Kathleen Marple Kalb's Blog, page 8
March 6, 2024
PUT A RING ON HIM
Women have been wearing wedding rings pretty much since there’ve been weddings. But men have only really gotten into it in the last century and a half.
From at least Ancient Egypt on, wedding and/or betrothal ceremonies included the groom putting some kind of jewelry on the bride, usually a ring, but sometimes a bracelet or other piece. Since marriage was as much a property matter as a personal one for most of history, the ring was as much about possession as affection…and it made sense that the woman would be marked.
She was the one who was property, after all.
Even for people who weren’t well-off enough to be uniting assets like land or money, marriage was still very much a matter of ownership – and for most of history that ownership only went one way. Wedding rings were also about showing status: men demonstrating that they could afford to deck out their women. In the poorest families, a wedding ring might well be the only piece of valuable jewelry a woman owned…and the very last thing she would sell or pawn in desperate times.
There are heartbreaking Victorian tales of good mothers surrendering a wedding ring to feed starving children, and like so many Dickensian tales, they’re probably based on grim reality.
Men, though, are usually not seen as property to be marked.
And the idea of male wedding rings stems from different impulses.
For the fellas, it’s much more about love and fidelity.
The first really noticeable trend for men’s wedding rings started in the Romantic Era, the 1840s, as a symbol of a groom’s love for his bride. Some Christian churches encouraged the double-ring idea as a way of encouraging male fidelity, too, which became more of an issue with Victorian mores.
But men’s wedding rings really became a thing during the World Wars. Shipped out to the front, men found they wanted a visible symbol to remind them of their wives and families. Back home, the sentiment collided with the growing consumer economy and the beginnings of feminism, and by the late 20th century, the majority of men left the altar with a ring, same as their brides.
In fact, by the early 21st century, a man who chose not to wear a wedding ring sparked suspicion. It wasn’t really fair to guys whose jobs made a wedding ring potentially dangerous, like some military deployments, firefighting, or industries involving high heat, but a man who chooses not to wear a ring these days has some explaining to do. By the time Prince William married Kate Middleton, his choice to go ringless drew considerable comment. The internet eventually concluded it had something to do with his profession as a rescue pilot…I personally concluded it was none of my darn business!
Another royal ring-wearer figures in A FATAL RECEPTION. In an unexpectedly sweet scene, Ella Shane’s fiancé, the Duke, asks her to give him a ring, as Queen Victoria gave one to her Albert. It’s not just the royals; he’s just come through a life-threatening misadventure and realizes he wants a sign of Ella’s love. The ring leads Ella to discover a key clue…and you’ll have to buy the book to find out how we got there – and what happens next!
Got a #ThrowbackThursday idea? Drop it in the comments.
From at least Ancient Egypt on, wedding and/or betrothal ceremonies included the groom putting some kind of jewelry on the bride, usually a ring, but sometimes a bracelet or other piece. Since marriage was as much a property matter as a personal one for most of history, the ring was as much about possession as affection…and it made sense that the woman would be marked.
She was the one who was property, after all.
Even for people who weren’t well-off enough to be uniting assets like land or money, marriage was still very much a matter of ownership – and for most of history that ownership only went one way. Wedding rings were also about showing status: men demonstrating that they could afford to deck out their women. In the poorest families, a wedding ring might well be the only piece of valuable jewelry a woman owned…and the very last thing she would sell or pawn in desperate times.
There are heartbreaking Victorian tales of good mothers surrendering a wedding ring to feed starving children, and like so many Dickensian tales, they’re probably based on grim reality.
Men, though, are usually not seen as property to be marked.
And the idea of male wedding rings stems from different impulses.
For the fellas, it’s much more about love and fidelity.
The first really noticeable trend for men’s wedding rings started in the Romantic Era, the 1840s, as a symbol of a groom’s love for his bride. Some Christian churches encouraged the double-ring idea as a way of encouraging male fidelity, too, which became more of an issue with Victorian mores.
But men’s wedding rings really became a thing during the World Wars. Shipped out to the front, men found they wanted a visible symbol to remind them of their wives and families. Back home, the sentiment collided with the growing consumer economy and the beginnings of feminism, and by the late 20th century, the majority of men left the altar with a ring, same as their brides.
In fact, by the early 21st century, a man who chose not to wear a wedding ring sparked suspicion. It wasn’t really fair to guys whose jobs made a wedding ring potentially dangerous, like some military deployments, firefighting, or industries involving high heat, but a man who chooses not to wear a ring these days has some explaining to do. By the time Prince William married Kate Middleton, his choice to go ringless drew considerable comment. The internet eventually concluded it had something to do with his profession as a rescue pilot…I personally concluded it was none of my darn business!
Another royal ring-wearer figures in A FATAL RECEPTION. In an unexpectedly sweet scene, Ella Shane’s fiancé, the Duke, asks her to give him a ring, as Queen Victoria gave one to her Albert. It’s not just the royals; he’s just come through a life-threatening misadventure and realizes he wants a sign of Ella’s love. The ring leads Ella to discover a key clue…and you’ll have to buy the book to find out how we got there – and what happens next!
Got a #ThrowbackThursday idea? Drop it in the comments.
February 28, 2024
LADIES OF THE CHORUS
When the late Prince Philip reportedly observed that it’s a different world now, and some aristocrats are marrying chorus girls, some said it was a remarkably snobbish comment. Maybe. It was also the simple acknowledgement of a fact of late 19th century life, when a very specific kind of chorus girl began making her way into the aristocracy.
Just as some impoverished aristocrats started marrying American “Dollar Princesses,” when the strict standards for an appropriate match began to loosen, so did other aristocrats start taking a closer look at young ladies on the stage.
Not just any young ladies, though.
It started in the 1890s with the “Gaiety Girls” in Britain, polite, elegant and of course beautiful young performers in musical comedies at (where else?) the Gaiety Theatre. The ladies were the epitome of “pretty is as pretty does,” well-chaperoned and graceful, and the gents lined up to meet them. Many “married well,” as the expression goes, with more than one snaring an Earl.
Soon enough, the idea crossed the pond, and the featured members of Broadway’s famed Floradora Sextette had all the attention they could handle. Once again, they were lovely, well-behaved young ladies, impeccably chaperoned and of course virtuous. Rumor had it that every member of the original six married a millionaire, and true or not, the story of the sweet chorus girl who makes a good match was embedded in the culture.
It’s not, after all, a very long leap from that Floradora Girl to the cheerful gold-diggers of the flapper era – or many of the characters Marilyn Monroe played. Marilyn’s outfits are more fun, but the idea of the girl who makes the best deal she can with what she’s got was a well-established tradition by the time she blazed onto the screen.
