1895 Outfit: Period Methods To Add Skirt Fullness: Part 2B: Petticoats Redux

Updated August 28, 2021 to add additional information

Goodness gracious, the set of posts about 1890s skirt fullness, of which this is another installment, has gone on for nearly a year. It's getting ridiculous. I mean, really, do we need two posts, 2A and now 2B, about petticoats? Yes: there is quite a lot of information in magazines and newspapers that fills out the picture of the myriad ways petticoats could be designed to give the desired silhouette.

Petticoat Circumference

Since publishing 1895 Outfit: Period Methods To Add Skirt Fullness, Part 2, Petticoats with Crinoline, Ties, Bones, Wires!, I have been bothered by questions about petticoat hem circumference and how it could make my skirt look fluffy or flat, and until recently, I hadn't found this:

Petticoat pattern with front and back views...and circumference! 

The Delineator, March 1895, p. 337

 

Still outstanding too were questions about appropriate petticoat fabrics that I can actually obtain today. Also, I wanted to know more about constructing those so-tempting petticoats loaded with boning or wire at the bottom. Fashion writers were careful not to utter the word "hoopskirt" or "crinoline", and I daresay they were smart not to do so. Less than a decade previously you might carry a half-grown kitten on your bustled derriere and not know it. I don't think women were really ready for a full-on return of wires in their underthings.

What? There's a kitty getting a ride? Where?

And no, this is clearly not an 1890s outfit,

but a first, unfinished experiment in the 1870s.

Darling kitten courtesy

Leijurv - Own work, CC BY-SA 4.0, 

https://commons.

wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=90553702

Wait, really? A kitty riding on top of your bustle? I imagined that image, but decided to look it up, because that's what we do these days when we're homebound, and it happened, sort of... Read about Feline Dress Improvers: The Victorian Fashion in Bustle Baskets for Cats on Mimi Matthews' site. It's too funny!

Back to mid-1890s petticoats. Back I went into available literature and pictures of extant petticoats. Therefore, in this post we look at two period petticoat patterns for hem circumference and design information, then mine 1895 newspaper articles for more ideas on how to make petticoats stand out. In between we talk fabrics. Then let's be done; I just want to make the petticoats already!

Two 1895 Petticoat Patterns Address the Problem of Flaring the Skirt Bottom

Petticoat circumference issues have been driving me nuts. We know that heavy linings and interlinings, wires, bones up the seams, and cording held out heavy skirts, making them quite heavy. Just look at this dress from Live Auctioneers.

Front of 1890s brocade skirt and-petticoat, from Liveauctioneers

Side view. Such back amplitude!

The petticoat, from what appears to be a side-back angle. 

Notice that it's cut more narrowly. I wonder if they

stuffed it to make it look so stiff...or if part of it

contains wires?

Such a heavy skirt did not need petticoats that were roughly the skirt circumference to hold them out. So we don't read oodles and oodles about exactly what petticoat hem circumferences should be. I did find a mention in the Evening Star (July 13, 1895, p. 15), saying "The petticoat should be only moderately full, two yards and a half is ample width for a medium-size woman, and three yards and a half of embroidery, a big allowance for a ruffle, no matter how wide." Advice like this tended to change over time, however. For example, by 1896 fashionable petticoats had a larger hem circumference.

Other writers appear to say something quite different. Here is the Ladies Home Journal writer Isobel Mallon's advice:

Except for a greater fullness the petticoats are cut almost exactly like the dress skirt. Lawn or cambric is used for them, although when thin white dresses are worn petticoats of dotted muslin are chosen, and being light tend to make the whole costume very cool and pleasant. The skirt of lawn with three ruffles, having upon them a group of tucks on each side of the lace insertion, and then below that a lace edge, is one that can endure much soap and water, and, not being over-trimmed, is good form. The fancy for setting lace in the skirt itself no longer obtains, and if anything, the trimming, which is all put on by hand, is simpler than ever before. A ribbon belt is usually drawn through a casing at the top, so that one may have one's skirt belt as loose or as tight as may be agreeable, and then, too, the doing away with the old close belt, to which the skirt was gathered, makes it much easier to iron the petticoat itself. ("Dainty Styles in Lingerie", by Isobel Mallon, Ladies Home Journal, August, 1894, p. 23.)

I simply don't understand the "except for a greater fullness" part. Should I pull out my skirt pattern

(TV 291), and cut it a bit fuller to make a petticoat, or is it the dress skirt that is cut fuller? What are my design options? 

Well, I finally have located two petticoat patterns with circumference information, and two different ways of handling a fullness, especially on the all-important backside.

A Haircloth or Moreen or Sateen, Etc. Godet Petticoat

Here's the first pattern, dating to January, 1895. Do you see the pencil marking 3 1/4 yards? Whomever owned this Delineator issue was concerned about petticoat circumference too, for that's the actual circumference of the petticoat. It's actually not a super-flaring petticoat. Not surprising: fashion would decree much more flare later in 1895 and 1896.

The Delineator, Jan 1895 pp. 58-59

First part of the description

The Delineator, Jan 1895, text pp. 58-59

Second part of the description

The Delineator, Jan 1895, text pp. 58-59

This godet plait design wouldn't work for Isobel Mallon's recommended summer petticoats of lawn or muslin or dotted muslin. None of those thin, soft fabrics will hold an organ pleat. Instead, the pattern description recommends moreen (more on which later) or silk. The moreen has good body and the silk some body.

The pattern description also suggests the seamstress make it in haircloth. An outer petticoat could be put over it, as haircloth isn't exactly prepossessing. Then it would take the place of a heavy interlining in the skirt itself. We read about haircloth a good bit in previous posts. Now that we can see a pattern of a petticoat that uses it, it makes a great deal of sense. However, you can also intuitively that such a petticoat would be warm to wear in the summertime, especially in humidity.

A Lighter Petticoat in Taffeta, Muslin, Etc.

What of petticoat pattern option two? This one is a little more flared at bottom, at 3 1/2 yards in circumference. While it is designed to be made of taffeta, and would be very pretty indeed with its pinked ruffles, this one can be made in muslin or lawn, just as Isobel Mallon recommends for summer wear, if a little starch was applied to the ruffles. Remember from the last petticoat post that lots of starch was frowned upon.) In very thin fabrics the bunching of the gathers would not create a large foot flare, even if multiple were worn, but as the pattern description claims, in a taffeta it would offer some fullness and flare. Silk is hot to wear in the summer, though; be advised!

