Monday, July 20, 2015

Sarah Belzoni, an Intrepid Woman (from the archives)

Monday, July 20, 2015
Loretta reports:

In celebration of the audio release of Mr. Impossible, I offer an earlier post about one source of inspiration for the book. Sarah Belzoni is a great example of the resourceful women who visited and explored Egypt in the 19th century.
***
Here’s a glimpse of what Sarah Belzoni dealt with in Egypt, traveling with her explorer husband (and sometimes on her own) in the early 1800s.  The excerpt is from Mrs. Belzoni’s Account of the Women of Egypt, Nubia, and Syria, which  was appended to Belzoni’s Narrative of the operations and recent discoveries within the pyramids, temples, tombs, and excavations, in Egypt and Nubia (originally published in England in 1820). 
~~~
After waiting two months in Cairo, and understanding it might be some time before Mr. B. could return, I determined on a third voyage to Thebes, taking the Mameluke before mentioned. I went to Boolak, and engaged a canja with two small cabins; one held my luggage, and the other my mattress, for which I paid 125 piastres. I left Cairo on November 27th, and arrived at Ackmeim on the 11th December, at night. A heavy rain, accompanied with thunder and lightning, commenced an hour after sunset, and continued the whole of the night: it pourred in torrents. My mattress and coverings were wet through, and were so for some days; and though the rain had ceased, yet it came pouring from the mountains through the lands into the Nile on each side for several days after. 
I arrived at Luxor on the 16th, and was informed Mr. B. was gone to the Isle of Philœ:  I crossed the Nile, and took up my residence at Beban el Malook. The men left to guard the tomb in Mr. B.'s absence informed me of the heavy rain they had experienced on the night I mentioned, and, in spite of all their efforts, they could not prevent the water entering the tomb; it had carried in a great deal of mud, and, on account of the great heat, and the steam arising from the damp, made some of the walls crack, and some pieces had fallen. On hearing this I went into the tomb, and the only thing we could do was to order a number of boys to take the damp earth away, for while any damp remained the walls would still go on cracking. Mr. B. arrived two days before Christmas, and on St.  Stephen's day he crossed to Carnak to review the various spots of earth he had to excavate, when an attempt was made to assassinate him. I had then a violent bilious fever, which, added to this fright, flung me into the yellow jaundice. Having sent a man to procure me some medicine from a doctor at Ackmeim, he returned after five days with about half an ounce of cream of tartar, and two teaspoonsful of rhubarb. Fortunately for me, two English gentlemen happened to arrive, on their return from Nubia for Cairo, and gave me some calomel, which was of great service to me, and which I remember with much gratitude.
~~~
Above left: Vue general de Louqsor.
Below right: Karnak. Temple de Ramessés IV, deux Pylônes.
Both by Maison Bonfils (Beirut, Lebanon), photographer, and courtesy Library of Congress Prints and Photographs Division Washington, D.C. 20540 USA

Saturday, July 18, 2015

Breakfast Links: Week of July 13, 2015

Saturday, July 18, 2015
Served up fresh for your weekend reading - our weekly round-up of fav links to other web sites, blogs, articles, and images via Twitter.
• The buried remains of Little Compton Street, London.
• A dip in the briny: bathing in the sea wasn't always fun in the 18thc.
• The myth of designer Poiret abolishing corsets debunked by 1906.
• Contemporary 17thc drawings of rather splendid palaces & country houses, and their gardens.
Image: This 1722 phrasebook from a gentleman's pocket companion tells a story in French & Italian.
• An 18thc. sailor's possessions (and they weren't much.)
• Babies on display: when hospitals couldn't save premature infants, a Coney Island side-show did.
• How a twelve-year-old girl in 1930 gave the planet Pluto its name.
• The Michelangelo next door: David statue in front yard divides suburban neighborhood.
• Religion and the experience of sickness in the early modern world.
Image: Stunning embellished 1957 shoes by Dior.
• "Wind the clock, for tomorrow is another day": beautiful letter to a stranger by author & essayist E.B. White.
• Georgian hair: fashionable but potentially fatal.
Swimming on dry land, 1900.
Image: Elegant beadwork on these Iroquois leggings.
• Heartbreaking video of what remains of Clandon Park, a once-beautiful 18thc. country house, after the fire earlier this year.
• A quick look through women's tennis fashions at Wimbledon.
• The experience of growing up in medieval society.
• When wellness was weird.
Image: 1916 newspaper printed on poplar leaf to shame deadbeat subscribers.
• Mug shot fashion: late 19thc. female inmates of San Quentin prison and the hats they wore when arrested.
• When Scottish Fair Isle met traditional Vancouver Island motifs: the Cowichan Indian sweater.
• The pet parrot in 18th-19thc. art, literature, and history.
Images: One of the most beautiful libraries in the world: inside the Pierpont Morgan Library Museum, New York.
• There's a million-dollar reward for finding Dorothy's missing Ruby Slippers.
Image: A real patent found in the British Library. Think about that....
Hungry for more? Follow us on Twitter @2nerdyhistgirls for fresh updates daily.
Above: At Breakfast by Laurits Andersen Ring. Private collection.

