Corsets and Codpieces: A History of Outrageous Fashion, from Roman Times to the Modern Era

by Karen Bowman

Elizabeth firmly believed that beauty and strength were one and the same and so thought England’s success as a nation was a reflection of her ability to be beautiful. To stay so she employed more and more ceruse which ironically ate into the flesh it was supposed to be smoothing, forcing her to poison that on which, in her eyes, England depended.

by 1577 a new version of the farthingale had been sent to the Queen and came to embody the Elizabethan era.

Called the half-farthingale, it was a design that allowed the front of the dress to fall flat while only the sides and back of the dress were filled out.

The last style of the farthingale before its demise in the early decades of the seventeenth century was the ‘cart-wheel’, ‘Catherine-wheel’ or ‘drum’ farthingale.

Lastly, it was worn under what we today have come to know as a corset but before the eighteenth century in England (the French were using the word as early as 1611) was called a ‘pair of bodies’, the name thought to originate from a time when the garment was actually two separate parts laced together front and back.

Costume did eventually dictate the design of furniture and the farthingale chair was created.

‘Be it resolved that all women, of whatever age, rank, profession, or degree; whether virgin maids or widows; that shall after the passing of this Act, impose upon and betray into matrimony any of His Majesty’s male subjects, by scents, paints, cosmetics, washes, artificial teeth, false hair, Spanish wool, iron stays, hoops, high-heeled shoes, or bolstered hips, shall incur the penalty of the laws now in force against witchcraft, sorcery, and such like misdemeanours, and that the marriage, upon conviction, shall stand null and void.’ Bill from the British Parliament, 1690

The period was also a turning point for the wearing of ruffs and bands. These quickly fell out of favour as the reign continued, especially those, and there were many, that were stiffened with yellow starch. This can be attributed to a particular incident, the murder of Sir Thomas Overbury. It was not he that wore the ruff in question but a Mrs Anne Turner, a milliner’s wife of Paternoster Row, who as an accomplice to the Countess of Somerset (herself pardoned due to high-ranking connections) was complicit in the crime. When Anne was hanged at Tyburn she was wearing a yellow cobweb-lawn ruff.

Fashion at this time was no less ‘complicated’ than it had been before except now there were no longer any sumptuary laws.

It was thought in this new and forward-thinking seventeenth century that sumptuary legislation was rooted in the Middle Ages and that there was no longer a great need for such medieval fondness for regulation.

As if to add weight to Wilkinson’s tirade, one playwright, who employed twelve maids to dress the young boy who was to play a female lead in his production, similarly observed and could not believe the rigmarole and time it took to make the lad ready: Such a stir, with combs, cascanets, dressing purls, fall squares, busks, bodies, scarfs, necklaces, carconets, sabatoes, borders, tires, fans, palisades, puffs, ruffs, cuffs, muffs, pushes, partlets, ringlets, bandlets, corslets, pendulets, armlets, bracelets … and also fardingales, kirtles, busks, points, shoe ties, and the like, that seven pedlars, shops, nay all Satrbridge Fair, will scarcely furnish her. A ship is sooner rigged by far than a gentlewoman made ready!

By 1620 clothing was becoming softer, less structured and comparatively more comfortable. Padding on both doublets and bodices disappeared and upstanding ruffs were replaced with falling bands sometimes known as Bertha collars. Waistlines both on men’s and women’s garments rose as did women’s sleeves, allowing more flesh to be seen first at the wrist then the entire forearm.

With French cities now the leading producers of luxury goods, the fact they rigorously exported their silks and brocades did much to expand their influence. One such luxury item that was to epitomise the seventeenth century, whether made at home or across the Channel, was lace.

Lace – ‘She herself has told me that lace is worn in hell’, Don Quixote

The English word lace is derived from the Latin word lacis, meaning noose. Whereas Tudor lace was predominately ‘net’ lace, fashionable laces of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries used bobbins or needles to create the intricate and fine web-like patterns. Aristocrats mortgaged estates for the want of it, just as the poor laboured, often by candlelight, to produce it. Smugglers risked their lives to obtain ...

Like a finely spun cobweb, lace became an integral part of the second fashion change to take place in the seventeenth century, namely the Cavalier period which began with the reign of King Charles I of England in 1625.

