“A Moree Gown”

Every archivist, curator, and collections manager has come across– or perhaps just skimmed over– a document or object that really deserved a little more attention. I found one of those recently in combing through the Revolutionary City portal for more (even more) documents about John Cadwalader’s clothing. In a bundle of “Military payment accounts and receipts, 1775” I found this, from 10 June 1775. Reader, this is unlikely to be a military purchase.

To begin with, I’m pretty sure that flourish makes this a receipt for “Mrs” Cadwalader, not “Mr” Cadwalader. Elizabeth Lloyd Cadwalader shopped in her own right, and there are plenty of receipts made out to her. Then there is the question of what, exactly, is being purchased.

Perhaps you have come across “moree gown” before, but I had not. I had to go look it up, and Beverly Lemire wrote about this in her 1984 DPhil thesis.

“The moree gown sold for anything from 21/ to 4 3 7 and occasionally as low as 16/ or 17/. 1 The range of prices for the moree gown reflects the various refinements in dyeing and printing firm offered to its customers. The cotton gowns were usually offered in dark or light shades, and gowns so described were the ones most commonly sold. As well, though, the cotton gowns were available in blue and- white and pink-and-white patterns, plus plain pink; for the more elaborate patterns and the colour pink the customer always paid a higher price. The moree gown was offered for sale in the greatest number of patterns and colours.  A figured moree gown cost an extra shilling; one printed with darts two shillings more; spots cost an extra five shillings. Gowns dyed either pink or red always cost more as these dyeing processes were lengthy, whereas an orange moree gown cost only the standard 21/. Not only were these ready-made gowns available in a multitude of colours and printed patterns, but the firm also accepted commissions for more elaborate ready-made gowns. In June, 1777, Mrs MacNeale of Buxton received her first consignment of four sorts of specially patterned gowns costing from 36/ to 437. The following month she ordered three more such gowns. Next summer a further order was placed for additional custom-made gowns, including one which was to be “Flowered in the Loom”.” Lemire, Beverly. The British Cotton Industry and Domestic Market: Trade and Fashion in an Early Industrial Society, 1750-1800. (DPhil Thesis, Oxford University, 1984)

Moree gowns were likely copies of Indian printed cottons, but what’s really interesting is the suggestion that these were ready-made gowns. We have long assumed that only “slops” and basic items like shirts, shifts, aprons, caps, and petticoats were sold ready-made from London warehouses, but here we have gowns. Are these loose gowns? Pleated-back gowns? (How??) Are they similar to the damask wrapping gown at the Victoria and Albert, fitted in the back and loose in the front — a reverse mullet dress?

Chances are good that we’ll never find an actual surviving moree gown; pretty fabric would be remade once the garment itself was out of fashion. But we know that these made it to the colonies– they’re advertised in Aris’s Birmingham Gazette of Monday 20 December 1773– but they also appear in Philadelphia and New York ads. Here’s the William Price of the receipt, advertizing moree gowns two years before this purchase.

Lest you think these are out of style by 1775, they are not. Here’s John Bayard in 1775.

Was William Price’s 1775 moree gown less fashionable than John Bayard’s? Was it really the Missus making the purchase? I think it was, and for now, I don’t know why she patronized Mr Price over Mr Bayard (they bought from everyone, really). I have seen “manty” (mantua) linings used for a man’s coat facings (2/24/1776, John Cadwalader account with Joseph Graisbury), 1775 seems early for that kind of reuse in a military context. Cadwalader’s green cloth uniforms are made with taffety (taffeta) facings, so I don’t think moree gowns are being cut up for uniforms. Their patterns and fabrics just don’t fit the bill. I suspect that this was simply a misread Missus, and someone who didn’t catch “gown” in the bill. It’s an easy mistake, but a great one for those interested in clothes of all kinds.