While Ella Shane would admire Marilyn Monroe as an underrated artist, she doesn’t have much appreciation for the chorus girls of her time. After all, Ella’s fighting – sometimes literally – to be considered “a lady and an artist,” and those little darlings at the Gaiety or the Floradora show just waltz in and take all the cookies.
Ella expects anyone who wants to be taken seriously as a professional performer to do the work, and she doesn’t have much respect for the light singing and dancing required of the Gaiety girls especially. What she misses – but a modern observer doesn’t – is that the minimal effort is part of the point.
Someone like Ella, a magnificently talented, highly trained artist, would not be nearly as appealing and approachable to a certain kind of man as one of those pretty lightweights. Ella, even without a sword in hand, is a little scary for some men. Not so the Floradora girls, who are pretty and modestly accomplished. They’re a much more comfortable companion for the powerful men of the time, who want a woman who they can show off – but who won’t show them up.
Well, most powerful men of the time. There’s one particular British aristocrat who very much likes being challenged by Ella…and isn’t afraid of her, either. Though he is a little scared about what he might happen if he wins her. And in A FATAL RECEPTION this spring, we’ll find out how that turns out!
Got a #ThrowbackThursday idea? Drop it in the comments.
Just as some impoverished aristocrats started marrying American “Dollar Princesses,” when the strict standards for an appropriate match began to loosen, so did other aristocrats start taking a closer look at young ladies on the stage.
Not just any young ladies, though.
It started in the 1890s with the “Gaiety Girls” in Britain, polite, elegant and of course beautiful young performers in musical comedies at (where else?) the Gaiety Theatre. The ladies were the epitome of “pretty is as pretty does,” well-chaperoned and graceful, and the gents lined up to meet them. Many “married well,” as the expression goes, with more than one snaring an Earl.
Soon enough, the idea crossed the pond, and the featured members of Broadway’s famed Floradora Sextette had all the attention they could handle. Once again, they were lovely, well-behaved young ladies, impeccably chaperoned and of course virtuous. Rumor had it that every member of the original six married a millionaire, and true or not, the story of the sweet chorus girl who makes a good match was embedded in the culture.
It’s not, after all, a very long leap from that Floradora Girl to the cheerful gold-diggers of the flapper era – or many of the characters Marilyn Monroe played. Marilyn’s outfits are more fun, but the idea of the girl who makes the best deal she can with what she’s got was a well-established tradition by the time she blazed onto the screen.
While Ella Shane would admire Marilyn Monroe as an underrated artist, she doesn’t have much appreciation for the chorus girls of her time. After all, Ella’s fighting – sometimes literally – to be considered “a lady and an artist,” and those little darlings at the Gaiety or the Floradora show just waltz in and take all the cookies.
Ella expects anyone who wants to be taken seriously as a professional performer to do the work, and she doesn’t have much respect for the light singing and dancing required of the Gaiety girls especially. What she misses – but a modern observer doesn’t – is that the minimal effort is part of the point.
Someone like Ella, a magnificently talented, highly trained artist, would not be nearly as appealing and approachable to a certain kind of man as one of those pretty lightweights. Ella, even without a sword in hand, is a little scary for some men. Not so the Floradora girls, who are pretty and modestly accomplished. They’re a much more comfortable companion for the powerful men of the time, who want a woman who they can show off – but who won’t show them up.
Well, most powerful men of the time. There’s one particular British aristocrat who very much likes being challenged by Ella…and isn’t afraid of her, either. Though he is a little scared about what he might happen if he wins her. And in A FATAL RECEPTION this spring, we’ll find out how that turns out!
Got a #ThrowbackThursday idea? Drop it in the comments.
February 21, 2024
Johnnie at the Door
“Like any artist of note, I have a few unusually dedicated followers.”
That’s how Gilded Age opera singer Ella Shane introduces her stage-door Johnnies. For Ella, the fellows who come to visit after the show are a minor annoyance, if one she chronicles in her usual colorful fashion. For less exalted, and well-protected, artists they might be anything from potential partners…to a very real danger.
By the late 19th Century, as Ella would be happy to tell you, there is no automatic assumption that a woman who makes her living on the stage is a person of questionable virtue. In fact, a certain kind of chorus girl might even be singing and dancing in hopes of finding a suitable match, with the well-born and -financed gents in the audience keeping a close eye for a potential spouse.
Those very high-end chorus girls, the Gaiety Girls in Britain, and a little later, the cast of of FLORADORA in the States, were an entirely different art form (and an entirely different #ThrowbackThursday post – next week!) than most female performers. While it was certainly possible to make an honorable career in the theatre, it wasn’t easy, and it definitely wasn’t always safe and pretty.
The stage-door Johnnies were both an occupational hazard – and a potential perk. Of course, in the 19th Century, no one had ever heard of stalking, but performers, and whatever protectors they had, were very familiar with the overly enthusiastic admirer. Then, as now, it could take any form from the annoying to the actively dangerous; there are plenty of lurid tales of men coming after women they knew only from the stage.
Despite that, most stage-door admirers were harmless, if annoying. There’s no need for a deep dive into the male gaze here, but you don’t have to be a performer to know it can be pretty creepy to have a man you don’t especially want looking at you in a certain way. And if pleasing the patrons is your job, you just have to tolerate the look – and hope that it never goes any further. A century-and-a-half before #MeToo, even the most enlightened employer would figure if you’re putting yourself on stage to be looked at, you don’t have a right to complain about a little staring off stage.
Every once in a while, though, you might actually get lucky enough to have someone you wanted to look at you. It’s not something anybody kept stats on, but there were basically two possibilities for a decent marriage if you were a performer: you could marry a man in the business or you could meet someone outside. In a theatre company, where there are no secrets, a lot of women knew much too much about the habits of their colleagues to want one as a husband.
Which left the fellows at the door.
It wasn’t the approved way to make a match, of course, but nice people had to meet somewhere, and sometimes, women actually did find a husband among the stage-door Johnnies – without living to regret it.
That, however, is not very likely for Ella Shane. Her admirers are very definitely in the
“annoying at best” category, though they’re good for plenty of fun along the way. And as for potential partners, well, the answer to that question is coming soon, in A FATAL RECEPTION!
Got a #ThrowbackThursday idea? Drop it in the comments.
That’s how Gilded Age opera singer Ella Shane introduces her stage-door Johnnies. For Ella, the fellows who come to visit after the show are a minor annoyance, if one she chronicles in her usual colorful fashion. For less exalted, and well-protected, artists they might be anything from potential partners…to a very real danger.
