Dedicated Followers of Fashion

The mini skirt in the 60s, crinolines and corsets in the Victorian era, Tudor codpieces; fashion, clothing and how we dress has a lot to say about society, its values and the way people lived. In Style & Society: Dressing the Georgians at the Queen’s Gallery in London, the curators give us an at times intimate insight into aspects of life under Georges I to IV, from 1714 to 1830.

We also discover that fashion victims are nothing new, and who better to poke fun at those 18th-century foolish yet dedicated followers of fashion than the great Georgian caricaturist Thomas Rowlandson.

Eagerly pursuing all the latest fads and trends, Rowlandson’s somewhat portly gentleman is being manhandled by two tailors into a pair of the new tight-fitting soft-leather breeches that were all the rage among pleasure-seeking individuals in the mid-1780s. A contemporary account of the fitting process on the wall caption tells us that, like all the best satire, Rowlandson’s was pretty close to the truth: “When a gentleman was in labour of a new pair of leathern breeches, all his strength was required to force himself into them…. They could not be buttoned without the help of an instrument.”

But we’ve got ahead of ourselves; Rowlandson’s print is from well into the reign of George II, and we’ve got to talk about court dresses, tottery heels, undershirts and stays before we can get back to the subject of trousers. It’s a well-stocked clothes store in the Queen’s Gallery this summer, and there are a lot of styles on the racks to admire.

And here’s your introduction to Georgian fashion: The very first picture you see takes us to St James’s Park in 1745, just a few minutes walk from where the gallery stands today.

Perhaps not all human life is there, but there’s Frederick, Prince of Wales ( just right of centre in tricorne hat, blue and red), soldiers, clerics, sailors, oriental merchants or dignitaries, a working woman serving cups of milk, even a fireman. Some are more elegantly attired than others, but they’re all wearing everyday clothing, the sort that might allow you to breast-feed your baby (front right) or have a discreet pee by a tree (middle right), irrespective of the royal presence.

When dressed for a state occasion, however….

This was the wedding of the future Prince Regent and King George IV to Caroline of Brunswick in 1795; etiquette demanded highly decorated yet outmoded styles. The wide skirt over a hoop petticoat worn by Queen Charlotte, seated on the right, would have been fashionable half a century earlier.

Next to this painting by John Graham, a card with 11 different swatches of fabrics worn at the event gives an indication of just how magnificent those gowns must have looked. Metal threads woven into the fabrics in the roughly 2-centimetre samples catch the light as you look from different angles, giving an impression of how the dresses must have glittered in the flickering of the candles and with the wearers’ movements.

A little later on in the show, we see exactly in three dimensions how the female followers of court fashion had to suffer to shimmer. This exquisite, ornate and extravagant mantua dress from the middle of the 18th century with its embroidery and lace looks beautiful.

Not only does it display your status, it demonstrates your respect for the royal family, but how on earth did you manoeuvre your way around the palace in a skirt with a hooped structure that was broad across but so narrow from front to back? Doorways at court were wide, but all a woman could do would be to take tiny steps in her matching high-heeled shoes. And you did have to go through other doors sideways….

Luckily, fashion moved on, and ladies slipped into something a little more comfortable, if no less sparkling, for special occasions.

Princess Charlotte’s wedding dress from 1816, made of silk, satin, silk net and metal thread, followed the tradition across Europe for royal brides to wear silver.

While these special-occasion outfits had a real wow factor, we found it no less surprising to learn that Georgians changed their underwear daily, very important in protecting those expensive outer garments from sweat and body odour.

Although linen shifts and shirts, able to withstand repeated washing, were worn next to the skin, they can be seen peeping out around the neckline in contemporary portraits. On show is just such a shirt from 1810 worn by George III, complete with monogram and crown.

Who better to do this cleaning in elite households than your professional “landry” woman, who clearly knew a trick or two to keep things in good order. Mrs Grosvenor, we are told, would squeeze a bag of blue dye into the wooden tub of water to counteract the natural yellowing of linen over time.

