What the New Year Hostess Wears (to Entertain Her Guests)

Eeeeee! I’m late, I’m terribly late to wish you a happy New Year dear SNAP readers! It’s been a scandalously busy fortnight – not a holiday period at all for me. And then yesterday I was running around all day marketing and cleaning my apartment and cooking in preparation for a little New Year’s Eve dinner party I was hosting.

I had stipulated to my guests to wear something shiny. I hadn’t bought anything new myself since I had so many shiny options to choose from. I let the weather dictate my choice and brought out my black sequin harem shorts (shine!), my new Dorothy shoes (glitter!) and because it was so terribly hot my coolest singlet top I could find, which happened to be yellow. To set it all off, I wore for the first time a pair of amusing red and yellow parrot earrings I had bought in Lisbon.

But once upon a time (and perhaps there still is somewhere in some country, but not in Australia) there was just such an indispensible and ladylike hostess’s garment called a Hostess Apron.

In actual fact, this fancy number was part of a Christmas gift from one of my friends, who tied it on for me – and who, being a textiles designer, also happened to have designed it. I remarked that it looked quite saucy as the hem of the apron was longer than my shorts. So I am proud to model my hostess apron for you here as I do the shimmy for my guests.

Happy New Year! (It’s still New Year somewhere, right?)

Rules For Black

While I hate to wear black from head to toe, black worn with white is dynamiteI’ve always been fascinated by the changing etiquette of fashion. Not so much in the sense that I desire to know the correct rules of what to wear on a given occasion (my life is hardly so formal), (and, rules are boring!), but rather in a historical context.

Two books that I have bought in recent years fit this criteria: Genevieve Antoine Dariaux’s A Guide to Elegance (first published in 1964, updated in 2003), and Elise Vallée’s The Well-Dressed Woman’s Do’s and Dont’s (first published in 1925).

There is little to be found online about the latter, but I spent a much-fascinated hour or so reading Amazon reviews on the former. I was surprised to find most of them were truly offended by this outmoded guide to elegance; a very few found it inspirational, and some read it as I: as a quaint reflection of sartorial times gone past*.

Elegance is about attitude and bearing rather than mere finery…

One reviewer was disgusted that Dariaux propounded that black in the mornings was never chic. I chuckled because, according to Vallée, bright or light day frocks were completely inappropriate and black took centre stage. What a difference 40 years make!

Dariaux declares that black should only be worn with ‘beige, white, toast; clear shades, but not pastels such as sky blue or pink (with the exception of pale yellow, but only for a hat, worn with black shoes, bag and gloves)’. What strictures! But I must wonder, why pale yellow and not pale pink for example? That seems rather arbitrary. Perhaps because a yellow hat was akin to neutral straw?

Each of us must find our own way to elegance, and it does not mean we will all be carbon copies of one another…

I have fairly strict self-imposed rules on black too, but I would never go so far as to say they are the right rules for everybody. I prefer to wear black with white, grey or beige (as Dariaux suggests first in her list). I particularly dislike it with bright hues as it reminds me of the brash – and inelegant – 80s, although I occasionally will make an exception when it seems right. Many people love the classic combination of black and white with red, but I find that a bit predictable – I’d swap the red for hot pink for example (as I did yesterday in fact). Apart from that, I make it a rule to wear black as little as possible, whatever the season.

These are my own rules for elegance. I don’t believe you can be or feel elegant if you are in the slightest bit uncomfortable or lack confidence in your chosen attire. Elegance is about attitude and bearing rather than mere finery (and these are the sections in both books where the authors truly shine). Each of us must find our own way to elegance, and it does not mean we will all be carbon copies of one another – that’s more Stepford Wife than Coco Chanel.

*I was flabbergasted that the section on Hats must have been excised from Dariaux’s book in the ‘updated’ publication. Who made that stupid decision? Why leave Veils in then – who weirs a veil (except a bride) today? And Zoology! That chapter should more clearly have been titled Pets. 

No Colour in the Street!

I found this wonderful little book The Well-dressed Woman’s Do’s & Don’ts in a small bookshop near my parents’ home. It was first published in 1925, and was written by Elise Vallée.

The chapters cover what exactly it means to be ‘well-dressed’ for the 1920s woman; to maquillage or not; the correct lingerie; dressing for one’s figure; what a smart, modern woman’s wardrobe should contain: coats (in particular, fur), hats, dresses, and other accessories such jewellery, shoes and gloves.

The Parisienne

She declares that ‘it could not be denied that the Frenchwoman, or more particularly, the Parisienne holds the undisputed position as the model for women of all other countries’ and ‘[she] may be said to look upon herself as a “Mannequin,” which it is her privilege to display to the world as effectively as it is in her power to do’. 

‘the Parisienne holds the undisputed position as the model for women of all other countries’

To put it simply, the Parisienne carefully assesses and makes the best of what nature has given her, takes care of her person, and dresses for her figure. Above all, she pays serious attention to the details, ‘without which the best and most expensive of clothes will make little impression’. 

Here are some of Elise’s pearls of wisdom:

General style

Don’t think that in buying smart clothes you have done all that is necessary.
Don’t economise on your elastic belts, and Do wear them next to your skin.

Maquillage

Don’t use too fine a powder. Never use a white powder.
Don’t use a greasy lip-stick, or one that gives a brown or violet tinge.
Don’t dye your hair at all if you can make it look nice without.

Wardrobe

Don’t have lots of clothes for the same kind of occasion: it is extravagant and unnecessary.
Never buy cheap clothes; they are also extravagant and dowdy as well.
Don’t wear country clothes in town.
Don’t order coloured suits, unless very dark ones.

