It is amusing to walk down Regent street in the height of the London season, and see the changes that each year produces in the costume of the promenaders; to speculate on the impression the fashions of the day would produce on the minds of the beaux of a century back; and think how insignificant the close-cropped, plain-coated, trousered dandies that we meet, would appear in the eyes of those “trim gallants, full of courtship and state,” that figured on the stage of life in all the magnificence of cocked hats, flowing wigs, embroidered coats, ruffles, shorts, swords, powder, and trunk hose.
Looking back to the reign of Charles I., we cannot perceive any greater change in our national characteristics, than what has taken place in the dress and appearance of an English gentleman. Less than two centuries will place us in the days of Vandyke, a period ever considered most felicitous in elegance of costume; and though it is our intention to deal more with later years, yet, it may not be amiss to commence with a sketch of the costume of a gallant cavalier, during those times, and trace from thence the changes down to the present day.
“It consisted,” says the History of British Costume, p. 284., “of a doublet of silk, satin, or velvet, with large loose sleeves, slashed up the front; the collar covered by a falling band of the richest point lace, with that peculiar edging now called Vandyke; a short cloak was worn carelessly on one shoulder. The long breeches, fringed or pointed, as we have already mentioned, met the tops of the wide boots, which were, also, ruffled with lace or lawn. A broad leafed Flemish beaver hat, with a rich hat-band and plume of feathers, was set on one side the head, and a Spanish rapier, hung from a most magnificent baldrick or (…) over the hip, in which case, the short cloak was, perhaps, dispensed with , in some instances, the buff jerkin without sleeves was worn over the doublet.
“The beard was worn very peaked, with small upturned moustaches; the hair long in the neck, and sometimes, it should seem, powdered.”
With Charles II. commenced the corruption and decline of the Vandyke costume. “The doublet was made exceedingly short (p 295), open in front, without any under waistcoat, and displaying a rich shirt, which bulged out from it over the waistband of the loose breeches, which, as well as the large full sleeves, were exceedingly ornamented with points and ribands. Beneath the knee hung long drooping lace ruffles, and the falling collar of lace, with a high-crowned hat and plume of feathers, still preserved some of its old gallant cavalier character. But the fashions of the court of Louis XIV. of France, soon found their way across the water to ‘Whitehall Stairs,’ and the servile imitation of the courtiers of the Grande Monarque, gave rise to that absurd and detestable monstrosity, a periwig. His majesty, it appears, when a little boy, had remarkably beautiful hair, which hung in long waving curls upon his shoulders; and the courtiers, out of compliment to their young sovereign, had heads of false hair made to imitate his natural locks, which obtained the name of peruke. When the king grew up, he returned the compliment by adopting the article himself; and the peruke speedily lodged upon the heads and shoulders of all the gentlemen of England, under the corrupted appellation of a periwig. ‘Misfortunes never come singly,’ says the proverb: so extraordinary a headdress as the periwig demanded a different covering to the high-crowned century, petticoat breeches and long stockings, made very wide at the top, and fastened to the breeches by ribands, were introduced from France; and in 1659, Holmes gives us the following description of a gentleman’s dress. “A short-waisted doublet and petticoat breeches, the lining being lower than the breeches, is tied above the knees; the breeches are ornamented with ribands up to the pocket, and half their breadth upon the thigh; the waistband is set about with ribands, and the shirt hanging out over them.”
Toward the conclusion of Charles II.’s reign, the doublet, or jacket, was elongated to the middle of the thigh, with sleeves to the elbows, terminated by ribands, from under which, bulged forth the sleeves of the shirt, ruffled and adorned in a similar manner. Thus the doublet became transformed into a coat; and, in an inventory of apparel provided for his majesty, in 1679, we find a complete suit of one material, under the present designation of” coat, waistcoat, and breeches.” Neckcloths were worn towards the close of this reign.
The reigns of William and Mary were productive of little change in costume; a variation in the adjustment of the petticoat breeches and stockings, which were drawn up to the middle of the thigh, being about the only one. The periwig increased, and we learn, that it was the fashion for beaux to comb them publicly, with the same air that a modern exquisite twirls his moustaches. The broad brims of the hats, too, began to be turned up in a variety of “cocks,” as they were styled, and some wore feathers and ribands in them. In No. 319 of the Spectator, we find a lady complaining that her lover changed the form and style of his wig, and cock of his hat, so often, as to assume a new face almost every day during the first month of their courtship; and that a beau, wearing a mixed feather, had lured away a female friend, who took him for an officer of the guards, but who proved to be an “arrant linen-draper.” “Square-cut coats (p. 311), and long-flapped waistcoats with pockets in them, the latter meeting the stockings, still drawn up over the knee so high as to entirely conceal the breeches; large hanging hats ruffles; the skirts of the (?) out with wire or buckram, from between which, passed the hilt of the sword, deprived of the broad and splendid belt in which it swung in the preceding reign; blue or scarlet silk stockings, with gold or silverclocks; lace neckcloths; square-toed short-quartered shoes, with high red heels and small buckles; very long and formally curled perukes, black riding wigs, bag wigs, and night-cap wigs; small three- cornered hats, laced with gold and silver galloon, and sometimes trimmed with feathers, , composed the habit of the noblemen and gentlemen during the reigns of Queen Anne and George the First.”
