In my last post I discussed Beau Brummell’s sophisticated manner of dress, and what a contrast Brummell’s understated style was to the flashier styles worn by some of his contemporaries.
While Brummell may have disapproved of their fashion sense, the men and women whose dress he criticized provided excellent fodder for the caricaturists of their day, especially for two brothers of the Cruikshank family.
Here is George Cruikshank’s 1819 sketch titled “Lacing a Dandy.” Note the corset and padding!
In a similar vein, here’s his brother Isaac Robert Cruikshank’s hand-colored etching, “Exquisite Dandies,” mocking both male and female dandies (“dandizettes”), published in 1818.
Finally, here’s yet another 1818 caricature from I.R. Cruikshank, titled “Dandies Dressing.”
It’s easy to see how Beau Brummell’s style dictates were a much-needed antidote to this type of fashion excess!
There have always been and always will be dandies – men who follow fashion and take an active interest in how they present themselves to the world. However, the Regency produced one of the most influential and famous dandies of all time, George Bryan “Beau” Brummell.
Though he was accepted and imitated at the highest levels of London society, Brummell was no aristocrat; he was the son of a government clerk. However, he had exquisite taste in clothing, as well as the sense to make friends with the Prince Regent after obtaining a commission in the prince’s regiment, the Tenth Light Dragoons.
Brummell’s influence on men’s fashion, both during the Regency and afterwards, was immense. His ideas were novel for the time in which he lived. He insisted on wearing clothes that were well tailored but otherwise simple, in solid, sober colors and without gaudy trimmings.
He also advocated good personal hygiene. He was fastidious about keeping himself and his clothing immaculate and urged his followers to adopt similar habits, including daily bathing and wearing clean undergarments.
Cleanliness was not taken for granted during the 18th and early 19th centuries, even among the aristocracy. In The Prince of Pleasure and His Regency,1811-1820, J.B. Priestley describes the grooming habits of the “downright dirty” Duke of Norfolk – his servants were able to bathe him only occasionally, when the old Duke was too drunk to fight against their efforts.
During his reign as the undisputed arbitrator of men’s clothing style in London society, Brummell accomplished a lot of fashion firsts.
He brought long pants or pantaloons into fashion (instead of the knee-length breeches worn previously) and insisted that men’s cravats (the precursor of the necktie men wear today) were starched, spotless and knotted just so. He remodeled men’s dress coats, too, so that they fit more snugly.
Brummell was also the first to wear black evening clothes; a radical change from the elaborate and colorful costumes men wore in the 18th century.
In fact, Brummell urged men to forego all types of frills, perfumes, and excessive ornamentation, including lace trims, gold embroidery and jewels. The result was an understated elegance in men’s fashion.
The man’s suit pictured below is an example of the type of flashy dressing Brummell deplored. This suit, made in 1790 but altered in 1805, includes a coat and breeches made of purple shot silk trimmed with sequins and metallic embroidery. The gold waistcoat also features sequin and metallic embroidery trim.
Brummell was a minimalist when it came to dressing. His vision of a well-dressed man had three elements: slim, fitted pants; a white linen shirt, starched; and a trim waistcoat. Every article should be well-tailored.
According to one Brummell’s biographers, Ian Kelly, Brummell’s general precepts regarding men’s wear has dominated men’s “power dressing” ever since.
According to Priestley, someone once breathlessly told Brummell about a man who was so well-dressed at an event that everyone who was present turned to stare at him. “Then he was not well dressed,” said Brummell, no doubt with a sniff of disdain.
In a similar vein, he also said: “If John Bull [i.e., Everyman] turns around to look at you, you are not well-dressed; but either too stiff, too tight, or too fashionable.”
Brummell’s personal popularity rose and then fell during the Regency, especially after a well-publicized tiff he had with the Prince Regent in 1813. I wrote about this encounter in a previous post, so I won’t go into the details here. Suffice to say it’s never a good idea to refer to the reigning monarch as somebody’s “fat friend,” even if you were snubbed by said monarch.
The Beau was also a heavy gambler, and he ended up having to flee Britain for good in 1816 to escape being imprisoned for his gambling debts. His story does not have a happy ending; he died in poverty and insane from the effects of syphilis in France near Caen in 1840.
But whatever his personal tragedies, Brummell’s influence on men’s fashion has been enduring. The black suit, which he pioneered, is still a staple in many men’s closets, 200 years after he made it fashionable. And, due in part to Brummell’s legacy, a well-dressed man is also a clean one, too!
