While hat-pins are no longer considered a necessary finishing touch on our ensembles today, for women in the 19th century, and until the popularity of the close-fitting cloche hats of the 1920s, they certainly were!
Hat styles changed continuously, reaching their most dramatic proportions in the early Edwardian era, around 1910. The hat-pins this post concerns are those shaped like a long needle. This would have pierced the back or side of the hat material (like a needle threaded through fabric), grabbed the hair of the wearer underneath for stability, and then pierced through the hat again with the middle of the pin covered by the hat material. This simple method secured the hat to the wearer’s head and left both ends of the pin exposed, which provided an opportunity for embellishment.
A hat-pin could be a luxurious finishing touch or an innocuous practical measure, but they could even be used as a weapon in a pinch! More like a needle than a knife, hat pins could still inflict damage if necessary. There are actually accounts of hat-pins used as a weapon and it was alluded to in many films and stories.
Of course, the history of American women’s suffrage is much more complex than this date alone. For one thing, many women voted before they were legally able to, like the three women below in 1917. Some were infamously arrested, like Susan B. Anthony, but others, like Mary Ann Shadd Cary (below), were successful.
“Calm about it. At Fifty-sixth and Lexington Avenue, the women voters showed no ignorance or trepidation, but cast their ballots in a businesslike way that bespoke study of suffrage.” National Photo Company Collection (Library of Congress). National Photo Company Collection / Public domain
There’s been a heat wave moving across the Eastern U. S. this week which inspired this month’s post on a fabric that was designed for scorching weather. Feeling hot? Try some seersucker.
This fabric is undoubtedly more often associated with men but after finding a seersucker woman’s bodice in the MET’s collection I was curious to learn more. There are almost no examples of seersucker in women’s wear prior to 1940. Why is that?
This month’s post reflects the pursuit of highlighting more stories from forward femmes of color going forward on FFF. The post will focus on an important African-American female from the 19th century, Elizabeth Keckley (1818-1907), though much of her story takes place a little earlier than the usual FFF timeline. Keckley was a former slave who ultimately became primary dressmaker and dear friend to Mary Todd Lincoln, wife of Abraham Lincoln, a confidante to Mary and the wives of politicians she dressed, as well as an activist. Against all odds, and being born into a nightmare of slavery, Keckley became a self-supporting dressmaker to some of Washington’s most influential women. As if that doesn’t already sound incredible enough, just wait to read more of the amazing details of Keckley’s life and her contributions to American society!
Fortunately for historians, Keckley’s memoir Behind the Scenes, or, Thirty Years a Slave, and Four Years in the White House, provides a great deal of information on her life. Unfortunately for Keckley, the memoir would ultimately drive a wedge between herself and her friend, former First Lady Mary Lincoln, upon its publication in 1868. The focus of this post is on Keckley’s contributions to fashion and her relationship with Mary Lincoln, but links are provided throughout the post for further reading on other details of Keckley’s life.
The controversy of red lips at the turn of the century is an interesting one. In the late 1800s and very early 1900s, Western women who took to making up their faces were considered to be of loose morals, either someone whose profession involved the stage or a prostitute. According to Mimi Mathews, author of A Victorian Lady’s Guide to Fashion and Beauty, “Queen Victoria herself denounced make-up as being ‘impolite,’” and this continued the established Victorian belief that makeup was a low form of trickery and/or sinister vanity. The Manet painting below of the courtesan Nana caused an uproar at the time of its reveal. Not only is she in her underclothes within her boudoir, she is unabashedly applying makeup.
These associations with makeup began to change in the 20th century, albeit slowly. Prior to this time, lip color was applied by brush and would have been difficult to apply outside of the home. Due to the negative connotations with its use, if applied at all, it was done privately in the home and in natural colors that would not draw attention. Certainly not a bright red lip color! It was also not mass produced, so for the few brave enough to wear lip coloring or a lip salve, they would have concocted something at home (or their maid) and applied it as a paint. In the mid-1800s, they would have boiled suet (cow or sheep fat from the loin and kidney area) and lard with alkanet chips, and later in the 1890s, recipes using oil of almonds, wax, spermaceti, and alkanet root were used. Varied recipes existed and changed throughout the years, but were always some combination of wax, oil, and color.