Retro Blast: Flirting with Parasols

I am not a sun-worshipper. In summer I can usually be found seeking any available patch of shade, slathered in sunscreen and wearing a large hat. I heartily wish parasols would make a comeback: they're fun and stylish...and evidently, one can do a lot more with them than use them to ward off unwelcome UV rays, as we learned from this 2009 post about Daniel Shafer's 1877 Secrets of Life Revealed. Enjoy!

I must say that I regret that parasols are no longer in fashion—a pity, as they have a long history stretching back to the ancient world (yes, Babylonian and Greek women—and men!—used parasols to fend off the fierce middle eastern sun.) The thing is, they’re just incredibly useful: you can carry around some shade with you on a hot summer day, create your own flattering lighting by carrying a parasol of just the right color, or make a decided fashion statement by coordinating your parasol with the rest of your ensemble. And when furled, a parasol makes a fine instrument of self-defense that doesn’t require a license to carry!

And of course, they’re such fun to flirt with—peeking coyly from underneath them, or swinging them insouciantly at one’s side…the possibilities are endless! Daniel Shafer certainly recognized this fact, and furnishes the following tips on how to flirt with parasols:

Like the Handkerchief, Glove, and Fan, the "Parasol" has its important part to play in flirtations, and we give the following rules regulating the same: 

Carrying it elevated in left hand:  Desiring acquaintance

Carrying it elevated in right hand:  You are too willing

Carrying it closed in left hand:  Meet on the first crossing

Carrying it closed in right hand by the side:  Follow me

Carrying it over the right shoulder:  You can speak to me

Carrying it over the left shoulder:  You are too cruel

Closing up:  I wish to speak to you

Dropping it:  I love you

End of tips to lips:  Do you love me?

Folding it up:  Get rid of your company

Letting it rest on the right cheek:  Yes

Letting it rest on the left cheek:  No

Striking it on the hand:  I am very displeased

Swinging it to and fro by the handle on left side:  I am engaged

Swinging it to and fro by the handle on the right side:  I am married

Tapping the chin gently:  I am in love with another

Twirling it around:  Be careful; we are watched

Using it as a fan:  Introduce me to your company

With handle to lips:  Kiss me

I hope you’ve enjoyed these tips on how to secretly communicate with fans, gloves, handkerchiefs, and parasols…it’s rather like a 19th century form of texting, isn’t it?

Accessories: Parasols, Part 7

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, and other accessories.

Our accessory of the week is the parasol, vital for the preservation of a lady’s clear, un-sunburnt complexion—don’t forget, sun worship is a twentieth century phenomenon. And that isn’t all they were good for: they could be a tool for flirtation (or a useful item for fending off too determined a suitor!) And aren’t they just plain fun?

I’m dividing our look at parasols into two posts, though they were much more popular an accessory earlier on than they were into the 1820s and 1830s. 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 British publications including Ackermann’s Repository and La Belle Assemblée. However, Ackermann’s had the most detailed plates, so the majority of images you’ll see will be from that publication.  These date from 1806-1815.

Happy accessorizing!

Kensington Garden Promenade Dresses, La Belle Assemblee, June 1806.

Promenade Dress, Ackermann's Repository, July 1809.  You'll notice in these earlier prints that most of the parasols match some aspect of the dress or pelisse/wrap. I love the net trim on this one.

Promenade Dress, Ackermann's Repository, August 1809.  Aren't the tassels adorable?

Promenade Dress, Ackermann's Repository, September 1809.

Walking Dress, Ackermann's Repository, October 1809. One thing that has interested me is that in many of these prints, the parasol was held by the top rather than the handle when not actually open.

Walking Dress, Ackermann's Repository, June 1810.  The text describes this as a "Chinese parasol, with deep awning of white silk." 

Promenade Dresses, Ackermann's Repository, July 1810.  I imagine that going out for a walk with a friend might be dangerous if you were both carrying parasols.

Walking Dress, Ackermann's Repository, August 1810. This one appears to have a double flounce. Notice also the shaped handle. It is a "Parasol of green Chinese silk, with deep awning."