Sir Roger de Coverley, in discoursing of the changes in fashion among the portraits of his ancestors, points out one, whom he designates as “a soft gentleman,” with small buttons, little boots, laces and slashes about his coat who, he said, would sign a deed tha passed away half his estate with his gloves on, and yet, would not put on his hat before a lady, if it were to save his country; and, in the forty-eighth number of the Spectator, we find the old beau describing himself as “mounted in high-heeled shoes, with glazed wax leather insteps.”
In the Tatler of June 1709, red-heeled shoes are mentioned as “essential parts of the habit belonging to the order of smart fellows;” and in a postscript to an advertisement of Mr. Tiptoe’s dancing school, in the 180th number, it is observed, that dancing shoes not exceeding four inches in height at the heel, and periwigs not exceeding three feet in length, were carried gratis in the box of the coach that conveyed the pupils to and fro. In the inventory of a fop’s effects, seized to defray the expenses of his interment, there were found in a large glass case, containing the linen and clothes of the deceased, two embroidered suits, a pocket perspective, a dozen pair of red-heeled shoes, three pair of red silk stockings, and an amber-headed cane. The contents of his “strong box,” would lead us to infer, that he had expended his means in the most necessary articles for maintaining the appearance of “his order;” for it only produced five billets doux, a Bath shilling, a crooked sixpence, a silk garter, a lock of hair, and three broken fansl
Will Sprightly, the Brummell or D’Orsay of those days, mentioned the silver-clocked stocking, in a dissertation on the mode of introducing a fashion, or “striking a bold stroke,” as it was called. Will says, that the tailors, when they took measure of them, used to inquire, “whether they would have a plain suit, or strike a bold stroke.” “I think,” says Will, “I may without vanity say, that I have struck some of the boldest and most successful strokes of any man in Great Britain. I was the first that struck the long pocket two years since; I was, likewise, the author of the frosted button, which, when I saw the town came readily into, being resolved to strike while the iron was hot, I produced, much about the same time, the scallop flap, the knotted cravat, and made a fair push for the silver-clocked stocking. A few months after, I brought up the modish jacket, or the coat with loose sleeves. I struck this at first in a plain doily, but that failing, I struck it a second time in blue amblet, and repeated the stroke in several kinds of cloth, until at last it took.”
Cherry-coloured hoods were then the fashion among the ladies, and Will threatened to astonish the town with a new dress, part of which was to consist of a cherry-coloured hat, in which he said he should speedily appear at White’s. He considered the cherry-coloured hood to be the boldest stroke the sex had struck, for one hundred years then last past.
Fashion, during the early part of the eighteenth century, appears to have been strangely capricious, and furnished ample material for the satirists of the day, who in many instances treated their subjects with ludicrous H.B. felicity. “Country gentlemen” appear always to have fared rather badly at the hands of their fashionable brethren of the town; and we find them censured (…) walk within several yards of him. In this manner, he took up the whole Mall, his spectators moving on each side of it, whilst he cocked up his hat, and marched directly for Westminster.”
The ingenuity of the fashionables, during the eighteenth century, was principally engaged in altering and devising new cocks for their hats, and forms for their wig. Pigtails were introduced about the middle of it, and some young men wore their own hair profusely powdered. Lord Chesterfield’s celebrated letters to his son throw a good deal of light upon the habits and customs of this period. In December 1748, he writes: , “Your dress (as insignificant a thing as dress is in itself) is now become an object worthy of some attention; for I confess, I cannot help forming some opinion of a man’s sense and character from his dress; and, I believe, most people do as well as myself. Any affectation whatsoever in dress implies, in my mind, a flaw in the understanding. Most of our young fellows here display some character or other by their dress: some affect the tremendous, and wear a great and finely cocked hat, an enormous sword, a short waistcoat, and a black cravat; these I should be almost tempted to swear the peace against, in my own defence, if I were not convinced that they are but meek asses in lions’ skins. Others go in brown frocks, leather breeches, great oaken cudgels in their hands, their hats uncocked, aud their hair unpowdered; and imitate grooms, stage-coachmen, and country bumpkins, so well in their outsides, that I do not make the least doubt of their resembling them equally in their insides. A roan of sense carefully avoids any particular character in his dress; he is accurately clean for (…) care, always, that your clothes are well made, and fit you, for otherwise they will give you a very awkward air.”
