by Eloisa James
As I was researching all this clothing, I found myself spending a lot of time reading websites run by experts, in particular the award-winning website Regency World, run by best-selling Regency author Candice Hern.
Eloisa came up with the idea of asking Ms. Hern to share some of her incredible understanding of Regency fashion with us, and Ms. Hern graciously agreed to write the following for us. I am very happy to conclude our discussion of fashion with an essay that details the various categories of dress in the period.
“Regency Fashion Categories”
by Candice Hern
During the Regency period, the terms Undress, Half Dress, and Full Dress were used for both men and women to describe, in a very general way, the type of dress worn for different occasions. I have found no specific definitions for these terms in the ladies’ magazines of the period, but they are used so often that one can only assume that the terms were well understood by the magazines’ readers, so that no explanation was required. My general definitions are based on a study of the prints using these labels. Still, the designations can be confusing.
FULL DRESS was the most formal type of clothing, and included attire worn in the late evening to very formal events. Prints titled “Ball Dress” or “Evening Dress” or “Full Evening Dress” would fall into this category. Dresses for these formal occasions would be made of the richest fabrics and most expensive trimmings: silks and sarsenets and crepes, sometimes with overdresses of fine gauze, tulle, or net. Rather than simple embroidery embellishments, you might find beading, with seed pearls or silver and gold spangles. The best jewelry would have been worn with Full Dress, including expensive gemstones set in necklaces, earrings, and bracelets. If the dress was short-sleeved, over-the-elbow gloves would have been worn. These gloves were much more loose-fitting than those worn today, and may have included ties at the top to keep them on. French prints show much tighter-fitting gloves than in the British prints.
“Evening Dress” from La Belle Assembleé, October 1817.
Hats are sometimes seen in Full Dress prints, but the majority of prints show bare heads with simple adornments, like fillets, bandeaus, and tiaras. Sometimes ropes of pearls or other gems, or sometimes flowers were woven into styled hair. Turbans, full and demi, were also popular throughout the period.
For more information on Full Dress, see the Full Dress Overview on my website at http://candicehern.com.
UNDRESS was not what you might think. It was not underwear! Undress was the least formal type of dress, something worn very casually or informally, i.e., the type of clothing one would wear at home, walking outdoors, shopping, etc. Those occasions where we might wear jeans would be the times when Undress was worn. The term is almost never used on a print title, but is sometimes seen in the accompanying commentary.
Prints of a “Morning Dress” would be considered Undress, especially an “Indoor Morning Dress.” If we use Morning Dresses as the most typical form of Undress, we see mostly white dresses, simple in style, and somewhat more loose-fitting than more formal wear. For more information on Morning Dresses, see the Morning Dress Overview on my website.
“Morning Dress” from Ackermann’s Repository of Arts, June 1817.
Walking Dresses worn during the morning or early afternoon could also, generally, fall into the category of Undress. Just as we might hang around the house in jeans and a T-shirt, then just throw on a jacket to go shopping, the typical Regency miss might simply don a bonnet and throw a pelisse over her Morning Dress to go out walking. Some Walking Dresses were slightly more elegant than the indoor Morning Dress, as one never knew whom one might run into at the library or the linen-draper. Even so, these outdoor ensembles would still have been considered as Undress, as they were the least formal type of clothing. Walking Dresses always included an outer garment of some kind, such as a spencer (short jacket), a pelisse (long coat), a mantle, or a shawl. A bonnet was always worn when outdoors in the daytime. Walking Dresses worn in the later afternoon are often titled “Promenade Dress,” as these are the ensembles worn while walking, or promenading, in Hyde Park during the fashionable hours, where one went to see and be seen. The afternoon Walking Dress is typically a bit finer than the morning Walking Dress, because during that fashionable promenade, one wanted to look one’s best. For more information on Walking Dresses, see the Walking Dress Overview on my website.
“Promenade Dress” from La Belle Assemblée, August 1811.
“Morning Walking Dress” from La Belle Assemblée, October 1814.
HALF DRESS fell somewhere in between Undress and Full Dress. Half Dress follows the less formal morning dress and afternoon walking dress into the late afternoon and early evening, and sometimes later in the evening if the occasion was not strictly formal. Prints labeled “Afternoon Dress” would be recognized as Half Dress. “Dinner Dress” and “Opera Dress” would also have been considered Half Dress, as neither dinner parties nor the theatre were deemed formal occasions.
“Half Dress” from Ackermann’s Repository of Arts, November 1810.
Sometimes a Promenade Dress is labeled as “Promenade Half Dress,” which one can assume referred to an ensemble worn in the late afternoon, generally after 5 p.m., when the haute ton made a show of walking through Hyde Park. The ensemble would be dressier than a Morning Walking Dress, with perhaps richer fabrics and trimmings, but not as fancy as an Evening Dress.