By the late 19th Century, as Ella would be happy to tell you, there is no automatic assumption that a woman who makes her living on the stage is a person of questionable virtue. In fact, a certain kind of chorus girl might even be singing and dancing in hopes of finding a suitable match, with the well-born and -financed gents in the audience keeping a close eye for a potential spouse.
Those very high-end chorus girls, the Gaiety Girls in Britain, and a little later, the cast of of FLORADORA in the States, were an entirely different art form (and an entirely different #ThrowbackThursday post – next week!) than most female performers. While it was certainly possible to make an honorable career in the theatre, it wasn’t easy, and it definitely wasn’t always safe and pretty.
The stage-door Johnnies were both an occupational hazard – and a potential perk. Of course, in the 19th Century, no one had ever heard of stalking, but performers, and whatever protectors they had, were very familiar with the overly enthusiastic admirer. Then, as now, it could take any form from the annoying to the actively dangerous; there are plenty of lurid tales of men coming after women they knew only from the stage.
Despite that, most stage-door admirers were harmless, if annoying. There’s no need for a deep dive into the male gaze here, but you don’t have to be a performer to know it can be pretty creepy to have a man you don’t especially want looking at you in a certain way. And if pleasing the patrons is your job, you just have to tolerate the look – and hope that it never goes any further. A century-and-a-half before #MeToo, even the most enlightened employer would figure if you’re putting yourself on stage to be looked at, you don’t have a right to complain about a little staring off stage.
Every once in a while, though, you might actually get lucky enough to have someone you wanted to look at you. It’s not something anybody kept stats on, but there were basically two possibilities for a decent marriage if you were a performer: you could marry a man in the business or you could meet someone outside. In a theatre company, where there are no secrets, a lot of women knew much too much about the habits of their colleagues to want one as a husband.
Which left the fellows at the door.
It wasn’t the approved way to make a match, of course, but nice people had to meet somewhere, and sometimes, women actually did find a husband among the stage-door Johnnies – without living to regret it.
That, however, is not very likely for Ella Shane. Her admirers are very definitely in the
“annoying at best” category, though they’re good for plenty of fun along the way. And as for potential partners, well, the answer to that question is coming soon, in A FATAL RECEPTION!
Got a #ThrowbackThursday idea? Drop it in the comments.
February 14, 2024
WITH A LITTLE HELP
I wouldn’t be here without my friends.
How often have you said, or thought, that in the last few years?
As important as friendships are to us now, in the 19th century and earlier, they were sometimes the single most important factor in whether a woman had a manageable life, or unending misery.
From the colonial period, women cultivated relationships with their neighbors, extended family, or church connections, not just to have somebody to talk to, but to share work and resources. In the days before washing machines, vacuum cleaners (and helpful husbands), it took a staggering amount of physical labor simply to maintain a clean, decent home.
Often women had servants to help, but just as often, they had the daughter of a friend who was learning to run her own household one day. For really big tasks, neighbors and friends might work together. Monday became infamous as laundry day for several reasons, but one was simple: if everyone is working on the same task, they can help each other.
Women didn’t just share work – they shared food and other resources too. Ethel “borrowing” a cup of sugar from Lucy is just the echo of something that had been happening from the first time two Pilgrim families built cabins close by.
That same network of friendships enabled women to survive in the tenements; they would help watch each other’s children, share what little they had with a friend in need, and rally around a neighbor when some disaster struck. A woman with a strong network of friends, and often family, had a much safer and happier life than someone who had no one.
So, women prized their friends.
My Gilded Age diva Ella Shane is no different. She’s well aware that the only reason her mother survived as long as she did in the tenements was the network of friends and neighbors…so she has a strong incentive to make and keep good women friends.
But it’s much more than that.
Ella has deep bonds with her closest friends because they’re going through many of the same experiences as women testing the limits of their time. Her singing partner, Marie de l’Artois, has found a way to combine a career and a family, something that was almost impossible then. But Marie has what she needs to make it happen: an extraordinary talent, an understanding husband…and accepting employers, like Ella’s opera company.
As close as Ella and Marie are, she probably has more in common with her other close friend: Hetty MacNaughten. As one of two female reporters on her newspaper, The Beacon, Hetty is facing an even tougher professional challenge than Ella and Marie. Everyone at least acknowledges that women are needed to sing their roles. Nobody acknowledges the need for a woman reporter.
More, unlike Marie, who is somewhat insulated by her private life as Mrs. Paul Winslow, Hetty is right out on the front lines of the New Woman’s world. So is Ella. When Ella and Hetty take off for velocipede rides or walks in the park, they often talk about their work and the challenge of being a woman doing a “man’s job.”
Just as the tenement women help each other any way they can, so do Ella, Hetty and Marie. Because whether you’re a colonial goodwife, New Woman…or 21st century girlboss, you aren’t going to get very far without your friends.
Got a #ThrowbackThursday idea? Drop it in the comments!
How often have you said, or thought, that in the last few years?
As important as friendships are to us now, in the 19th century and earlier, they were sometimes the single most important factor in whether a woman had a manageable life, or unending misery.
From the colonial period, women cultivated relationships with their neighbors, extended family, or church connections, not just to have somebody to talk to, but to share work and resources. In the days before washing machines, vacuum cleaners (and helpful husbands), it took a staggering amount of physical labor simply to maintain a clean, decent home.
Often women had servants to help, but just as often, they had the daughter of a friend who was learning to run her own household one day. For really big tasks, neighbors and friends might work together. Monday became infamous as laundry day for several reasons, but one was simple: if everyone is working on the same task, they can help each other.
Women didn’t just share work – they shared food and other resources too. Ethel “borrowing” a cup of sugar from Lucy is just the echo of something that had been happening from the first time two Pilgrim families built cabins close by.
That same network of friendships enabled women to survive in the tenements; they would help watch each other’s children, share what little they had with a friend in need, and rally around a neighbor when some disaster struck. A woman with a strong network of friends, and often family, had a much safer and happier life than someone who had no one.
So, women prized their friends.
My Gilded Age diva Ella Shane is no different. She’s well aware that the only reason her mother survived as long as she did in the tenements was the network of friends and neighbors…so she has a strong incentive to make and keep good women friends.
But it’s much more than that.
Ella has deep bonds with her closest friends because they’re going through many of the same experiences as women testing the limits of their time. Her singing partner, Marie de l’Artois, has found a way to combine a career and a family, something that was almost impossible then. But Marie has what she needs to make it happen: an extraordinary talent, an understanding husband…and accepting employers, like Ella’s opera company.
