Discomfort and Discourse: Myths of 18th Century Women’s Fashion Part 2

by Danielle Funiciello

In March, we dove into some myths about women’s fashion with an article about what was and wasn’t considered scandalous dress in the 18^th-century. Today we will be continuing that thread with some myths about the ‘corset’ or, more accurately, ‘stays’. I will not be covering the terminology shifts in this article, but within the 18^th-century, ‘corsets’ were actually a soft garment quite the opposite of the rigid stays that we have come to think of as corsets (if you want more on the distinctions and history of the terminology this fascinating blog by The Dreamstress should do the trick). For the rest of the article, we will be using the 18^th-century terms; ‘stays’, ‘pair of stays’, or ‘pair of bodies’. Whatever the terminology, I have never done a program in historic clothing where someone has not wanted to know about my underthings. The questions and assumptions about these garments are almost always the same, so without further ado;

The Myths: Stays are uncomfortable torture devices that make it impractical to do work or breathe properly and caused women to faint frequently. Women needed to be laced into their stays by a servant or their husband. Historically, men used stays to subjugate women, as a way to keep women as the fragile, weaker sex by limiting their movement and preventing them from doing work.

For Disney fans, the arguments may sound familiar. Emma Watson had strong feelings about wearing ‘corsets’ as Belle in the March-released live-action remake of Beauty and the Beast. Her concerns were based in feminism and the idea that stays restricted women and made them incapable of action (if you are not a Disney fan, just Google ‘Emma Watson corset’ to see the dozens of articles surrounding her decision not to wear structure garments). The film is slated as a fantasy setting, so delving too deep into the “accuracy” of various costume pieces would be unproductive, but it is worth pointing out that the majority of costuming fits into the late 18^th-century and, as we shall discuss today, stays had different fits, purpose, and societal meaning within the 18^th-century than they do today.

The author in full 18th-
century kit, with stays
underneath.

Let us first address something from personal experiences (my own and those of other female reenactors I have spoken to); worn properly, stays are not uncomfortable. Or, more accurately, stays are not much less comfortable than modern support garments. Like modern support garments, the intent was two-fold – as the name suggests, they offer support, and they create the ideal female shape as prescribed by the culture of their time. That shape was much different from what we consider attractive today – a stiff, conically shaped torso which gave contrast to the soft swell of the bosom and tapered down to jut out at the hips with the help of wide skirts, padding, or paniers.

Also like modern support garments, there are trade-offs to the structure offered. Stays support the lower back and create good posture. However, they can cause chafing depending on the fit and the quality of the shift - the linen underdress worn beneath the stays. For us modern folk who are not used to wearing stays, the posture created also uses muscles we are not accustomed to using, which can ache on new or infrequent wearers.

Talk to many female reenactors and they will tell you; sitting for long periods of time is more problematic than standing, dancing, or performing labor. With these latter actions, properly worn stays can act as a back brace and make labor or movement more comfortable over the course of a day. Few describe breathing problems or fainting spells, even amongst reenactors who wear stays on a daily basis.

As for getting into stays? Believe it or not, getting out of stays by yourself is typically more difficult than getting into them (think getting stuck with an XXS t-shirt halfway over your head!). No servants or husbands required here - at least, with 18^th-century stays. There are two key factors that make this a one-woman job in the 18^th-century. The first is that stays did not exclusively lace up the back. In the mid-1700s in particular, many stays laced front and back to accommodate a fashion called a stomacher. This would allow a woman to easily lace herself up from the front. The second factor is the way the lacing was done – cross-lacing, as is commonly seen on modern corsets, was not the preferred style of the time and as this lacing how-to on the Hand Bound blog says: “seems to be reserved for lace-up bodices only, as you often see it in images of working class girls”. In other words, cross-lacing was only used, if at all, when it was at the front of a garment where a woman could see what she was doing. For most stays, straight-lacing, also called spiral-lacing, was used. 