The Delineator, Mar 1895, p.337

The Delineator, Mar 1895, p.336

Do note the waistline finish on this petticoat: it's smooth, no waistband! Instead, it relies on an interior facing (in the text labeled an "underfacing") to "avoid the need of a placket". They might also have written that such a facing would present a smooth finish, with no potential for poofing at the front or sides due to a narrow waistband, and that a facing, being wider, distributes the weight of the petticoat more across the body.

If I were to use this pattern in lawn for enough petticoat-ery to add real flare, I'd need two or three! Speaking of flare...

Aside: New Information About Skirt Fullness and Flare In Unlined Outer Skirts -- Not Every Skirt Flared

How much skirt flare do I want? I've recently discovered that some people felt that a flaring silhouette in a plain cotton "wash" dress, like the one I have made, wasn't good form, and that some illustrated summer dresses are narrow indeed, while there's a lovely extant with what looks like plenty of flare. I've edited the Period Methods to Add Skirt Fullness, Part 1: Fullness and Flare post with the new information.

Yet Another Look at a Widely Flared Petticoat: No Godets This Time

For research's sake, I'd like to introduce you to another petticoat sans waistband at top, and also sans godet plaits, that relies on cut, drawstring, and flounce to set the silhouette. The description shows that this pattern was designed to use fabrics with some body to them and that it was considered "dressy".  This pattern is also from the prolific Delineator Magazine, this time in June 1896. We'll let the magazine speak for itself again:

Ladies' Gored Petticoat-Skirt, With Ruffle-Bordered, Bias Spanish Flounce Forming the Lower Part

No. 8392. Taffeta silk was chosen for making this dressy petticoat-skirt, which, because of its deep flounce, retains the stylish flare at the foot without unnecessary width at the waist. The skirt consists of a front-gore, two gores at each side and a back-breadth. It is fitted smoothly at the top of the front and sides by darts and the skirt is lengthened by a bias flounce, the upper edge of which is turned under and shirred on a cord. To the lower edge of the flounce is sewed a narrow, bias ruffle that holds the skirt out well from the figure and forms a dainty finish. The flounce is ornamented by a deep, bias trimming flounce that is turned under at the top to form a self-heading and shirred on cords at the top and hemmed narrowly at the bottom; the trimming flounce is decorated with two silk ruchings, the whole arrangement increasing the flaring effect and making quite an elaborate foot-trimming. The top of the petticoat is finished with an under-facing, which forms a casing for tapes that are tacked back of the darts in the side-gores and drawn out through openings made at the center of the back, thus regulating the fullness about the waist and avoiding the need of a placket. The lower edge of the petticoat-skirt measures three yards and a fourth round in the medium sizes.

Silk, sateen, mohair and alpaca will be appropriate for petticoats of this style, and ribbon, beading, insertion and lace edging may be chosen for decoration.

We have pattern No. 8392 in nine sizes for ladies from twenty to thirty-six inches, waist measure. To make the petticoat-skirt with the trimming flounce for a lady of medium size, will need twelve yards of material twenty inches side, or eight yards and an eighth twenty-seven inches wide, or seven yards and a fourth thirty-six inches wide. The petticoat-skirt without the rimming flounce requires seven yards and five-eights twenty inches wide, or five yards and three-fourths twenty-seven inches wide, or four yards and three-fourths thirty-six inches wide. Price of pattern, 1s. or 25 cents.

Delineator 8392, June 1896, front

Delineator 8392, June 1896, back, and showing
alternative, highly decorative fabric

Delineator 8392, June 1896, plain version

N.B. Source: Internet Archive Wayback Machine copy of defunct Dressmaking Research site: https://web.archive.org/web/20160614084019/http:/dressmakingresearch.com/1890s_under_dress.htm. Ordinarily I would not pull such a large section of text and images straight from another site, but this HTML page was defunct, and was itself a direct copy of the original Delineator content.

About the Spanish flounce:  Home Dressmaking Made Easy (1896, p.59), defines the Spanish flounce as "A flounce extending fully half the depth of the skirt, gathered usually to form an erect ruffle." We will hear about it again in the section about newspaper articles, below: it appears to have been quite popular.

This particular passage shows us just how fabric-eating these petticoats could be.

Newspaper Evidence: More Ideas for Designing a Petticoat That Stands Out

Last go-round I dug around in women's magazines, but left the newspapers alone. I shouldn't have. The then-called women's pages (!) tended to cover all things fashion, as well as housekeeping and society doings. There is actually a good deal of petticoat talk, stashed among the doings of society women and beauty secrets and calisthenics, and advertisements for Dr. Price's Cream Baking Powder.

Let's see, we have illustrated calisthenics...now I like that. We'll skip the "Dress for Elderly

Ladies", for they'd assign me to that category without comment. There's "A Pen Picture of Rome" from a correspondent, a whipcord suit, and, bingo! a bit about a short lawn petticoat. Where this is, there's more.

Kansas City Daily Journal. June 09, 1895, Page 10

I've gathered for you a nice collection of newspaper clippings from January through October, 1895. There are tons of them, and it's common to see the same article and photos syndicated in multiple newspapers, while content from other magazines and newspapers is quoted or referenced in the texts.

Springy Alpaca Petticoats Are Compelled to Stand Out...and So Are Their Corded Ruffles

The Salt Lake Herald reported that for warmer weather, alpaca "skirting" fabric had a stiffness that made it stand out to hold "expansive dress skirts".

The Salt Lake Herald, May 24,1895, p. 5

Alpaca fabric that I know has lots of amazing drape but no stiffness, so this must have had some sort of treatment added to it. Perhaps it was a bit felted. Alpaca is hard to felt because the hairs lack the rough edges that wool has, but it can be done. Today, I don't believe we have this sort of fabric. On to the next article.

Hidden in the text is another excellent fluff-making trick: "The ruffles, which for a portion of the decoration of every petticoat, are usually more or less corded". Corded ruffles! Why yes, those will stick out nicely. File that one in your memory.

Petticoats Made Stiff With Embroidery

The Evening Star reported in June that petticoats can be stiffened with large amounts of embroidery.