In May following, we find him writing thus:, “Mr Hearte informs me, that you are clothed in sumptuous apparel; a young fellow should be so, especially abroad, where fine clothes are so generally the fashion. Next to their being fine, they should be well made and worn easily; for a man is only the less genteel for a fine coat, if, in wearing it, he shews a regard for it, and is not as easy in it as if it were a plain one.”
We subsequently find his lordship saying, that, “at his age, he does not wear feathers and red heels, but takes care to have his clothes well made, his wig well combed and powdered, his linen and person extremely clean.”
A large broad-brimmed hat, called a “kerenhuller,” imported from Germany, distinguished the commencement of the reign of George III. “Some,” it is said, “had their hats open before like a church-spout, or the scales they weigh flour in; some wore them rather sharper, like the nose of a greyhound; while others wore them with corners, which came over their foreheads, in a direct line pointing into the air.”
The turfites of those days had a peculiar hat, edged with gold binding, as may be seen in any of the old paintings by Stubbs, Gilpin, and others. Flareits letter in the Connoisseur,Nov. 7,1754, about Newmarket, says, “I cannot help telling you, that I was dressed in my blue riding frock with plate buttons, with a leather belt round my waist, my jemmy turn-down boots made by Tull, my brown scratch bob, and my hat with the narrow silver lace, cocked in the true sporting taste.” This is pretty much the dress now worn by grooms. In 1770, says the (…) able to trace the derivation of the round ones of the present day, that succeeded them. The old three-cornered hat was nicknamed “an Egham, Staines, and Windsor,” from the triangular direction-post to those places, which it was said to resemble. The facetious author of Geoffrey Gambado makes his hero lament their disappearance; for he says, “besides the dignity a cocked hat gave to the most unhappy countenance, it was wonderfully useful to equestrians: for if in windy weather the wearer is blinded, in rainy he is deluged, with a round one; whereas one properly cocked, retains the water until he arrives at his baiting-place, and keeps the head (which riding might have heated) agreeably cool; having much the same effect on it that a pan of water has upon a flower-pot.”
Wigs vanished with the eighteenth century, and are falling into disuse, even among the judges when off the bench. When the full-bottomed ones were abolished for general use in courts of justice, an old author declared, that the laws were degraded, attributing the increase of thievery to it, and insisted that ten men were hung for every inch curtailed in the judge’s wig.
The transition from the courtly dress of former times to the unpretending costume of the present day, was rapid in the extreme: so much so, indeed, that the owners of the former had no time to wear out their clothes; and at every fancy dress ball, there are abundance of young old belles and beaux, supplied with the proper costume from the wardrobes of their parents or immediate ancestors.
But we must retrograde a little: in order to notice the important perod in the fashionable world, when his late majesty shone forth as Prince of Wales. It was about 1780 when he commenced (…) and, in 1792, he had five hundred horses there, of one sort and another. His beautiful phaeton and six, the leaders guided by a diminutive postilion, and the rest driven by himself, will still be in the recollection of some of our readers.
No man could compete with his late majesty in the choice and arrangement of his toilette, or shew off what on another man would have been absolutely ugly, to so much advantage. Whatever he put on became him; and those who remember him in the heyday of life remember the finest looking man, and the most polished gentleman, in the world. We have him in our mind’s eye now, in the well-appointed courtly train gliding up the course on Ascot Heath, returning, with a grace so peculiarly his own, the welcome of his loyal subjects, as they pressed forward in line on either side to greet him, and think we hear the acclamations that rent the air, as he presented himself at the window of the royal stand: , every inch a prince!
He was a great patron of military costume, and one of the latest supporters of hair-powder. It is said, that the Princess of Wales, shortly after their marriage, grievously offended him, by saying that he looked “like a great sergeant-major with his powdered ears.”
Sir N. W. Wraxhall, in his Posthumous Memoirs, describes a medal that was struck in 1789, to commemorate the appointment of the intended regency, in which his royal highness’s side-face appears, “the hair dressed in small curls as then worn, which might easily be mistaken for a tie-wig loosely floating down his back. He wears,” he adds, “a coat embroidered at the button-holes, a part of his star just appearing, with a prodigious jabot or frill of lace at the breast.” The morning costume, at that time, was a frock-coat, leather pantaloons, and Hessian boots with tassels; and it was considered a virtue to have the pantaloons made so excessively tight, that the wearers used to be slung into them by pullies, and had to work their way down by sheer bodily exertion. A fine gentleman in one of Foote’s farces, giving orders to his tailor for a pair to be made in the height of the fashion, emphatically observes, “now mind, if I can get into them, I won’t have them.”
