BEST DRESSES IN HISTORY

Oh dear!

 

 

I'm beginning to think that there should be some uniformity to clothes even if bodies come in all shapes and sizes.

Walking through the city these days you see such a hodgepodge of fashion choices it can almost make you giddy.  Well it does me.  It has made me think about which dresses I consider to be the most attractive and wearable in the history of clothing.

I think that there is something in the brain that seeks a reference point with which to make judgements.  We know this is how the brain works in regard to facial recognition and it may do the same when we observe fashion.  Perhaps we're seeking a theme.  After all that is exactly what fashion designers work at creating when they bring out a new collection.

Of course they can't just come up with one of their own themes unless they are famous like Versace or Dior, so designers must come up with themes within the current year's accepted Parisian and Italian generated trends.

As I observe people en-masse, with women in particular in mind for this post, I can count the well dressed ones on one hand.  I must be specific about 'well dressed'; it is a combination of well chosen clothes, shoes, hair and, if there is make-up, that too.  It comes down to simplicity and elegance.  It can vary from a pair of jeans and a shirt to a suit, but it's how it's put together.  It can even be eclectic or outlandish but if its done right it can work.

It's also who is wearing it.  A woman needs good posture.  She can be slim or huge but she needs to carry her clothes well. 

Some fat girls and women in Brisbane actually wear shorts God bless their deluded sense of style.  Do they have a special 'thin' mirror at home?  Do their mothers tell them they look lovely wearing anything?  Have they ever looked at their rears in the mirror?  In fact this is a must if you check yourself before you go out.  Even the sleekest can get a shock when they take a good look at their rear.


OK let's get down to business starting chronologically.  These are my choices for the best dresses in history.

The Greco/Roman toga:

Well there are no actual photographs of course but the picture above gives you the idea.  It looks as if the man just got out of bed and took the sheets with him, quite reasonable when people rose with the sun and went to bed a couple of hours after it went down.  What a great way to save time.

If you read about the students of Aristotle you discover that his young students left home in the dark and walked with an oil torch to school so that they could learn in the daylight hours.  I took Latin at school for four years and I picked up this little historical titbit in the process.  Natural light dictated life in those times unlike the extended night life we have now.

In Roman times, women, being delegated to the home, no doubt took a little trouble with their appearance and fashioned the cloth to enhance their female forms.  Their only real asset in those days was their ability to attract a mate who would look after them.  It is interesting that throughout history clothes have become the currency of female attractiveness.

The woman's toga is simple and comfortable yet, although it is long, the fabric lies directly against her breasts and her legs are outlined as the folds fall loosely over them.  As she walked they would also be apparent.  Quite a sexy garment altogether.

In spite of women now being independent, they are still inclined to dress themselves to attract a mate.  It's no use bleating that this isn't true.  We compete with each other at this level and that remains a fact to this day.

The Cheong Sam

Take, for example the Cheong Sam pictured above.  It arose from a much looser garment that was redesigned by courtesans and high society women in Shanghai in the 1920's.  "Let's show off our assets" it said in so uncertain terms.  Our model looks as sweet as a honey pot but that's not the idea of the Cheong Sam.  Most of these dresses have a split up one side of the leg as well.  They can be either long or short but are designed to highlight a curvaceous figure and to attract a man.

Try putting an older Tai-Tai in one of these.  A Tai-Tai is an older Chinese woman, who is the matriarch of a family.  She will wear silk pants and a top that is a loose version of the Cheong Sam.  She has done her child bearing and no longer has to squeeze into the silk come-on dress.  She may also sport a couple of gold teeth.  'Tai' means 'big' in Cantonese.  Translated, therefore, the Tai-Tai is the 'big big' and the head of the household.

The Chinese respect the matriarch's position as opposed to Westerners who have not traditionally respected the housewife/mother.  The Tai-Tai rules the home while the father rules the business and money earning side of the family.

A dress can mean so much more than fashion.  It is tight in youth and comfortable in later years when she has had her family. The Chinese are a wise people.

That brings us to another culture as represented by India and the fabulous sari.

What a wondrous garment this is!  I bought one in Fiji when I was eighteen and spent days trying to wear it correctly.  It came with instructions.  It is one very long piece of material that is wrapped around the body, pleated and folded in a way that makes a Rubik cube look like child's play.  Surely, I thought, the Indian women must secure it with pins or clasps when they get it right so it doesn't come undone.  Somehow I doubt it.

