Rustic Dance After a Sleigh Ride, 1830. William Sidney Mount MFA Boston 48.458
I don’t know about your weather, but we’re in full summer in New England, sultry and humid, with the occasional thunderstorm and power outage to enliven the evening. A sleigh ride sounds like fun today– and I know we all just finished complaining about the snow of February– but a brisk ride followed by a dance would certainly round out this week.
1833 approaches faster than expected, so it’s time to pick that back up and get serious. Not just a gown but petticoats and, ideally, a new shift should be made. This may be the project that breaks my resolve and finds the Bernina back on my table for cording a petticoat.
Detail, Rustic Dance After a Sleigh Ride, 1830. William Sidney Mount. MFA Boston 48.458
This image helps define the look of the early 1830s: not nearly as exaggerated as the fashion plates, these dresses and coats seem to fall into a progression from the 1820s– as you’d expect this early in the decade.
The gentleman at the back, in the drab colored suit, sports an interesting pair of trousers. I don’t think I know anyone ready to bust out the cossacks, but Mr Drab may be sporting a slightly modified pair. The collars and lapels show a shawl-shape that seems new, and modified from the more serpentine form seen in fashion plates– or else not yet as developed. There’s a range of headwear, too: tall hats on the left, a soft cap on the right. The Ladies’ Workbook has a pattern for one of those caps. Wonder how hard they are to make?
Detail, Rustic Dance After a Sleigh Ride, 1830. William Sidney Mount. MFA Boston, 48.458
In the detail, we can also see the women’s hairstyles, less exaggerated than the fashion plates with their high top knots, and within the realm of possibility for those of us not practiced in historical hairstyle recreation.
So much has carried into this decade: colored neck wear, ruffles or chemisettes under women’s gowns, men’s hair brushed forward. As always, it’s the details that count. Tall shirt collars, rounded lapels, ladies’ sashes, the shape of sleeves. This should be a fun decade to represent.
Context: it’s everything, right? We so dislike our statements taken out of context. But what about our clothes? They make statements, too, and so do our accessories.
A friend noticed that market baskets were fairly prominent carriers used by reenactors portraying the Boston gentry greeting L’Hermione this past weekend, and asked, “What gives? Is there something I missed?”
There are two images that people often turn to in documenting these baskets:
The Farmer’s Return, by Zoffany
Johan Joseph Zoffany RA, 1733–1810, German, active in Britain (from 1760), David Garrick and Mary Bradshaw in David Garrick’s “The Farmer’s Return”, ca. 1762, Oil on canvas, Yale Center for British Art, Paul Mellon Collection
and
The Harlot’s Progress, Plate 1
The Harlot’s Progress, Plate 1. William Hogarth.
In both of these, the context is working class and food-oriented. As my friend asked, “Are these floppy baskets for floppy birds?”
Two images from 1740 to 1760 aren’t a lot of documentation to go on for 1775-1783, so I checked the Rhode Island newspapers for 1770-1790, searching for “basket.” No mention in ads, but “baskets of grapes” appeared in stories, and a mention of Chinese dogs in cotton-lined baskets (apparently the “basket dog” is the 18th century equivalent of today’s purse dog).
As satisfying as basket-dogs might be, they’re not helpful in this instance.
For one thing, not many upper-class women carrying baskets, or any kind of burden or bundle. A woman carrying a kind of ovoid basket over her arm is shopping for food, not perambulating.
The upper class girl with her father has an open basket full of flowers (hint: probably symbolic) which appears to be made of what we lump into “wicker,” in an open design. (BTW, that’s not a pinner apron; zoom in and you will see shoulder straps. Fight at your leisure.)
Arthur Devis, 1712–1787, British, An Unknown Man with His Daughter, between 1746 and 1748, Oil on canvas, Yale Center for British Art, Paul Mellon Collection
In the most class-appropriate image, The Virtuous Comforted by Sympathy, the workbasket at the woman’s feet is a tidy, round form with a lid, more similar to Nantucket baskets* than to market baskets. It really doesn’t look like the kind of thing you’d leave home with. It’s a sewing basket.
