18th century loungewear

Historical fashion has been on my mind for as long as I can remember, but only in the past two years or so I have been thinking about historical underwear. I cared more about gowns and dresses than corsets and crinolines - little did I know that the understructure is often more important than the gown itself! The undergarments determine the silhouette of everything that lies on top and more often than not, subtle shifts in silhouette and propotions let us date a garment more easily than certain colours or trims. Think about the 19th century: There were new and different styles every decade, and that always shows through the undergarments first. Dresses could be altered, but the corset needed to have the correct shape in order to reflect current fashions.

But today, I am not talking about the 19th century. Let’s go back a hundred years, into the 18th century: The Rococo era. Rococo was all about lightness, elegance and the natural form - the word itself derives from the French rocaille, a decorative element shaped like acanthus leaves. There were gilded carvings and sculpted molding in the shape of vines, seashells, birds, flowers, fruit.. and an abundance of fluid curves, all in light pastels, white and gold.
In fashion, this translated to extravagance and ornamentation. The gowns became increasingly more frivolous and revealing and the Robe á la Francaise was introduced - a low-cut gown with a heavily embellished stomacher, wide panniers, and a loose, pleated back. Those pleats (several symmetrically stacked box- and knife pleats) were later called ‘Watteau’ pleats, after the painter Jean-Antoine Watteau, who always paid minute attention to women’s fashion and depicted various Francaises in his work.

I have always been fascinated by Watteau pleats, but making a whole Robe á la Francaise seemed a bit too intimidating: You need to drape the back over a lining, while the front has to be extremely fitted, ideally without any wrinkles or pulls. It certainly can be done, but you need practice, patience and - the right undergarments. So I made those first and decided to practice my pleating technique on a simple, wide-cut morning gown.

Making this gown was mostly done by trial and error. I first pored over countless images of the backs of dresses and tried to determine the size of the pleats. How many are there even? (There is a secret, hidden one, as well!) I stumbled upon several different tutorials and made some paper samples. Once I was happy with the proportions, I draped the front of the gown. There is a large shawl collar, that goes all the way to the bottom and is secured in the hem. I simply folded some fabric over and fiddled with it until I was happy. The seams are all french seams, as I did not want to add a lining and make it too heavy - there is quite a lot of fabric in this gown already, no need to add even more!

I decided to leave the pleats completely unstitched, just held together by the little facing and the front pieces. Normally, the first 10cms from the top are tacked down, but I liked the looseness of them and as the fabric took the iron really well, they do not need to be secured more. A quick note about the fabric: It is some kind of mystery blend, there are some natural fibers in it, but I am sure that a good portion of it is synthetic. I got it from a fabric shop in Vienna, that sells exclusively deadstock, so I could excuse the polyester. The colour is absolutely perfect for recreating something from the mid-1700s - a beautifully light pistachio green. I also really like the subtle sheen and the slubby texture, which looks so much like raw silk and as I mentioned, it was really easy to work with. It could have been a tad lighter, but as it was from the upholstery section, it was a double width fabric. Perfect for the pleats, I could cut the whole back in one piece. You win some, you lose some I guess.

Speaking of losses, I am not perfectly happy with the sleeves and might even redo them at some point. They are too wide and too full and just do not have the correct shape. I like the cuffs and the length, but the shoulder area is not ideal. There is just too much fabric in the sleeve head! But I should probably mention that the shape and position of the armholes is historically correct - they did sit quite far back.

I also wrote a separate post just about the stays: You can find it on my Blog page, or just click the link here. There are more photos, with better visibility of the stays, as well as detailed information about the pattern, construction and also the terminology (stays should not be confused with corsets).

Making the stays was a completely different experience to making the gown. It was very precise, the construction had to follow a certain order and achieving a good fit is crucial. But I think that because of these differences, the two garments work so well together: You have the sharpness of the stays complement the fluidity of the gown, while the stripes echo the pleats in the back. The colours are of course perfect for each other, especially since I decided to go with a pink ribbon instead of a pistachio one to close the gown.

Now I have the right undergarments and a pattern for the pleats - maybe the next step is to actually make a Robe á la Francaise? I would still need the panniers, and ideally stockings and proper shoes… We will see! There are some other projects I want to tackle first, but at least now I have a foundation to build upon.

Making this set was really fun, but one of the best parts was taking the pictures! A special thanks goes to the Domquartier Salzburg for letting us shoot in the State Rooms of the Residenz: The interior is arguably more baroque, and strangely also more neoclassicistic than rococo (every Archbishop felt the need to fulfill his vision), but very fitting nonetheless. And of course, no photos without a photographer! A million thanks to Lukas Jahn for making me feel like Dorabella or Fiordiligi - and finally living my childhood dreams of running around the corridors of the Residenz in a voluminous gown with a train.

All images © Lukas Jahn
Photography Assistant: Anicia Jahn