The Hessian boots gave way to very short brownish coloured tops, reaching about halfway up the calf of the leg. Leather pantaloons were still in vogue; and the length of the one, and the shortness of the other, produced the witticism, that the wearers paid “double price for their breeches, and half price for their boots.” Gradually the boots lengthened, until, after a large interregnum for the purpose of displaying the pink silk stockings, they finally closed up in the manner they are now worn in the hunting field. Beau Brummell, of immortal fame, who is said to have fed the pampered appetites of his boot-tops on champaigne, introduced the rose coloured-ones in lieu of the old brown or mahogany-coloured tops. Nimrod, in his crack riders of England, published in the New Sporting Magazine, describes him stepping out of the Duke of Rutland’s carriage at the cover side, to mount his well “groomed hunter;” and in an old hunting song of the last century, he is thus portrayed: ,
” Beau Brummell! O bless us! how
ventures he here,
Delighting our eyes and our noses
He splashes through ditches, in kersey-
mere breeches,
All streaming with otto of roses.”
Very light-coloured coats, the lighter the more fashionable, were the rage in the early part of the present century, and it is only within very recent times that the last of them has disappeared. The X.X. Lord Scarborough used frequently to appear in the Park in what was called a pepper-and-salt one, as did the late Mr. Brandling, M. P. for Northumberland. Shorts, and “continuations,” as long gaiters were sometimes denominated, had a run towards the decline of top-boots. Knee-breeches had all this time been gradually falling into disrepute, and trousers had found their way into the opera. The lady-patronesses of Almack’s made a stand on behalf of their favourites, which only had the effect of confirming their sentence, and banishing them altogether. They are now seldom seen, except on the persons of a few antiquated peers, butlers, and waiters who “attend parties on the shortest notice.” Opera hats expired with shorts, or were degraded into the flat crush hats of the present day.
Loose trousers are said to have been copied from the Cossacks, and Wellington boots bespeak their author: these, with frock coats, copied from the French, seem acclimated among us. The rage for trousers broke out about 1814, when the “crowned heads” paid their visit to this country, and were a conspicuous article in the costume of the “dandies” that flourished so vigorously about that time. Their dress was quite as absurd as any we have described, without having the redeeming quality of beauty or convenience to recommend it.
A dandy may, perhaps, be best described as a being who had not one article of clothing to fit him. Every thing was at variance with nature: his hat was so small, as to look like a child’s put on by mistake; and it was perched on a pyramid of hair swept round on either side, protruding over each ear in huge bushy curls. His coat was the most forlorn, starved-looking thing imaginable, for it was small, tight, and scrimpy; the collar was very narrow, and placed at the bottom of the neck, to shew off an immensely wide, stiffly starched, white cravat, which, with very high and equally stiff embroidered shin-collars, or gills, as they were then called, so completely enthralled the wearer as to make him a prisoner for the rest of the day; for, once “made up,” as the saying was, he could only obtain a side view by turning his whole body round. The waist of the coat was placed half way up his shoulders, the buttons being small and close together, from whence protruded a pair of very long, narrow, stiff, swallow-tails, reaching generally below the back of the knee. Some increased the misery of their situation by wearing stays, and having their coats stiffly padded about the breast and at the sides. When Lady Oldtown asked Sir Henry Millingtown to sit down beside her, the worthy baronet was unable to comply with her request, because he was not on that evening made to sit down,, he had only his standing-up coat on!
The waistcoat of a dandy was very short, and single-breasted, with a low standing up collar, and generally padded into a pigeon breast, the prevailing colour being buff; the coats blue, with metal buttons, a fashion, by the way, that is just now coming round again. As if in derision of the scantiness of the upper garments, the trousers were moat extravagantly wide, but so short that it appeared doubtful whether they had not been meant to terminate at the knee; and a pair of very long Wellington boots, made so tight at the foot, that the boot-makers used to recommend the wearers to stand in a pool of water a few times prior to bringing them into regular wear, were set off by a pair of very high heels with clanking iron plates, and long ringing steel or brass spurs. It was, also, considered good breeding to be short-sighted, and the exquisite’s glass was in constant requisition. The “getting up” of a dandy was a matter of moment, and, being thus pillorised, he was fit for nothing until he was released.
