Accessories, Part 10: More Scarves and Shawls

We’re back for another installment in our fashion series on NineteenTeen focusing not on dresses and gowns (gorgeous as they are) but on the little things that complete a fashionable ensemble—hats, shoes, gloves, purses, parasols, and other accessories.

This week we'll look at more scarves and shawls, following up on the first set of images we saw a few weeks back. In this era of no central heating, the shawl was a ubiquitous—and needed—garment. Ladies made a virtue of necessity by turning it into not only a fashion statement, but also a status indicator via expensive imported shawls from India, of silk and cashmere.

We’ll be seeing examples from 1816 through 1821; I’ll cover later years in the next installment. Look for lots of images rather than commentary, though I’ll try to supply original text if I have it—the point is to be able to examine multiple examples of each item. Images are drawn from my collection of prints from Ackermann’s Repository. Happy accessorizing!

Carriage Dress, March 1816, Ackermann’s Repository

Looks like an Indian import shawl, maybe?

Morning Dress, April 1816, Ackermann’s Repository

Evening Dress, May 1816, Ackermann’s Repository

Another fine lace shawl

Evening Dress, June 1816, Ackermann’s Repository

Original text reads, “A rich white lace scarf is thrown carelessly over the left shoulder, and partially shades one side of the neck.” The “casual” look seems to have been in. 

Opera Dress, July 1816, Ackermann’s Repository

Original text reads, “A blush-coloured French silk scarf is thrown carelessly over the shoulders.”

Ball Dress, October 1816, Ackermann’s Repository

I would guess this one is “carelessly draped” as well. Another import shawl?

Carriage Dress, February 1817, Ackermann’s Repository

Juggling both a shawl and a large muff here...

Evening Dress, February 1817, Ackermann’s Repository

Opera Dress, March 1817, Ackermann’s Repository

This looks more like a carriage rug than a shawl, doesn’t it?

Evening Dress, January 1818, Ackermann’s Repository

A plate from a period of court mourning for Princess Charlotte of Wales. The white or grey embroidery on the edge is striking.

Evening Dress, April 1818, Ackermann’s Repository

A tartan shawl? Hmm...

Evening Dress, October 1818, Ackermann’s Repository

Interestingly, a shawl isn’t even mentioned in the dress description in the original text.

Walking Dress, October 1818, Ackermann’s Repository

Original description reads, “A lemon-coloured shawl, very richly embroidered, is thrown loosely over the shoulders.

Walking Dress, November 1818, Ackermann’s Repository

Note the kerchief around the neck as well as the shawl. Original text reads, “...a silk handkerchief is tied carelessly round the throat, and a rich scarf thrown over the shoulders.”

Half Mourning Evening Dress, January 1819, Ackermann’s Repository

Queen Charlotte had died late the previous year, hence the half-mourning by this date. The black scarf shows handsomely against the white dress.

Walking Dress, February 1819, Ackermann’s Repository

Again, no description of the shawl depicted in this print is given, which seems odd.

Walking & Morning Dress, September 1819, Ackermann’s Repository

This shawl appears to be trimmed with broad scalloped lace.

Walking Dress, June 1820, Ackermann’s Repository

Again, the shawl is not described in the text. Had the lovely Indian shawls now become so commonplace as not to merit a description?

Evening Dress, June 1820, Ackermann's Repository

Cottage Dress, September 1820, Ackermann’s Repository

Note the kerchief tied loosely around the neck, matching the dress in color.

Walking Dress, October 1820, Ackermann’s Repository

Evening Dress, February 1821, Ackermann’s Repository

Walking Dress, July 1821, Ackermann’s Repository

Evening Dress, August 1821, Ackermann’s Repository

Evening Dress, September 1821, Ackermann’s Repository
Another plaid shawl!

Evening Dress, November 1821, Ackermann’s Repository

To be continued...

As Always, Thankful for You!