How on earth someone managed to take a rather sumptuous bed sheet and manipulate it in this way is beyond comprehension.  Perhaps a guru on drugs came up with the idea.  Well that's one explanation but that isn't fair to women's ingenuity.  As someone who sews I can almost imagine how the sari came about.

A woman came across five metres of fabulously woven fabric and tried to decide how to make it into something she could wear.  The fabric was so beautiful, with borders and gilt embroidery, that she couldn't bear to cut it.  What could be done?  She spent hours, days, weeks, months, perhaps even years trying to wrap it in such a way that she could conserve all the material and also make a feminine gown that enhanced her figure.

She only had to make one concession and that was a top to cover her shoulders and breasts that she could wear beneath it.  The woman who came up with it deserves a Nobel Prize in design.  Of course some man probably took the credit.  I suspect the only credit a man deserves however, is figuring out how to unravel it to get a woman undressed.

We move on to my last great dress, the Flapper of the nineteen twenties, which arose in Western society.  Of course in previous eras in the West there were voluminous dresses with huge skirts, lace collars and tiny waists.  I suspect these were a tribute to the fineness of the manufacturing process that created such materials and the quantity of fabric that the wealthy could afford.  The wealthier the woman the larger the skirts to show that the cost of the fabric was of no concern to her.  They were encased by corsets made of whalebone, another expensive and rare item, and stiff lace collars made by hand. In those times wealth was displayed by the quality of clothing and not only reflected how advanced was the manufacturing process of woven goods but how effective was their trade with foreign lands.

The Flapper

A Modern Version of the Flapper

It's post WWI and a whole new world rose from from the ashes.  Massive progress has always been made in technology by governments spending huge amounts trying to win wars.  All kinds of remarkable innovations grow from what is a terrible and negative event.

The greatest casualty of war, however, is a way of life.  WWI saw the demise of old class systems but also the growth of women's emancipation.  Because I'm writing about fashion I won't go into why these things happened, but fashion reflects these changes.  Hemlines suddenly went up and morals went down, at least compared to the rigid Victorian times.

It was as if the twenties became one big post war party.  Naturally lives went on as usual and people got back on with the business of making homes and families.  Yet there were other repercussions from the huge carnage of WWI and these had the effect of making some people live as if there was no tomorrow.  Adding insult to injury was the great Influenza epidemic of 1919 that killed as many people as the war had.  Can you imagine the effect these events had on youth?

No wonder some of them started to party and from this arose the Flapper, one of the first signs of the newly independent woman.  Aside from the negative events that help precipitate fashion trends, the results can be uplifting.  The sight of women exposing more of themselves has to have a positive effect on the psyche of men no matter how serious the reason for the change and especially after so much suffering.

The Flapper dress is beaded and short but also loose and, at the same time, slimming.  Of all the dresses of history this one speaks of women's new found freedom of expression.  There is no corset, the bra hadn't been invented and legs finally came into view.  The lady probably had a cigarette holder and smoked as well.  Although smoking is frowned upon now, for a woman to smoke in public showed her equality with men. This woman had arrived and for the first time ever she cut and bobbed her hair.

If you look at nature you will see how all creatures use colour and shape to attract mates for the purpose of reproduction.  Humans with their evolved minds try new ways to do so instead of just leaving it to nature.

As our intellect grows so too does our creativity to compete for sex.  Fashion is our ever changing display.  We are really more fascinating than we realise but, while butterflies, for instance, never get it wrong because their method is tried and true and built into their DNA, humans can and perhaps that means that, if your display isn't good enough, you won't attract a mate.  Either that or you will attract one exactly suited to your type.  Maybe that works just as well.

Nature aims for the best.  Humans, it seems, with their blossoming intellects, may be evolving new standards that will either succeed or fail.  I guess that's the risk in evolution.  You get it right, you endure.  You get it wrong, you don't.  Dresses are a woman's display as we have no feathers or fur.  The beauty of fashion is that we can vary it to suit our moods.  What butterfly can do that?

My last tribute isn't to a dress but I couldn't resist it.  Who could forget Raquel Welch in a fur bikini in the film "One Million Years B.C."?

Raquel Welch in a fur bikini

Now if you wore this down the street, oh, and borrowed her figure as well, it wouldn't matter what any other woman within a kilometer was wearing.  No one would be looking.

These a just my choices.  I'd love to have my readers comment on their choice of History's Best Dresses.

END.

IN A FASHION.