This fashion, too absurd to last, was succeeded by one in the direct contrary extreme. Suddenly, all the swallow-tails and short waists vanished, and long-backed jackets reigned in their stead. It was no unusual sight to see a man enter a dining or a ballroom, cropped so close behind as to look as though he had been in the trap along with the fox that lost its brush. Single-breasted duck-hunters, generally green, brown, or olive colour, were the fashionable morning costume; the trousers were lengthened, and shaped out over the foot. Summer trousers, at this period, were uncommonly gay: broad, pink and blue stripes, the stripes at most respectful distances, were the order of the day; and large double-breasted rolling-collared waistcoats, of a wide diamond pattern, of a similar colour, were worn. White neckcloths yielded to fancy stripes, which gradually became “small by degrees, and beautifully less,” until, blues, and reds, and greens, stood forth undisputed masters of the field. After striped trousers, came Russia ducks, bleached and unbleached; but the tailors, foreseeing that their neatness and simplicity would ensure them a long run, prudently introduced a fashion, which, while it could not possibly last, would oblige all who followed it to have a new set at no distant period. To this end, they altered the position of the pockets, placing them on the side of the hip instead of at the top, and puckering the trousers round the waist in large folds, until they “stood off” like those of a Dutch burgomaster. As a necessary consequence, the next step was the abolition of trousers’ pockets altogether (no loss to many who had nothing but their hands to put in them), and the more comely substitution of tight waistbands. Few things have had a more successful run than the Scotch plaid trousers of recent times, unless we except the duffle or Harrington frock coats, which are equally comfortable and popular. It has been said, that with a black stock, a good double-breasted close-buttoning frock, a pair of trousers, and Wellington boots, a man may appear well dressed without another article of clothing on his person.
Dandies and fops have always been ephemeral productions, and the former are now extinct, or sobered down into gentlemanly well-dressed men. Within the last ten years, we have had some stars of considerable lustre in each department, but few survive the trial of three summers. Mr. Ball Hughes, or Mr. Hughes Ball, alias “Golden Ball,” as he was called, may be mentioned first for his taste in dress, appointments, and equipages. The papers rang with his doings, and he succeeded to the seat of fame then lately vacated by the “fortunate youth.” Mr. Ball was a man of exceedingly good taste; and,in whatever he did, he never lost sight of the appearance and character of a gentleman. Coaching was the rage of the day; and those who saw his well-built dark chocolate-coloured coach, with the four white horses, and two neat grooms in brown liveries behind, saw that it was possible for a gentleman to drive four in hand without adopting the dress or manners of a stage-coachman. Mr. Ball was a beautiful dresser; his colours were quiet, chiefly black and white; and he was the only man we ever saw that could carry off a white waistcoat in the morning. He was the introducer of the large black-fronted cravats, which helped to set off this (…) a dressing-case that cost 1500l., and the wearer of a pea-green coat in the spring of 1825, which he threatened to wear brown before the autumn of that year. This gentleman, we believe, resides at Brussels.
Mr. Long Wellesley is, also, a man of excellent taste, though he rides in kid gloves, which Brummell used to say, a man should be scouted for doing. He was one of the first of the “turned-back-wristband” gentry, and was rather in the Ball school, substituting a blue frock for a black. His taste in equipages is quite unexceptionable. Mr. Wellesley is also abroad.
Mr. Bailey was a dandy of the butterfly order: he was a patron of bright colours, light-blue coats,coloured silk cravats, fancy waistcoats , and was a warm supporter of nankeen trousers. To have seen him cantering up and down Rotten Row on a summer’s evening, on his well-groomed black, perfuming the air as he fanned the flies from the noble creature with the well-scented cambric handkerchief, and to observe his gauze silk stockings, thin pumps, and silver buckles; or to have seen him lounging with folded arms against the door of the crush-room at the opera, his hair hanging in ringlets over his ears, with a waistcoat of pink or blue satin, embroidered with silver or gold, and all his apparel of the finest, gaudiest, and most expensive texture, a stranger would have set him down as the impersonation of a puppy: and yet, he would have been wrong, for Mr. Bailey was a fine manly fellow, and thrashed all the watchmen in Bond Street, single-handed, one night. Still, he was by far the gayest dandy that has been seen about London for years; and, when he reached the end of his tether, and the day of reckoning arrived, (…) right, he used to wear a full dress suit of rich black velvet, and his equipages and gray horses were at once the envy and the admiration of the Parisians.
We should be doing this great master of the art an injustice, were we to class him as the follower of any school. His changes are so rapid, so numerous, and so complete, that he may be said to be of “all schools, but blindly wed to none.” Still, were we to name any particularising feature, we should say, his was the “shew leg” school. Whether he wears the tight white buckskins and patent leather Hessian boots, or the more unassuming trousers, there is always an abundant display of the limb that excited the admiration of Mr. “Penciller Willis.” We cannot say that we admire the cut of his coats, which are too broad and fan-tailed for our taste. Count Charles de Mornay, who reigned before Count D’Orsay, essayed to bring them into fashion some few years ago, but gained few followers; and we trust the latter may not be more successful. Still, Count D’Orsay is always beautifully dressed, though his versatility of talent in this line will prevent his leading a fashion, because no one can possibly follow him. We see what he has on to-day, but there is no saying what he may wear on the morrow; so his followers,
” Like the hindmost chariot-wheel are curst,
Still to be near, but never to be first.”