Marissa and I will be off next week spending time with our families, but we wanted to let you know how thankful we are for all of you. Your encouragement and support mean a lot. Thank you for reading, commenting, and sharing our work on Nineteen Teen and our books.

You may have your holiday meal planned. Mine is. Mostly. There is a debate on how to make mashed potatoes. And I’d like to try apple compote to go with the turkey.

But if you’re up for something new, here are two recipes, the first courtesy of the mother of my wonderful critique partner and the second from author Louise M. Gouge, who is a marvelous cook and a marvelous writer of Regency-set and Western romance. 

Marilynn’s Thumbprint Cookies

Ingredients:

3 sticks butter or margarine

3 cups flour

¾ cup sugar

½ tsp salt

2 cups ground nuts

Raspberry or blackberry jelly (my favorite is raspberry)

Directions:

Preheat oven to 325°F. Mix all ingredients except for the jelly. Roll the dough into tbsp-sized balls, place on cookie sheet and flatten each ball with your thumb, leaving an indentation in the middle. Drop a dollop of jelly into each indentation. Bake for 20 minutes or until slightly browned. Remove cookies from the cookie sheet and cool. Makes at least 2 dozen cookies.

Whatever you end up cooking, may you have a very happy Thanksgiving! 

The Children of George III: Edward

I’m rather glad, for Queen Charlotte’s sake, that she finally got her baby girl in September of1766...because a year later, on November 2, 1767, yet another boy would be arriving in the nursery at Buckingham House. The new baby happened to arrive while his papa’s favorite brother, Edward, Duke of York, was awaiting burial just a short distance away at St. James’s Palace...so it seemed natural to name this newcomer after his late uncle, Edward.

Though he was fond of telling acquaintances later in life about how he’d been destined from birth to lead a life of gloom and struggle, Edward's first seventeen years seem remarkably gloom- and struggle-free. Just as the King’s two eldest sons were paired together, so Edward and his brother William would be: Edward was sent from the nursery at age nine to live with William in a pleasant house on Kew Green, and after William went to sea, Edward had the house and staff and a generous housekeeping budget to himself.

All that changed when he was sent to Germany in 1785 to start his education as a soldier. His governor, a Baron Wangenheim, was evidently a bit of a hard case, and Edward, himself more than a little spoiled, chafed under his tutelage—enough that finally, after receiving his first commission in Geneva, he bolted back to England without leave in early 1790. His highly annoyed father sent him to Gibraltar in disgrace, but at least he’d rid himself of the Baron...and acquired a “chère amie” in the form of a Madame de Saint-Laurent, who would remain faithfully with him for the next twenty-eight years until...but let’s not get ahead of ourselves.

Edward did not make himself loved in Gibraltar; he was a stickler for discipline (thanks to his training under Wangenheim, probably) and ferociously extravagant. The soldiers and shopkeepers of the Rock breathed a sigh of relief when he was sent next to Canada, where he would remain for the next nine years, once again deeply unpopular with the army but wildly popular socially. He was briefly stationed in the West Indies, then sent back to Canada, then back to Gibraltar in 1802 as its governor. But he lasted just a year before being recalled to England because his harsh discipline sparked a mutiny among his troops. His recall home pretty much ended his military career, though he retained some honorary military positions and honors (and the governorship of Gibraltar, though he never set foot there again.)

The next decade and a half were spent in his various houses (he seemed to regard four as the minimum he required) in England with Madame de Saint-Laurent while Edward’s debts only grew—he still hadn’t unlearned his habit of extravagance. He might well have lived out his life in this fashion, spending money and taking an interest in science and political theory, but the unexpected death in childbirth of his niece, Princess Charlotte, in 1817 precipitated him into the great matrimonial race of1818, when the sons of George III scrambled to find wives in order to provide a legitimate heir for the next generation. Edward’s choice landed on Victoire of Leiningen, the widowed sister of Charlotte’s husband Leopold; Edward proposed and was accepted...and according to legend, let his chère amie Madame Saint-Laurent find out about his upcoming marriage by reading about it in the newspaper. (She retired to a convent after their parting.)