As close as Ella and Marie are, she probably has more in common with her other close friend: Hetty MacNaughten. As one of two female reporters on her newspaper, The Beacon, Hetty is facing an even tougher professional challenge than Ella and Marie. Everyone at least acknowledges that women are needed to sing their roles. Nobody acknowledges the need for a woman reporter.
More, unlike Marie, who is somewhat insulated by her private life as Mrs. Paul Winslow, Hetty is right out on the front lines of the New Woman’s world. So is Ella. When Ella and Hetty take off for velocipede rides or walks in the park, they often talk about their work and the challenge of being a woman doing a “man’s job.”
Just as the tenement women help each other any way they can, so do Ella, Hetty and Marie. Because whether you’re a colonial goodwife, New Woman…or 21st century girlboss, you aren’t going to get very far without your friends.
Got a #ThrowbackThursday idea? Drop it in the comments!
February 7, 2024
THE ALMIGHTY DOLLAR PRINCESS
With apologies to Queen Victoria and King Edward VII, the true royalty of the Gilded Age were the Dollar Princesses.
You’ve probably glimpsed them in Downton Abbey or the Buccaneers, and they litter the landscape of late 19th and early 20th century society: American heiresses who marry aristocrats (usually, but not always, British) and get themselves a title in exchange for their lovely money.
At the most basic level, it wasn’t anything new: since ancient times, rich and titled people have tried to make advantageous marriages to keep the wealth and prestige together. It’s a common strategy for privileged people in just about every society, working to concentrate that privilege inside the circle. And people with more prestige than money always looked for wealthy partners; it’s not just in Regency romances that a Lord would marry a less-than-appealing heiress for the sake of the castle roof.
Until the late 19th century, though, the heiress was probably no more than a rung or two below her Lord in the hierarchy, and she was almost certainly British.
Americans were brash, vulgar, and worse – the aristocracy hadn’t forgotten that nasty divorce in 1776 – and it took a century and a boatload of cash to change that view. By the last quarter of the 19th century, though, there were a fair number of aristocrats having a tough time making ends meet in the modern industrial world…and plenty of young ladies whose mothers would be happy to spend the family fortune. If that fortune was earned in steel, or railroads, or coal rather than in genteel landlording, well, it might be time to bend a bit.
The first wave of heiresses crashed British society in the late 1870s, initially drawing some pushback, but as the aristocracy realized the young ladies were reasonably well-behaved (and again, brought all that lovely, lovely MONEY!) the initial grudging welcome began to thaw. By the 1890s, British writers were praising Americans as a breath of fresh air, delightfully informal and charming.
They were the influencers of their time.
The newspapers happily chronicled their clothes, jewels, weddings, and parties, on both sides of the Atlantic. By the Coronation of Edward VII, a significant number of the Peeresses proceeding into Westminster Abbey had been born on the other side of the pond, and often, the old family jewels were augmented with lavish sparklers bought with the heiresses’ new money.
For the women themselves, though, it wasn’t necessarily a party. Many were pushed to marry men they didn’t especially like – and who didn’t like them – for the sake of a society mama’s prestige. Consuelo Vanderbilt is the cautionary tale usually cited here: she was nineteen and in love with someone else when her family sent her down the aisle to the Duke of Marlborough. She actually ended up fairly well, living basically separately from the duke and ultimately divorcing him to marry a French artist. Other women, though, suffered through wretchedly unhappy and even abusive marriages with no recourse.
Plenty of dollar princesses played the game to win, marrying and divorcing (or outliving) titled men and working their way up the social hierarchy. In A FATAL RECEPTION, the next Ella Shane mystery, due this April from Level Best Books, you’ll meet one. Wealthy widow Pearl Lally has collected a Polish prince the way some women collect porcelain figurines…and when she crosses paths with Ella and her fiancé the Duke, the scene is worth every penny!
Got a #ThrowbackThursday idea? Drop it in the comments!
You’ve probably glimpsed them in Downton Abbey or the Buccaneers, and they litter the landscape of late 19th and early 20th century society: American heiresses who marry aristocrats (usually, but not always, British) and get themselves a title in exchange for their lovely money.
At the most basic level, it wasn’t anything new: since ancient times, rich and titled people have tried to make advantageous marriages to keep the wealth and prestige together. It’s a common strategy for privileged people in just about every society, working to concentrate that privilege inside the circle. And people with more prestige than money always looked for wealthy partners; it’s not just in Regency romances that a Lord would marry a less-than-appealing heiress for the sake of the castle roof.
Until the late 19th century, though, the heiress was probably no more than a rung or two below her Lord in the hierarchy, and she was almost certainly British.
Americans were brash, vulgar, and worse – the aristocracy hadn’t forgotten that nasty divorce in 1776 – and it took a century and a boatload of cash to change that view. By the last quarter of the 19th century, though, there were a fair number of aristocrats having a tough time making ends meet in the modern industrial world…and plenty of young ladies whose mothers would be happy to spend the family fortune. If that fortune was earned in steel, or railroads, or coal rather than in genteel landlording, well, it might be time to bend a bit.
The first wave of heiresses crashed British society in the late 1870s, initially drawing some pushback, but as the aristocracy realized the young ladies were reasonably well-behaved (and again, brought all that lovely, lovely MONEY!) the initial grudging welcome began to thaw. By the 1890s, British writers were praising Americans as a breath of fresh air, delightfully informal and charming.
They were the influencers of their time.
The newspapers happily chronicled their clothes, jewels, weddings, and parties, on both sides of the Atlantic. By the Coronation of Edward VII, a significant number of the Peeresses proceeding into Westminster Abbey had been born on the other side of the pond, and often, the old family jewels were augmented with lavish sparklers bought with the heiresses’ new money.
For the women themselves, though, it wasn’t necessarily a party. Many were pushed to marry men they didn’t especially like – and who didn’t like them – for the sake of a society mama’s prestige. Consuelo Vanderbilt is the cautionary tale usually cited here: she was nineteen and in love with someone else when her family sent her down the aisle to the Duke of Marlborough. She actually ended up fairly well, living basically separately from the duke and ultimately divorcing him to marry a French artist. Other women, though, suffered through wretchedly unhappy and even abusive marriages with no recourse.
Plenty of dollar princesses played the game to win, marrying and divorcing (or outliving) titled men and working their way up the social hierarchy. In A FATAL RECEPTION, the next Ella Shane mystery, due this April from Level Best Books, you’ll meet one. Wealthy widow Pearl Lally has collected a Polish prince the way some women collect porcelain figurines…and when she crosses paths with Ella and her fiancé the Duke, the scene is worth every penny!