Friday, July 17, 2015

New post: Friday Video: 100 Years of Men's Fashion in Three Minutes

Friday, July 17, 2015


Isabella reporting,

Because of how dramatically women's fashion has changed in the last hundred years, it's easy to overlook the transformation in menswear over the same time period. While this video can't cover everything - it's only three minutes long - it does hit the most dramatic styles. The handsome male model helps, too.

A side note: I'm willing to bet that most of you will accept the older looks, but question the more recent ones. I know that's something I do myself - remembering (or better yet, wearing) a fashion before it became "vintage" gives us a different perception and perspective, doesn't it?

If you receive our blog posts via email, you may be seeing only an empty space or a black box where the video should be. Click here to view today's video.

Thursday, July 16, 2015

Jane Austen and the Pelisse

Thursday, July 16, 2015
Walking Dress March 1809
Loretta reports:

Readers of Regency era stories will have encountered pelisses from time to time, but not all will have a clear picture in mind.

According to Jane Ashelford’s The Art of Dress, “During the first five years of the nineteenth century the pelisse was half-way between an over-tunic* and a coat. It was usually made with long sleeves and a high waist, and was knee-length, extending to the ankles only after 1810.”**

Nancy Bradfield’s Costume in Detail offers on page 97 an illustration of the construction of this 1816 caped coat or pelisse. And on pages 133-34 she provides a detailed look at this ca 1826-28 blue woolen cloth coat or pelisse.

Here’s a beautiful pelisse ca 1820, probably American.

For this quick tour of the pelisse world, you can thank alert reader Jill Sardella, who sent me to a set of blog posts about a pelisse believed to have belonged to Jane Austen, the project to reconstruct it, and the resulting article.  The garment is a historical mystery: Will we ever be absolutely certain it was hers? My optimistic self believes that one of these days, a really good portrait of Jane Austen will turn up somewhere. And so of course I believe we’ll one day know definitely whether she wore this pelisse.
Morning Dress 1800

*I’ve seen the shorter lengths called “demi-pelisse.”

**The 1800 November fashion plate description reads: "Pelise of shot-silk, lined with pink. A ruff round the neck, and full at the bosom." You will note that it reaches the ground, which contradicts Ms. Ashelford's dating.

Image at top courtesy Internet Archive. Image below courtesy Google Books.

Clicking on the image will enlarge it.  Clicking on the caption will take you to the source, where you can learn more and enlarge images as needed.

Wednesday, July 15, 2015

Elaborate Embroidery for 18thc. Men

Wednesday, July 15, 2015
Isabella reporting,

As all of you who follow me on Facebook or Instagram already know, I visited the Metropolitan Museum of Art in NY on Monday. As usual, I went to the big shows and checked in on my "old friends" - favorite paintings and galleries that I've been enjoying since I was a teenager.

But there was also one special exhibition that made me ooh and ahh with delight. It was very small - a single tiny gallery with three display cases tucked away downstairs - and it didn't have international sponsors, audio guides, or flashing video displays.

Elaborate Embroidery: Fabrics for Menswear before 1815 was exactly what the title says: dozens of richly embroidered samples of velvets and silks for the elegant clothes worn by wealthy 18thc. European gentlemen. And wow, was it breathtaking! The exhibition runs only until July 19, 2015.

Formal menswear at this time had evolved to a standard three pieces: a coat, waistcoat, and breeches. Bright colored silks and velvets, rich silk embroidery, and sequin and paste jewel embellishments were not simply the mark of the male peacock - they were considered signs of wealth, power, and station, and they were required for evening wear and appearances at Court. The most skilled embroiderers were based in Paris, and the beauty and precision of their handiwork has never been rivaled.

The coat and waistcoat were the primary canvas for embroidered designs, with even the buttons (see here and here) making a fashion statement. The designs were embroidered on flat pieces by professional embroiderers, with the pieces then being made up into garments by tailors. These embroidered samples must have helped a gentleman make his choices, matching patterns, colors, fabrics, and degree of ornamentation. (Examples of finished garments here and here.)

There were a couple of the flat embroidered garments that had never been made up in the exhibition, as well as a copy of 1770's L'Art du Bordeur by Charles Germain de Saint-Aubin c.1786, and a French scrapbook of designs that was probably a record of one shop's output, with each design numbered.

But the stars of the show were the embroidered swatches, with beautifully worked designs to suit every taste and pocketbook. I hope you'll click on the images to enlarge them and see the phenomenal detail - which will also bring them to about their actual size. The names of these master embroiderers may be long forgotten, but fortunately their exquisite work remains.

Here's a link to the Museum's blog about the exhibition for more information.

Embroidery samples, late 18th-early 19thc. French. Metropolitan Museum of Art. 
Photographs © 2015 Susan Holloway Scott.
 
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