Sources for this post include:
Tim Gunn’s Fashion Bible, by Tim Gunn with Ada Calhoun, Gallery Books, a division of Simon & Schuster, Inc, New York, NY, 2012.
Beau Brummell, by Hubert Cole, first published in the US by Mason/Charter Publishers, Inc., printed in Great Britain, 1977
This month marks the anniversary of one of the most famous snubs in history, or at least in Regency history. For it was in July of 1813 that Beau Brummell snubbed the Prince Regent at London’s Argyle rooms. And that snub, for whatever momentary satisfaction it may have given Brummell, marked the beginning of the end of his career as the undisputed arbiter of men’s fashion and manners in Regency England.
Here’s how it happened:
Brummell and a trio of his aristocratic chums (Lord Alvanley, Sir Henry Mildmay, and Henry Pierrepoint) decided to host a masquerade ball to celebrate the money they had won gambling at Watier’s Club.
The four dandies reluctantly invited the Prince Regent to their party, primarily because His Royal Highness was determined to attend despite the fact that he had recently quarreled with Brummell.
When he arrived at the ball, Prinny greeted Brummell’s friends but ignored the Beau.
Brummell retaliated by inquiring in a high-pitched voice that penetrated the room’s din: “Alvanley, who is your fat friend?”
Now, the Prince Regent was extremely sensitive about his ever-increasing girth, so he was mortified and infuriated by Brummell’s remark, so much so that he never spoke to the Beau again.
And even though the Prince Regent was enormously unpopular with his subjects, and Brummel’s social standing remained undiminished after the snub (at least for a time), the net effect of the Beau’s unkind remark was that he forever lost his royal patron.
The damage didn’t seem too bad at first. Despite being shunned by the Regent, for the next few years Brummell remained popular among the ton. Even without Prinny’s favor, he still had many upper class friends and was able to keep his position as the acknowledged leader of fashion.
But Brummell was addicted to gambling, and it was not long before his debts got the better of him. It became increasingly difficult for him to find anyone who would extend him a line of credit, and he piled up thousands of pounds in debts he could not repay.
So the Beau was forced into exile, fleeing to France in 1816 to avoid arrest. He never returned to England, much less to his former glory as the unrivaled authority on what constituted sartorial elegance in Regency London.
Once a king of London’s high society, Brummell died in Caen in 1840 after a stint in debtor’s prison. He ended his days in dire poverty, ravaged mentally and physically by syphilis, dirty and unkempt – a state that was a far cry from his former fastidiousness.
To the end of his life, the Beau hoped the rift between himself and his former patron would heal, especially after the Prince was crowned King George IV in 1821. Unfortunately, a reconciliation never took place.
Whether retaining the future king as a lifelong friend rather than making him an enemy in 1813 would have altered Brummell’s sad fate is impossible to know, but easy to conjecture.
So there you have it – the snub that triggered the downfall of a social lion. This story is a good reminder that a witty remark can sometimes ricochet, hurting the one who hurled it.
That was certainly true for Beau Brummell.
Sources for this post include:
The Prince of Pleasure and his Regency, by J.B. Priestley, Harper and Row Publishers, New York, NY 1969
Beau Brummell, by Hubert Cole, Mason/Charter, New York, 1977
June is a busy month in the UK’s royal calendar. In addition to the King’s Birthday Parade (also known as Trooping the Colour), on the second Saturday of June there’s the Royal Ascot – arguably the most famous horse race in the world.
The Royal Ascot races, held every year, span five days in the middle of June, from Tuesday through Saturday. This year’s event took place last week on June 20-24.
It’s the social event for the sporting season, and a must for everyone who can afford tickets, especially the upper classes who go to see and be seen in their formal clothes. Some female guests like to display their hats – which can be huge, show-stopping creations or whimsical “fascinators.”
As to the social importance of this royal racing event, who can forget the scene in My Fair Lady when Professor Higgins takes his pupil, Eliza Doolittle, to the Ascot races to prove that he has transformed her from a Cockney flower girl into a “real lady?”
But the Ascot races have a history that started long before the Edwardian setting of George Bernard’s famous play. It’s a history that includes our favorite time period, the Regency.
Here a selective timeline of that history, (as detailed on the Royal Ascot Hub, linked below), from the inception of the races through the mid 1820s:
1711: Queen Anne, an avid horse racing fan, starts a racing tradition at East Cote in London. Her race, called Her Majesty’s Plate, takes place in August and carries a prize of 100 guineas. The race was open to any horse, mare or gelding that was six years or older and capable of carrying a rider weighing 12 stone (168 pounds).