Got a #ThrowbackThursday idea? Drop it in the comments!
January 31, 2024
THAT'S MY GROUNDHOG!
There is only one groundhog, and he has been looking for his shadow since 1887.
I’m aware that my pals who await the annual verdict from Staten Island Chuck, Holtsville Hal and Malverne Mel may disagree. Too bad. This one’s mine.
Unnamed and uncelebrated groundhogs have apparently been popping out of their holes in early February for thousands of years. Sometime in the Dark Ages, early Christians grafted the tradition of nursing candles through the winter to watching small rodents as a possible sign of spring.
No judging. I’ll do anything for a sign of spring right now – and I have central heat, a coffeemaker, and a good streaming service!
Eventually, the tradition arrived in Western Pennsylvania along with German settlers, who decided that the local woodchucks were the ideal rodent for the purpose. Fast forward a bit, and we find the enterprising town fathers of Punxsutawney looking at the little fuzzballs and realizing that this was a great way to get some attention for the town – and maybe make a buck.
So, in 1887, a newspaper editor and his pals proclaimed that “Punxsutawney Phil” was the One True Forecaster. Over the years, they kept the top hats and the over-the-top language – and added a lot of events and festivities to bring tourists and their lovely money to town.
By the time I was growing up a few miles away in Brookville, that darn groundhog was the area’s principal claim to fame. And the annual celebration had turned into a flat-out bacchanalia.
As a kid, I didn’t really believe my mother’s stories about the crazy groundhog fans who showed up at the Senior Center Pancake Breakfast, a huge annual fundraiser. I figured Mom just liked to tell a good story, like we do back home.
And then I went to Gobbler’s Knob myself.
Trying to hustle my way into a real radio job, I took a tape recorder and covered the event. Which is when I learned that Mom had actually underplayed it.
Let’s just say that the groundhog and I were the only ones who were sober that year.
Before the Punxsutawney Chamber of Commerce – or the groundhog people – come after me, this was a very long time ago, and as far as I know, events are now much more family-friendly, and entirely alcohol-free. That said, the groundhog still inspires an impressive level of passion, not to mention local pride.
There’s a reason for that. Staten Island and Long Island both have a lot more to recommend them. That rodent is just about all we’ve got in Jefferson County.
As I’ve worked my way through newsrooms in Vermont, Connecticut, and New York, someone always asks me if it was anything like the movie GROUNDHOG DAY, and if the people are really that crazy about Phil.
No – and yes!
When I started writing my first contemporary mystery, I knew I wanted my main character to be a Western PA girl like me…but I also knew that I’d go all the way and make her from Punxsutawney. And so, when you meet Jaye Jordan in my Vermont radio stories and books, know that she’s a proud woodchuck who worked her way up. Oh, and one more fun fact. The groundhogs who come out in February are the boys. They’re looking for the girls…but females are smart enough to stay inside where it’s warm! Darn right we are.
Got a #ThrowbackThursday idea? Drop it in the comments!
I’m aware that my pals who await the annual verdict from Staten Island Chuck, Holtsville Hal and Malverne Mel may disagree. Too bad. This one’s mine.
Unnamed and uncelebrated groundhogs have apparently been popping out of their holes in early February for thousands of years. Sometime in the Dark Ages, early Christians grafted the tradition of nursing candles through the winter to watching small rodents as a possible sign of spring.
No judging. I’ll do anything for a sign of spring right now – and I have central heat, a coffeemaker, and a good streaming service!
Eventually, the tradition arrived in Western Pennsylvania along with German settlers, who decided that the local woodchucks were the ideal rodent for the purpose. Fast forward a bit, and we find the enterprising town fathers of Punxsutawney looking at the little fuzzballs and realizing that this was a great way to get some attention for the town – and maybe make a buck.
So, in 1887, a newspaper editor and his pals proclaimed that “Punxsutawney Phil” was the One True Forecaster. Over the years, they kept the top hats and the over-the-top language – and added a lot of events and festivities to bring tourists and their lovely money to town.
By the time I was growing up a few miles away in Brookville, that darn groundhog was the area’s principal claim to fame. And the annual celebration had turned into a flat-out bacchanalia.
As a kid, I didn’t really believe my mother’s stories about the crazy groundhog fans who showed up at the Senior Center Pancake Breakfast, a huge annual fundraiser. I figured Mom just liked to tell a good story, like we do back home.
And then I went to Gobbler’s Knob myself.
Trying to hustle my way into a real radio job, I took a tape recorder and covered the event. Which is when I learned that Mom had actually underplayed it.
Let’s just say that the groundhog and I were the only ones who were sober that year.
Before the Punxsutawney Chamber of Commerce – or the groundhog people – come after me, this was a very long time ago, and as far as I know, events are now much more family-friendly, and entirely alcohol-free. That said, the groundhog still inspires an impressive level of passion, not to mention local pride.
There’s a reason for that. Staten Island and Long Island both have a lot more to recommend them. That rodent is just about all we’ve got in Jefferson County.
As I’ve worked my way through newsrooms in Vermont, Connecticut, and New York, someone always asks me if it was anything like the movie GROUNDHOG DAY, and if the people are really that crazy about Phil.
No – and yes!
When I started writing my first contemporary mystery, I knew I wanted my main character to be a Western PA girl like me…but I also knew that I’d go all the way and make her from Punxsutawney. And so, when you meet Jaye Jordan in my Vermont radio stories and books, know that she’s a proud woodchuck who worked her way up. Oh, and one more fun fact. The groundhogs who come out in February are the boys. They’re looking for the girls…but females are smart enough to stay inside where it’s warm! Darn right we are.
Got a #ThrowbackThursday idea? Drop it in the comments!
January 24, 2024
TOASTY WARM
Right about now, you’re probably singing the praises of central heating.
Unless you live in Australia or near the Equator, you’ve likely been dealing with arctic air and subzero wind chills. (Meteorologists will tell you the third week of January is usually the coldest of the year.) Humans have been looking for ways to stay warm since we became human – some anthropologists consider controlling fire and using it for cooking and heating one of the bright-line differences between homo sapiens and earlier hominids.
And humans have been improving our heating systems for thousands of years.
In ancient Korea – around 5000 B.C.E. – they had what was called the ondol, a nifty stove and heated floor system that kept a house warm and provided a place for cooking. Sorry to disappoint the fancy house reno shows, but heated floors have been around for a very, very long time.
