"The results of female art education are not quite satisfactory in the
matter of dress, as here woman is so apt, by nature, to become the slave
of fashion; but still I think much can be done by right-minded girls, by
careful selection and wholesome reform in such things as tight-lacing
and high heels. I care not for the so-called high art school of
millinery. Dresses that look like bed-gowns of green serge, and little
girls smothered in Kate Greenaway flopperty hats, seem to me, however
picturesque intrinsically, in bad taste from their eccentricity. A young
lady of real taste can always find amidst the prevailing fashions some
that suit her individuality; and those that have this taste invariably
seem to do so."
HON. JOHN COLLIER.
4, Marlborough Place, N.W.
SIR,--I should hardly venture to express an opinion on the delicate
subject of modern female dress, were it not that in my double capacity
of husband and portrait-painter I have been obliged to devote a great
deal of attention to it.
[Illustration: FIG. 1.]
I think the outlook is, on the whole, encouraging. To begin with, there
is much greater variety of style and freedom of choice than has obtained
for a very long time. Indeed, it is probable that in no country or
period since dress was invented has there been such a wide scope for
individual taste as in England at the present day.
This is an enormous advantage, for women vary so much that a hard and
fast style, however good in itself, is certain to be unsuitable to at
least half the sex. It is true that this freedom of choice is not always
wisely exercised, but it is a subject to which women devote so much time
and thought that they are mostly good judges in the matter.
[Illustration: FIG. 2.]
Then, again, there is at present a happy absence of those monstrosities
that have first offended, and then corrupted, our ideal of feminine
form; the crinoline has long disappeared, and at length the
bustle--perhaps the most odious of all these misshapements--has followed
suit. Of course they may both re-appear, and probably will do so; but
freedom of choice is now so firmly established, that no one will be
considered eccentric or unwomanly for refusing to adopt them.
We may take it once for all that the extreme tyranny of fashion is
broken down--a glorious triumph that we mainly owe to the much-abused
æsthetic movement.
But although much has been achieved, much still remains to be done.
There are two deadly sins in modern female dress which seem to defy all
considerations of beauty and convenience. Tight waists and high heels
are still so common that the courageous protests of the emancipated pass
almost unnoticed.
My own opinion is that female dress will never be thoroughly
satisfactory until women have realised that they have no waists. Nature
has not endowed them with waists, which are artificial forms produced by
compressing the body.
This seeming paradox is easily proved by considering that the waist of
woman has been placed by fashion in every conceivable position, from
under the armpits to half-way down the hips. Obviously it cannot
correspond to any natural formation, or it could not wander about in
this extraordinary manner.
Of course, the Greek lady never supposed she had a waist. She often, for
the sake of convenience, tied a string round her body, but only just
tightly enough to keep her clothes in place, and then nearly always let
some folds of the drapery fall over and hide the unsightly line (Fig.
1). If there must be a waist, I distinctly prefer the one placed under
the armpits, in the fashion of the beginning of this century, for it is
physically impossible to tie it so tightly as to much alter the form,
and having the division high up tends to minimise the most common defect
of the English female figure, a want of length in the leg (Fig. 2).
[Illustration: FIG. 3.]
Of course, it is this very want of length that has led to the high
heels, but the remedy is worse than the disease. It does not really give
the impression of long-leggedness, and it does alter and spoil the whole
carriage of the body.
The high heels also help to deform the feet by pressing the toes forward
into the pointed ends of those terrible boots that are another disgrace
to our civilisation. Painters and sculptors have good cause to know that
the modern female foot is a hideous object--our vitiated taste has
become accustomed to it when clothed, but when seen in its naked
deformity it is a thing to shudder at.
It occurs to me that there are two fundamental rules of dress.
First, wherever the dress is tight it should show the true natural form
of the body beneath, and should not suggest, and still less produce,
some entirely unnatural and artificial form. (This rule, of course, only
applies to tolerably good figures.)
Secondly, where the dress is loose it should be allowed to fall in its
own natural folds, and should not be gathered up into the horrible
convolutions miscalled drapery by the milliners.
[Illustration: FIG. 4.]
The old Greek dress fulfilled these conditions in the highest degree,
and, I have no doubt, was the noblest form of clothing ever invented.
All other forms of dress have abounded in monstrosities of one kind or
another, but in looking over the history of costume one now and then
comes across some simple and artistic form which seems to have sprung up
by chance, as it were, or as a transition between two opposite
exaggerations. Here is a fine example from the early middle ages (Fig.
3). And here, again, is a good design from a much later period (Fig. 4).
[Illustration: FIG. 5.]
Just before the introduction of the enormous hoops in the early part of
the eighteenth century, which, perhaps, are the high-water mark of
monstrosity in dress, there was a brief period of comparative
simplicity, to which has been given a perhaps factitious charm by the
genius of Watteau (Fig. 5).
And then, again, we come to the costume of 1800 and the neighbouring
years, to which I have already alluded, and which was, perhaps, the
simplest and most graceful dress that European women have worn since the
classical period (Fig. 6), but which soon, alas! gave way to the
succession of nightmares from which, at last, we seem to have awakened.
But from many styles besides these there are hints to be gathered for
the benefit of modern dress, and, fortunately, the tolerance of the age
enables us to pick and choose from any source we like. I have great
hopes of the future of female costume (male costume seems, from the
artistic side, to be past praying for), but a great deal depends upon
the artists. The average man is as bad as the average woman; he likes
pretty little waists and neat little feet quite as much as the recipient
of his misplaced admiration. Indeed, as I think it is incontestable that
women dress more to please men than to please themselves, we men are
probably more to blame than the women for the vagaries of female
costume. But the artists have, or ought to have, a better taste in these
matters than the outside public. They all affect to admire the
masterpieces of classical art, and they are, few of them, entirely
ignorant of what the human form ought to be. It is to them that we must
look for protests against its disfigurement.--I am, Sir, yours
faithfully,