Coats

Don’t be hasty in the purchase of a fur coat.
Don’t choose a fancy or elaborate shape, and Don’t have bright linings.
Don’t say black doesn’t suit you until you have tried a black dress [ie, coat] with your face skin as near perfection as you can make it. 
Do wear dark colours in the street. 

Frocks

Never go out in the street without a coat or fur or some sort of wrap over your frock.
Don’t wear colours in the street.
Don’t, as a general rule, wear low dresses to dine in restaurants, or, if you do, never leave your cloak in the cloak-room. 

Hats

Do have your hats made to measure.
Do have a really good milliner and
Don’t change your milliner.
Do wear a brim shaped to flatter your face.
Don’t wear a narrow crown unless your face is pointed.
Don’t wear your hat perched on top of your head.
Don’t wear a tight hat if you have a full face. 

Evening Dresses

Don’t fill your wardrobe with expensive and elaborate evening dresses.
Do be careful that they should not look theatrical.
Don’t wear a mass of jewels; have a few good ones.

Colour

Why were there such strict rules about colour? ‘The well-dressed woman who is sure of her ”Mannequin” [ie, figure or person] should wear dark clothes in the street and keep colours for indoor occasions when she will have the advantage of a softer and more becoming light.’  

Fail!

There are lots more regulations besides. I wonder what on earth Elise would think of today’s fashions? I would fail on several counts: I’ve worn brown-tinged lippy; I dye my hair; I wear colours in the street; and I might own one or two garments that look somewhat theatrical. I do like her rules about milliners though…

The Bridal Trousseau

In the days that young girls were launched into society with the intention of catching a husband, a strict observance of rules governed the contents of their wardrobes. White and pink were the most popular colours for girls just out of the schoolroom; pearls were suitable – flashy colourful stones were not.

It follows that upon a young lady’s engagement a whole new wardrobe could be planned: her bridal trousseau. Safely married, she was able to wear more daring gowns and dashing colours, and her new station in life required that she should be suitably attired for every occasion.

upon a young lady’s engagement a whole new wardrobe could be planned

Trousseau comes from Old French, and is a diminutive of trousse – so ‘little bundle’ it is. Traditionally it included household linens as well as lingerie and clothing and other accessories for the new bride. The trousseau was stored in a ‘wedding chest’ – or ‘hope chest’ as it became later known – and the collection of these expensive items was begun many years earlier.

For the (presumably wealthy) Victorian lady, these would include ‘velvet dresses – with thousands of dollars worth of lace flounces to be looped over skirts; walking dresses; ball gowns; travelling dresses in differing fabrics; evening robes in Swiss Muslin; linen dresses for the garden and croquet; dresses for horse races and yacht races; dresses for dinner; dresses for receptions and parties…’ [Source: Lights and Shadows of New York by James McCabe, 1872. For more info click Reference at the end of the story.]

Don‘t forget the heart-flocked stockings!That was then… what of now? Most brides already own a houseful of linens, but undoubtedly they could find more room in their wardrobe for a few sundry pieces of frivolous lingerie – special things to wear on their wedding night; or for pretty dresses and shoes to wear on their honeymoon. And what better occasion to indulge in some beautiful clothes?

I remember the delightful time I had once assembling a wardrobe for a glorious summer holiday: I packed those silk party frocks and silver sandals so carefully! I did, however, leave room for shopping.

There is one new bride today who would be able to rival these expensive Victorian brides, but I suspect the contents of HRH The Duchess of Cambridge’s luggage would be less ostentatious, and a whole lot more modern and practical – yet ever elegant, as evidenced at her wedding.

Put to the Blush

Definitely not sitting like a lady!

I was intrigued a few months ago when I came across a reference to women rouging their knees in the 1920s. I had never heard of this practice before. Subsequently I stumbled upon a reference from the musical Chicago: “I’m gonna rouge my knees and roll my stockings down and all that jazz…” sung by Velma.

Jaynie Van Roe at Here’s Looking Like You, Kid suggests that flappers, like courtesans who rouged their breasts, rouged their knees to attract attention to them. Most likely they applied it after they had pulled on their silk or rayon stockings, however. (Consider the unattractive red smear created if one dragged stockings over the top.) Skin toned stockings gave the impression of nudity, making the short skirts and blushing knees seem more shocking still.

Flappers are notorious for being the first to wear short skirts that revealed so much of their legs. For two centuries women’s legs had remained hidden beneath skirts that swept the floor. A change came in the Roaring Twenties, a decade of sheer excess and joie de vivre after the terrible years of war. Women were freed from their constricting underclothes and voluminous skirts. Worn by the working girl, practical and comfortable tubelike dresses no longer hugged the body, or exaggerated the bust, waist or buttocks.

Goodbye corsets, hello short skirts

Not only had fashion changed; so had the zone of erotic interest. The décolletage was no longer the primary focus: it was now the legs. Goodbye corsets, hello short skirts. Hemlines crept steadily upwards from 1922; by 1926 they were right on the knee where they hovered for three years – and truly shocked the old Edwardian generation.

Whenever a girl danced or walked into a breeze, one might be lucky enough to catch a glimpse of their knees, hitherto hidden delights. Although Charleston era dances were so energetic any loose skirt – regardless of length – might fling up, revealing the forbidden flesh made more titillating by powder or rouge.

Flapper style evening dresses have been a mainstay in fashion ever since the Jazz Age, although today you might apply a bit of shimmer powder or bronzer to your limbs, rather than a puff of rouge to your knees. It won’t scandalise anyone though.

Reference:
Dusk till Dawn – A History of the Evening Dress, by Alexandra Black, Scriptum Editions 2004