/

Evening Star, July 13, 1895, p. 15

A few embroidered petticoats are in museum collections, so we have independent confirmation of their existence. It could be possible to use machine embroidery to embellish a truly gorgeous petticoat, but this would be a massive project. Sewstine has videos about the process, and it's time-consuming. You might also think about using one of the new embroidered home décor fabrics; not all of them are heavy; but it might be tricky to get the right sort of design.

The article talks at length of how ornate petticoats tend to be, with lace, ruffles, flounces, embroidery, and ribbons, especially in comparison to dress skirts themselves, which in this year frequently were entirely plain.

Pragmatic: Removable Flounces Make One Petticoat Good For Two Purposes

One could make a single petticoat do double duty. Use it plain for a daytime or work dress outfit, and button a pretty muslin and lace flounce to add fullness and luxe to afternoon or evening dress, which generally have more amplitude. This makes really good sense for costumers, as so many of us do not have the wherewithal in time or finances to accumulate too many petticoats.

The Norfolk Virginian, May 26, 1895, p. 13

Petticoats Themselves Stiffened Partway Up

Here's another useful tidbit. Why not stiffen the underneath of your silk or alpaca petticoat? Well, why not? "(L)iberally trimmed", as The Stark County Democrat has it, no one is going to notice. The flounce will hide the business part. Hair cloth would be a period lining, with strong interfacing a modern interpretation, and of course wires or cords would be natural features. 

The Stark County Democrat, July 18, 1895, Part Two, p. 9

The Ballet Skirt

Quinn, if you happen to read this post, the next clipping is for you. It tells women about the fashion for especially "fussy" frilly petticoats that they can create to make a divided skirt for dancing.

Evening Dispatch, June 3,1895

Newspaper Articles That Confirm What We Learned Last Fall

Then there were articles that quoted magazine articles we already learned about in the petticoat post last fall, or that talked about methods for distending skirts that magazines also covered.

Brocaded Silk Petticoats With Generous Flounce, Featherbone Hidden Beneath -- and Perfumed

The Louisiana Democrat article about ornate petticoats was lots of fun. It reminds me of Quinn's gorgeous 1890s petticoat with loads of lace.

Louisiana Democrat, with content pulled from

The Chicago Tribune

Metropolitan Museum of Art,

2009.300.3014.

Remember this Met petticoat? Look carefully, it has the rosettes the article talks about.

Then there is the boning mentioned: "frequently a featherbone inserted around the hem". Featherbone was a popular boning product made from turkey quills by the Warren Featherbone Company. Here then is another mention of the helping hoop, if you can call it that, that Isobel Mallon et al spoke of! More confirmation that this is a thing, a fashion movement, if not ubiquitous.

Why, here featherbone is mentioned again, in the Evening Star article quoted above, "To make these skirts yet stiffer, white featherbone is stitched, three or four rows, into the hem under the narrow ruffle. It launders well." By the narrow ruffle is meant "a great many [petticoats] are made with a very full narrow ruffle of embroidery at the foot...." (Evening Star July 13, 1895, p. 15)

It's worthwhile to note that Warren's Featherbone was fabric-covered and thicker than Warren's Skirt Bone, which may have come out in late 1895, if an ad for it may be believed. 

I would think that the boning the writer discusses would be hidden by a flounce or ruffling, especially because all of the examples mention them, but it bothers me that the article doesn't say it explicitly.

What also is not clear is what shape the petticoat carries. Is it round due to the featherbone? Does it have godets? Somehow I think not the latter, if pictures of petticoats are any guide.  

The Moreen Petticoat With Hair-Cloth Frillings, Again

The Salt Lake Journal draws on Isobel Mallon's Ladies Home Journal advice that we read of in the last post about petticoats. However, this article highlights several bits of important information:

Moreen is used for one of my favorite summer petticoat designs, the LHJ model, the one with the triple haircloth box-pleated frills, in the picture below. Moreen at the turn of the 20th century turns out to be a midweight or heavy wool or wool-cotton fabric, usually ribbed, that's treated with heat and moisture to give it a watered silk effect. (This makes sense to me: when pressed under heat, wool will take on a sheen, and the tendency to felt will be controlled by the cotton content.)

Moreen is pretty, something that neither the Salt Lake Journal nor the LHJ picture show, so the petticoat wouldn't look plain at all, the wool and cotton don't have to be terribly hot, and it's a lot less hot and scratchy than a petticoat entirely made of haircloth.

Petticoat with haircloth box pleatings. 

Ladies Home Journal, July 1895, p.25

Alas, when real moreen is available at all, it seems to be a heavy type, sold expensively for upholstery, and finding enough of it vintage would be a real coup. Still, it's clear that the petticoat with the box-pleated haircloth is made of a thickish material, that already has some body. A cotton faille, which is ribbed, might work, a woven pique, or even a cotton ticking. Too thin a fabric and those pretty hair-cloth box pleats would have a hard time doing much.

I wouldn't recommend using synthetic moire fabric to imitate the moreen. It's going to be hot as blazes, unless your summers are usually cool.

The article also rather makes me feel better about my limited petticoat budget. Elaborate petticoats were always expensive, and we knew that. Still, it's nice to be told again that our plain costumer's petticoats are perfectly fine, and that confections still come at a price.

Finally, if you were interested in a short petticoat instead of a long one under your skirt, go ahead, costumer, here's how right in the article, below.

The Salt Lake Herald, June 9, 1895, p. 5

If you look carefully, you can see that the newspaper has adapted

the LHJ drawing f

The Salt Lake Herald, June 9, 1895, p. 5

The above image goes with the article above.

Have you had enough of petticoats for one sitting? I confess that I am worn out by all the options and constant mulling, figuring, and refiguring out how I want to adapt them for one or two of my own 1890s petticoats. That's what is supposed to be the topic of the next post, anyway...how I took everything I learned and put together my own interpretations. 

You never know, though. This blog is full of side trips. I have a half written post showing two 1880s wire bustles from my collection in fine detail and with measurements.

In Other News

This year is an Annus Horribilis for our world. For a minute or two I thought I could broach a discussion of local events and how they are related to what is happening across the planet. I can't. Not now. All I can do is wish you all health and safety and secure work, and hope.