Lace and flamboyant costume were the trademarks of the Cavaliers.

But clothing styles during the seventeenth century were not merely about looks; a person’s choice of clothing also told the world about his or her religious or political positions with the Cavalier style soon associated with the Catholic religion and a strong king. Those that wished to throw off the monarchy and become a republic favoured the Roundhead cause, and in keeping with their Protestant religion dressed themselves with less flamboyance.

masks permeated into all levels of society, with ladies of all ranks adopting them, primarily as protection. Apart from covering pox marks and other blemishes, women were concerned about their complexions when riding or out in a carriage and did not relish garnering a glow from the sun. It does seem strange to us today but in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries it was desirable to appear pale and plump, a sign that your husband could afford for you to stay indoors and not engage in manual labour.

Masks became an acceptable barrier to dust and grime, and gave women a way of moving about the city incognito when they were usually confined to the home, their every move judged on a moral level.

There were several styles of mask, ranging from fluid fabrics such as velvet to stiff offerings consisting of an outside cover, a foundation and a lining. A reference in the Histoire des Jouets et Jeux D’enfants by Fournier mentions that from around 1540 a mixture of clay, paper and plaster called carton-pierre may have been worked together and pressed into moulds backed by coarse paper and steam dried. Literally translated carton-pierre means, ‘stone pasteboard ‘and had a papier mâché appearance, though was perhaps much heavier. Another possibility was buckram, a stiff fabric used in millinery, or pressed paper which resembled cardboard, both then being faced with fine fabric or silk and backed with ‘sweet skynnes’ or perfumed leather which would have been soft against the skin.

lady’s mask or ‘vizard’ (from the word visor)

Unfortunately, by now the vizard was becoming a standard accessory of the prostitute who would look for custom both within the theatre and without, thus ladies in a full vizard ran the risk of appearing other than they were.

Eventually, the word itself sank into depravity, vizard simply denoting a woman of easy virtue with theatres the places to meet them.

Beauty patches were first used to cover pox marks then were gradually adopted purely for adornment.

Masks did not however disappear altogether as the half-mask naturally took its place. Easier for a woman to hold a conversation as she no longer needed to hold it to her face by clenching her teeth around a bead, it was also easier for her to be recognised, though it was an unwritten rule that such revelations would not be disclosed.

If a woman was less inclined to embrace a half face mask it was perhaps no surprise that she naturally adopted the face patch to conceal her blemishes, smallpox scars or the ravages of potentially fatal make-up. Deadly cosmetics made it impossible for the skin to breathe and the damage inflicted was irrevocable,

Our ladies, have lately entertained a vain custom of spotting their faces, out of an affectation of a mole, to set off their beauty, such as Venus had; and it is well if one black patch serves to make their faces remarkable, for some fill their visages full of them, varied unto all manner of shapes and figures.

As a rule, patches were made out of velvet, silk or taffeta and attached to the face by means of a crude glue which included glycerine. If you were a woman of limited means then patches made from mouse skin had to suffice. Patches were both home-made and shop bought, purchased alongside other lady’s accoutrements such as fans and hair ornaments.

A married woman could wear a spot on her right cheek whereas if she were only engaged it would have to be placed on the left. A beauty spot on the corner of the eye indicated passion, while one near the eyes suggested irresistibility. Other beauty spot meanings included: on the throat – gallantry; on the nose – boldness or shamelessness; in the middle of the forehead – dignified; and the middle of the cheek – bold; touching the edge of lower lip – discreet; near the corner of the eye – available; and one beside the mouth – a tantalising ‘I will kiss but go no further’.

The Fan – Provider of Privacy, Mystery and Allure Just as there was a potential secret language inherent in where a face patch was placed, so too the fan was an instrument both of practicality and intrigue. Itself an object of mystery constructed from ‘leaves’, ‘rivets,’ ‘ribs’, ‘sticks’, ‘slips’ and ‘guardsticks’, this moveable work of art was undoubtedly

Huge quantities of fans were imported into Europe from China by the East India Company from the seventeenth century onwards.