Corset lacing, or cross-lacing, shown left, is what you may be familiar with from corsets after the mid 19th-century. Spiral or straight-lacing, much more common in the 18th-century is shown on the right.*

Compared to cross-lacing, straight-lacing does not create a lot of friction when pulled, and so can pulled from the tail of the lacing, rather than from the hard-to-reach center of the back as one would have to in order to properly cross-lace. Straight-lacing also has the benefit of lying flatter under garments and allowing for more flexibility. In the later 19^th-century, cross-lacing was adopted because the friction created prevented the lacing from loosening during tight-lacing (see below) – a particular problem with upperclass garments which used silk lacing.

Children's stays in the collections of
The Metropolitan Museum

Within the 18^th-century, many physicians praised stays for their support and the posture they created. There were arguments for the ‘beauty of the human form’ that this created as well, but people within the 18^th-century seemed to consider stays, worn properly, to be first a boon to health, and second a fashion item. While the whalebone used in upper-class stays could be cost prohibitive for some, materials like thick reeds could be substituted, which allowed women from all walks of life to wear them for support. They were considered so healthful, that even children – male and female – in wealthier households grew up wearing stays. We’ll come back to this later.

You may have noticed a key mantra in the preceding text; “worn properly”. NOT tight-laced.

Tight-lacing, waist-cinching, or waist-training, as it has become known in modern times, has been practiced as long as these stiff, laced undergarments have existed (since at least the late 1500s). It became particularly popular during the Regency Era (1795-1820), again in the late Victorian Era (1837-1901), and has had a rebirth with celebrities like Kim Kardashian who advertise their use of spanxs and waist-cinchers (often no longer laced) as a way for women to look thinner by wearing their undergarments too tightly.

Rather than allowing a woman the bracing effects intended by stays, tight-laced stays can create all of the issues in our myth – they cut off circulation, make it difficult to move and breath, and create the unrealistic Barbie-doll-like figures oft’ criticized in the modern era.

"A cutting wind" shows the perils associated with tight-lacing c. 1820

Within the Schuyler’s lifetime, tight-lacing was practiced by both men and women to create a fashionable figure, but it was also heavily criticized by physicians, satirists and other contemporaries. It was denounced as vain, unhealthy, and dishonest, much as some consider similar practices today. It should therefore be thought of as an extreme fashion, rather than typical use of the garment within the 18^th-century. The wealthier one was within that century, the more likely one was to practice tight-lacing. After all, the negative symptoms, particularly the difficulty of movement, were not as much of a strain if one did not have to perform any labor. As one might today wear Spanx™, or even stiletto heels to a party - but not on a walking tour or around one’s house - tight-lacing and other uncomfortable fashions were often reserved for formal and public occasions.

Men's stays from the Bard Graduate Center.

As far as feminist concerns about stays go – while stays were a standard part of women’s dress during the 18^th-century, as alluded to earlier in this article, many male children in wealthy families wore stays as well. George Washington, for example, wore stays until he was around 5 years old. These stays were designed to alter the male form into the preferred shape, à la binding practiced by other cultures. In this case, the ideal male form included low sloped shoulders, which gave the illusion of a longer neck, and which was created by lightly binding the ribcage. This in turn pulled the ribs, and thereby the shoulder sockets, down and inward. One can extrapolate that if stays were, to any degree, forced on women because they were known to be unhealthful and cause weakness at

the time, the Washingtons, and other wealthy families, would not have applied such practices to their sons.

"Lacing a Dandy" shows the numerous padding
and garments that could go into sculpting the
fashionable male form, 1819.

As the 1790s progressed into the 1800s, young men of the fashionable set began wearing a male version of stays more regularly. We might now refer to such a garment as a girdle, but the express purpose for these garments was to create the slender wasp-waist that was popular with both men and women. As waists got artificially thinner, criticism of tight-lacing became more prevalent. Health concerns caused by the fashion trend were broadcast by more and more physicians in the 19^th-century. In order to discourage men from practicing the trend in the late Regency Period, tight-lacing was often shown as feminine and emasculating. While criticism was also pointed at women, the narrative of it being feminine led to more of a “girls-will-be-girls” attitude when it came to tight-lacing, which in turn led to the stereotypes we forged about stays/corsets throughout the Victorian Era.