Over the top of the shift, women wore stays to shape the figure and provide support for the bust. They were made of fabric stiffened with narrow strips of baleen, cartilage from the mouth of a whale. In the example on show, the tiny stitches in rows holding this reinforcement in place are so uniform and neat you would think they were made by machine rather than hand. No less incredible is the handmade intricate lace on display, of the sort that features in many of the portraits; one full-time lacemaker working 15 hours a day on lappets (the two strips that hang down from the front of a bonnet on a lady’s shoulders) might produce approximately half a metre a year.

The clothes of wealthy children were equally elaborate. At the start of the Georgian era, children past infancy were essentially dressed in small versions of adult clothing, but in the 18th century attitudes towards childhood changed, and new styles were introduced that gave children room to move and play.

Here’s Prince Octavius in 1782, in a skeleton suit, a pair of ankle-length trousers buttoned to a matching jacket. It was probably made of hard-wearing cotton. The very small prince has got a very large sword that doesn’t fit inside the frame of this picture by Benjamin West. Sadly, Octavius died in 1783, aged just four years and two months.

Trousers, though, were soon to break through for adults. No more squeezing into breeches for Lord Byron and his manservant at the start of the 19th century.

Of course, sailors had traditionally worn wide-legged trousers, and the working man wore a neckerchief as well. A bit of dressing down going on here.

But not for George IV, the king of bling, a man who, we learn, ordered 24 waistcoats in one go.

One section of this extensive show is devoted to military uniforms, and it’s frankly no surprise that the Prince of Wales, despite being forbidden by his father from active service, wanted to dress up in army scarlet. In a composite uniform here, perhaps of his own design, that belongs to no regiment, with elaborate gold lace decoration. When his father renamed the 10th Light Dragoons as The Prince of Wales’s Own, the younger George redesigned the uniform from scarlet to a distinctive shade of blue with mustard yellow facings. The glamorous attire attracted fashionable young gentlemen to the regiment, including Beau Brummell.

It would be easy to spend three hours in this show; you should definitely allow yourself two. We haven’t even mentioned the sections on wigs and hairstyling, jewellery, clothes shopping or foreign influences on fashions. And even if your breeches or stays are on the tight side, make sure you’re fed and watered beforehand; there are no refreshments inside the Queen’s Gallery.

Practicalities

Style & Society: Dressing the Georgians continues at the Queen’s Gallery in London until October 8. The gallery is open Thursdays to Mondays from 1000 to 1730. Full-price tickets cost £17 including the audioguide and are best booked in advance, which you can do here. Tickets can be converted into passes giving free readmission to the gallery, including subsequent exhibitions, for a year. The venue is located right next to Buckingham Palace and less than 10 minutes’ walk from Victoria Station with its London Underground and main-line rail services.

Images

Thomas Rowlandson (1757-1827), New Invented Elastic Breeches, 1784, Royal Collection Trust/© His Majesty King Charles III 2023
British School, St James’s Park and the Mall, c. 1745, Royal Collection Trust/© His Majesty King Charles III 2023
John Graham (1754-1817), The Marriage of George, Prince of Wales, 1795, Royal Collection Trust/© His Majesty King Charles III 2023
British Court dress (gown, petticoat, stomacher and shoes), c.1740–60. © Fashion Museum Bath
Wedding dress worn by Princess Charlotte of Wales, 1816, Royal Collection Trust/© His Majesty King Charles III 2023
Benjamin West (1738-1820), Prince Octavius, 1782, Royal Collection Trust/© His Majesty King Charles III 2023
George Sanders (1774-1846), George Gordon, 6th Lord Byron, c. 1807-08, Royal Collection Trust/© His Majesty King Charles III 2023
Mather Byles Brown (1761-1831), George IV when Prince of Wales, 1789, Royal Collection Trust/© His Majesty King Charles III 2023

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