The Author in Her Modelling Days in the Eighties

When you look inside your wardrobe does your heart sink?

Mine does.  I have some nice things: dresses, tops, shirts, pants, jackets for every type of weather, skirts and leggings.  There is, at one and the same time, too much and too little choice.  Men do not understand why members of the opposite sex bleat, "I have nothing to wear", when their wardrobes are filled to capacity.

But we don't have enough to wear.  There is no such thing as the perfect outfit.  My problem is that I am a comfort junky who also insists on being well groomed and colour coordinated.  These are diametrically opposite considerations.   When my mother lived in a nursing home, she wouldn't let her carers dress her in clothes that didn't coordinate.

Mum and I never agreed on each other's tastes, but her standards were ingrained in me at such an early age, it is as if the moment I enter my walk-in robe she is talking in my head.  Just so she feels really at home she holds court in my wardrobe for I have placed her ashes on a shelf therein temporarily until she tells me where she'd like to be scattered.

So far I think she's happy in the wardrobe tut-tutting the condition of my shoes.  Her shoes were always in perfect condition and she never understood why mine actually wore down.  Mind you she had at least fifty pairs in boxes neatly stacked on the floor of her wardrobe.  She also didn't have bunions.

My preference is for clothes that have some give in them.  The new fabrics with Elastane in the weave have been a boon to all women who are not the square, leaner hipped shape of men, but have curves that swerve out wherever their genetic make-up dictates.

Pants are my particular nemesis because I hate anything that cuts into my waist.  My ribs are too close to my hips so that no matter how thin I am, there is never enough space for a wide belt and, also, any bought clothes that have waists are too tight around mine.  A short waist adds at least 3cm to the width that is the norm for your fashion size.

I recently bought a pair of jeans for the first time in three decades because some now come with Elastane in them.  Occasionally I wear them but I find jeans too hot in summer and too cold in winter.  Obviously I'm a rarity as the whole world, male and female, adores jeans.

Two years ago I lost some weight so that my carefully chosen, fitted pants hang on me.  That leaves leggings which I love but I can hear Mum tut-tutting that they are not suitable for work no matter how much men like my butt in them.  Also you can't tuck anything into them.  You have to wear a top that fits over them.  For work I must tuck my shirt in so I found a great pair of pants with Elastane that are pull on but look tailored.

I wore them to death and do you think I can find another pair when I want to?  Of course not.  Well to be truthful, I have been able to find some on occasion, but I sew.  This means I can get the same fabric and make a pattern from the old pants and make them for a quarter of the cost.  They look just as good as the bought pair.  I make them in various colours to match different tops.

The trouble is that unless pants or skirts have a belt or a waist, nothing really looks good tucked into them.  This is where I'm a stickler for detail.  Unfortunately the one thing I can't change is my waist.  Well I could with enough money and if had my lower ribs removed but this seems a bit radical for a woman who isn't Cher.

In the morning or before going out at night, it takes me forever to decide what I should wear.  Here's how my thinking goes, say for a summer dress:

I like that one but it's too hot for today.  It's humid in Brisbane even when it's not too hot.  I discovered early on that polyester is the enemy in this town.  My skin just can't breathe when I wear it.
One dress is too frilly, one too formal and with no stretch.
There's another I only wore once when I went to a party on the wrong night.  The couple invited me in for a drink anyway and I demurred.  A week later the husband hanged himself and I've felt superstitious about wearing the dress ever since.  I really must throw it in the bin but it's a lovely dress.
A couple more dresses are halter or backless and just won't do for what I'm planning that day.
Another is too Hausfrau and another is cool and bright but a bit shapeless.

That's when I reach for my all purpose standby black, stretch, singlet top, short dress, the one that is my second skin.  I live in it on weekends.  I've tried to copy it but bought the wrong material.  The knit was too loose and the outcome was a disaster.  I just don't know what I'm going to do when the little black dress disintegrates.

I like skirts and tops as an alternative to dresses in summer.  I bought a great skirt that fitted and then couldn't find another like it.  Instead of cutting it up to make a pattern I found an old Butterick pattern for a pencil skirt and made a few.  It had a waist band and the pattern piece for this just mocked my waist so I left off the waist band and made it with the top of the skirt having a self-facing instead.  In fact this makes it like the shop bought one.  I've made about six of these now in different colours.  You can never have too many skirts.

