I had to double-check the date of this newspaper because 1912 seemed very early to be giving advice to women on what to wear in the workplace.
But then again, the invention of the typewriter had opened up a new field of jobs for women, and I found out that in 1901, 25% of office workers were women. And that meant there was a new market for appropriate women’s work-wear. It’s interesting reading this, as the proscribed new “uniform” for women in business is still relevant today – white shirts, black skirts, simple hairstyles…not much has changed in office-wear in 100 years.
Sheffield Evening Telegraph, 17th September 1912
A Dress Revolution
The Business Girl to Wear a Uniform
There are indications that a revolution in dress is imminent in the world of business women. The “gaudy typist” whose large hat, coloured stockings, suede shoes, jewellery and scent, have been the subject of adverse comment, will shortly be seen no more. Her place will be taken by the girl robed in black, dark blue, grey, or some other quiet colour, with skirt of decorous length, says the “Standard”. In short, the idea of office uniform for women is becoming increasingly popular amongst the heads of business houses where women typists and secretaries are extensively employed. Quite recently a large City firm drew up a code of dress regulations, to which every employee is expected to conform, and from which every dress accessory generally supposed to be dear to the heart of a typist is rigorously excluded.
Blouses of the “Peek-a-boo” type, against which American business men lately waged ruthless war to the disgust of the wearers, are strictly forbidden. These garments are to be of the shirt order and make of white silk.
A profusion of stray locks and curls not being considered conducive to concentrated thought, any attempt to dress the hair outside the plainest and simplest fashion is sternly repressed.
At first it seemed as if the new order of things would lead to open rebellion amongst those concerned, but the tact of the superintendent and the good sense of the girls themselves prevailed and the scheme is working quite well.
“Every office that employs women typists to any extent should insist on a uniform style of dress,” said the head of a large business establishment yesterday; “it looks more businesslike, and in my opinion, tend towards the increase of efficiency amongst the workers themselves. The girl who knows that her neighbour’s dress is precisely similar to her own is spared the temptation of studying its possible points of superiority, and my experience is that office dress helps to inculcate a businesslike frame of mind.”
An aside – these aren’t examples of work-wear as these ladies are at the races, but I do think these are absolutely beautiful examples of fashion from 1910. I would definitely wear the black and white fringed one (and her fabulous boots) right now.
Did you see the warning about skinny jeans the other day? There were news reports all over the place about it, with alerts on the dangers of “compartment syndrome” and that skinny jeans could be responsible for seriously damaging muscles and nerves in your legs. However, this is quite a good example of scientific stories being reported misleadingly in the popular press, as this top notch slapdown on the NHS Choices website makes clear – calling it “shameless clickbaiting” based on one (one!) case, which was seen in Australia.
NHS Choices says, excellently: “Many news sources covered this story. We suspect that this was because it gave them an excuse to carry photos of skinny-jean-wearing celebrities such as the Duchess of Cambridge. Call us cynical, but we doubt a case report involving anoraks or thermal underwear would generate the same level of coverage.”
Still, it’s not the first time that fashion has been held accountable for health hazards. I’ve previously looked at the mind-boggling mid-Victorian trend of walking with your back bent forward, known as the “Grecian Bend”. And today I’m going to look at the hullabaloo around the hobble skirt. The hobble skirt was a widely-ridiculed, yet very popular, fashion of the Edwardian, pre-First World War years – and really the War was pretty much responsible for ending the trend. It consisted of a long skirt, tied or narrowed tightly at some point from the knee down, and which resulted in the wearer having to “hobble” along while wearing it. I love the origin of this fashion – it is likely to have resulted from the latest technological development, the aeroplane. Designer Paul Poiret is credited for its invention, but he was probably influenced by Mrs. Hart O. Berg, who took a flight with Wilbur Wright in 1908, becoming the first American woman to fly as a passenger in a plane. In order to prevent her skirt billowing up in the air she tied a rope around it, which she kept on as she rather elegantly walked away afterwards.
Mrs Hart O. Berg and Wilbur Wright, 1908
A New Jersey judge in 1910 tried to define what the hobble skirt was, exactly. He called it “a pair of trousers with one leg”. This was an aside in a riotous-sounding trial of a schoolboy, charged with “smashing the straw hat of an elderly gentleman.” The defence for his actions was that “the season for straw hats had closed and summer headgear should not be worn in October.” To which the judge remarked that “public opinion might mould fashion, but not to the extent of employing violence. Public opinion might prescribe a hobble skirt for men, and then I suppose we should have to wear it. The hobble skirt would certainly look better on men than on women. It really is a pair of trousers with one leg.”
Hartlepool Mail, 18th October 1910
It caught on. It became the big new thing with women, seemingly confusing men in the process. In order to deal with this strange new fashion, widespread dismissal and scaremongering was the order of the day. Illinois and Texas even considered banning the hobble skirt in 1911, along with the “harem” skirt, which were long bloomers worn underneath.