(August 28, 2021) Here it is a year later and the Annus Horribilis of 2020 has morphed into Annos Horribilis -- in the plural. I've taken to calling this period the plague years. In contrast to the period from March 2020-March 2021, when we simply all stayed at home, in August 2021 my husband and boys are out and about and vaccinated while the Delta variant rampages and fills our hospitals and cases appear within a degree of separation. I am once again at home, though, on recommendation of the transplant clinic, and life follows a narrow round, while across the planet countless are suffering.

A Real, Extant, mid-1890s Crush Collar

Etsy, oh Etsy, what a treasure box you are. A Pandora's box, too, on occasion, but definitely a treasure box. Sometimes I do extant costume research by searching through the listings, and sometimes extant pieces turn up unexpectedly. A crush collar did turn up recently, and boy, was I pleased to see it. 

Here it is.

Extant crush collar, from SirenCall on Etsy.

Last fall -- last fall! Has it been that long? -- I made a crush collar with one of those super-popular neck bows, following the instructions from a number of women's magazines. It turned out decently, given the plain cotton voile from which it was made.

My own crush collar, made last fall

However, I found the front closure a little heavy-looking. Examining the photo I made while wearing it, part of the issue is that it needs more hooks and eyes, it might be a trifle wide, and it was cut from a straight piece of fabric, not from a curved piece, which would hug the neck better.

I'd like to make another collar at some point, this time with rosettes, rather like the extant collar, and cut like it, too. In the meantime, let's learn what we can about the nature and construction of the extant collar.

Anatomy of a Collar

The collar, says its Etsy listing, is 14 inches long. Its width varies from 2 inches high at the ends to 2 1/4 inches at the center. We don't know how the width is measured: is it based on the width of the backing, or the slightly variable width of the fashion fabric, which has been puffed into a crushed look on the front? I don't know if the 1/4" change is really visible at all.

I made a pattern based on the measurements from a scrap of paper, but without adding a curve to the cut, and tried it on. The extant collar would be about half an inch too small. However, it has a pleasing width. I compared it to a collar from July 15, 1894 issue of Illustrierte Frauen-Zeitung (p.159), which I featured in About Interchangeable Trims, and Especially Collars. The extant collar is a little narrower than that one.

Here is the paper version of the extant collar.

A paper version of the extant collar. Oh, knit those brows...

In the mid-1890s, a collar like this one often featured the rosettes to either side of the neck, although there is a small chance that the rosettes were worn front and back. Here are several examples of collars with trims to the side: they were quite the thing in the middle of the decade.

Demorest's Mirror of Fashions, May 1895

Demorest's Mirror of Fashions, July 1895, p. 543

Illustrierte Frauen-Zeitung, July 1895

The young lady in pink to the far left wears a collar with rosettes to the left. Also note the lady at center, with bi-colored very fluffy rosettes all around her neck.

I wanted to see if I could determine if this collar would be worn with the rosettes to the side. I set up a Google slide, and inserted the Etsy photo of the collar from the back. Knowing the collar was two inches across, I drew a line from top to bottom of the collar. Then I copied the line, which became a sort of 2" long ruler, rotated it until it was parallel to the ends of the collar, and set a copy next to the little pile of wide stitching at the end of the collar, and then again twice from the collar's right end to the little pile of wide stitches marking the other rosette.

Finally, I transferred the markings to my paper collar, and tried it on. Well, given that the collar is a bit small, it's still a bit hard to tell, but the rosette positioning does seem to work better when they are set to either side of the neck. The collar would be much easier to attach and detach that way, anyhow.

Let's look at  several more pictures.

Here is a rosette. It's rather smashed down, and I believe it would have been fluffier,

if not as rounded as in some of the illustrations.

Here is the left end of the collar. The end of the hook has been nicely hidden beneath

the edge of the lining, which is made of what looks like a silk rep, cut on the bias. Bias cutting

will result in a more clinging fit. That little pile of wide stitches? That's where one of the rosettes is tacked on.

The entire back of the collar. As with the hooks, the ends of the eyes are hidden

behind the lining. You can see the wide stitches to the right of center, marking the position of

the second rosette. Notice that the fashion fabric is overhand-stitched to the lining in rather large,

spaced stitches.

A detail of the front fashion fabric. It appears to be silk in a loose weave and perhaps with not too tightly twisted individual threads, hence the high shine. It is cut on the bias, and appears to have a bit 

of a crepe-like texture, that has flattened over time in some areas.

The end rosette. Again, I think it was a little fuller when first made. Look at how wide and

slightly random the folds in the fabric are that create the "crush" look, and how we 

cannot see where the tacking stitches are.

I find this last image very, very interesting, when taken in combination with the view of the lining. The lining doesn't show any tacking stitches from the folds of the fashion fabric. I suspect, then, that the construction is as follows. The fashion fabric piece, a very wide rectangle cut on the bias, was laid on a table, front side down. The worker pinched lush folds, some of them on an angle, and made tacking stitches where the folds joined up. She may have had the pattern template or the lining nearby so she could get the dimensions correct -- remember that the pattern itself is curved, not a straight band. She may have doubled the fabric into a tube, or just turned the edges of the sides and ends inward. Once the folds were in place, she overhanded the piece to the lining, which had already been finished and the hooks and eyes attached to it. She may have very lightly pressed the front so that the folds weren't overly puffy, but not flattened. She then attached the rosettes she had made. Voila - collar.

Today I leave you with a little silliness to brighten up a pandemic-beleaguered world. Our table in the den has a tail...

Nutmeg kitty thought she was well hidden.

1895 Outfit: Period Methods To Add Skirt Fullness, Part 5, Steels, Rattan, Candlewicking, and Dust Ruffles

Edited September 29, 2020

At this point in the article series, it's very apparent that designers and dressmakers, and ordinary women came up with all kinds of ways to achieve the sartorial -- skirtorial? -- ideal of plenty of base amplitude and an undulating, lush skirt back, while retaining a smooth waist and front. 

Here is what we have covered so far. 

