Thursday, March 23, 2017

From Paris to New York City: Hedgehog Hair, c1785

Thursday, March 23, 2017
Susan reporting,

It's a still-too-popular myth that early Americans were unfashionably plain and self-sufficient, wearing simply braided hair and clothes of homespun fabric. In this unrealistic vision of 18thc life, women not only tended the sheep, but spun the wool, wove the thread into fabric, and then cut and sewed all the clothes for their family.

Well, no. Very little fabric was produced at home, and nearly all of it was imported. People who lived along the coast were eager to follow the fashions of Paris and London, and the latest styles were imported along with fine woolens, silks, cottons, and linen. Even settlers and Native Americans living on the frontier traded for woolen cloth made in England. European visitors were surprised by how fashionable Americans were, and how the ladies in Philadelphia, Charleston, and New York followed the same trends as their sisters abroad.

These two portraits show how swiftly and thoroughly fashion came across the Atlantic. The portrait, left, of Marie-Antoinette, Queen of France, was painted by Élisabeth Vigée Le Brun in 1785. The queen wears her hair in the latest style, a la hérisson, or the hedgehog, devised by her hairdresser Léonard-Alexis Autié. Monsieur Léonard (as he was known at court) cut the front of the queen's hair shorter, brushed it with a scented "hard" pomade made from beeswax, curled it on narrow rollers or with heated tongs, and frizzed it for extravagant volume. Unlike today, frizz was an 18thc lady's best friend, and the more, the better. Loose falling side curls towards the back soften the effect. Finally the entire hair is dusted with a starchy powder to whiten it. (See here, here, and here for more about 18thc hair powder and pomade.)

The queen not only favored this hairstyle, but found it was a good "support" for the oversized turbans, plumes, and poufs she liked to wear during this period. While white-powdered hair was beginning to fall from fashion - it disappeared for good with the French Revolution - the queen continued to powder her fair hair to an even whiter pallor, the better to show off her complexion in contrast.

Variations on the hedgehog style were popular throughout the 1780s. Many of the ladies in portraits by Thomas Gainsborough sport hedgehog-inspired hair, and the hairdressers of the recent movie The Duchess gave Kiera Knightley wigs with stupendous hedgehogs.

In 1787, the style was being worn in New York City, too. The second portrait, right, by American artist Ralph Earl, is of Elizabeth Schuyler Hamilton, wife of then-member of the Continental Congress Alexander Hamilton; she's also the heroine of my upcoming book I, ELIZA HAMILTON. The Hamiltons were a fashionable young couple in Federalist New York City and in Philadelphia, attending the theatre, balls, and dinners with equally fashionable friends, and would have been very aware of European styles in hair and dress.

In her portrait, Eliza has clearly followed the royal trend-setter. Some historians (male, and dismissive of fashion history) describe her as wearing a wig, but that's her own hair, frizzed and powdered into an elegant hedgehog. It's a surprisingly close copy of the queen's hair, down to the horizontal falling curls at the back, although Eliza chose a simpler headdress of fine linen or silk gauze instead of Marie-Antoinette's plumed turban.

That snowy white hair must have taken a considerable amount of powder to achieve, too, for beneath it Eliza's natural hair color was described as a very dark brown, almost black - you can see it showing through the powder. So much powder made a statement of affluence as well. Hair powder was considered a luxury good, and while flour could be substituted as a low-cost alternative in a pinch, the best powder was imported, a finely ground mixture of starch, bone, and orris root for scent. It's likely that Eliza wore her hair this heavily powdered only for special occasions, and by the time she sat for another portrait in the 1790s, she'd given it up, and is shown wearing her own dark hair. There is, however, a record of Eliza receiving a gift of hair powder in 1780 from Martha Washington - a thoughtful present from another 18thc lady who enjoyed a good powdering.

Above left: Marie Antoinette with a Rose by Élisabeth Vigée Le Brun, 1783, Metropolitan Museum of Art.
Lower right: Portrait of Elizabeth Schuyler Hamilton (Mrs. Alexander Hamilton by Ralph Earl, c1787, Museum of the City of New York.


History Underfoot said...

Were the American ladies of that time importing the fabric and then making their own dresses here or were they importing dresses already made for them? Interesting topic and post!

Cynthia Lambert said...

All dresses were custom made at that time, so they were importing the fabrics and having dressmakers here make them, or going abroad and having their dresses made in Europe and bringing them back here.
Many people don't realize that hair powders weren't always white. They came in pastel colours too, as shown very nicely in the movie version of Amadeus.

Isabella Bradford/Susan Holloway Scott said...

History Underfoot - Cynthia's right - nearly all women's clothing was made to order, or sold as used. There was almost no ready-made clothing for women. Women bought the fabric and took it to their mantua-maker (dressmaker) to make up. They would also take older clothes to be remade into newer styles. Clothes *could* be sewn at home, but labor was cheap, so most clothing was professionally made. Almost all textiles were imported.Britain kept a tight lock on the technology that was creating their textile empire and the industrial revolution with it. Weaving by hand was a skilled trade requiring costly and bulky equipment; it wasn't something that could be done in a home setting .Eighteenth century America simply didn't have the skilled labor or the technology to create mechanized, American-made textiles. But all that changes when a British textile weaver named Samuel Slater emigrated to Rhode Island, and in what amounted to industrial espionage, brought with him the plans to create a textile mill in New England.

The whole home-spun myth is largely the product of Colonial Revival nostalgia - it's such an engaging idea to picture an entirely self-sufficient American family. It's just not a practical or realistic one.

Cynthia, I love the colored hair powder, especially on the men. It definitely makes a statement!

Unknown said...

I love this post so much!! Eliza's husband did something similar with his hair (pomade and powder), and during certain periods, visited his hairdresser EVERY DAY, according to his son and his cash book. He was such a peacock.

Isabella Bradford/Susan Holloway Scott said...

Jane, you read my mind! Hamilton's hair deserves (and gets) a post of its own tomorrow....:)

Unknown said...
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