Dundee Evening Telegraph, 27th March 1911
There were pros and cons to the hobble. On the downside, the restricted movement could cause accidents. This article rather prematurely declares the hobble skirt dead in 1910, due to a series of accidents on the part of the wearers:
Dundee Evening Telegraph, 25th October 1910
And, in fact, trying to get over a stile in a hobble skirt apparently resulted in the sad death of Mrs Ethel Lindley in 1912. She slipped, broke her ankle and with the bone protruding through the skin, she still managed to walk ten yards towards a farm, but sadly she died shortly afterwards from septic poisoning and shock.
Hull Daily Mail, 22nd February 1912
The implications of the fashion included the fact that less fabric was used in its manufacture, and there was a “crisis of yardage” – the earlier fashions involved dresses made from 14 to 19 yards of silk, whereas the new styles only took between 4 and 7 yards, with underskirts becoming almost obsolete and demand for petticoats much reduced.
Aberdeen Journal, 30th August 1912
The fall in the demand for underskirts also had this result – 1200 clothes factory girls in Northampton went on strike in 1911 as their sewing services were not so much needed and they were given other work, which they said did not allow them to earn a living wage.
Dundee Courier, 10th October 1911
Even the Pope got involved – the hobble skirt and cleavage-revealing dresses were condemned as “scandalous and corrupting”.
Dundee Evening Telegraph, 9th August 1911
But, it wasn’t all doom and gloom. “Medical men approve of women wearing tight skirts” says this headline, rather cheekily. The Chicago Medical Society decided they were “hygienic, artistic and comfortable, and that they correct bad walking.” Dr Arthur Reynolds explained that “American women think it stylish and pretty to turn their feet out at right angles while walking,” which was hard to do in a hobble skirt, and sounds painful and much more ridiculous than the tight skirt. Full skirts were also liable to become “germ-laden”.
Dundee Evening Telegraph, 30th May 1913
Straight out of Monty Python, a joke about a hobble skirt “almost caused the death” of a Connecticut Judge in 1910. He saw his daughter wearing one and wisecracked that “a woman in a hobble is like a giraffe in a barrel.” He found his joke so funny that he couldn’t stop laughing, which developed into a ten-day bout of violent hiccups that apparently were life-threatening until “specialists…succeeded in reducing them to infrequent periods”. Lots of “self-appointed hiccough experts” tried to ease the judge’s suffering. I particularly like the bizarre advice of “sleeping on the bedroom door with the feet on the window sill.”
Hull Daily Mail, 29th October 1910
And “hobble skirt races” were held as a novelty instead of sack races:
Dundee Evening Telegraph, 7th September 1910
The reasons for its demise are discussed in this look back at the hobble skirt from the viewpoint of 1940. A suggestion had been made that fashion should be “standardised” for the duration of the Second World War, and this article reflects that had this been the case with the First World War, women might have remained wearing their hobble skirts much longer. As it was, war work meant that women’s fashions had to be practical above everything else – “Wider skirts, shorter skirts and shorter hair all came about through women’s need for greater freedom.” This was probably the biggest ever change to women’s position in society – “Women had become workers: they continued to work in the years which followed. If fashion had not been permitted to keep pace they would have had to shuffle instead of stride.”
Jean Harlow, tragic blonde bombshell, died only 2 years after this article was printed. In 1937, kidney failure took her at the ridiculously young age of 26. “Jean” was actually her mother’s name, she was born with the very original name of “Harlean”.
Jean Harlow, 1930
This woman knew a strong look when she saw one, and here she is discussing something close to my heart, the joy of wearing black, which looked exceptionally striking against her platinum blonde hair. The intricately-described outfits sound like the most dizzyingly perfect of 1930s creations. This is from The Gloucester Citizen, which also published Katharine Hepburn’s Beauty Tips.
The Gloucester Citizen, 7th May, 1935
“Newer and more original colours may come and go, as fashion predicts, but black, in so far as I am concerned, is always first favourite. There was a time, of course, when blonde-haired girls carefully avoided black for summer and springtime wear. But clever draperies, cool accessories, and diaphanous materials have succeeded in making black look as cool, if not cooler, than its pastel and white competitors.
In fact, cooler – because nothing looks more ungainly to the eye on a hot day or evening than a rumpled, soiled gown that started to a social function or on a shopping jaunt, as fresh as a flower, and will inevitably return “dashed” looking, and with its owner in a “dashed” temper because she knows she is not looking her best.
Then for the “little occasion”, there is long, sleek gown on crepe romaine or heavy georgette, over a white satin slip. A bloused effect, rather high-waisted, and with plenty of fullness, has tiny pleats each side. The sleeves are composed of sets of minute pleats drawn into a tight cuff at the elbow, finished with a turn-back fold of white silk pique. A high-cowl collar, with a fold of the white silk pique next to the face (for a youthful look), dwindles away into nothing at the back but a set of crossed-over “braces” of the silk pique. The skirt is long and narrow and affects no fullness until it gets to below the knees, when it frivolously flares out round the feet.