I have tried making shirts with some success but haven't quite got the hang of the best fabrics to buy to make them.  I buy shirts now instead and always buy tops.  I have a great selection of stretch tops with fabulous patterns on them.  Lovely as they are I get sick of the same old, same old but I have enough and no excuse to buy any more.

Jackets are items I don't like to wear but must have.  You need jackets for every type of weather and climate.  I have a great selection of these that I collected as I lived in various cities.  None ever seem to serve the purpose when I move to a new place and I have to invest for the new climate.

I have a Parka I never wear here in Brisbane.  I have a wind/rain padded jacket great for early mornings when I drive to work.  It's soft and rolls up easily to put in a big bag I carry in the car.  I have a heavy wool jacket only suitable for a Melbourne winter, a light wool swing jacket, two office type suit jackets, a light linen one and a fake leather one.  All are classics and have outlived fashion trends.

I have a quilted silk evening jacket I bought when I lived in Hong Kong.  It is brightly coloured and I wore it many times.  For some reason I wouldn't be seen dead in it now and I can't put my finger on the reason why.  I also bought a French designer denim jacket with diamantes scattered over the back during the eighties.  It was reduced to a ridiculous price so I snapped it up.  Unfortunately it has bat wing sleeves.  I just can't figure out how to alter it so I just look at it in the wardrobe and sigh.

The Quilted Silk Jacket

I rarely buy anything now.  I just wear things to death and try to buy a replacement if I can't make one.   Clothes I don't wear remain in the wardrobe as a tribute to my past when there was more money and I went out to more functions at night.  I also feel they might come in useful again one day.

In Hong Kong I bought a full length, beaded, black chiffon dress by a well known designer.  The beads are iridescent blue and pewter.  It is a twenties flapper style classic.  I was TINY at the time and now, although slim, I look like a full-length black brick in it.  Anyway there is nowhere to wear it here.

I bought its matching jacket which I'll never part with and is superb.  I couldn't sell the dress on eBay even for a quarter of its price.  It also weighs an absolute ton.

I have collected sweaters over the years and most of them reside in a sealed plastic bag.  I always have this silly thought there may be a disaster one day and we'll need all the clothes we have stored away.  But is it worth it, I ask myself?  If the bag wasn't sealed the moths could get in and I'd have an excuse to throw them away.

What about charity bins you say?  Those things are always filled to the brim and again, no one in Brisbane, unless they are homeless and sleeping in a park in winter, needs the kind of sweaters that take up storage space in my house.

Every five to eight years I possess only two nighties at a time.  When these fall to bits I buy two more that are just right for comfort and temperature for the next five to eight years.  My husband followed by my partner both threatened to throw them away.  I also have one teen bra and seven pairs of flesh coloured and black knickers.  I only started wearing a bra five years ago as I could feel bouncing going on when I drive the taxi ten hours per day.  I wear it as a prevention measure against sagging.

I realise that what lies beneath my clothes is of no importance to me.  Underwear must just be comfortable and invisible through my clothes.  Where I can get away with being lazy and badly groomed, I do, but never on the surface.

What I have noticed is that, as fashion has changed and become shabbier and more casual, women have started to buy underwear that is more structured, lacy and feminine, such as the kind for which Victoria's Secret is famous.  This means I am the opposite of most of my gender.

It must be lovely to be a royal with a person who is your dresser.  This person chooses your outfit for the occasion, knows your likes and dislikes, maintains your clothes, gets rid of them when they are used, saving you the feelings of guilt, washes items before they are put away so that they don't develop brown stains as some clothes do that you think are clean before you put them in your wardrobe.  She would clean out the muck that accumulates on the inside of your shoes and make sure there is rubber on the soles and heels.  She is the fairy god mother of the wardrobe.

Wouldn't it be great if you got up, had breakfast, showered, brushed your teeth, did your make-up and then stood before your wardrobe.  The wardrobe mistress would step out, wave her magic wand and, poof, you would be perfectly outfitted without even having to think about looking in the mirror.  You wouldn't even have to do the contortions required to put on your pantyhose and these would never have a run in them.

She would then allow you to do your hair while she fetched your handbag, cleaned it out of old tissues, receipts and removed hair from your comb.  She would place in it the touch-up makeup and a lipstick to match your outfit that you would need for the day, make sure your charged phone, credit cards, license, clean tissues, money and keys were inside and then hand it to you before you walk nonchalantly out the door that she closes and locks behind you.  She also checks that the stove is off as is the iron, because, after all, you never have to use it.

One can but dream. 

My all time favourite dress