The ancient Greeks developed the first real central heating system with flues in the walls moving heat from a fire in the ground. Engineering whizzes that they were, the Romans upgraded it with the hypocaust system, using a furnace and forcing hot air into spaces between the walls and floors.
After the collapse of the Roman Empire, Europe’s Dark Ages weren’t only dark – they were also pretty cold, with many innovations forgotten for centuries. Things were a lot more comfortable in the Muslim world, where engineers had come up with an efficient under-floor pipe system used in some important buildings.
It wasn’t until the 14th century that the Europeans started working with central heating again, but even then, it was mostly in cathedrals and monasteries. Most homes, up to and including palaces, still relied on big fireplaces and small stoves, through the Renaissance and well into the industrial era. No wonder there are so many portraits of cranky, unhappy-looking people. I’d scowl too if I was freezing most of the time.
For many people, even into the 20th century, heat came from stoves or fireplaces in individual rooms, and cold was just a part of life. Diarists speak matter-of-factly about chipping through the ice on their water pitcher for a morning wash. That’s also one reason why it was so common for people to share beds with family or roommates until the high Victorian niceties took hold: single beds were a waste of a perfectly good warm body!
Central heating for homes finally started to take off in the late 18th to mid-19th centuries, as inventors created hot air, steam, and hot water heating systems, often taking inspiration from the old Greek and Roman works and adapting them to modern technology. Some of these early systems were so efficient that they stayed in use for 150 years. (That only sounds crazy until you realize that some of the railroad equipment we ride on has been around for close to the same amount of time.)
By the late 1800s, various heating systems powered by gas, oil, or electricity, were becoming more reasonably priced, and more common. Inventors were also creating the equipment we now recognize as important parts of heating systems: thermostats, steel furnaces, gasoline burners. One of the biggest modern inventions came from Russia, in 1885: the radiator. And in 1919, Alice Parker got the first U.S. Patent for a central heating system – let’s hear it for the STEM girls!
At least at my house, it’s now come full circle: on very cold days, we fire up the woodstove and huddle in the basement. The more things change…
Got a #ThrowbackThursday idea? Drop it in the comments!
Unless you live in Australia or near the Equator, you’ve likely been dealing with arctic air and subzero wind chills. (Meteorologists will tell you the third week of January is usually the coldest of the year.) Humans have been looking for ways to stay warm since we became human – some anthropologists consider controlling fire and using it for cooking and heating one of the bright-line differences between homo sapiens and earlier hominids.
And humans have been improving our heating systems for thousands of years.
In ancient Korea – around 5000 B.C.E. – they had what was called the ondol, a nifty stove and heated floor system that kept a house warm and provided a place for cooking. Sorry to disappoint the fancy house reno shows, but heated floors have been around for a very, very long time.
The ancient Greeks developed the first real central heating system with flues in the walls moving heat from a fire in the ground. Engineering whizzes that they were, the Romans upgraded it with the hypocaust system, using a furnace and forcing hot air into spaces between the walls and floors.
After the collapse of the Roman Empire, Europe’s Dark Ages weren’t only dark – they were also pretty cold, with many innovations forgotten for centuries. Things were a lot more comfortable in the Muslim world, where engineers had come up with an efficient under-floor pipe system used in some important buildings.
It wasn’t until the 14th century that the Europeans started working with central heating again, but even then, it was mostly in cathedrals and monasteries. Most homes, up to and including palaces, still relied on big fireplaces and small stoves, through the Renaissance and well into the industrial era. No wonder there are so many portraits of cranky, unhappy-looking people. I’d scowl too if I was freezing most of the time.
For many people, even into the 20th century, heat came from stoves or fireplaces in individual rooms, and cold was just a part of life. Diarists speak matter-of-factly about chipping through the ice on their water pitcher for a morning wash. That’s also one reason why it was so common for people to share beds with family or roommates until the high Victorian niceties took hold: single beds were a waste of a perfectly good warm body!
Central heating for homes finally started to take off in the late 18th to mid-19th centuries, as inventors created hot air, steam, and hot water heating systems, often taking inspiration from the old Greek and Roman works and adapting them to modern technology. Some of these early systems were so efficient that they stayed in use for 150 years. (That only sounds crazy until you realize that some of the railroad equipment we ride on has been around for close to the same amount of time.)
By the late 1800s, various heating systems powered by gas, oil, or electricity, were becoming more reasonably priced, and more common. Inventors were also creating the equipment we now recognize as important parts of heating systems: thermostats, steel furnaces, gasoline burners. One of the biggest modern inventions came from Russia, in 1885: the radiator. And in 1919, Alice Parker got the first U.S. Patent for a central heating system – let’s hear it for the STEM girls!
At least at my house, it’s now come full circle: on very cold days, we fire up the woodstove and huddle in the basement. The more things change…
Got a #ThrowbackThursday idea? Drop it in the comments!
January 17, 2024
DIGGING OUT
For a lot of folks in the Northeast and other parts of the country, this week has been our first serious snow of the winter. And we’ve spent days fighting it. Sweeping it, blowing it, scraping it, plowing it…and of course, like me, shoveling it.
In the 19th century, though, snow removal was a lot more basic.
Early snowplows were patented in the 1840s, and they were in wide use (with horse-drawn wagons) by the 1860s. The problem was, the snow still had to go somewhere once the plow pushed it off the road. Residents and merchants on side streets were much less than thrilled to discover that they were snowed under while the main drag was clear.
So they called in the shovel brigade. And that’s exactly what it was: crews of men who shoveled the drifts into carts or wagons, which were then dumped in whatever river or bay was available. Sometimes, in big cities, the shovel brigade followed the plows, cleaning up whatever was left as they went. It was brutal work, and not much different from the way people had been moving snow since the first humans realized they couldn’t just stay in the cave for the winter.
Worse, it didn’t make much sense in a city like New York, which was trying to move into the modern age, with all of the modern accoutrements, like – say – electricity and trains. The Blizzard of 1888 knocked out everything for days and convinced city leaders to make some major changes.
So how do you get around snow on the ground? You go under it – or over it.
New Yorkers did both.
They buried a lot of their power lines. It doesn’t prevent all outages, of course, but it’s a lot easier than going wire by wire through Manhattan. And it worked; many large cities have underground power lines to this day.
More, in parts of the City, you can still look up and see another relic from the 1888 storm: elevated train lines. Steam trains often had their own plows, but the blizzard was too much for them, leading the city to look for other ideas. Elevated lines were one.
