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

by Karen Bowman

‘what women had taken from their heads, they have added to their hips’, closing finally with relief that now the enormous hoops and large high hair had at last ‘sunk under their own weight’ the way was left clear for ‘false rumps to be in vogue’.

Perhaps the most recognisable eighteenth-century underskirt construction was the pannier, which took its name from the French for ‘basket’. This could either be a huge full-petticoat contraption which set its wearer out into the world like a galleon in full sail, or shorter ‘side-panniers’ which sat over each hip and were marginally more comfortable but had a woman resemble a pack horse. Often these small baskets were able to collapse up on themselves and so render a woman more manoeuvrable. Whichever was preferred, both dominated the middle part of the eighteenth century and are instantly recognisable as the undergarment that gave a woman her unique ‘oblong’ silhouette.

Fortunately, salvation was on the way in the guise of the false or cork rump, releasing women from twenty years of being ‘oblong’ to once more becoming rounder. It was in effect a ‘bustle’ before the Victorians had invented the concept and were pads filled with fabric or cork, tied at the waist and draped over the derrière, ‘poofing’ out the skirt at the back. As with all things the fashion lead to a flood of satire and derision. ‘Bum-shops’ sprang up all over London, encouraging ladies of all incomes to ‘get your false bums here’. It only added to gentlemen’s confusion as to what real women looked like.

Eventually, the cork rump faded in popularity, replaced by the Grecian silhouette and the Empire gowns of the Regency. It was probably the only time from the sixteenth to nineteenth centuries that a woman’s hips were not encased in whalebone, padded with cork or engulfed in horsehair!

It was now no surprise that in the Regency period that followed (1795–1830) it was to be a woman’s waist that was to take an upward turn.

Dresses ‘à la grecque’ evolved from a European pre-occupation with all things Greek and Roman and occurred as early as the 1790s, even though the Regency period in English history did not strictly start until 1811. These changes in fashion favoured the natural contours of the body, draping the female form in gauzy, diaphanous fabrics and were inspired by the French Revolution, the concept of ‘Enlightenment’, freedom, human rights and equality, which were associated with the ancient ideals of Greece and Rome.

As far as the hair is concerned, the Mercury tells us ‘the hair is now cropped short enough to leave the ear in a state of perfect nudity’. The shape and size of bonnets continued to reduce, the latest trend in female dress being that of ‘littleness – little beads, little handkerchiefs, little aprons, little caps and little hats …’, possibly striking fear into the fainthearted with a report that, as bonnets were no longer as deep as previously worn, ‘the eye brow is scarcely arched over, so that the poor female nose is of course left to the rigid mercy of the March winds’.

The description of these particular ‘barely there’ dresses which left arms uncovered and little to the imagination was at first referred to as having an ‘impure waist’. The term ‘Empire line’ or ‘Empire silhouette’ did not come into being until early in the twentieth century.

Napoleon decreed that gentlemen wear white satin breeches for formal occasions. With men finding fashionable extremes both ridiculous and unsustainable common sense prompted the introduction of the trouser as we know it today.

It was George Bryan Brummell, more commonly known as ‘Beau’ (1778–1840), who epitomised the masculine ideal of the Regency period. The adoption of the frock coat, or coat, in the preceding Georgian period had with its corresponding waistcoat and britches in effect unified the male body within what we would recognise today as a three-piece suit.

Britches, however, left the lower part of a man’s legs encased in stockings or hose which for the fashion conscience meant a well-turned calf. Such were the pressures for men both young and old to display a shapely limb that false calves were purchased.

From the mid-1790s, Beau Brummell’s celebrity status popularised wearing clean clothing and bathing. It was much needed in an era where many people including notaries and aristocrats, such as Charles James Fox and the Duke of Norfolk (Charles Howard 1746–1815), were notoriously filthy. When the Duke was complaining one day to a gentleman that he had tried everything possible to cure his rheumatism Brummell supposedly replied, ‘Pray, my Lord, did you ever try a clean shirt?’

Essentially what was to become known as a dandy, his love of dressing well and personal cleanliness became legend with him setting the trend for other Regency gentlemen. Being a dandy was much admired, though the term has become derogatory today, and his style turned the tide against what had up until now seen men overdressed, over made-up, effeminate, powdered and be-wigged. In short, a ‘fop’. Such men in the years leading up to Brummell’ s introduction into society were loath to relinquish their eighteenth-century shirt, very much visible and adorned with lace, especially at the wrist which necessitated large sometimes overblown hand gestures to keep the fabric out of the way and keep it clean. A fop’s whole body language had evolved to cater for the outmoded form of dress and rendered him an object of ridicule in the face of Brummel’s clean-cut elegance.

By 1810 the folding and tying of neck-cloths had become such an art, Beau Brummell declared it took him upwards of an hour each morning to perfect his knot!

A short-lived fashion introduced itself in the spring of 1805. ‘Several of our young dames of distinction …’, reported the Salisbury and Winchester Journal of April 1805, ‘now sport muslin trousers, under a white petticoat, short enough to exhibit them to full view. It is, however, a moot point at present, whether this new fashion be intended to conceal indifferent legs or to draw the gazers eye more attentively to good ones.’

Needless to say, breasts soon became the focus of the press’s attention regarding their whereabouts and exposure.

What is evident from our understanding of the Regency bosom is that it was located as high under a woman’s chin as it was possible to go.

Depending on just how a lady wished to present herself, she now had the option of offering up her delights to a staggering height. The new silhouette was known later as the Great Regency Shelf.

Originally, the Spencer jacket was worn by men in the 1790s as an extra warm layer over a tailed coat. Frequently decorated with military frogging, it is thought that Earl Spencer created the garment unawares when he stood too close to a fire and the tails of the jacket were badly singed. Cutting them off he was left with a long-sleeved tail-less jacket which was later adopted by females and became the ‘look’ of the Regency period and immortalised by the books and writings of the author Jane Austin.