attempts have been made from time to time to produce fashion illustrations for ladies’ journals in this country, but have always failed, especially in the colouring, the class of persons employed for that purpose not possessing the same good taste as our foreign neighbours.

                                 G. C. C.

'Who is it That Does Dictate the Fashions?' Or: Some Notes on Ladies Shops

A recent Victorian Book acquisition of mine is the 1893 edition of the handbook:  “London of Today: An Illustrated Book for This Season, and for All Seasons” Which, as well as containing lots and lots of brilliant Victorian advertisements, is essentially a guidebook for the socially aware denizen or visitor to London. It offers advice on the best of theatre, opera, clubs, restaurants, attractions and shops, as well as the events of the season, and even suggestions for things to do on Sundays in London. (When, in the nineteenth century there was virtually nothing to do.)

I was delighted to find a few chapters concerning fashion, and decided to make fashion this week’s theme.

The chapter I have chosen is extremely long, so I have not reproduced it all, but selected a section from the beginning. Establishments mentioned are in bold.

Some Notes on Ladies Shops

The Quarterly Review, least flippant of all periodicals circulating in London today, condescended a few months since to devote a very learned article to the consideration of the subject of Women’s and men’s costume.

The writer founded his paper on a recently published work – originally, of course, from the French; for the French alone among nations devote time, thought and money to the writing and publishing of such books – entitled “Ten Centuries of Toilette.”

“The question of costume,” said the Quarterly, “when treated not as gossip, not as illustrating only the caprice of various times, is full of interest and instruction.”

Having, at this very moment of writing, a very bulky volume in our possession, some five-hundred pages more, or less 8vo size, full of woodcuts, entitled the “Illustrated Book of Costume,” which volume we have from time to time carefully studied, we make bold to declare our entire agreement with aforesaid paper in the Quarterly Review.

The subject is full of interest and instruction, when discussed as the writer says. But it is scarcely less so when it is regarded as mere gossip; gossip of the moment, wafted from the boudoir, the ball-room, the drawing room, club, “the Park,” “the turf,” the moors, the yachtman’s rendezvous on the Solent, and last not least from the sacred inner room of the tailor, the man-milliner, the dress-maker, the fashionable purveyor of costumes, mantles, and lingerie – of those, in a word, who dictate the fashions.

 Who is it that does dictate the fashions? Whence do they originate? I always like a few quiet minutes for pondering that deeply-interesting problem. Who is it that issues the summary decree, “it shall be ‘Frock-coats in London this year;” and behold, it is ‘Frock-coats’;

and who’s the personage that says “all women shall appear hump-backed and angular this season”; and behold all women, from a peeress to a lady’s-maid, are hump-backed and angular?

Moreover, whence emanate the innumerable fashion plates – simpering ladies of the doll-face kind, straight-limbed and tall – monthly and weekly published in the several journals devoted to the instruction and entertainment of women?

I fancy I can tell whence some few of these fashion-plates, at all events, emanate. They find their beginnings in a lady friend’s sketch-book, an artist friend, whose occasional duty is to seat herself in the stalls of a London theatre, at the first performance of a new play, and to make pencil-sketches of any striking and original lady’s costume that may take her fancy. The rough outline is later elaborated in the studio in pen and ink, and presently appears in the columns of a journal circulating among the fair sex. If the fashion “catches on,” as the vulgar saying is, a “lovely-new-dress-my-dear,” sooner or later, becomes the talk of Bayswater drawing rooms. Then Brixton copies it, then Clapham, then Peckham; and by that time the fashion is dead – played out.

When the belles of Peckham get hold of a new dress, it may be considered as good as done for as regards London.

In Mayfair and Belgravia, fashions do not originate in this haphazard way. A lady of degree goes to her dressmaker in Bond, Dover, or regent Streets. “Madame” (or “Sir”) we may suppose her saying, “I want a dress absolutely original. No one is to have its counterpart, please understand that. It is to be designed exclusively for me.” The material is to be of silk (or whatever may be decided on), and made and trimmed in such or such a style – for the Queen’s drawing room, the ballroom, the dinner or garden party, the lawn at Ascot, what not.

No haggling as to price takes place. But the costume, dress, gown or whatever it may be, must be “original,” designed exclusively for the customer. Once she has made her appearance in it in public, the “copyright” lapses, so to say. The dress, however, has served its purpose. A full, and particular description of it, with the name of the wearer appended, duly appears in the ladies journals.