• Part 1, Fullness and Flare
• Part 2A, Petticoats with Crinoline, Ties, Bones, Wires!
• Part 2B: Petticoats Redux 
• Part 3, Skirt Interlinings
• Part 4, Skirt Godet Plaits and Interior Ties
• Part 5, Steels, Rattan, Candlewicking, and Dust Ruffles 
• A tour of an underskirt with godets held in place, lots of stiffening, and velvet(een) serving as brush braid: A Real 1890s Underskirt With Multiple Stiffening Aids
• A tour of a heavy, lined, faced, and brush-braided 1890s skirt: An Antique 1890s Black Skirt With Brush Braid In My Collection.
• If you're interested in the project's entirety, please see 1890s: Costumes, Research, Documentation. 

If you thought that surely we'd have covered all the bases, guess again: there is yet more. Some of the these last methods to widen the bottom of the skirt were, I am thinking, for the most determined of fashion followers. Most of the methods involved additions to the exterior skirt, not a petticoat.

Using "Steels" Around the Bottom of Outer Skirts

The first mention I have read of the use of steel in outer skirts appears in Demorest's Family Magazine for December 1894, (p. 121).

"Some skirts have a narrow and very flexible steel sewed all around the bottom; but better than this to secure slight stiffness is a thick cord of candle-wicking covered with velvet or satin to harmonize with the gown. This is seen on many gowns, and is a popular finish this winter."

By "very flexible" I the author meant that the steel would have been more pliable than that used for crinolines, bustles, and corset and bodice boning in previous decades. Why do I know? Because I found some.

The reel says the Featherbone Skirtbone is made from quills. What do they mean? Treated turkey quills, actually.

Warren's Featherbone, from Annie's Antiques on
Etsy.

View of the Warren's Featherbone Skirtbone itself. It's wrapped in thread.

Just because it's wound on a reel doesn't mean it's terribly flexible, but it is. Here's my post about it, Examining an Antique Length of Warren's "Skirtbone", Boning For the Hems of Mid-1890s Skirts.

Skirt boning came also as wire, and it was called such. It was not likely crinoline steel covered with a layer of braided cotton that was used in an antique bustle in my collection. That sort of steel bends, but would definitely not undulate at the bottom of a skirt.

Three rows of bustle steel wire, which is flat, covered in braided cotton, 

from a bustle in my antique clothing collection.

By the way, you might want to know that this thread-covered steel, which is about 3/16" in width, is still available in a similar form to that used in the 19th century. It's used for making tutus, and is very expensive for amounts needed for a bustle or crinoline. Check Farthingale's for what they call "crin steel". 

In May, Mrs. Hooper, in The Ladies Home Journal, remarked again upon using steel bands to hold out the outer skirts (p. 24):

Well, what about that? A "tiny band of flexible steel covered with webbing". Might this be a flexible wire covered with a flat tape? Cotton and linen tapes -- the wider ones -- are sometimes known as webbing, in my anecdotal experience.

Now, to our Demorest's Magazine writer, the "humps and bumps" despiser of interlinings is not much pleased with wires, either:

Demorest's Magazine, May 1895, p. 420.

She goes on:

Demorest's Magazine, May 1895, p. 420.

So, sensible sisters, if you do not want interlinings and want stiff amplitude, it's heavy brocades and tweeds and cotton ducks for you! Or so the writer thought.

In the end, I did find detailed information about the nature of these wires, as well as what I believe to be a decent wire analog for use today. See my post Trials With Forms of Boning, Cables, Reed, Rope, and Steel.

Steels Up the Skirt Sides

In the March 1895 issue of The Ladies Home Journal, "The Gowns of Spring" article on p. 10. has quite a bit to say about steels used in the outer skirts, but the steels are going perpendicular.

"The godet skirt will remain in vogue, and the fashionable modistes are inserting steels that reach up almost to the knee, setting them in the seams lengthwise to cause it to flare."

Oh, my goodness. Bodice-style bones in the skirts. That is what Mrs. Mallon is saying, isn't it? "[L]engthwise in a seam" means following the seam..."up almost to the knee". The seams are vertical, and Mrs. Mallon knows the difference between a skirt hem and the seams between skirt panels. Am I reading this incorrectly? 

Isobel Mallon describes an indoor dress that employs the steels:

"An extremely pretty dress, intended for wear in the house, and which has a bodice differing from its skirt, is shown in Illustration No. 2. The skirt is light-weight summer silk, the background being pale green, while sprays of wild roses and their deep green foliage are scattered upon it here and there. The skirt is lined and steeled so that it has the usual fashionable flare, and its only trimming is that which is arranged at each of the two side seams. This consists of to straps of three-inch green velvet ribbon which start at the edge of each side of the seam, are brought up almost to the knees, where the two ends meet in a long looped bow."

The Ladies Home Journal, March 1895, p. 19

Interesting...the velvet would cover the seams where the steels might most be noticed.

If you're brave, why not try it? I might just. I have a box of narrow antique steel bones, very light and probably for boning bodices. What if I set a few into the seams of my 1890s skirt and see what happens? It's not like it's difficult to do. 

Using Candlewicking On Outer Skirts As Part of the Trim or Hem Binding

Now this I find very interesting. It reminds me of cording petticoats in the 1830s and 1840s. We know that helps them to stand out.

Demorest's wrote about using candlewicking to stiffen skirts repeatedly. This was probably because the writer  -- whose name I cannot locate in the issues -- preferred more moderate styles that would assuredly not stand out around the bottom in the way a wired skirt would. 

Demorest's December 1894, p. 121, recommended a thick cord of candlewicking covered in velvet or satin to go with the skirt, just a few paragraphs after deriding the humps and bumps of interlining.

In this usage, the covered candlewicking cord becomes part of the gown's trim on the skirt exterior, while also helping to hold out the skirt. Remember that she specifies thick cord.

Skirt trim for which one might employ candlewicking covered with velvet.

Mildred has found her companion, Grace, missing in the serialized novel "Our Working Sisters". Demorest's, May 1895, p. 397.

March 1895 Demorest's, p. 299: tells how to lay the candlewicking when it's used as part of the binding at the bottom of the skirt:

"Bright, changeable taffetas are the first choice for linings; thus a mixed cheviot of black, white, and green is lined with green-and-rose taffeta...the fashion is not so extravagant as formerly. The binding should be of velveteen, and it is better to buy the piece goods and cut it at least two inches wide on the bias. It may form a cord on the bottom, filled with candlewicking, -- a much more pliable and graceful "stiffener" than rattans or wires, -- and should always be left to show like a piping below the gown fabric; otherwise it affords no protection."