"A Dandy fainting or_ An Exquisite in Fits" simultaneously criticizes the negative health consequences of tight-laced garments, and begins to feminize "dandy" fashion trends, including tight-lacing.

Want to learn more about women in the 18^th-century, the Schuyler Sisters, and even handle a pair of stays yourself? Check out our Women of Schuyler Mansion Focus Tours. Reservations are required by calling the site. See Facebook for more information.

*Image sources:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=B4Y_V5L_wAw

https://passionalcorsets.wordpress.com/lacing-corsets/

Larkin and Smith Patterns

C.F. Griffith

The Corner Chair: Stylish Seating in a Roundabout Way

By Ian Mumpton

The Corner chair displayed in the Study at Schuyler Mansion
Walnut or Mahogany, Green Velvet Upholstery, circa 1765-1775

Touring Schuyler Mansion, visitors have the opportunity to view an impressive collection of 18^th century objects and furniture, including a number of items original to the family. One piece that always garners attention is the Corner chair (also referred to as a Roundabout chair) in the Study. Unlike other chairs in the home, the Corner chair has its seat turned 45 degrees to the usual position, coming to a point at the “front”, with the rail and back wrapping around two sides of the square seat. It occupies a central position in the room as soon as you enter, and its unusual shape makes it the frequent object of conversation and questions: “Why does that chair look like that?”, “How would you sit in a chair of that sort?”

What makes this chair so cool is that there is no single answer to these questions. Instead, to explain a Corner chair, you have to look at who is using it when, how they end up using it, and why they are doing so.

Many early-18th century examples of these chairs either feature rounded fronts or indented sides. According to Jenny Pynt and Joy Higgs, authors of A History of Seating,3000 BC to 2000 AD: Function Versus Aesthetics, early Roundabout chairs were designed to encourage good posture while reading and writing. The sitter would sit inclined forward over their reading or writing surface, straddling the forward leg of the chair. This was not possible for women with their long gowns, but for men it allowed them to put their legs slightly back with their knees falling just a little below the level of the chair seat. This resulted in a sitting position that both inclined the sitter forward but maintained a straight back at a roughly 90 degree angle to the lap. According to Pynt and Higgs, less ornate version of these chairs could be found in working homes in the early century as well, especially those of weavers, further indicating the intention to encourage comfortable posture.

Portrait of John Bours in the Worcester Art
Museum. Bours is seated sideways in a corner chair,
accentuating his refinement

By the mid-to-late 18^th century, more angular versions of the chair grew in popularity. Rather than coming to a rounded front over the forward leg, this style of Corner chair, like the one in the Schuyler Mansion study, comes to a right angle with straight edges. This change in style accompanied a change in use, though it is debated whether form followed function or vice versa. Attempting to straddle the forward leg on an angular chair of this sort can be far less comfortable than with its rounded cousins. Instead, by mid-century, it became increasingly common to sit sideways in the chair, reclining along one arms of the chair in a dashing style.

To understand the importance of this change, it is necessary to explore personal display and proper sitting culture of the time. The 18^th century concept of refinement held that, just as a genteel person beautified their home with elegant furnishings and filled their lives with intellectual and gentlemanly activities, the way that one presented the body reflected a cultured lifestyle. Proper posture was considered essential to attaining this intangible goal, not only while standing, but while sitting as well.  The easiest way to explore this is through images.

The Wrapping Landlady, reflecting rustic, working-class seating.

The first image, The Wrapping Landlady, dates to the 1750’s. It depicts two people whom, from their clothing alone, we can easily tell occupy a relatively low station in society. To the 18^th century eye, posture would be just as clear an indicator of their status. While the landlady herself sits with an upright posture, her folded arms hint at a working-class status. The man is another case altogether. He is leaning back on a bench, his elbow on the table and one leg stretched out along his seat. This is not at all the posture of a gentleman.