So, as you can see, Half Dress is sort of a catch-all middle area of fashion.
And just to confuse us further, there is also HALF FULL DRESS. It appears as though Half Full Dress is simply Half Dress with a bit of fancy accessorizing. One might, for example, attend the opera in Half Dress, then add expensive jewelry, hair ornaments, silk shawls, etc. to attend a late evening party. So, not quite the full-blown elegance and richness of Full Dress, but fancy enough for a night on the Town. Half Full Dress is more or less the equivalent of “semi-formal.”
“Half Full Dress” from La Belle Assemblée, July 1813.
For more information and lots of Half Dress prints, see the Half Dress Overview on my website.
Not all women, of course, could afford the luxury of a wardrobe that allowed them to change clothes at least three times a day. The Essex sisters didn’t have much to work with when their father died, but to find the rich husbands they needed, they would have had to contrive wardrobes that allowed them to fit into the high society of the Regency. That would have meant they could not have worn the same dress in the morning and then again to an evening party, even if re-accessorized. People would notice. To move with ease among the ton they would have had to appear convincingly in Undress, Half Dress, and Full Dress, as the occasion required.
PART THREE
Publications by Jody Gayle
The blow descended, as bad news so often does, in the form of Bell’s Weekly Messenger, a gossip sheet delivered promptly at eight o’clock every Thursday morning.
Kiss Me, Annabel
The printed word, especially in the form of periodicals, offers a fascinating lens through which to view a moment in the past. From my experience working with newspapers and magazines, I know that life revolves around deadlines and print space. There’s always either too much or not enough space. Since a newspaper has to go to press daily or weekly, there isn’t much time to consider the historical significance of the printed word. Editors throw events onto the page—and in my experience that means periodicals offer the most honest and gritty look at their times.
As you can see from the quote above, Eloisa’s novels refer to all sorts of Regency publications, from newspapers to books. I thought it would be fun to survey some of the ones she mentions and see what they were like in real life.
In the first chapter of Much Ado About You, we run into our first publication. The Earl of Mayne inquires whether the Duke of Holbrook has met his four wards, who are about to arrive from Scotland. In his answer, Holbrook refers to Debrett’s Peerage in a casual manner that doesn’t explain much.
Much Ado About You
Debrett’s Peerage of England, Scotland, and Ireland
Debrett’s Peerage of England, Scotland, and Ireland is regarded as the authority on the British aristocracy and is still in print. Their annual publication lists members of all the titled British families, even if they’ve become extinct, or the title holders are deceased.
Their Debrett’s may have been two years out of date, but it did list the duke’s brother, with a little note, “deceased,” beside it.
Much Ado About You
Debrett’s includes all British royalty, as well as dukes, marquesses, earls, viscounts, barons, knights, archbishops, and bishops, along with information such as coats of arms, family mottos, and official protocols. It serves as the definitive guide to forms of address. In the Regency period (and probably today as well), it was particularly useful for unmarried young ladies seeking a husband!
A good deal of the plot of Much Ado About You focuses on the question of marrying well. Annabel is especially attached to the idea. Eloisa seems to use her as the character who can say what every polite young lady was thinking, but perhaps not saying aloud. Here she is, speaking to her youngest sister, Josie.
“Perhaps you won’t marry as well as I, since there are only eight dukes in all England, not counting the royal dukes. But we shall find titled men for each of you.”
“What a sacrifice,” Josie said acidly. “I suppose you read all of Debrett’s in order to discover the names of those eight dukes?”
Much Ado About You
Debrett’s comes up several times in conversation as Annabel, in particular, is focused on marrying an aristocrat. Conversations like these certainly happened all over England, and Debrett’s actually seems to encourage daydreaming of this sort. During my research, I discovered that the 1820 edition had a section that listed the names of commoners who had married the daughters of dukes, marquesses, earls, viscounts, and barons. Talk about marrying up—a shopkeeper one day and listed in the infamous Debrett’s the next.
In Tess’s bedroom, the place where they always talk about juicy stuff, Annabel admits to seeking a tired old rake for a husband—so, naturally, she needs to find the current Debrett’s.
“[I]t is not yet entirely clear to me which of those rather aged gentlemen is unmarried. I keep meaning to ask Brinkley to point me to a current Debrett’s so that I can do the necessary research.”
Much Ado About You
Josie explains Annabel’s decision to marry an older man by reference to a different source of information: women’s conversation.
“You never paid enough attention to gossip in the village, Tess. But from everything I learned, one would wish one’s husband to be experienced and yet not so energetic that he cannot be pleased at home. A tired rake is precisely the best sort of spouse.”
Much Ado About You
Whatever criteria the mothers or unmarried young ladies determined were important, much of it could be found in a current copy of Debrett’s. One could even presume experience, if a man was listed as a widower who’d lost three wives!