Lords Ranelagh, Chesterfield, and Castlereagh, have each figured on the town, and each tired of the trouble of being very smart. Lord Foltimore has excellent taste, both in dress and equipage. Lord Albert Conyngham, is a well-dressed man, so is his brother, the Marquess; and Mr. Sutton promises well. Mr. Reynolds, commonly called Beau Reynolds, has as much taste in dress as any body; and his clothes fit better than most people’s. He has all the advantage of height and figure that Bailey possessed, with a soberer taste in his colours. Mr. Charles Jones, brother of the Welsh baronet of that name, is what is regularly called, “well put on.”
Mr. Buncombe, M.P. for Finsbury, is one of the best-dressed men of the day. He selects and matches his colours admirably; there is a subdued richness about every thing he puts on; all harmonises and are in good keeping. His quondam friend, Lord Edward Thynne, is (or was) extremely correct in his costume; and Mr. Horace Claggelt has long been celebrated for his taste in dress, horses, &c.
Lord Jersey is at the head of the sporting school of dressers, and has always had a host of imitators. He is regarded as an authority in all matters relating to dress or appointments: and the Jersey hat and Jersey spur are in equal repute. We believe, he introduced the tight-kneed order of trousers. The Duke of Leeds is a very well dressed man; so is the Duke of Dorset, though of the old top-boot school. Col. Lea and Sir Charles Knightley are equally neat and firm in their support of that costume; nor must we omit to mention “old John Warde,” the father of foxhunters, who, like Sir Roger de Coverley with his doublet, has worn leathers and boots till they have been in and out of fashion over and over again, and is the last man we know that sports ruffles instead of wristbands. There used to be a breed of swells in the city, great, fat, bluff, tight-dressed fellows; but we think they are all off the pavé at present.
Looking at the great change that has taken place within the period we have glanced over, it must, we think, be admitted that, if we have gained in comfort and economy, we have lost in point of beauty, dignity, and elegance of costume. Moreover, the confusion of classes occasioned by the removal of the lines of demarcation in society that dress afforded, is productive of any thing but convenience, or the maintenance of aristocratic pretension. Formerly, a gentleman was known by his clothes; indeed, by the sumptuary laws, his income was almost defined by his dress: now, the only difference between a gentleman and his valet is, that the valet is frequently the better dressed man of the two. Instead of its being necessary for a man to dress in accordance with his station, a new rule has been introduced, which says that, “when a man’s character is established, he may wear an old coat.” The meeting of the two gentlemen in the theatre, is a happy illustration of the confusion a similarity of dress occasions. Coming from different points, each in a great hurry, one addressed the other with, “Pray, are you the box-keeper?” “No,” replied the other: “are you?”
At the present day, when every man dresses according to his fancy, it is difficult to say what is the fashion; and the silk collars we have lately seen substituted for velvet, the bits of silk that appear on the fronts of the coats, the cut of the cuff’s, and the turn of the waistcoat collar, &c., all bespeak the shifts tailors are put to, to devue something to make people get new clothes before their old ones are worn out. Last spring, some bold genius of the craft struck an expensive sort of fancy button, like Will Sprightly’s frosted one of old; but, generally speaking, we should say, the young men of the day incline more to the Tim Dapper than the Will Sprightly school; they are more given to exhibit their fancy in trifles, than to surprise the town by striking “bold strokes.” Thus, one is curious in gloves and linen; another, in studs and pins; a third, in shoes: while some delight in jewellery, and shine forth in rings, chains, buttons, and brooches; but, whatever may be their taste or costume, it is quite clear, that there may be as great puppyism in the plainness and simplicity of attire, as in the most gorgeous and pompous apparel. We see it every day in Quakers.
Jewellery is the peculiar province of the ladies, and, like the language of flowers, is capable of great expression. Speaking of these sort of things, an old writer observes, that you may know by the very buckles of a gentleman usher, what degree of friendship any deceased monarch maintained with the court to which he belongs; and trinkets are equally capable of denoting the degree of affection existing between a lover and his mistress.
Considering how generally interested we all are in the matter of dress, it may not be amiss to devote a few words to the economy of the thing. We do not mean to enter into the mysteries of an exquisite’s toilette (…) and had a new suit of black for one king, turned it for a second, kept his chamber while it was scoured for a third; and who used to mark his regret for any potentate of small territories, by a new set of buttons on the iron-gray suit, and add a crape hat-band for a prince whose exploits he had admired in the Gazette; nor yet the frugality of the two eminent men of Charles I.’s time, who are described as having but one mind, one purse, one chamber, and one hat: but we purpose looking at the question of dress in its homely every-day garb, as it affects the generality of people.