The Thistlethwayte Family c.1758 by Thomas Hudson,
in the collection of the Yale Center for British Art

We can contrast this with the Thistlethwayte family portrait, circa 1758. Note the perfectly straight backs of the mother and her daughters, as well as the careful placement of their arms. While the father is not sitting, he is very specifically leaning on the back of the seat occupied by his wife, his feet neatly crossed with his weight on his back leg. While, like the man in the other image, he is leaning, the environment and situation in which he leans indicates a deliberate comfort in the refined atmosphere of the portrait. 

It is important to note that refinement wasn’t entirely synonymous with wealth (though wealth certainly made it easier to achieve a refined lifestyle!), as William Wilkie’s painting of Nathan Hawley and his family illustrates. While Hawley is certainly not poor, the visible floorboards and relatively unadorned walls tells us that this is a family of significantly more humble means that the Schuylers. However, certain touches, including the presence of a floor cloth and the good posture of the family, indicate a aspiration to refined gentility.

Nathan Hawley and Family, in the collection of

the Albany Institute of History and Art

If good posture was considered refined, then breaking with that conformity could either mar or enhance one’s social standing. The rusticity of the working man in The Wrapping Landlady is marked by his relaxed, informal sitting habits, whereas the father of the Thistlethwayte family’s refined lean marks him as a gentleman. Of course, in order to achieve the desired effect, the poor posture had to be deliberate. Gentlemanly status alone could not bestow the laurels of refinement upon a sloucher. William Hogarth’s A Midnight Modern Conversation lampoons the idea of inherent refinement with its depiction of a group of gentlemen who, full of too much wine and punch, have turned their parlor into a scene of drunken revelry and contented foolishness. They are neither seated properly nor do they lean in a dignified manner. Instead, the whole party is slouched in their chairs or, most heinous of all, tilting their seats back on back on two legs.

William Hogarth, A Midnight Modern Conversation. Note the man tilting his chair on the left.

Corner chairs become the ultimate example of this deliberately casual symbol of refinement. Unlike the working man’s bench in The Wrapping Landlady, Corner chairs, with their elaborate woodwork and expensive upholstery material, are themselves refined. When gentlemen began to sit in the sideways, the inherent refinement of the chair served to bring an element of relaxed gentility to their reclined posture. It seems that this is how the chair in the Study at Schuyler Mansion was used. There is much heavier evidence of wear on the left arm of the chair. Further, the legs on the left side of the piece are much more heavily worn than those on the right. In fact, these legs are worn at a nearly 45 degree angle with the floor. Was someone tilting their chair? It is a definite possibility.

Despite the change in use, Rondabaouts retained their masculine characteristics. Angled chairs and deeply carved rails posed a tearing risk to the fine silk gowns of ladies. Just as importantly, the “art of the lean”, as Dr. Robin Campbell has referred to it, was a masculine form of body presentation. In formal company, ladies were expected to maintain a much more upright posture (for example, while Mr. Thistlethwayte may demonstrate his refinement by leaning, his wife and daughters all maintain perfect posture in their family portrait).

A number of myths and half-myths have formed around these chairs over the years. One favorite is that they were designed for men because men could slide their sword through the carved back of the chair, thereby allowing them to sit comfortably. This is because it is supposedly impossible to sit in a corner chair with a sword on otherwise. In their original use as writing chairs, the number of scholars needing to arm themselves for their studies is presumably rare by the 18^th century, but those gentlemen using them to lean back with their feet up would have found them much more comfortable for sitting with a sword on their belt. (Wondering how common swords might have been by the 18^th century? Click here to read one of our earlier articles on the topic).

With their unusual appearance, Corner chairs raise all sorts of questions for modern audiences, but as strange as they may be, they are a fascinating opportunity to think about just how important body language and personal display has been, and continues to be, to human society.