In some such way as this, a new fashion is created, and the lady whose enterprise has paved the way has the satisfaction of knowing that henceforth she may claim the distinction of ranking among so-called “Leaders of Fashion.”

London being the centre of the world’s civilization, in which, as it is needless to remark, Fashion plays an important part, its Temples are very freely distributed throughout its area. Regent Street, Bond Street and Piccadilly are almost wholly given over to them; Oxford Street will be found to comprise not a few; and in most of the thoroughfares west-ward, the most conspicuous and attractive buildings are those where ladies congregate.

In Brief, the Shops for Ladies comprise no inconsiderable part of the shops in London; and if you wish to see the best of these, and the latest novelties direct from paris, go into regent Street, Bond Street, Piccadilly and Oxford Street. Go to such establishments as Messrs. Lewis & Allenby’s, in Regent Street, or Messrs. Redmayne’s, or Russel & Allen’s in Bond Street, or Messrs. Marshall & Snelgrove’s, in Oxford Street, or Messrs Debenham & Freebody’s, in Wigmore Street. A mere glance at the windows of these several establishments will suffice to assure you of the wealth of beautiful things to be found within, selected with infinite taste and care from the first factories in world: silks, satins, velvets, brocades, laces, embroideries, ribbons, flowers, shawls, etc, etc.

Lewis & Allenby (Conduit Street and Regent Street) are among the oldest established Silk Mercers of London whose reputation has run for at least fifty years.

At the western end of Conduit Street, having adjoining premises in Bond Street, the house of Redmayne & Co. may be found, likewise long and favourably known to the grand dames of the grand world. Here you may inspect all the novelties in the shape of costumes, ball, dinner, and bridesmaids’ gowns, mantles, velvets, satins, lace etc, and all other necessary complements of ladies attire.

The shop of Russell & Allen is not far away. Messrs. Marshall & Snelgrove, of Oxford Street, are another firm of first-rate repute.

As indeed, are Debenham & Freebody, of Wigmore Street, not far westward from the Langham Hotel. This is one of the most extensive establishments of its class in West-end London, not merely at retail, but wholesale; designing the mode, and manufacturing the thing designed as well. It transacts much business with personages of the “upper ten”; and a lady could hardly go to a place in London more sure of affording her the opportunity of studying the latest novelties in the way of fashions and styles of dress, whether emanating direct from Paris, or accepted as the prevailing mode in London.

Not far from Debenham’s, at No. 43 Wigmore Street, is Donegal House, the depot for Irish Industries, supervised by Mrs. Ernest Hart. It makes a speciality of Irish homespuns, poplins, hosiery, lace, napery and household linen, handkerchiefs, embroideries; and is competent to undertake the best class of work in the way of trousseaux, layettes, and ladies’ outfits for India and the Colonies. This establishment has earned quite a reputation for Irish linen-goods.

As likewise has the firm of Walpole Brothers, of 89, New Bond Street, in the manufacture of Cambrics and Damasks, Linens and such like articles of the household. They are well known as manufacturers in Belfast, with a branch house in Dublin. At either establishment you may purchase anything in the shape of Irish linens, cambric handkerchiefs, etc, of the best quality.

There are many places in London where ready and courteous attention will be found for the value of the contents of the little inner-pocket of a purse. There is Shoolbred’s, for example, in Tottenham Court Road, one of the most popular of the general retail stores of London; for mercery, drapery, millinery, dressmaking, furnishing, provisions. The premises are ever increasing, and fine statuary, old oak, and all the requirements of household decoration, are to be bought here.

There are Woolland Bros., and Harvey, Nichols, & Co. of Knightsbridge; Gorringe, of Buckingham Palace Road; Wallis & Co., of Holborn Circus; Tarn, of Newington Causeway; and of course, Whiteley, of Westbourne Grove, the principal attraction of whose establishment is its vastness.

For the privilege of moving about in this vast emporium of retail commerce, ladies will journey from the uttermost ends of London.

In High Street, Kensington, Barker; Derry & Toms; and Seaman and Little cater in the most enterprising way for the wants of society folk.

North of Hyde Park, on the east side of the Edgware Road (Nos. 150-153), a short distance from the familiar Marble Arch is the large retail establishment of Messrs. Garrould, arranged on the plan of Schoolbred’s and similar places, where every thing may be purchased in the way of ladies’ dress, millinery, silks, satins, lingerie, hosiery, bonnets, cloaks, jackets, boots, etc. and every conceivable thing for the household in the shape of furniture, china, bric-a-brac, and so forth, and withal at an outlay more moderate than commonly rules at the west-end of town.