If I understand correctly, when the binding is applied, the cord is at the inside-bottom of the binding, and looks like a piping brushing the floor.

What can we use for candlewicking today? If it's the same thing, the cotton candle wick material used in traditional candlewicking embroidery, is still available but it looks quite thin, like a string. Mmm, probably not what we want. Actual candle wick bought by the roll comes in several thicknesses. It might be worth exploring. What about cotton piping cord? That could also work. It comes in different sizes and will produce an undulating line. Even the Sugar 'n Cream yarn might do, although one would want several rows.

Boy, I really like this idea. Applying the cord either as part of hem binding or as trim might be a doable skirt amplification method that would result in pleasant curves and organ pleats and folds.

Silk Cording...as Stiffening Trim

Heavy silk cording was an alternative to candlewicking, and it was placed on the outside bottom of the skirt, just above the hem edge. It was recommended as a way to help hold the godet plaits. This would have formed a rather dressy trim, too. Without actually knowing by testing it, I would suspect that the cording would want to run in large waves, not into flat pleats, and would thus help hold the deeply undulating effect created by the godet plaits. Mrs. Hooper, in her advice column, wrote in March, 1895 (Ladies Home Journal, p. 35):

Because she wrote "It is thought to keep the godet plaits in shape", I suspect that she hadn't tested the method, either. 

Think about how wide a 1 1/4" diameter cord is: wow -- that's big.

Rattan Instead of Steels Around the Skirt

I have only found rattan used to hold out skirts in one place, in the quote about candlewicking above. To repeat part of it (March 1895 Demorest's, p. 299): "It may form a cord on the bottom, filled with candlewicking, -- a much more pliable and graceful "stiffener" than rattans or wires". Was the Demorest's writer joking, or was rattan, that is, cane, an option? Gracious! Very thin-split cane is plenty flexible, but also readily breakable. As costumers, we would find this an inexpensive option, but it would have to be replaced early and often. 

A Balayeuse or Dust Ruffle, Fixed Inside the Outer Skirt

Here is an interior skirt ruffle, illustrated in the Frauenzeitung, 1 Feb 1895, p 35. The illustration shows the outer skirt inside out, with the ruffle attached around the skirt base. 

The ruffle had several purposes. It helped to hold the skirt a bit away from the feet. It

was also used to help keep the inner edge of the skirt clean. The Art of Dressmaking (1895), described its use and making in detail on p. 32:

"The balayeuse or dust ruffle is not considered absolutely necessary to the finish of a skirt, although it gives a pretty effect. It is made of taffeta or skirting silk, and is cut bias from five to eight inches wide. Both edges are then pinked, or they may be hemmed and a lace edge added. The latter is preferable as the pinking frays easily. Gather the ruffle, leave a little heading, and sew to the inside of the skirt even with the lower edge. Be careful when sewing not to catch through to the outside [of the skirt]."

Here is what The Young Ladies' Journal wrote in 1895 (I have lost the date):

"A silk frill or double ruche, of the same colour as the material, is a great improvement. This should be about 4½ to 5 inches wide and is sewn to the lining so that the edge lies just above the edge of the skirt."

I like the idea of a skirt ruffle, as adding a bit of swish to the skirt, and as a a barrier to getting the skirt involved with the shoes and the legs.

That's All For Skirt Stiffeners

Here we come to the end of our very long discussion of mid-1890s skirt stiffeners. I've found the process illuminating. I've not addressed it here, that I remember, anyhow, but musing about the language used in the magazines and books was as interesting as the directions and descriptions given. "Regulation" skirt silhouette, "sensible", "humps and bumps". Even the shift, in some magazines, from sharply rendered engravings to more watercolor-like, painterly illustrations. The manners, mores, and interests of the time jump out and live for me.

What's Next?

Well, the pandemic continues to spread, and here in the United States is reaching its tentacles ever deeper into our society. I am so covered up in to-dos and keeping the twins engaged over the summer that sewing would simply not happen unless I took time away from the more important things. Plus, by the time I've any leisure for myself alone, rather than family-oriented leisure, I'm too pooped to do anything but read. 

This summer, late 1860s and early 1870s Peterson's magazines have caught my fancy. Reading the sometimes sappy, often formulaic, sometimes original and really interesting stories, and the advice within them, and examining the plates and illustrations, has taken my mind far, far away. When I return, refreshed, there's a lot to muse about. I recognize how different the lives and mores and beliefs of the writers and target readers could be from ours -- and I could detail the race, class, and gender influences at length. What's stronger, though, is the pervasive sense in the magazine that time is short, life is always attended with times of weariness and sadness, even despair, and health and security are never assured and always at risk of fleeing. The responses, besides wearing layers of clothing and spending a good share of time nursing loved ones, are thrift, attending to responsibilities, reams of patience, and clinging to faith. All of this is pertinent at any time, but poignant right now.

1895 Outfit: The Way They Moved: Mid-1890s Skirts in Videos and Photographs

Scattered throughout this 1890s outfit series, we have looked at photographs of women taken in the 1890s; they are scattered in among the posts. Yet as we finish the set of posts about skirts, I want to examine how the skirts look when women are in motion or in unposed pictures. Moving pictures had just come out in the 1890s, and there are scenes with women walking and hopping and stepping around in them. We're fortunate that YouTube aficionadoes have taken some of the films and edited the choppiness and extra speed out of the clips to make them more naturalistic to watch.

A film, titled 1890's: Rare Footage of Cities Around the World,put together by Dhruva Aliman Music, has a series of interesting scenes, and yes, those people on the start screen are riding a sort of rollercoaster! On the right a woman in cape and hat is riding with a boy. Here is the full film. You can watch it now, or take a look at the screen captures I've made from it to illustrate skirts in motion, and then come back to the film.


So, first we have a crowd viewing a horse race. The horses are getting reading to run by, and I am guessing we're near the finish line. A lady runs into the scrum and hops and turns in excitement as the horses gallop nearer. Having been to many a Keeneland race, the urge to hop and wave one's arms during races is strong. Watch her skirt move, and note the undulations in back. Start around 4:05 minutes into the film.