1744: A ceremonial guard called the Greencoats is formed. The Guard got its name from a rumor that their green uniforms were sewn with fabric left over from curtains made for Windsor Castle. By the early 19th century the guards’ duties expand to include crowd control. Today, Greencoats still can be seen assisting attendees of the Ascot races.
1752: By the mid-18th century the popularity of the annual races, especially among the ton, is becoming apparent. Peers like the Duke of Bedford complain that when he visits London during the races he can find “no soul to dine or sup with.” Surrounding the races are other diversions, and attendees can watch cockfighting and prize-fights, gamble in gaming tents, listen to balladeers, see freak shows and marvel at lady stilt-walkers.
1783: A new rule states that jockeys must wear the colors of their horse’s owners. Up to this point, jockeys could wear whatever colors they wished, making it confusing for spectators to follow the race.
Late 18th century: Men in the Royal Enclosure must don black silk top hats, or “toppers.” Vintage top hats, made from the original material of silk hatter’s plush, are very rare and valuable now. If you can find one that fits your head (apparently men’s heads were smaller 200 years ago) it can cost a small fortune – tens of thousands of pounds.
Early 19th Century: A general dress code for upper class men attending the races develops. Influenced by Beau Brummell, one-time friend of the Prince Regent, men abandon the bright colors and ornate embroidery of 18th century fashion for plain white waistcoats, and pantaloons, worn with a black cravats. The emphasis is on cleanliness, quality fabrics, and expert tailoring.
1807: This year the Gold Cup, Ascot’s oldest surviving racing event, is introduced. Winners of the Gold Cup today still receive – and get to keep – an engraved gold trophy.
1813: Ascot Heath becomes the new home of the races, thanks to an Act of Enclosure, passed by Parliament. Although the property actually belongs to the Crown, the act guarantees that the land will be used as a racecourse, open to the public.
1822: Prinny, now King George IV, orders the construction of a two-story seating stand at the racecourse. Access to the Royal Enclosure is granted only by the king’s invitation.
1823: The tradition of Ladies Day, also known as Gold Cup Day, starts. It gets its name from an anonymous poet, who describes this day, Thursday of the racing week, as Ladies Day, “when women, like angels, look sweetly divine.”
1825: King George IV inaugurates the first Royal Procession, a tradition which has endured to modern times. Each day of the five-day event begins with the king and queen, along with other members of their royal family, arriving at the racing grounds in horse-drawn landaus. They drive in a procession along the track before going into the Royal Enclosure to watch the races.
There was much excitement at this year’s Royal Ascot when King Charles’s horse, Desert Hero, won Thursday’s marquee race, the King George V Stakes. Desert Hero, ridden by jockey Tom Marquand, was bred by the late Queen Elizabeth II. The odds against the horse winning were long – 18 to 1 – making the victory all the sweeter.
This is King Charles’ first Royal Ascot win as a reigning monarch. It’s yet another first for the newly crowned king.
“King visibly moved as horse bred by Queen Elizabeth wins at Royal Ascot,” by India McTaggart, Royal Correspondent and Tom Cary, Senior Sports Correspondent, The Telegraph, June 22, 2023
“King Charles III claims his 1st Royal Ascot winner; Dettori rides to victory in Gold Cup,” by The Associated Press, June 22, 2023
In my post earlier this week, I discussed the Titus haircut that was all the rage during the late 1790s-early 1800s, and how women sometimes used wigs to augment their fashionably cropped hair.
So I thought it would be fun to show you a set of period caricatures of women in wigs. Of the four women, only one (on the top left) seems unhappy with her wig. The rest of them seem pretty satisfied, though why is beyond me.
As a side note, check out the jewelry on the woman in the red wig. It appears to include a chain that goes from earring to earring under her chin. I think this piece emits a definite punk vibe – nearly 200 years before punk fashion hit the London scene.
I hope you enjoy this satirical glimpse into the past!
An experience most of us can relate to is a bad haircut. You go to the hairdresser with high hopes that are soon dashed – either the first time you look in the mirror after your cut or in the days that follow. And for me, at least, the shorter the hair cut the more likely the regrets.
Regency women were no different. But for them getting their hair cut short wasn’t just one option out of many at the hair salon. It meant adopting a daring, ground-breaking style that broke the centuries-long tradition of long hair for women.
When the fad for short hair first hit the fashion scene in the 1790s, many women eagerly embraced it. And it’s easy to see why: the new look gave women welcome freedom from the elaborate hairdos of the 18th century.
Women were happy to say goodbye to powder and pomatum, along with sitting for hours as hairdressers teased and arranged their long hair over pads and cushions to make their coiffures rise to unlikely heights.