Another would become an iconic fixture of the City: underground trains. The subway was still most of 20 years away, but 1888 was a good hard shove in that direction. Underground trains definitely worked: the one thing everyone knows in New York is that the subways ALWAYS run.
Then, as now, though, that did not mean everything was easy, normal or comfortable. The snow wagons and shovel brigades survived long into the 20th century. Even now, there’s not much to do with all of that snow but cart it away and leave it to melt somewhere. Dumping it in the water often isn’t an option any more because of the road salt and other chemicals.
So yes, people across the Northern Hemisphere have been fighting a wretched daily battle with snow this week. But it could be a lot worse.
At least I’ll keep telling myself that as I grab another pain patch for the sore muscles!
Got a Throwback Thursday idea? Drop it in the comments!
In the 19th century, though, snow removal was a lot more basic.
Early snowplows were patented in the 1840s, and they were in wide use (with horse-drawn wagons) by the 1860s. The problem was, the snow still had to go somewhere once the plow pushed it off the road. Residents and merchants on side streets were much less than thrilled to discover that they were snowed under while the main drag was clear.
So they called in the shovel brigade. And that’s exactly what it was: crews of men who shoveled the drifts into carts or wagons, which were then dumped in whatever river or bay was available. Sometimes, in big cities, the shovel brigade followed the plows, cleaning up whatever was left as they went. It was brutal work, and not much different from the way people had been moving snow since the first humans realized they couldn’t just stay in the cave for the winter.
Worse, it didn’t make much sense in a city like New York, which was trying to move into the modern age, with all of the modern accoutrements, like – say – electricity and trains. The Blizzard of 1888 knocked out everything for days and convinced city leaders to make some major changes.
So how do you get around snow on the ground? You go under it – or over it.
New Yorkers did both.
They buried a lot of their power lines. It doesn’t prevent all outages, of course, but it’s a lot easier than going wire by wire through Manhattan. And it worked; many large cities have underground power lines to this day.
More, in parts of the City, you can still look up and see another relic from the 1888 storm: elevated train lines. Steam trains often had their own plows, but the blizzard was too much for them, leading the city to look for other ideas. Elevated lines were one.
Another would become an iconic fixture of the City: underground trains. The subway was still most of 20 years away, but 1888 was a good hard shove in that direction. Underground trains definitely worked: the one thing everyone knows in New York is that the subways ALWAYS run.
Then, as now, though, that did not mean everything was easy, normal or comfortable. The snow wagons and shovel brigades survived long into the 20th century. Even now, there’s not much to do with all of that snow but cart it away and leave it to melt somewhere. Dumping it in the water often isn’t an option any more because of the road salt and other chemicals.
So yes, people across the Northern Hemisphere have been fighting a wretched daily battle with snow this week. But it could be a lot worse.
At least I’ll keep telling myself that as I grab another pain patch for the sore muscles!
Got a Throwback Thursday idea? Drop it in the comments!
January 10, 2024
WARM WOOLIES
Now that it’s January, it’s officially long underwear season in much of the Northern Hemisphere – and for sure in my corner of the Northeast. For most people, long johns are a lot more underclothing than we normally wear, and it feels good to put a layer of wool, silk or high-tech fabric between our skin and the cold wind. But for a lot of women in the late 19th century, underpinnings that looked lot like our long johns would actually have been a sleek new thing.
From the Regency until the late Victorian period, women wore long drawers, plus several layers of petticoats, and at least a chemise, corset and corset-cover on top. Even though everything but the corset was made of some very thin woven fabric, there was still a lot of it, and you still had to get it all tucked in and smoothed down before you put on the next layer. And the next.
The idea of replacing the first layer or two with one piece of flexible knit was a real upgrade. The union suit began as a one-piece flannel garment, proposed as a Victorian dress-reform idea. But it quickly evolved and spread as people realized just how efficient and comfortable it was. Flannel was gone pretty fast, replaced with stretchy knit, in cotton, wool or even silk. The styling became more streamlined, too, closer-fitted, with fewer fastenings and seams, all to make it a comfortable and sleek first layer.
Not too comfy, though! Victorians were more than a little suspicious of anything that enabled people – especially female people – to get rid of layers of clothing. Which is why the ads for union suits led with a health pitch, not a comfort or style one. Style was definitely part of it, though; the union suit really took off in the 1870s when women were wearing very snug dresses and the chemise and drawers created all kinds of nasty bumps under what was supposed to be a smooth fit.
By the late 1890s the union suit had evolved to “combinations” – as in a combination of chemise and drawers – and it wasn’t really scandalous at all. It was a very practical first layer for anyone who wanted her clothes to fit smoothly. Women always topped them with the corset, sometimes corset-covers, and layers of petticoats, so it still wasn’t exactly traveling light, but the thin knit was a lot easier to manage than tucking down chemise and drawers. Those were often still part of the mix somewhere…but combinations were quickly becoming the standard start.
Soon, though, women would get bored with pulling their stockings on over an extra layer of knit…and the combinations would start creeping up the legs. By the 1910s, they’re above the knee, and the whole thing is quickly evolving out of existence. Flappers didn’t want to run around in their mothers’ underwear, and those knitted combinations went out the window with long hair, replaced by silky chemises and knickers – but only one layer, thank you!
So when you pull out the long johns, remember, you’re actually putting on a little bit of history in addition to all that extra warmth!
Got an idea for a #ThrowbackThursday post? Drop it in the comments!
From the Regency until the late Victorian period, women wore long drawers, plus several layers of petticoats, and at least a chemise, corset and corset-cover on top. Even though everything but the corset was made of some very thin woven fabric, there was still a lot of it, and you still had to get it all tucked in and smoothed down before you put on the next layer. And the next.
The idea of replacing the first layer or two with one piece of flexible knit was a real upgrade. The union suit began as a one-piece flannel garment, proposed as a Victorian dress-reform idea. But it quickly evolved and spread as people realized just how efficient and comfortable it was. Flannel was gone pretty fast, replaced with stretchy knit, in cotton, wool or even silk. The styling became more streamlined, too, closer-fitted, with fewer fastenings and seams, all to make it a comfortable and sleek first layer.
Not too comfy, though! Victorians were more than a little suspicious of anything that enabled people – especially female people – to get rid of layers of clothing. Which is why the ads for union suits led with a health pitch, not a comfort or style one. Style was definitely part of it, though; the union suit really took off in the 1870s when women were wearing very snug dresses and the chemise and drawers created all kinds of nasty bumps under what was supposed to be a smooth fit.