Second, a pair of well-dressed women cross a wide street in Berlin. Even as they cross, a carriage rolls past. Apparently crosswalks were not in use, because people are crossing streets at will in much of the film. The silk skirt of the woman nearest to the camera clearly shows how much flare the skirt has, and see how there appear to be those rounded organ or godet pleats at the back, and how the entire skirt undulates in motion in an expansive way. These are women of fashion. The scene is relatively long, about 5:14-5:19 in the film.

I apologize for the red horizontal lines in the screen captures. They mark the progress of the video and I didn't know how to keep them from showing.

Further on, another lady in silk feeds the pigeons in the Plaza San Marco, in Venice (9:08-9:17), while another group of women walk by in the background. Again, we see amplitude, but the skirt looks wide at the base in the front as well as along the side, as her movement washes the side panels towards the front. She is wearing a gown that appears, after you have looked at it a while, to have a faux bolero with lapels and epaulettes that extend down the back in panels, as so many did. And her hat! Flowers standing straight up to the side, and veiling beguilingly draped and puffed all over the top of the hat. Delicious.

Can we talk hats a moment? This film is full of them. Detour, detour!

Here, cyclists in sporty clothing -- catch the rep tie -- and hats, mostly with round brims, ride en masse in what appears to be a parade. Several riders appear below. The first rider's triple plume, set jauntily to the side of her stiff hat, are pretty striking. This shot is about 2:54 minutes into the film. I learned that apparently it's from 1899, but I see no sign of pouching in anyone's bodice. Skirts are narrower, though.

Phooey, I couldn't screen capture the women in wonderful hats from Milan between 5:24-5:36, as people walked by near an omnibus stand, but you should have a look! The trim on their gowns is arresting, too.

There is an unusually good view at the back of a lady's hat from about 5:57-6:18. Apparently the clip is from 1898, but the hat is definitely of a shape and type common to the decade. The lady, who comes in to sit down away from the camera after skating, is wearing a light spotted veil that is attached to the crown of the dark hat and appears to be tied up in the back. The hat seems to have barred feathers standing stiffly upwards at the front. Are they turkey feathers? Her skating companion, guiding her to a seat, undramatically tips his hat as he turns around and skates away. She then appears to talk to a young boy, or at least he skates closer to her and talks. He may be gawping at the camera. Look at the shot below, and then go look at the film, so that everything makes more sense.

What doesn't make sense to me is skating a veil. It would be minimally warmer, and snow and ice are already white and glaring: why add spots to your vision, I ask? Perhaps it keeps her hair in place, and veils any discomposure during skating.

And then, THE hat. The one I would like to make for this outfit. Of course, the lady of Plaza San Marco is wearing a rather dressy outfit, but somehow I ought to be able to riff off of the idea for a similar, if quieter hat. Here is the front.

1890's: Rare Footage of Cities Around the World

Now, the side and back. It is not a round hat, because it doesn't come to the back of her head where her highish hair bun sits, but just might a folded-up back edge. I have just the straw hat to modify for such a creation.



Okay, we really must focus on skirt movement again. I have another video for you, titled "1895-1897: A Visual Tour of France". This one is by Guy Jones.

The following image is hard to read until you know what you're looking at. A very large group of people are disembarking from a river boat on the Seine, near a bridge. I wonder if there has been some sort of party, as everyone is well dressed and the men seem to be wearing boaters. In the screen capture below a man has just disembarked, and is looking towards a well-dressed lady a bit behind him. Her skirt is sweeping as she turns from the gangway to the pavement. Note the number of rounded ripples in her skirt. The scene occurs between about 0:19-0:29. Also have a look at another lady wearing a hat with veil, between 0:25-0:27. She very briefly lifts her skirt with a gloved hand for a step, drops it, and strides away. She doesn't take small, mincing steps. She really moves.

Next, a view of the Place Des Cordeliers, in Lyon, a street scene with what look like trolley tracks down the center. A woman, leaning somewhat forward, hurries across the street. She appears to lift her skirt to move more quickly at one point. The fabric flows and bunches around her. It has plenty of flare at the base, but the fabric has no shine and seems to drape and move more like wool than a stiff silk. She does not take especially small steps, either. In this screen capture, her forward foot is out enough that you can see her shoe or boot; she may be lifting her skirt with her left hand. This scene occurs between about 0:54-1:02 in the film. There is a tantalizing glimpse of skirt attached to an omnibus: did she step aboard?

A few seconds later a woman walks by. She is an even smaller figure, so there is even less detail, but the muted shapes are still instructive. She appears between about 1:20-1:26 in the film.

Her skirt amplifies as one foot steps forward and the other is behind her.

then undulates close to her in between steps.



While there are plenty of folds in her skirt, it doesn't sweep as widely or maintain amplitude like others in the films.

Next are people leaving the Saint Perpetua Church in Nimes, around 2:30 minutes into the film.

Look at this shot, and then go play the sequence several times, watching women descend the stairs. Notice how they grasp their skirts, and notice the movements the fabrics make.

Here is a shot from a lovely little scene of a group of people arriving in front of a house in Hampstead Village, a London suburb. I don't know the background of the scene, but it's delightful to watch. At six seconds in, a lady shakes hands with an arriving gentleman. She is wearing a jacket, and her skirt has less amplitude, it being spring of 1896. Don't you think she is wearing a bit of a bustle pad? Soon after a teenage girl arrives on a bicycle and hops off, a lady runs up with her dog, then more people arrive on horses. It really is fun to watch.

March 8, 1896 - Group arrives in Hampstead Village, London

Let's look at some photos, too.

If you recall a flurry of internet articles that appeared about him around 2018, Karl Stormer of Norway used a tiny spy camera to take pictures of people he met in the street. He photographed during the 1890s, and though many of them are just after 1895, when sleeves went limp, and skirts did too, swishing and catching at women's legs, a few are really helpful in showing how people moved right in the middle of the decade. The entire photo set is hosted at the Norsk Folkemuseum.

Here are Thora Christoffersen and Raghild walking in a park. Their dresses stand out a bit around them and are smooth in front. It's warm out and I believe their bodices/shirtwaists are of cotton.

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In this photo that Mr. Stormer didn't identify, the lady, wearing a veil over her hat, also wears a stiff skirt. Look at her grasping the side of her skirt, bringing it forward, to help herself move more easily.