From 1800 to 1810, the style that was all the rage for women (and men, too) was à la Titus. This short cut was a more natural look, styled with hair devoid of any powder.
The grisly inspiration for this cut was the Reign of Terror during the French Revolution. Aristocrats condemned to death on the guillotine had their hair cut short to make it easier for the blade to do its work. Like its fashion inspiration, the à la Titus style also exposed the neck.
Besides the dictates of fashion, another reason this unpowdered style became popular in Great Britain was the Duty on Hair Powder Act passed by Parliament in 1795.
In effect, this “duty” was a tax that had to be paid by anyone purchasing hair powder. There were a few exceptions (including the royal family, some clergy and military men) but otherwise there were substantial fines for anyone who violated the act.
So, this seemed to many like a good time to ditch the hair powder. There was still a need for a bit of pomatum; scented pomades were used to create a tousled effect in the short hair, and to define curls. But powder was definitely yesterday’s news. (Never fear – hair powder has made a comeback in our time, reincarnated as dry shampoo.)
Some people were appalled by the new style. They deemed it unnatural, ugly and masculine. But that didn’t deter fashionable women from embracing the Titus cut. It must have felt liberating after the towering, time-consuming hair styles they’d worn before.
Plus, this daring new hair cut had a few variations. For those who were reluctant to chop all their hair off, tresses could be cut short in the front and sides, and left long in the back.
That may sound familiar – the look resurfaced in the 1970s-80s with the mullet, which is perhaps better known as “business in the front, party in the back.”
Jane Austen might have had something resembling a mullet. In a letter to her sister Cassandra in 1798 she explains why she loves to wear caps:
“I have made myself two or three caps to wear since I came home, and they save me a world of torment as to hair-dressing, which at present gives me no trouble beyond washing and brushing, for my long hair is always plaited up out of sight, and my short hair curls well enough to want no papering [curlers].”
Sometime later Jane confessed she’d gone ahead and had her short hair curled, but she regretted it. She thought the curls looked “hideous and longed for a snug cap” to hide them.
Jane also was critical of the Titus cut, especially the short-all-over variation. When her niece Anna boldly chopped off her locks in accordance with the latest fashion, Jane described the girl’s “sad, cropt head,” adding that the haircut was very much regretted. (I couldn’t help but wonder, though, if it was Aunt Jane or Anna who regretted the cut.)
Women who got the cut and then had second thoughts about sporting short hair found ways to modify their new look. And they had more than caps to work with.
Wigmakers did a thriving business, and in addition to wigs, fashionable women used swatches of false hair and braids to augment their shorn locks. Feathery plumes, flowers, jeweled combs and ropes of pearls also dressed up their new hairstyles.
Today we have many more choices when it comes to how we wear our hair. However, one thing remains constant from the Regency era to our own: with or without a new hairstyle, a bad hair day is always a possibility.
Sources for this post include:
Voices from the World of Jane Austen, by Malcolm Day, a David & Charles Book, F&W Publications, Inc., Cincinnati, Ohio, 2006.
Jane Austen’s Guide to Good Manners, Compliments, Charades and Horrible Blunders, by Josephine Ross and Henrietta Webb, published by Bloomsbury USA, New York, 2006.
The Regency Companion, by Sharon H. Laudermilk and Teresa L. Hamlin, Garland Publishing, Inc., New York and London, 1989.
“Coiffure Legendaire: the story of Titus haircut, the 1st short hairstyle,” by the editorial team of Estetica Hair Magazine, January 12, 2014.
The American Duchess Guide to 18th Century Beauty, by Lauren Stowell and Abby Cox, with Cheyney McKnight, Page Street Publishing Co., Salem Massachusetts, 2019.
Ah, spring is here—Bridgerton has returned for season two, and we’ll have bonnets (don’t you love the blue velvet hop hat worn by the heroine, Kate Sharma?) to renew the year. Or so goes the tradition.
The origins of the tradition are lost in time, but springtime has always been the season of renewal, plus in spring the flowers start to bloom, bringing in ideas of decorating the house—and ourselves. While flowers in the hair is a charming idea, going to church meant a head covering. In the most ancient of traditions (flaunt it if you got it), time to put on the new clothes to show you can afford such things.
Of course, if you can’t afford entirely new, you refurbish (as did Samuel Pepys who wrote about ‘having my old black suit new furbished’ for Easter). New ribbons and flowers, and presto—a new bonnet. The Morris dancers—not to be outdone—would also trim their hats with spring flowers for Easter. The ladies also insisted that new clothes, and a new bonnet, would bring good luck (and look good).