The clothes that a man really and truly wants, are very few; all that he gets beyond what are necessary, are got either from caprice or fashion, which, as Shakespeare observes,
“Wears out more apparel than the man.”
A man of thirty, or five-and-thirty, will be surprised to look at his tailor’s bills when he was twenty or five-and-twenty. The amount is produced by a too rigid adherence to what the tailors pronounce new, or the fashion; the unlimited credit that many take; and the number of bad debts that accumulate on a fashionable tailor’s books, which are necessarily distributed among those who pay. We have known many men remain five years on their tailors’ books without a dunning; though we think, if the law of arrest was abolished, tailors would be gainers instead of losers: for, at present, it is thought all right and proper to make a tailor suffer; and, though they are armed with a power in the law of arrest, all respectable ones agree upon the inexpediency of using it. The great economy in dress consists in adhering to one costume, having it well made, and of the best material. Dealing with a respectable, old-established house, is, therefore, indispensably necessary. Still, there is a medium between those who charge for a name, and the advertising tailors as they are called. We have (…)
A superfine black cloth Coat,
lappels sewed on, cloth
collar, cotton sleeve-lin-
ings, velvet hand-facings,
embossed edges, and fine
wove buttons £.5 18 0
The neatness with which the amount is made to draw upon six pounds, and yet to leave an impression on the mind that the price was about five, is good, and reminds us of a lady we saw cheapening a yard of riband the other day. The shopman asked one shilling and a penny, which she observed was dear; “Suppose then, marm, we say thirteen pence.” The lady took it.
A plain black waistcoat is charged 1l. 1ls. 6d., and a superfine dark olive cloth, Wellington coat, single-breasted, embossed edges, and fine wove buttons, is charged 6l. 6s.,.with 1l. 1ls. 6d. for silk sleeve and skirt-linings!
By way of contrast, we will extract the cash prices set out in the Five Minutes Advice on Gentlemen’s Dress, the sight of which suggested this paper.
Dress Coat, any colour, best £. s. d.
West of England cloths.. 3 5 0
Do. do. black or blue, do. do 3 9 0
Frock Coats, any colour,
silk linings, do. 3 18 0
Do. do. black or blue do. do. 4 4 0
Trousers, any colour, ker-
seymere do. do. …… 1 12 6
Do. black or blue do 1 16 6
Waistcoats do 0 16 0
Great Coats, waterproof do. 4 8 0
Cloaks, from 3l. 3s., to cir-
cular sizes 4 15 0
Riding Habits, best style,
from 5l. to 6 18 0
Court Dresses, &c., &c.
Despite of what Mr. Bulwer, a man whose “soul is in his clothes,” makes Brummel say about Stultz’s aiming at making gentlemen, not coats, we question whether any tailor in town excels that house in workmanship and materials. A Stultz coat is as easy the first day on as the last; and they never fail in places, but wear out fairly and evenly to the end. Jackson, in Cork Street, and Perkins, in Argyle Street, are, also, excellent tailors, and a shade or two lower than Stultz in their prices. Coats made by these men will wear out two of inferior cloth and workmanship, looking well to the last; while, what are termed “cheap coats” are invariably the dearest in the end: they are not good enough to wear, and too good to give away. As to price, we should say, from comparison of various bills, that for four guineas and a half, with a twelvemonths’ credit, or 5l. per cent discount for ready money, a man ought to get as good a black dress coat as can be made, and a black surtout complete, for from five guineas and a half to six guineas at the utmost; with those made of coloured cloths, cheaper in proportion. The great mischief of tailors is, that they charge for a coat first, and then for the materials in the shape of extras. In the country, of course, prices are much lower; but there is a comfort about a well-made London coat that few people like to dispense with, after having once known it. Indeed, many of the London tailors make periodical visits into the country, for the purpose of “renovating” their customers’ “outward men.”
Trousers, pantaloons, and breeches, now exercise the talent of distinct artists. It is true, that all tailors profess to furnish them; but, if a man once enjoys the luxury of a pair of really well-made ones, he will soon allow, that it is not every one that can make them as they should be. Anderson and Wright, of South Audley street, are considered at the head of this department, and, though their charges appear high at the first glance, yet the excellence of their workmanship, and the lasting, we might almost say, everlasting, quality of their materials, insure them the continuance of a customer. The mention of “unmentionables’” reminds us of a curious example of the instability of fashion, evinced in this article of dress, within these few years. “Nimrod, the historian of the chase,” writing of the Cheshire (Sir Harry Mainwaring’s) hounds in 1825, observed, that there was one peculiarity attending the members of the Cheshire hunt , almost all of them rode in leather breeches. “That they are well adapted to the saddle and for riding long distances,” said he, “no one will doubt; but in all other countries, they are accounted dead slow in the field:” adding, that “in most countries, ‘going the pace’ in them, was considered an impossibility.” Half-a-dozen years after this was written, saw almost every man pretending to be a sportsman clad in them.