 

Promenade Morning Dress, La Belle Assemblee, August 1810. A plaid parasol!

Promenade Dress, Ackermann's Repository, June 1811. Very natty, green with white trim.

 Walking Dress, Ackermann's Repository, August 1811. That's one way to keep the kids amused...

 Promenade Costume, Ackermann's Repository, September 1811. "...parasol corresponding with the cloak, with deep Chinese awning."

Promenade Dress, Ackermann's Repository, July 1812. Note the little hook at the end of the handle--the first we've seen in these prints.

Promenade Dress, Ackermann's Repository, August 1812. "...parasol of correspondent shot sarsnet, with deep ball-fringed awning."

Walking Dress, Ackermann's Repository, September 1812. "Parasol of blue shot silk, with deep Chinese frings." 

 Morning Walking Dress, Ackermann's Repository, July 1813. Note that while the handle is straight, there's a little hook on the end of this parasol! Useful for retrieving a dropped reticule, I suppose.

Promenade Dress, Ackermann's Repository, September 1813. "A large Eastern parasol, the colour of the mantle, with deep Chinese awning."  This may be my favorite parasol--it's so architectural! 

Promenade Dress, Ackermann's Repository, October 1814.  Here's something we've not yet seen--a carrying loop at the top!

 

 

Walking Dress, Ackermann's Repository, May 1815. "Parasol of straw-coloured silk."

We'll have a look at parasols from 1815 through the 1830s in our next Accessories post...and now I'll go lurk in the corner and have quiet parasol envy. ☺

Accessories, Part 5: Fans

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, and other accessories.

Our accessory of the week is the fan, that indispensable and multi-purpose item in any upper class woman’s fashion arsenal. Fans were vastly useful: one could flirt with them (or use them to signal the profoundest disdain!), use them as a weapon, or even—shockingly—use them to cool one’s self down after a lively set of dances. Just as the reticule was mostly a daytime accessory, the fan is only seen in prints of evening, ball, and opera dresses

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 British publications including Ackermann’s Repository, La Belle Assemblée, The Lady’s Magazine, Phillips’ Fashions of London and Paris, and others. However, Ackermann’s had the most detailed plates, so the majority of images you’ll see will be from that publication.  These date from 1799-1821. 

Happy accessorizing!

London Full Dress, from Fashions of London and Paris, June 1799

 

Parisian Winter Dress, from La Belle Assemblee, March 1807

"white gloves and fan"  Half Dress, from Ackermann's Repository, February 1809

Evening or Opera Dresses, Ackermann's Repository, April 1810

"fan of silver-frosted crape"   Half Dress, Ackermann's Repository, November 1810

Evening Dresses, Ackermann's Repository, January 1811

Evening Dress, Ackermann's Repository, October 1811

Ball Dress, Ackermann's Repository, April 1812

Evening Dress, Ackermann's Repository, November 1812

"Fan of richly frosted silver crepe"  Evening Dress, Ackermann's Repository, December 1813

"Small ivory fan" Evening Dress, Ackermann's Repository, October 1818

Evening Dress, Ackermann's Repository, May 1820

Court Dress, Ackermann's Repository, July 1820

Evening Dress, Ackermann's Repository, January 1821

Hmm. Apart from variations in size, fans just weren't very interesting, it seems...or at least, not very colorful. Even when I have the dress description for a plate, mention isn't always made of what sort of fan the illustration depicts. That makes sense in some ways--one fan of ivory or frosted crape will go with many outfits. But it would seem to me that collecting different fans for different dresses would be half the fun--don't you agree?

As it happens, fans get much more interesting later in the 1820s, as we shall see in the next Accessories post...soon.

Flirting with Props, Part 4

I must say that I regret that parasols are no longer in fashion—a pity, as they have a long history stretching back to the ancient world (yes, Babylonian and Greek women—and men!—used parasols to fend off the fierce middle eastern sun.) The thing is, they’re just incredibly useful: you can carry around some shade with you on a hot summer day, create your own flattering lighting by carrying a parasol of just the right color, or make a decided fashion statement by coordinating your parasol with the rest of your ensemble. And when furled, a parasol makes a fine instrument of self-defense that doesn’t require a license to carry!