With Lent over, Easter is also a good time to put on the bright, spring clothes, decorate a hat with silk or real flowers, and head off to a place where one can see and be seen. While the height of popularity for Easter bonnets would actually come in the 1870s, the Regency was still a time when bonnets were the crowning glory for many a woman.
You can help revive this wonderful tradition by making your own Regency Easter bonnet (or you can also buy a knockoff of the Kate Sharma blue hat, and decorate it as you wish).
Bidding opened on July 2nd for the 2021 RFW online auction! More than 100 donations are offered, and your final bid is your final price, as the generous donors have agreed to pay for shipping. The selection of research books is the best ever. In addition to books donated by our members, about 30 books in the auction were donated by Gail Burch, who wrote Regencies under the pen name Maggie MacKeever. Nine authors who’ve been Rita and/or Vivian finalists will be donating critiques. Other author services include a strategy session on marketing with a marketing expert, book coaching, and a cover design.
Truth, as usual, is always stranger than fiction. The machines that wove all those lovely French silks which were so often smuggled into England during the war with Napoleon did indeed provide the key to issuing commands to computers shortly after the Regency. This same method continued in use for several decades, only falling out of favor at the end of the last century.
How holes made patterned silks and talked to computers …
Or to give this new history its full title, Prinny’s Taylor: The Life and Times of Louis Bazalgette (1750 – 1830). As is probably obvious from the fact that the subject of this book and the author share a rather unique last name, Charles Bazalgette has researched and written a history of his ancestor, Jean Louis Bazalgette. Born in southern France, into a family of tailors, Louis emigrated to Great Britain about 1770. He began his career in London as a tailor, but by the end of his life, he had become a man of affluence who was able to enjoy a comfortable retirement and give all his children a good start in life.
Today, paper hats are most often worn for a bit of fun at parties, or are made for a child by parent or grandparent for some make-believe playtime. But during the Regency, paper hats were regularly worn by working men in a number of trades. In fact, the wearing of such hats had only begun a few years before the Prince of Wales became Regent. It was during that second decade of the nineteenth century that the use of these hats became much more widespread among an expanding number of craftsmen and tradesmen. But these hats were not worn for fun, they had a much more serious purpose. It should be noted that the wearing of these hats seem to have been confined to English working men.
Though seldom used today, gimmel rings had been in use since the late Middle Ages as wedding or betrothal rings. And they continued to be used for that purpose right through the Regency. Long before the Regency began, a variation on this type of ring had become even more complex, these more elaborate versions being most commonly known as puzzle rings.
A basic background of how the bands embodying the bonds of love became nearly as much a puzzle as love itself …
Most people today are familiar with modern diamonds which have been cut with great precision, giving them the mathematically exact facet size and number which allows them to reflect and refract light for optimum brilliance or fire. These precise cutting techniques were first discovered and introduced into the diamond industry in the early twentieth century. Yet I have read any number of Regency novels in which the heroine or some other character has acquired a diamond which by description is clearly a diamond of a modern cut, a diamond which could not possibly have existed during the Regency. In fact, all of the diamonds which were available during the Regency would appear rather dull when compared to diamonds cut after the early 1920s.
And now, how the diamond intensified its sparkle across the centuries …
Coal is just rock, after all. But a most interesting sedimentary rock, which is not only highly flamable, but it can be fairly easily carved and takes a high polish. However, by the Regency, coal was much more likely to be burned than worn. A concise chronicle of coal culminating in the Regency …
What is your bedtime routine? How does the bedtime routine of a Regency lady compare with yours? Regency romance author, Regina Scott, whose latest print book is The Wife Campaign, gives us a glimpse into the preparations a Regency lady must make before she could retire for the night. Would you be willing to go throught that, every night?
Last week, I wrote about the origins of the rare blue diamond now known as the Hope, and traced its adventures through the end of the eighteenth century, at which point it dropped out of sight. The large deep blue diamond had been discovered in India, purchased by the merchant Tavernier, who in turn sold it to Louis XIV. The king had it cut and faceted, resulting in the gem commonly known as the "French Blue." Louis XV had it set in his jeweled insignia of the Order of the Golden Fleece, where it remained part of the French Crown jewels, until it was stolen, four months before its next owner, Louis XVI, lost his head in the square outside the very building from which it had been taken.
One theory suggests it was taken to England by one of the men who stole it, another that it was part of a group of the stolen Crown jewels which was used to bribe the Duke of Brunswick to abandon his invasion of France and the rescue of Louis XVI and his family. After that, the trail of the French Blue goes cold, until a large blue diamond surfaces in Regency England …