By the late 1890s the union suit had evolved to “combinations” – as in a combination of chemise and drawers – and it wasn’t really scandalous at all. It was a very practical first layer for anyone who wanted her clothes to fit smoothly. Women always topped them with the corset, sometimes corset-covers, and layers of petticoats, so it still wasn’t exactly traveling light, but the thin knit was a lot easier to manage than tucking down chemise and drawers. Those were often still part of the mix somewhere…but combinations were quickly becoming the standard start.
Soon, though, women would get bored with pulling their stockings on over an extra layer of knit…and the combinations would start creeping up the legs. By the 1910s, they’re above the knee, and the whole thing is quickly evolving out of existence. Flappers didn’t want to run around in their mothers’ underwear, and those knitted combinations went out the window with long hair, replaced by silky chemises and knickers – but only one layer, thank you!
So when you pull out the long johns, remember, you’re actually putting on a little bit of history in addition to all that extra warmth!
Got an idea for a #ThrowbackThursday post? Drop it in the comments!
January 3, 2024
SCARF SEASON
You know it’s winter in New York when the scarves come out.
Whether artsy crochet, street-vendor pretend pashmina, or insanely expensive status pieces, every woman has her favorite way to keep the chill off her neck, and not incidentally add some personality to her outfit.
Warm scarves have probably been around since the first cave person grabbed an animal skin on a cold day, but the knitted and crocheted variety became quite a thing during the Victorian Era, and they’re still a thing for some people. Like other forms of fancy-work, women created beautiful pieces for themselves and their loved ones, and they became prized possessions, not just for their looks and style, but for the feeling that went into their creation.
If you’re lucky enough to be a fiber artist – or have one in your life – you have all the statement scarves you need. (I know -- my late mother was an ace knitter, and the art for this piece is the scarves she knitted for herself and me.)
But there’s another kind of statement scarf that also goes way back: the status scarf.
Queen Nefertiti was apparently the first to sport one, at a time when silk was incredibly rare and expensive outside China. Silk scarves appear in images of the queen and her court – and her young relative, King Tutankhamun was buried with one.
Silk scarves were around in high-end circles for centuries; Roman commanders wore then to signify their rank, and no less than Eleanor of Aquitaine had a nice collection of filmy lengths of silk to cover her hair or fly off the pointy end of her headdress. (It was called a hennin, and probably every bit as uncomfortable as it looked!)
While the scarves were a known part of the upper-class wardrobe, they didn’t really come into their own as status items until the late 19th and early 20th centuries. High-end outfitters and design houses like Burberry and Hermes began making elegant, showy silk pieces with immediately recognizable prints.
By the 1950s, the Hermes scarf was such a thing that they were seen on Princess Grace of Monaco, Queen Elizabeth II, Jacqueline Kennedy and Audrey Hepburn…probably the only style point on which those ladies would agree! Other houses made scarves, but the Hermes scarf was the top of the tree.
Not that women who couldn’t afford Hermes were left completely in the cold.
While stylish ladies aspired to an Hermes piece, those who were unable – or unwilling – to spend breathtaking amounts of money on a simple bit of silk could still follow the trend without breaking their budgets. Several big names took over the department-store space, and vintage pieces still get snapped right up online. Echo was one of the biggest – if you get a chance to browse Grandma’s scarf drawer, take a very good look!
Thanks to icons like the Queen and Jackie, the scarf fashion went pretty much all the way up and down the economic spectrum. Women who couldn’t afford department-store silk could still get serviceable rayon pieces, some of which still looked pretty good, if not Hermes.
While functional, warm scarves and all kinds of wraps are still a big part of streetwear, status scarves haven’t been as visible in recent years. It’s probably another side effect of the pandemic – it’s tough to style one with a WFH hoodie. But they’re still stylish, versatile, and status-y…so don’t be surprised to see them marching down the runway – and the street – again soon!
Got a #ThrowbackThursday idea? Drop it in the comments!
Whether artsy crochet, street-vendor pretend pashmina, or insanely expensive status pieces, every woman has her favorite way to keep the chill off her neck, and not incidentally add some personality to her outfit.
Warm scarves have probably been around since the first cave person grabbed an animal skin on a cold day, but the knitted and crocheted variety became quite a thing during the Victorian Era, and they’re still a thing for some people. Like other forms of fancy-work, women created beautiful pieces for themselves and their loved ones, and they became prized possessions, not just for their looks and style, but for the feeling that went into their creation.
If you’re lucky enough to be a fiber artist – or have one in your life – you have all the statement scarves you need. (I know -- my late mother was an ace knitter, and the art for this piece is the scarves she knitted for herself and me.)
But there’s another kind of statement scarf that also goes way back: the status scarf.
Queen Nefertiti was apparently the first to sport one, at a time when silk was incredibly rare and expensive outside China. Silk scarves appear in images of the queen and her court – and her young relative, King Tutankhamun was buried with one.
Silk scarves were around in high-end circles for centuries; Roman commanders wore then to signify their rank, and no less than Eleanor of Aquitaine had a nice collection of filmy lengths of silk to cover her hair or fly off the pointy end of her headdress. (It was called a hennin, and probably every bit as uncomfortable as it looked!)
While the scarves were a known part of the upper-class wardrobe, they didn’t really come into their own as status items until the late 19th and early 20th centuries. High-end outfitters and design houses like Burberry and Hermes began making elegant, showy silk pieces with immediately recognizable prints.
By the 1950s, the Hermes scarf was such a thing that they were seen on Princess Grace of Monaco, Queen Elizabeth II, Jacqueline Kennedy and Audrey Hepburn…probably the only style point on which those ladies would agree! Other houses made scarves, but the Hermes scarf was the top of the tree.
Not that women who couldn’t afford Hermes were left completely in the cold.
While stylish ladies aspired to an Hermes piece, those who were unable – or unwilling – to spend breathtaking amounts of money on a simple bit of silk could still follow the trend without breaking their budgets. Several big names took over the department-store space, and vintage pieces still get snapped right up online. Echo was one of the biggest – if you get a chance to browse Grandma’s scarf drawer, take a very good look!
Thanks to icons like the Queen and Jackie, the scarf fashion went pretty much all the way up and down the economic spectrum. Women who couldn’t afford department-store silk could still get serviceable rayon pieces, some of which still looked pretty good, if not Hermes.
While functional, warm scarves and all kinds of wraps are still a big part of streetwear, status scarves haven’t been as visible in recent years. It’s probably another side effect of the pandemic – it’s tough to style one with a WFH hoodie. But they’re still stylish, versatile, and status-y…so don’t be surprised to see them marching down the runway – and the street – again soon!
Got a #ThrowbackThursday idea? Drop it in the comments!
