I'll Take Thirty Dresses

 * A Note From Nancy *



I've been sewing since I was a little girl.  It's in my blood.  As such I like fashion, and I like to write about dressmaking...


Made-to-order workroom in Stewart's

My novel An Unlikely Suitor begins in a dressmaking shop in New York City in 1895. Off-the-rack clothes were no longer a novelty and could be purchased at a myriad of department stores (Macy’s, Bloomingdale’s, Stewart’s, Bergdorf-Goodman…) Many stores offered both custom made clothing as well as ready-to-wear, which was often sewn to fit on the premises. Women could also order clothing from catalogs. But with all these options, most high-society ladies still had their wardrobes custom designed and sewn, often in small dress-shops. In my book it’s Madame Moreau’s Fashion Emporium. The “Madame Moreau” in the store’s name is in reaction to a fascination with all things French. Actually, the woman who runs the store is named Mrs. Flynn, who had the uncanny ability to adopt a French accent when dealing with her clientele. These dressmakers often imported Paris fashion—to copy, although in the 1890's they were taking more and more pride in their own developing American fashion.

Bloomingdale's 1888 catalog



1830's

Although the complexity of the bustle-era was gone (illustration at left is 1888), dresses in the mid-1890’s were far from simple. The focus moved from the back of the dress to the sleeves—or actually to the waist. For by making the sleeves ridiculously huge, a woman’s waist appeared tiny in comparison. And in the everything-old-is-new-again phenomenon, it should be noted that these sleeves were also popular in the 1830’s. But during that time, skirts were also wide, making women look as if they were swallowed up by their clothes!  Too much.

Fashion is all about silhouettes. To create the hour-glass silhouette of the 1890’s, a wide top and small middle was needed. 

bodice pattern

The over-sized puffy sleeves were called gigots, or leg-o-mutton sleeves. They were often made from four separate pieces of fabric (most sleeves nowadays are cut from one piece), and they could be stuffed so they kept their shape. Skirts were often four or six gores, or had insets of gathers at the thigh-level (as a seamstress myself, I know these insets would be difficult to do.) Even though the patterns to ,make these clothes were still far from simple, it was a big step for women’s fashion to lose the bustle.



Note the inset flared skirts on the right

To herald the new style came the “shirtwaist”. It became the uniform of working women everywhere: a relatively plain skirt with a leg-o-mutton blouse that had a standing band collar and buttons up the back. A simple petticoat was all that was needed—except for the dratted corset, of course. It would still be twenty-five years before women rid themselves of that awful contraption. Wearing this relatively simple ensemble women were able to go to college, work, and enjoy sports such as golf or tennis.

But forget shirtwaists for the rich patronesses of the dress shops. They wanted custom designs that made them stand out from the masses of women wearing the simpler styles.

The dressmaking shops were often staffed by immigrants, first or second generation Americans. They created the intricate patterns for the dresses, cut the fabric (which was purchased in varying non-standardized widths. Now, we basically have 45”, 54”, and 60” widths to choose from), and sewed the garments on machines and by hand (I’ll be blogging about the evolution of the sewing machine next week.) The elite of society kept these shops busy with their need to showcase their family’s successes and wealth through their fashion. To walk the streets of New York City in elegant finery, to take a promenade through Central Park, to go to the opera or Delmonico’s, to attend a ball or dinner at the Astor’s or Vanderbilt’s, demanded fashion that wowed the viewer. Has much changed today? Don’t we also long to be thought of as fashionable?

Now here’s an age old question: did women dress for men or women? Do we dress for men or women now? The fashion of the late nineteenth century tried to emphasize a woman’s figure (even if it was completely covered). But I still think most women dress for the appreciation of other women. For do men really know if something is fashionable or not? Women notice. Women know.

Another reason the dressmaking shops kept busy was the summer season. Many of the members of the Four Hundred of New York society went to Newport, Rhode Island for six to eight weeks at the end of every summer. There, amid the cool ocean breezes, they created another version of society, with as many rules and standards as they had in the city. Each woman needed nearly thirty new outfits for this season.

That’s the starting point in An Unlikely Suitor. A mother and daughter enter Madame Moreau’s in need of an entirely new wardrobe…only the daughter suffers from an infirmity that causes her dresses to hang oddly. Enter the heroine, Lucy Scarpelli to find a sewing solution. And so a friendship between immigrant seamstress and wealthy heiress is born . . . and continues as Lucy gets a chance to join Rowena in Newport. It’s a classic premise of friendship between a poor girl and a rich girl, set amid the lavish opulence of Newport, with the breeze blowing off the Cliff Walk, and handsome young men with time on their hands . . . Trust me, the story is well . . . sewn.//Nancy

The Ladies Mile

When we shop we often go to a mall, where all the stores are consolidated in one place. But just like the idea of the department store (see last week's blog), the idea of creating an area especially for shopping is over 160 years old. In the late 1850's in New York City, the Ladies Mile was born. The demand for "department stores" was growing so quickly, the retailers responded by moving close together uptown. The area on Broadway and 6th Avenue between 9th and 23rd Streets, came to be called the "Ladies Mile" (it's now encompassed in the "Flatiron District".)

Remember the saying, Build it and they will come. Oh yeah. They came. In droves. An article in the New York World newspaper said that if you wrote out a listing of all the items sold at Macy's it "would reach Central Park." The article further described Macy's, saying it had "spread itself out along Fourteenth Street and Sixth Avenue until one is at a loss to tell where it begins or where it ends. It is a bazaar, a museum, a hotel, and a great fancy store all combined."
Adding to the allure were large windows showing off the merchandise. Again, we take this for granted, but "window shopping" was something new in the nineteenth century. It started with Bloomingdale's. The usual practice was to clutter up a display window with a bunch of goods available inside. But Bloomingdale's—and soon all the other stores—started decorating the windows with fewer items and more props, creating scenes and an ambiance. A lure to come inside.