And of course, they’re such fun to flirt with—peeking coyly from underneath them, or swinging them insouciantly at one’s side…the possibilities are endless! Daniel Shafer certainly recognized this fact, and furnishes the following tips on how to flirt with parasols:

Like the Handkerchief, Glove, and Fan, the "Parasol" has its important part to play in flirtations, and we give the following rules regulating the same:

Carrying it elevated in left hand: Desiring acquaintance
Carrying it elevated in right hand: You are too willing
Carrying it closed in left hand: Meet on the first crossing
Carrying it closed in right hand by the side: Follow me
Carrying it over the right shoulder: You can speak to me
Carrying it over the left shoulder: You are too cruel
Closing up: I wish to speak to you
Dropping it: I love you
End of tips to lips: Do you love me?
Folding it up: Get rid of your company
Letting it rest on the right cheek: Yes
Letting it rest on the left cheek: No
Striking it on the hand: I am very displeased
Swinging it to and fro by the handle on left side: I am engaged
Swinging it to and fro by the handle on the right side: I am married
Tapping the chin gently: I am in love with another
Twirling it around: Be careful; we are watched
Using it as a fan: Introduce me to your company
With handle to lips: Kiss me

I hope you’ve enjoyed these tips on how to secretly communicate with fans, gloves, handkerchiefs, and parasols…it’s rather like a 19th century form of texting, isn’t it?

Flirting with Props, Part 3

I hope you all had a pleasant Memorial Day weekend! Here in New England we had a little foretaste of summer on Thursday and Friday, with temperatures in the low nineties…definitely fan weather! So today we’ll be learning about how to flirt with fans (preferably the handheld model and not the type that requires electricity!)…but first we need to announce the winner of last week’s Name That Mystery Object contest!

The correct answer was indeed a skirt lifter—a lady could fasten the toothed clamp end onto the lower edge of her dress, and be able to lift her skirt slightly to avoid muddy or dusty areas (or otherwise unpleasant patches of ground—remember that this was the age of horses!) when out promenading. Jane, you were correct about it being a skirt lifter, but a chatelaine is an entirely different thing--it was a brooch or clip with chains to which a lady could attach little necessities, like a notepad, scissors, needle-case, pencil, or thimble-holder (here's an image of one.) And the winner, drawn from among the correct guesses, is Ammietia!

Ammietia, please send me your mailing address through the contact form on my website so I can get an ARC of Betraying Season out to you. And stayed tuned for next month when I have another mystery object for you all to puzzle over!

Now, on to how to flirt with fans. Mr. Shafer’s intro to fan flirtations in his Secrets of Life Revealed (Baltimore, 1877) is short and to the point:

The fan is also used for flirtations, and the following rules govern the subject:

Carrying in right hand: You are too willing
Carrying in right hand in front of face: Follow me
Carrying in left hand: Desirous of an acquaintance
Closing it: I wish to speak with you
Drawing across the forehead: We are watched
Drawing across the cheek: I love you
Drawing across the eyes: I am sorry
Drawing through the hand: I hate you
Dropping: We will be friends
Fanning fast: I am engaged
Fanning slow: I am married
Letting it rest on right cheek: Yes
Letting it rest on left cheek: No
Open and shut: You are cruel
Open wide: Wait for me
Shut: I have changed
Placing it on the right ear: You have changed
Twirling it in left hand: I love another
With handle to lips: Kiss me

Well! Again I see a lot of potential for miscommunication here, especially for those of us who tend to be klutzy! Then again, we might end up with a wide circle of acquaintances that way…

Come back next week when I'll finish up this series with parasol flirtations.