Edward settled contently with his new bride at her home in Amorbach, where the cost of living was cheaper than in England, spending money he didn’t have on improvements to the ducal manor. But when Victoire became pregnant, Edward resolved that his child, a potential heir to the throne, should be born on English soil, and accordingly, when Victoire was seven months pregnant, Edward ordered an expensive traveling coach and they trundled across Europe and back to England (despite big brother Prinny telling them not to.) Edward’s daughter was born in May and christened Alexandrina Victoria. He was delighted with the sturdy baby and not at all disappointed in her gender; doubtless he assumed a brother or two would eventually join her in the nursery.

But little Drina would have no further brothers and sisters; when she was but eight months old and the family visiting the Devon coast, her papa caught a cold...and though he'd often declared his health vastly superior to that of his brothers and that he'd survive them all, his cold devolved into pneumonia...and within a few days, in January 1820, he was dead. Though Victoria would later idolize her late father (note the miniature of him she's clutching in the picture at right by Henry Bone), he doesn't seem to have endeared himself to many in his lifetime...and yet, you can't think too badly of a man who remained so faithful to his mistress for so many years.

In the Holiday Spirit, Already?

You’ve probably seen it—decorations popping up in shopping centers, festive music playing inside, advertisements of everything you and your loved ones ever wanted online and on television. The holiday season comes sooner and sooner each year, it seems. But while every family has its own traditions, there’s a few that rarely, if ever, were celebrated in early nineteenth century England.

 

One of those is the poinsettia. The gorgeous red flowers are popular gifts and decorations where I live, with owners waiting eagerly for that first bloom to appear. There are even white and pink versions. But the what we now call the poinsettia (after Joel Robert Poinsett, first US ambassador to Mexico) originated in south of the border and did not reach America until 1825. I have not found evidence of its arrival in England until after that date.

Mistletoe is, sadly, almost as rare. It only grows in certain parts of England. So, unless you lived in in the south of England or west in the midlands, you might not have mistletoe either. Holly and ivy were more likely Christmas decorations.

Which is why I asked for them on the cover of my latest re-release, An Uncommon Christmas, which is currently available for preorder and launches next week. Previously published as “A Place by the Fire” in Mistletoe Kittens, and as a standalone novella The Mistletoe Kitten, the book has connections to both the Uncommon Courtships series and the Lady Emily Capers. It explains how the older brother of Jareth Darby (The Unwilling Miss Watkin) and the best friend of Hannah Alexander (Secrets and Sensibilities) came to fall in love, for the second time.

Eleanor Pritchett has convinced herself that love is not for her. She’d dared to love once, a man superior to her in birth, education, and position. His family warned her away. But when his orphaned niece begs her to carry a kitten to him for Christmas, Norrie cannot refuse.

Justinian, Earl of Darby, always wondered what happened to his first love, whom his father claimed was a fortune hunter. Now she returns, bearing a kitten. Can that tiny creature, and the wonder of Christmas, prove that true love never fades, and hearts once closed can be opened anew?

I hope it puts you in the holiday spirit, whenever you read it.

Smashwords  

Amazon 

Barnes and Noble 

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iBooks 

Accessories, Part 9: Scarves and Shawls

We’re back for another installment in our fashion series on NineteenTeen focusing not on dresses and gowns (gorgeous as they are) but on the little things that complete a fashionable ensemble—hats, shoes, gloves, purses, parasols, and other accessories.

Our accessory of the week is the scarf or shawl, a particular favorite of mine (you don’t want to know how many scarves I own!) I’m not including fitted wraps or mantles—basically, colder weather wear— in this survey; we’ll look at those at a later date. In this era of no central heating, the shawl was a ubiquitous—and needed—garment. Ladies made a virtue of necessity by turning it into not only a fashion statement, but also a status indicator, via expensive imported shawls from India of silk and cashmere.