Waistcoats are the indiscriminate productions of tailors and breeches- makers, and afford a wider scope for the display of originality, taste, and eccentricity in the wearer, than any article of male attire. Bulwer reckons them the most difficult of accomplishment; an opinion to which we by no means subscribe, though they certainly exercise an influence over the rest of the apparel. A dashing waistcoat strikes the eye immediately; a fact that a certain ex-joint of the tail was so well aware of, that whenever he intended to speak, he used to attire himself in one of such dazzling brilliancy, as to attract the speaker’s eye the moment he rose, by which manoeuvre he frequently gained possession of the house. A person thus adorned, cannot be passed over without due notice and observation.
Pelham makes Brummell relate, how, at the age of six years, he cut his aunt’s best silk petticoat into a waistcoat. Judging from what we have seen in recent years, we should be inclined to think, that some aunts’ shawls had shared a similar fate. These have now exploded, and been succeeded by all sorts, principally plaids and dark-grounded spotted ones in a morning, and beautifully embroidered silk ones in the evening. The ladies are now occupied in flowering shawls for themselves and waistcoats for their favourites. Were it not for the delicate sentiment the tasteful blending of lilies and heartsease with forget-me-nots, &c. is capable of conveying, we should be almost tempted to say a word on behalf of our old favourite, the well-washed, well-starched while.
Waistcoats are good friends to the tailors; for, as the fashion is constantly varying, and the material generally difficult of definition, they are enabled to charge a little for fashion, and a little for curiosity. It is no bad economy to get one now and then from a first-rate maker, and employ a country tailor to follow the pattern; but most of them are above (….)
The hat is a matter of great moment, inasmuch as nothing alters a person’s appearance so much as the shape of his hat. Few men seem aware of this; and follow whatever the hatter tells them is the fashion, without considering whether it becomes them or not. There is no face to which some peculiarly shaped hat is not more becoming than others; and when a man has once ascertained what that is, he should keep to it regardless of the caprice of the day. A good hat, is the only article a man can wear with indifferent clothes, without their suffering by the contrast; indeed, a new one, almost sets off an old coat.
A cheap hat is sad economy; and, strange as it may appear, we do not think it is possible to get a good one out of London. There are hatters in all large towns, who profess to sell those of the best London makers, whose names they fearlessly stamp in the linings, and offer them at less than the town price, leaving us to infer, that they live upon the loss sustained by the transaction. A good hat lasts a long time, even at rough work, and when too old for day work, will dress and new line for night wear. Nothing knocks one to pieces so much as hunting in it, or carrying it into crowded rooms. Twenty-eight shillings ready money, ought to get as good a hat as can be made. Jupp is considered about the top of the tree, though the late king used to employ Cator, in Pall Mall. One of the latest acts of his majesty’s dandy existence, was striking a “bold stroke” at Ascot Races, in the whitey-brown one with a broad riband, which afterwards graced the brow of the late veteran police-officer, Townsend.
From the head to the foot, from the hat to the shoe , is a natural transition: and we must not conclude without (…) brated Spanish beau Valdez. When not too bright, they are very excellent things, particularly convenient for travellers, being always bright and ready for wear. The importation of boots and shoes from the Continent is very considerable; but the French leather cannot compete with the English. There is a great economy in new footing boots, which makes them as good as new at two-thirds the expense. In London, boots are charged variously, from 30s. to 2l. 18s. 6d. a pair. Cloth boots are the most sensible introduction of modem times. Top boots are difficult of accomplishment, and it requires great practice to make them properly. Hartley, in Oxford Street, is, perhaps, the most skilful and best maker of the day. A new dress boot, combining the patent leather pump with the silk stocking, is at present the rage, and are very comfortable for winter wear.
Having now traced our subject from early times to the present day, and examined it from top to toe, we will not dwell longer upon a point that to some may appear trivial and unimportant; though we confess, we incline to Lord Chesterfield’s opinion, that dress is a thing that ought not to be wholly neglected. A prepossessing appearance is the best introduction; and it has been well observed, that few things make a man appear more despicable, or more prejudice his hearers against what he is going to offer, than an awkward or pitiful attire; inasmuch, that had Tully himself pronounced one of his orations with a blanket about his shoulders, more people would have laughed at his dress than have admired his eloquence. A man’s appearance falls within the censure of every one that sees him: his talents and learning, very few are judges of.
We are no advocates for puppyism; yet, sooner than see a young man meanly or shabbily attired, we should be tempted to reiterate the words of the old beau, “Pray, Jack, be a fine gentleman!”
Quoted from: Fraser’s Magazine. February 1837, Vol. 15, No. LXXXVI.