Henry Collins Brown, curator of the Museum of the City of New York in 1892, said the Ladies Mile had a "champagne sparkle." Further, "All the world came to Broadway to shop, to dine, to flirt, to find amusement, and to meet acquaintances." Department stores lined the street, but there were also exclusive specialty stores like Brooks Brothers, Tiffany's, and Thorley's House of Flowers. Thorley's was the first florist to use the long white box full of long-stemmed flowers packed in tissue. The exterior of their building was also an attraction, as it was decorated top to bottom with plants and flowers.

Many of these buildings remain--repurposed as the stores moved north. You can see photos here: Ladies Mile Historic District//Nancy Moser

Let's go Shopping!

Shop 'til you drop. In regard to women and shopping, my husband teases me, saying that women stand outside stores waiting for them to open, yelling, "I've got money! Let me in!"

Actually, the day after Thanksgiving that's not far off. Last year I went out at 5 a.m. for a special deal. When I came out of the store I was taken aback to realize the sun was just coming up.

Is this love of shopping a new phenomenon? Nope. Enclosed malls may be a fairly recent invention, but the department store? It's been around New York City since 1858. Pre-Civil War. Macy's was one of the first, but other stores eventually popped up: Lord & Taylor, Bergdorf Goodman, Bloomingdale's, and A.T. Stewart's.

Stewarts isn't around anymore, but it was the inspiration for the department store owned by the Tremaines in my novel Masquerade. Their original downtown store at 280 Broadway can still be seen and is known as the "Sun Building" because the New York Sun newspaper had its offices there for decades. Stewart's was heralded for its grand staircase and skylit atrium. You didn't just go to the department stores to shop, but to have an experience.

Many of the stores got such a following that they began to manufacture their own brand of goods. Macy's had "Red star" silk and velveteen, and were the exclusive distributor of Foster kid gloves in New York. They also made their own line of underclothing, linen articles, and men's shirts.

Stores began to advertise—which was heretofore unheard of. And as competition grew, they earned their customers' business by offering additional services. "Granted that the merchandise was of acceptable quality, people tended to patronize the stores which gave them the most attractive surrounds, the most convenient delivery, and the most satisfactory all-around treatment." In 1888 Macy's announced it would deliver goods in a 100-mile radius for free ($5 minimum order.) It worked well. In 1896-97 Macy's delivered 2.5 million packages a year! Seventy-five percent were delivered by Macy's own people (at a cost to them of 7.85 cents per package) with the rest subbed out for delivery (which cost 8.75 cents/package.)

Unlike many of its competitors, Macy's didn't allow customers to buy on credit. "Cash only" kept their prices down. A perk we take for granted was considered revolutionary at this time: the ability to return goods. Customer satisfaction came to the forefront, allowing customers to return defective merchandise. But it wasn't as carte blanche as it is today. There had to be a reason. But Macy's always gave you more than you asked for.  They erred on the side of the customer.

Some stores offered luxurious "rest" rooms for those who'd traveled from a distance. In 1892 Macy's advertised a sumptuous ladies "waiting room" that included $11,200 in artwork (about $250,000 in today's money.) Lunchrooms made it possible to stay on the premises to refuel. Elevators made it easy for customers to have access to additional floors. Electric lights and even electric fans made shopping more pleasurable: "Electric fans supply artificial breezes. They're as pleasant and inspiring as the winds that blow from wooded hill tops."  Department stores opened up another job opportunity to young women, many who left home to work there. One young woman, Margaret Getchell La Forge, started as a cashier at Macy's but was promoted to bookkeeper and then superintendent—one of the first women executives.

Macy's was determined to undercut the prices of all others. They had employees who scoured their competitors' stores to make sure Macy's prices were lowest. Once, in 1902, Macy's had some Japanese silks that sold for .41/yard. Hearn & Son started a price war. It ended the next day with Macy's selling the product for 11 yards for .01! This kind of price slashing was rare, but Macy's was also known for advertising comparative prices for like items. What one did, the others were often forced to do to keep up.

Dresses were often customized and made in-house. In Masquerade I have a "Pretty Woman" type scene, with the main character trying on clothing in a department store, with her man sitting close by, giving his approval—and paying the tab. In the 1886 Bloomingdale's catalog, clothing was offered in a multiple of color and fabric options. And if you wanted the trim changed, you simply had to include a fabric swatch so they could match the color. If you ordered a hat, you were to state your complexion color so a hat could be made that was flattering. This illustration shows a dress from the Bloomingdale's catalog. The caption says: "No. 41. Very handsome suit of plain material, trimmed with yak-lace; skirt with 3 rows of lace flouncing; short front drapery looped at side with ribbon bows; puffed back drapery; plain jersey waist; camel's hair or homespun. $21.75 and 24.50. No 42. Same of Cashmere or Nun's Veiling, trimmed with Egyptian or oriental lace….. $16.50, 18.75 and 20.50."

Catalogs were created for rural customers to pour over. Hence the term "wish books". If you ever find an original one, hang onto it, as they were so heavily used it's hard to find one intact.

Then, as now, shopping in department stores was often a women's event. Men were slower to change their ways and buy their clothing at such a place. That's why many stores put the men's departments on the first floor, to lure men inside for a quick job of it.  My husband would approve.

What did small specialty shops think of the department stores? What do small stores today think of Wal-mart and Target? They were not—and are not—amused. But progress will not be denied.  I have money!  Let me in! /Nancy Moser