The leading authority on Ladies’ Mourning in London is Jays, at the top of Regent Street. This is not a particularly inviting subject to comment upon. Nevertheless, let it be noted that for all the various articles of ladies’ attire comprised within the term, Jay’s exhibits all things necessary; whether in silks, satins or woollen-stuffs; whole-mourning, half-mourning, or mere complimentary-mourning; Paris or London made; robes, gowns, dresses, mantles, jackets, what-not; inclusive, of course, of crapes, ribbons, and gloves.

The Parents of Modern Fashion: Charles& Marie Worth

I know I’ve missed the boat by a few days for this post to be topical, but London Fashion Week descended upon the capital this week, and with that in mind, I decided to join in with the spirit of it all, and present something in the way of fashion here – Victorian fashion that is.

The models who have been walking down those catwalks wearing all manner of garments can all be said to descend from one woman – known as the worlds first fashion model; Marie Augestine Vernet Worth. The fashion designers and show promoters, too, can all give thanks to one man who started the industry we know and recognise today; Charles Frederick Worth.

Marie was born on 23^rd August 1825 in Clermont-Ferrand in France. As a young woman in the 1840’s she moved to Paris to find work. She was not the only one to do this; An Englishman by the name of Charles Frederick Worth, a former textile trader in London, had also moved to Paris where he found work with the prestigious upper class drapers Gagelin. This happened to be the same drapers in which one Marie Vernet Worth had recently found employment.

Marie

Charles, originally from Lincolnshire, was a few months younger than Marie, and whilst working with her had become attracted to the pretty French girl.

By 1850 he was using her as a ‘Human Mannequin’ to show off and model bonnets, shawls and other small items of clothing and accessories to the shop’s wealthy clientele. In June 1851 Charles and Marie were married, and Charles, who had always held an interest in the design of clothing, began to create simple but beautiful dresses for her, which she, with her handsome features and comely shape, modelled perfectly.

Before long, the Gagelin’s lady customers were requesting the new fashions for themselves.

With the restoration of Napoleon III in the late 1850s, Paris reclaimed its crown as the centre of European style and fashion. Charles was convinced that Gagelin should branch out into dress making but its conservative owners were not so sure. A compromise was reached whereby in 1858, Charles was able to “go solo” and set up his own shop on the Rue de la Paix with the backing of a rich Swede, Otto Bobergh.

The Shop 'Worth'

With his own shop and ideas, Charles set about creating dresses that would change the way people thought about fashion. In the early days of the shop, Marie would visit potential clients at their homes and model clothes for them. Charles’ uncanny understanding of the female shape and his unfussy and simple dresses made with rich fabrics won him many fans, including Napoleon’s wife, Empress Eugenie.

With a clientele base soon established, Marie no longer had to go out touting for business. Instead, clients visited the shop and several times a year she and several other models would put on a themed fashion show of Charles’ latest creations. These are believed to have been the first ever fashion shows that loosely resembled what we know today.

Previously in the world of upper class dress shopping, a lady approached a tailor or dressmaker with her own idea for a dress, but now they picked from the garments being modelled, which were then altered to their particular requirements.

As well as being the first fashion designer to market and sell clothes in this way, he was also the first to label his clothes with the name ‘House of Worth’.

Before long Charles and Marie’s customer list included such stars of the day as Jenny Lind, Lily Langtry, Nelly Melba and Sarah Bernhardt.

A severe bout of bronchitis ended Marie’s career in 1865, and beyond this, very little seems to be known about her. Sadly, I was unable to even find out what year she died.   

Charles Worth

Charles died in March 1895 aged 69. After his death, his and Marie’s two sons, Gaston and Jean-Philippe Worth took over the business, and in around 1910, Gaston Worth’s sons Jean-Charles and Jacques joined the company.

In 1922, Jean-Philippe's son, Jacques Worth, introduced perfumes to the business to accompany the clothes. Their most popular perfume, 'Je Reviens' (French for 'I will return'), was launched in 1932, and is still to this day one of the most famous French perfumes in ever created.

Below is a painting of the rue de la Paix – the street in Paris where the Worth’s shop was, by Jean Georges Beraud. It was painted a little after Charles dies, in 1910. You can almost envisage the glamorous ladies arriving in their horse-drawn carriages with footmen and going in to look at the fine dresses, by then being sold by Charles sons and grandsons.