Flirting with Props, Part 2

Gloves…once an essential part of both ladies’ and gentlemen’s wardrobes. If you had any claim to gentility you did not stir out of doors without them, summer or winter. You wore them when making calls, when shopping, driving or riding, going to parties, and dancing—the only time you took them off was at a meal. In fact, letting a young man touch your ungloved hand was considered quite risqué (and very titillating as a result!) So I don’t suppose it’s terribly surprising that Mr. Shafer included a list of Glove Flirtations for the edification of fashionable young ladies and gentlemen in his Secrets of Life Revealed. Here’s his take on glove flirtations:

Like the handkerchief, the glove at times takes an important part in flirtations. The following are the known rules on the subject:

Biting the tips: I wish to be rid of you very soon
Clenching them, rolled up in right hand: No
Drawing halfway on the left hand: Indifference
Dropping both of them: I love you
Dropping one of them: Yes
Folding up carefully: Get rid of your company
Holding the tips downward: I wish to be acquainted
Holding them loose in the right hand: Be contented
Holding them loose in the left hand: I am satisfied
Left hand with the naked thumb exposed: Do you love me?
Putting them away: I am vexed
Right hand with the naked thumb exposed: Kiss me
Smoothing them out gently: I am displeased
Striking them over the shoulder: Follow me
Tapping the chin: I love another
Tossing them up gently: I am engaged
Turning them inside out: I hate you
Twisting them around the fingers: Be careful, we are watched
Using them as a fan: Introduce me to your company

Somehow, going to the trouble of turning a pair of kid gloves inside out just to tell someone that you loathe them seems a little over the top—isn’t a stony glare just before turning one’s back on someone equally effective? And what about "smoothing them out gently" meaning "I am displeased"? Does smoothing them out violently mean "I’m so mad I could spit nails"? Unfortunately this system doesn’t seem to allow for shades of meaning…

And speaking of gloves…last year I posted pictures of a couple of 19th century mystery objects for you to guess the identity of, with a drawing from among the correct guesses to win an ARC of Bewitching Season. Well, it’s Mystery Object time again…with the prize being a signed ARC of Betraying Season. Come back next Tuesday for a look at my diabolically difficult object, and register your guesses!

Flirting with Props, Part 1

Regina’s post about the language of flowers last week reminded me of a delightful series of lists I found that explain how to—yes, you guessed it—use personal items to flirt and send secret communications in public. The original lists appeared in a book called Secrets of Life Revealed (wow! gotta love that title!) by Daniel R. Shafer, published in Baltimore in 1877. It included tips on how to communicate via handkerchief, glove, fan, and parasol. I have no idea how widespread this knowledge really was among 19th century misses, but I thought it might amuse you.

So let’s look at Handkerchief Flirtations first. Mr. Shafer writes:
The handkerchief, among lovers, is used in a different manner than its legitimate purpose. The most delicate hints can be given without danger of misunderstanding, and in “flirtations” it becomes a very useful instrument. It is in fact superior to the deaf and dumb alphabet, as the notice of bystanders is not attracted. The following rules are the law on the subject:

Drawing it across the lips: Desiring an acquaintance
Drawing it across the cheek: I love you
Drawing it across the forehead: Look, we are watched
Drawing it through the hands: I hate you
Dropping it: We will be friends
Folding it: I wish to speak with you
Letting it rest on the right cheek: Yes
Letting it rest on the left cheek: No
Letting it remain on the eyes: You are so cruel
Opposite corners in both hands: Do wait for me
Over the shoulder: Follow me
Placing it over the right ear: How you have changed
Putting it in the pocket: No more love at present
Taking it by the center: You are most too willing
Twisting it in the left hand: I wish to be rid of you
Twisting it in the right hand: I love another
Winding it around the forefinger: I am engaged
Winding it around the third finger: I am married

Hmm. I tried to picture just how one placed one’s handkerchief over one’s right ear without looking totally silly, and can’t help thinking a whispered comment in passing might do the trick just as well…but this is, after all, the age of disposable tissues and maybe a flirtatious young lady of the 19th century could carry it off. The jury’s still out on that one…

Next week I’ll tell you how to flirt with gloves.