WHY CAN"T THESE PEOPLE KEEP THEIR CLOTHES ON?

The Many Changes of a Gilded Age Lady’s Day

My husband the Professor periodically asks me why I need so many clothes. I remind him that women need different outfits for different purposes, unlike men, who are pretty much always appropriate in a sportcoat or business casual. It’s a good thing he’s not married to someone like Ella Shane, never mind the society ladies who come to see her sing.
A respectable lady could easily go through four clothing changes in a day. More if she went riding or bicycling. That’s an ordinary day. Traveling and special events required additional attire, often very specific attire.
While there were heartbreaking (and true) stories from the tenements of families huddling in bed in rags for a day while the mother washed their clothes, by the late nineteenth century, people who were middle class or better were starting to have the kind of significant wardrobe that we would recognize. The further you went up the social tree, the more significant that wardrobe became.
Ella’s typical day, for example, starts with pinning up her hair and putting on a simple morning dress, probably cotton in the summer and wool in the winter. If she has a fencing lesson or rehearsal after breakfast, she’ll change to breeches and a shirt – or a sports costume if she’s cycling with her friend Hetty. A society woman might cycle as well, if she were a bit rebellious, but she would more likely go riding in suitable habit, or perhaps play tennis in a skirt and shirtwaist designed for the purpose.
Most days, Ella’s maid Rosa helps her neaten up into a nicer afternoon frock that will also suit for dinner with family and friends. On a performance night, of course, it’s much more elaborate: a dashing male costume and full makeup, and even once in a while, a lovely gown for an after-show reception at home. But it all ends the same way, with Ella taking her hair down, slipping into her simple but very good lace-trimmed cotton nightie, and dreaming of nothing more romantic than her next velocipede ride, thank you.
Our member of the Four Hundred, though, requires far more dressing and un-dressing before she, and her overworked lady’s maid, sleep. After her ride, the maid will help her put on an afternoon dress or teagown, depending on whether she’s “at home,” or making calls. The evening offers a full spectrum of possibilities, each specific to the activity: anything from the full-blown glittery gowns that one wears to the opera or a ball, to a somewhat simpler, but still quite elaborate, dinner gown. Never would she be caught eating dinner in an afternoon dress.
The socialite requires many other outfits as well: the simple suit for traveling, the rather nicer one for promenading and shopping, tweeds for the country, a Presentation gown for Court after she snares her British Lord. Those tales of women traveling across the sea or Continent with dozens of trunks are not exaggerated for effect.
And then there’s the teagown. It’s a loose confection of silk and ribbons and lace that can be worn without stays, and is appropriate enough to be seen in, should one have company. Our respectable Ella has a few, which she wears if she’s resting at home after a performance. More adventuresome ladies, though, preferred the teagown for afternoon assignations with gentlemen callers, and the garment itself has developed a certain reputation.
Whether or not she was up to anything naughty, a Gilded Age lady required a wide and interesting wardrobe, so that she could be appropriately turned out for every eventuality. And every eventuality had an appropriate outfit.
So, Professor, maybe you don’t need to stress about a couple extra sweaters?