We’ll be seeing examples from 1809 through 1815; I’ll cover later years in the next installment. Look for lots of images rather than commentary, though I’ll try to supply original text if I have it—the point is to be able to examine multiple examples of each item. Images are drawn from my collection of prints from Ackermann’s Repository. Happy accessorizing!

Walking Dress, June 1809, Ackermann’s Repository

Love the tassels!

Opera Dress, July 1809, Ackermann’s Repository

From the description: “A Grecian scarf of rich Andalusian silk, happily contrasted with the colour of the robe, and wrought at the ends in a deep Tuscan border of gold or coloured silks.” 

Promenade Dresses, August 1809, Ackermann’s Repository.

Promenade Dress, September 1809, Ackermann’s Repository

Possibly an imported Indian shawl of wool or silk?

Walking Dress, October 1809, Ackermann’s Repository

The deep lace edging on this shawl is stunning.

Evening Dress, January 1810, Ackermann’s Repository

Another Indian import shawl, to judge by the rich color and design.

Promenade or Opera Dress, May 1810, Ackermann’s Repository

The original text reads, “An Austrian tippet of white satin, with full floss binding, and tassels to correspond.”

Half Dress, November 1810, Ackermann’s Repository
Original text says this is a "Shawl of white Indian mohair or Paris silk, embroidered with gold and shaded brown silk, finished with correspondent tassels..."

Walking Dress, November 1810, Ackermann's Repository

The description reads, “French tippet of leopard silk shag.”  Ooh, faux fur!

Evening Mourning Dress, December 1810, Ackermann’s Repository.

A Walking Dress, or Carriage Costume, February 1811, Ackermann’s Repository

Fur boas like this will be in fashion for the next twenty-five years.

Morning Dress, September 1811, Ackermann’s Repository

The original text reads, “A pelerine of spotted muslin or net, trimmed entirely round with lace or muslin, and thrown loosely over the shoulders.”

Polish Walking Pelisse, January 1812, Ackermann’s Repository

I love the way this tippet is decorated with elaborate braided frogging to match the pelisse.

Evening Dress, July 1812, Ackermann’s Repository

Hmm. Shot silk, maybe?

Evening Dress, September 1812, Ackermann’s Repository

An airy lace scarf will become a commonly-seen accessory in the next several years.

Evening Dress, December 1812, Ackermann’s Repository

Text description reads, “...and a long occasional scarf of crimson Cashmire, richly embroidered at the ends.”

Opera Dress, January 1813, Ackermann’s Repository

More fur!

Full Dress, May 1813, Ackermann’s Repository.

Ball Dress, June 1813 Ackermann’s Repository
 

Evening Dress, August 1813, Ackermann’s Repository

Original text reads, “Occasional scarf of white silk, richly embroidered in silver and coloured silks.”

Morning Dress, October 1813, Ackermann’s Repository

What a color!

Ball Dress, February 1814, Ackermann’s Repository

Promenade Dress, October 1814, Ackermann’s Repository

Interesting use of a scarf here, wrapped around the upper body.

Evening Dress, January 1815, Ackermann’s Repository

The original text states: “French scarf, fancifully disposed on the figure.” I’m guessing that’s code for “draped haphazardly.”

Evening Dress, April 1815, Ackermann’s Repository

Original text: “Grecian scarf, or shawl, a pale buff colour, embroidered with shaded morone silk, in Grecian characters, and fancifully disposed on the figure.”

Walking Dress,  July 1815, Ackermann’s Repository

Walking Dress, October 1815, Ackermann’s Repository

The original description states, “...a small French handkerchief round the neck.”

Walking Dress, December 1815, Ackermann’s Repository

Another stunning shawl to end with!

To be continued...