For afternoon wear or a game of bridge comes a gown as austere as a man’s. Fashioned from very fine wool crepe de chine, the whole garment is simply a series of cartridge pleats. A long finely pleated gown from shoulder to bottom hem line, drawn in at the neck line with a silver cord, and at the waist line by a beaten silver belt of Russian design. Voluminous sleeves, cut high on the shoulder line and drawn in at the wrists with tiny silver cords. No jewellery or embellishments but one thin strand of seed pearls around the neck.
Three black thoughts, but elegant ones, I can assure you.”
Before the Sidebar of Shame, the Daily Mail had a sideline in annuals for boys and girls. Enid Blyton was a regular contributor of stories to them, and they ran from the 1940s to the 60s.
This is a feature from the 1959 edition, on Fashion for Girls, tips for a teenager’s guide to stylish dressing. Well, not tips so much as a kind of stern bossiness about what the girl of 1959 should be looking like. But what’s new?
Remember, “This tomboy stuff is really rather silly….” And, “In no time, you will find that you are a tidier girl, and one whom people will like much more than before.” And don’t forget, “You must learn to hold in your tummy…”
It was the age of the manmade material, and mentions “the wonder fabric….orlon”, which was the original term for what we now call acrylic.
I love the 1950s design aesthetic and it is beautifully illustrated by its author, Dora Shackell. Looking her up, she also wrote the book Young Girl’s Guide to Intelligent Living. Well, that sounds entirely up my street. Hello, book wishlist!
On balance, I love the 50s look of this so much that I think I’m just going to forget its provenance…
I love a spot of history surfing. Looking through some old book or piece of ephemera, coming across something I’ve never heard of, and then going investigating. (With extra points awarded if I somehow manage to cross-reference this with another old book I already have).
I was reading the problem page of The Young Ladies Journal from February 1870, which is enduringly interesting as problem pages always are, no matter if they’re from 100 years ago, or last week. This one is especially intriguing on account of the fact that only the answers to the questions appear, which sometimes involves a bit of imagination as to what the questions might have been – more of this in another post I’ll be putting up shortly.
One of the young ladies had asked about “The Grecian bend”, which elicited the following sensible response:
The Young Ladies Journal, February 1870
M.J.D.- Every age has its absurd fashion. The Grecian bend, as it is now called, is the present one. Avoid it, and anything else that has a tendency to deformity. You cannot walk too upright to widen the chest and give free play to the lungs.
It turns out that, much like wearing your trousers so low that you reveal most of your underpants (or like one bloke I saw, with his trousers belted right under his bum, all of his pants on show, and only able to shuffle along Pingu-style), the Grecian bend was a stupid fashion of the time. It involved pushing lots of skirt fabric into your bustle and bending your body forwards while walking. It was also known as a dance move. The reasoning behind the name is generally considered to be that it refers to the depiction of dancers on friezes from Ancient Greece, although historian David McCullough has a much ruder explanation – that it comes from “Greek” or anal sex.
This is what it looked like:
The Grecian Bend
There were even special corsets made to keep your back in the correct bent position, which must have been incredibly painful. It was widely ridiculed as an absurdity, and music hall songs were sung to much amusement.
Here’s a few verses of a song called “Grecian Bend’:
‘Tis fun to see a lass so tall,
Lean forward ’till you’d think she’d fall,
Or pitch against a tree or wall,
Because of her Grecian bend.
E’en bashful girls are forward now,
So forward that the people vow,
They’ve been all day behind a plow-
To give them a Grecian bend.
What next we’ll have we do not know,
For novelty is all the go;
And when designs begin to flow,
Where will the follies end?
Perhaps you’ll see them by the scores,
Down on their knees upon your floors.
To try to get upon all fours,
And cut the Grecian bend.
Interestingly, as with all good history surfing sessions, it also uncovered another unknown fact for me. Widespread cases of decompression sickness were first seen during the construction of the Brooklyn Bridge – it was termed “caisson disease” in 1873, after the underwater structures used while building its foundations. But at some point during the project, caisson disease became popularly known as “the bends” because sufferers looked like they were doing the Grecian bend themselves.
Possibly my favourite thing in books is predictions of the future, when their future is your now. It’s a fascinating little insight into the minds of the time, extending on what surrounds them in their present. Sometimes this is strikingly insightful, sometimes it’s just bonkers.
And so here is a rather marvellous, not entirely serious, article from The Strand Magazine, 1893. “Future Dictates of Fashion”, predicted from 1893-1993. What I think it largely shows is that minimalism and simplicity were fairly unimaginable concepts to this particular Victorian. Also, god only knows what they would have made of the actual short skirts that came into fashion long ago themselves now. And the possibility of hat-wearing not being all-but-compulsory anymore.
Interestingly, there is a brief aside on tobacco which just might possibly have been the most ridiculous thing the author was intending.
Apart from that, pretty spot on. I know I was wearing something very similar in 1993. My favourite here would have to be the Mikado-style policeman’s uniform from 1960….