The French especially loved the fan and one belonging to Madame de Pompadour, mistress of Louis XV, included paper that was cut in imitation of lace, contained ten painted miniatures, took nine years to make and cost almost £20,000. Artists that decorated fans were not averse to signing them as they would a painting, as some were indeed works of art. As the fan eventually filtered down to women at all levels of society it was clear its popularity lay not so much in its stunning craftsmanship as in its ability, when correctly handled, to speak volumes in a world which generally allowed women few words.

He alludes to the many ways a fan can be unfurled, slowly and deliberately with many different flicks of the wrist, each denoting a myriad of different emotions. Similarly, the means by which a fan was closed, sometimes with ‘a crack like a pocket-pistol’, could show just what humour a woman was in. He finishes with describing the infinite ways a fan can be fluttered:

There were more than a dozen basic fan-related gestures that a man would need to know, for example: Touching right cheek – yes Touching left cheek – no Twirling in right hand – I love another Fanning slowly – I am married Fanning quickly – I am engaged Open and shut – you are cruel Open wide – wait for me Presented shut – do you love me? With handle to lip – Kiss me In right hand in front of face – Follow me Drawing across the cheek – I love you Placing on left ear – I wish to get rid of you

T here was no ignoring aristocratic ladies’ ‘high-hair’ during the Georgian era. Women fainted from the weight of additional wigs and decorations, ducked under doors to avoid collisions and sat on the floors of coaches due to the scale of it. Many employed 2lb of whitening powder per ‘dressing’ simply to maintain their extravagant styles.

The eighteenth century was an age where nothing was as it seemed and gentleman protested that they preferred their women to be, if nothing else, at least real. Upper class men were concerned that beneath a woman’s powder and wigs they didn’t really know what their wives and sweethearts looked like or whether they would recognise them without it?

The word ‘wig’ came into the English vocabulary by a strange evolution. Starting in Rome, the word pilus travelled to Spain where it became pelo and peluca. In France the word changed to perruque and in Holland to peruic. Coming to England from the Low Countries, it became ‘perwick’, ‘perwig’, ‘periwig’ and finally was shortened to ‘wig’.

Tie wigs caught the hair at the back of the neck and held it with a bow, and were the most popular type and formed the basis of many other styles.

gentleman’s wig or hair required only black, white, brown or grey colouring they were easier to adhere to. At the other end of the scale, ladies had a penchant for pastel colours, namely pink, light violet or blue and so pigments added could mask a bad product.

Whereas the best hair powders consisted of starch from corn, wheat, rice and occasionally potato, cheaper powders were made up of flour, alabaster, plaster of Paris, whiting and lime. Despite the law decreeing hair powder had to contain starch, many ignored it.

It was said that you could judge a lady’s intellect, if not her common sense, by the powder in her wig.

The discomfort ladies must have felt from their elaborate hairstyles was addressed by the introduction of head-scratchers, which, used in open company, were made from either bone, ivory, silver or gold depending on means.

Candle-lit chandeliers were also a hazard as hair could catch fire when a lady passed under it unaware of the danger until it was too late.

In the last decade of the eighteenth century the whole phenomenon of enormous wigs and powdered hair was becoming a contentious subject.

Powder was still used up until 1793 when ladies finally abandoned it taking their lead from Queen Charlotte, wife of George III. The French Revolution also effected a change as in France a powdered head or wig was a sign of aristocracy and a sure route to the guillotine. In England on 5 May 1795 a tax on hair powder was introduced in an attempt to end the practice. The Duty on Hair Powder Act was passed by Parliament and not repealed until 1869.

From the seventeenth to the late nineteenth centuries most women had at least one pair of pockets, which served a similar purpose to the handbag today. Unlike a handbag, however, pockets were rarely if ever seen as they were usually worn underneath the skirt, usually tied around the waist under a lady’s petticoats.

Men didn’t wear separate pockets, as theirs were sewn into the linings of their coats, waistcoats and breeches.

Many pockets were handmade and they were often given as gifts. Some were made to match a petticoat or waistcoat, while some were made over from old clothes or textiles. Pockets could also be bought ready-made from a haberdasher. Women kept a wide variety of objects in their pockets. In the days when people often shared bedrooms and household furniture, a pocket was sometimes the only private, safe place for small personal possessions.

Called a reticule, it was designed to be worn on the arm and would soon become an indispensable female accessory. For many it could not replace the roomy secret of the pocket and in some cases, among the less fashionable, pockets continued to be worn.