Edward Penny RA, 1714–1791, British, The Virtuous Comforted by Sympathy, 1774, Oil on canvas, Yale Center for British Art, Paul Mellon Collection
On balance, I think it appears that public basket carrying is more suited to carrying foodstuffs than personal items, and that the most common use of baskets in this period is to collect and carry food, whether from a greengrocer, fish stall, or gathering apples— at least if you are trying to be quite precise in the use of documented accessories. If you’re using a market basket to carry food, you do so knowing that it’s only (thus far) documented to England, and that the handles must be woven and not leather riveted to the side.
The material from which the baskets are made is another question altogether, along with the proper woven form. As I noted to my friend, I don’t care that much. And why?
Balthazar Nebot, active 1730–1762, Spanish, active in Britain (from 1729), Fishmonger’s stall, 1737, Oil on copper, Yale Center for British Art, Paul Mellon Collection
Pockets, of course. My enormous pockets contain multitudes, sometimes even camera and water bottle along with wallet and phone, even if that much stuff distorts the line of my skirts somewhat. I can also fit my knitting in a pocket, and a slim, if dangerous novel (perhaps Moll Flanders). For carrying more than that, a wallet is probably best, or a cloth bag, or a portmanteau. But for a day in town, even if you’re a lady, you can carry quite as much in your pockets as I can as Bridget, though of course of a better quality.
* I am not advocating carrying Nantucket baskets, to be quite clear.
Dress, 1830s. American, wool. Gift of John Eastman and Gerard L. Eastman, 1976.209.2 Metropolitan Museum of Art
Wool. It’s a thing. This dress from the Met has many of the markers of everyday fashion– a vernacular form, if you will, of what Deliverance Mapes Waldo is wearing in this portrait
Deliverance Mapes Waldo and Her Son, about 1830 Samuel Lovett Waldo. 45.891 MFA Boston
Of course, dating these things is never a science when they don’t come with a clearly labeled tag you can affirm with research. The extant garment first. The sleeves say 1820s, the waistline says 1830s. Could it be 1840s? Perhaps. Without provenance, it’s really hard to know.
Mrs Waldo’s sleeves are clearly 1830s sleeves: full on gigot, sloped shoulder. It’s the contrast between her sleeves and the Met’s dress that makes me question their date (along with the fashion plates we saw yesterday).
Here’s a wool gown from England, land of the fabulous wools.
Dress, England, Great Britain. 1836-1838. Printed wool, trimmed with printed wool, lined with cotton, hand-sewn Given by Mrs H. M. Shepherd, T.11-1935. Victoria & Albert Museum.
Here the sleeves are starting to be narrowed at the shoulder, taming the gigot. That places this 1836 or later, which is helpful. The bodice style is still not the pleated or smocked front of the 1840s, so that’s another marker for mid-to-late 1830s.
Carriage and Morning Dress, 1832. LAPL Fashion Plate Collection
So, about that 1833 thing…
No, it’s not that I’m reconsidering. It is merely that as I consider the options, the fashion plates are a bit overwhelming. On the other hand, I am getting really good at recognizing the look of the 1830s in undated portraits. There’s an upside to everything.
Extant garments are fairly plentiful in the Usual Suspects’ Collections; there’s even a Tumblr. There’s a Tumblr for everything.
Woman’s Green, Tan, Yellow and Blue Striped/Plaid Gown. OSV, 26.33.63
Fortunately, there are some tamer garments out there, with sleeves less likely to result in flight in a high wind. Bonus: not floral, and not silk. Printed wool seems to have been fairly common, but the weight is just impossible to find. I did some looking in New York, but nothing convinced me with print or price.
This is a milita muster, so there will be time outside. I’m toying with a habit or Amazone (hard to resist a garment with that name) though the most I know about horses is that they have four legs. It’s tailoring that attracts me, not use. Also, wool. Mid-September might warrant wool, even if that’s hard to imagine today. (The downside, of course, is that there’s menswear to be made, too, so a simple dress is surely the best option.)
Kirsten Hammerstrom 
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