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In another wintertime photo, the young lady on the left may be wearing wool. Do you see the brush braid at the skirt base, and do you see the perfect curve that it makes over the street? I do believe there is a stiffener in there, especially as a portion of fabric above the hem dips backwards towards her body.

I believe Mr. Stormer met this group of happy people while on a walk in the countryside. He knew them, for the record includes their names. Note the sturdy belt the central lady is wearing, with what may be a watch chain nearby, her tie, and the flare of her handsome matte skirt, which is probably wool.

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Another fun photo. Women look in a shop window, as does another lady down the street. Note how voluminous their skirts are, and how there are rounded flutes ian the back. Do you see Mr. Stormer's shadow at the bottom of the photo?

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I can't help it, it's back to hats. A gaggle of unnamed girls struck Mr. Stormer, and he photographed the group such that you can see details on their hats. I find the jagged, up-and-down movement of the brims and the brush-like aigrettes interesting. Aside from being useful for understanding hat construction, they rather echo the stance of the tree branches behind them.

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We will end with Miss Jotta Pedersen, in her pretty summer outfit. Her hat is straw, unlined underneath, rimmed with what seems to be very scantly gathered lace, and above that puffs of veil. Surely there is a standing plume, too. I like the crossed folds on her bodice, and she is wearing gloves. She is such a cheerful being...

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There we have it, a tour of flowing, undulating loveliness.  May it help you understand how women moved in their skirts, and how different styles of skirts looked when worn. Please remember that most of the pictures and films are taken in northern Europe, where the climate is cooler, so we see few really summery dresses, and all of the skirts are street wear or for daytime, not evening. Perhaps I will be able to remedy both of those lacking situations at some point.

In Other News

I was going to write about the virus. Sometimes it seems important to write this experience down. Sometimes I want to talk about my town -- a city, really, but not on the scale of big places -- and how coronavirus has struck here, and how we have stayed "Healthy at Home" as the governor named it, so that the virus hasn't taken hold in the way it has so many places. Blessed be. And how a quarter of working people in our state are collecting, or trying to collect, unemployment because they've been furloughed, or laid off, or fired, or because their business has gone under. And how no one really knows what happens next, or if we will, by accident or by our actions or by our inactions, bring more death and misery here.

I wrote last evening, paragraphs worth, and I struggled over them, only as bedtime approached, to delete the whole thing, start again, and then shut down the computer to leave it all behind for reading with the boys and then going to sleep while the curtains swayed in the breeze from the window. It was actually warm enough to leave it cracked open, all night. Why should I write, when no matter who reads this will have been affected by coronavirus, in ways tragic or financial, or niggling. We all are accumulating our stories, and we don't know if this will be a short story, or an episodic one, or a novel, The Novel Coronavirus, in Too Many Acts. Already terabites have been written or spoken or filmed about it.

Still. The urge is there, to paint my own small vignettes of life since the virus came.

Harbingers came towards the end of January, at work. I became busy providing information to colleagues who needed it.

I have been home since March 7, March 6 having been the last time we were out -- to a bookstore, and for dinner. That day the governor announced the state's first case. The dinner was just a little tinged with unease, because a couple several feet away were coughing at times. We did not get up and move. Why? I called the gym, too, explained I wouldn't be visiting for the time being, postponed doctor's appointments, and the family settled in. None of us complained, thankfully; the kidney transplant means my ability to fight infections is limited, and my husband is 60, and we have older parents nearby with whom we're close. The decision was made in a minute, without fuss, and celebrated with that last outing.

It was about a week later that the state started shutting down. The school system phoned and texted and emailed, and then there was no school. The boys had a few assignments, but in the main they played.

We number among those who can work at home, which sometimes makes me feel badly, because so many people must keep going to jobs. For a while, when the parks were still open, I would take the boys after my work ended for the day and we'd run around during the March warm spell, before the chill came again and prolonged the pear and cherry blossoms and the tulips and hyacinths in a natural refrigerator. We made our own disc golf equipment of frisbee ring and sticks, because we didn't want to touch the metal disc golf posts for fear they'd be contaminated. There were people all around us, fishing in the lake, children paddling their hands in an inlet stream where there are snails and minnows and tiny clams, pushing strollers on the paved parts, and all playing an intricate dance of polite "hello, how are you?" while stepping aside many feet, to increase distance without being uncivilized about it.

Then the parks closed. My husband thought he'd have to travel for work, and for the first time a literal shock of fear ran through all of me. It starts near your heart and leaves your fingertips and sometimes your vision wavers. Travel by plane? When the virus was spreading in Washington state and New York? He would have no choice. I didn't want to nag; he wanted to underplay risk; neither of us were happy, and we danced the let's not talk about it but I hope it works out dance. It's a dangerous one.

Then the company cancelled all travel. Then everything shut down. The university sent everyone home. Businesses closed unless they could offer curbside or contactless service. We started picking up our groceries, once weekly, this way. Toilet paper was in short supply; we began to run low and I laid plans for backup materials that wouldn't affect the sewers. We found some, sold roll by roll, and our little hardware store down the road, and picked it up curbside from a lady in a mask. Each time my husband, masked, left the house to get them or to pick up medications, my tummy would contract slightly. Those pains have faded a bit, but I am still rubbing every object that enters our house in disinfectant, including the mail. As immunocompromised as I am, even small risks loom large, if only in perception.

What I have noticed most is the quiet. We live in an older neighborhood about a mile downtown, and near the university. Normally we're treated to the sounds of traffic, and the big chillers and air cleaners that control the air in the big university buildings and the hospitals.

Now the cars are mostly gone, the chillers often silent, and what we hear instead is people chatting, a toddler squealing next door in the middle of his play - no more daycare - bicycles. Dogs. Birds. And for a while what seemed to be more airlifts into the hospitals, as patients are brought from  Eastern Kentucky. The sounds are human scaled now, in this most human of times.

It is not all bad. Scary, yes. Worrisome as we worry over relatives and friends and our community and planet? Yes. But not evrty iota bad.

Bless you all.

The 23rd Psalm, Sung

Some rainy, or stormy, or sad or suffering days, this is especially good to hear.

Whatever your beliefs, may the singing of "The Lord Is My Shepherd", Psalm 23, bring you a measure of peace, even if for a little while.

As sung at our church, not too very long ago, and posted by our organist, although there is no organ here, only human voices, lifted up.