The first book of the Essex Sisters series is set in 1816. Below, I’ve included a title page and listing for the Duke of Beaufort taken from the Debrett’s of that year. As you can see, Henry Charles Somerset held lesser titles, along with his dukedom. He was the Duke of Beaufort, but he was also Marquess of Worcester, Earl of Glamorgan, Viscount Grosmont—and he held four separate baronies. These are called lesser titles. His wife was the daughter of a marquess and the granddaughter of the seventh Earl of Galloway. Beaufort’s complete listing is three pages long. If you want to take a look at more listings of this sort, a full copy of the book is available online at Google Books.
Eloisa uses Debrett’s in various ways in the Essex Sisters series. Sometimes she uses it to pinpoint a character’s social ambitions and nervousness. For example, in Much Ado About You, Tess brings up Debrett’s when she’s trying to figure out Lucius’s vexed relationship with his horrid mother.
“Your mother has an extraordinary interest in titles and matters of consequence, does she not?”
“Yes.”
“I would guess that she owns a Debrett’s Peerage and reads it regularly?”
“Of course.”
Much Ado About You
As we see here, even admitting a familiarity with Debrett’s says something about you—whether it brands a character as a husband-hunter, or just overly fearful of losing his or her place in society. In Pleasure for Pleasure, the Earl of Mayne’s French fiancée has heard of Debrett’s but isn’t quite certain what it’s called. And Griselda is far too sophisticated to consider looking someone up in the book.
“What is Darlington’s age?” Sylvie asked, as if she could read her thoughts.
“I have no idea,” Griselda managed, shrugging as if the question was of little interest.
“We can look in that book of people,” Sylvie said.
“You meant Debrett’s?” Griselda had thought of that, and discarded it as conventional and anxious. As if she were a young girl, pining for a duke’s son and looking up his birthday.
Pleasure for Pleasure
Of course, the flip side of Griselda’s recognition that young girls treat Debrett’s like a secret guide to eligible gentleman is that the gentlemen themselves know their status is open to all.
I love the quote below from Pleasure for Pleasure, because it shows that an eligible man definitely understood that a single woman would likely know his family history better than he would himself. Here is Darlington, flirting with Griselda. Obviously, he’s trying to figure out how interested Griselda is (and since he’s successfully seducing her, it seems she’s quite interested indeed!).
“But you haven’t a sister Betsy! Your father has three sons.”
He grinned at her. “Perhaps you looked me up in Debrett’s? Before sleeping with me, I mean. Surely every matron makes sure that bloodlines are in order before skipping off to a hotel.”
Pleasure for Pleasure
In the play A Woman of No Importance, Oscar Wilde uses Debrett’s to poke fun at his characters in the same way that Eloisa does: “You should study the Peerage, Gerald. It is the one book a young man about town should know thoroughly, and it is the best thing in fiction the English have ever done.” Debrett’s was a cornerstone of society in those days: without knowing who is significant, a society can’t rank people. And unless the persons making up that society read the book over and over, treating it like a bible, its ranking will have no effect.
Interestingly enough, The Essential Guide to the Peerage continues to be published, but the company has expanded its viewpoint. Their website boasts that two hundred and fifty years of expertise means anyone can be taught to live up to his titles—or better yet, to mimic a peer if he doesn’t happen to have a title. They offer private tutoring in etiquette as well as corporate training programs.
The Sporting Magazine
If Regency ladies spent their time memorizing Debrett’s Peerage, Regency gentlemen were engrossed in quite a different text: The Sporting Magazine. The following quote is from Much Ado About You.
On his deathbed, Papa had grasped her hand, and said, “Not to worry, Tess. I’ve an optimal man to look after you all. Asked him just after poor old Monkton up and died last year. I knew Holbrook years ago.”
“Why has he never visited, Papa?”
“Never met him again,” her father had said, looking so white against the pillow that Tess’s heart had clenched with fear. “Not to worry, lass. I’ve seen his name mentioned time and again in Sporting Magazine.”
/> Much Ado About You
When we think, learn, or read a particular word, the human brain unconsciously searches for word associations that help define it. I mention this because the words that pop into my head when I hear “sports” are “football” and “baseball.” So I was confused when Eloisa mentioned Sporting Magazine. “Sports” feels like a contemporary reference to me.
After a bit of research, I found that The Sporting Magazine, first published in October 1792, was the first publication dedicated to athletic pursuits. It was subtitled Monthly Calendar of the Transactions of the Turf, the Chace and Every Other Diversion Interesting to the Man of Pleasure and Enterprize. Obviously “sports” is not just a modern word but one that encompasses much more than the modern American pastimes of football and baseball.
Here is the title page of the first issue of The Sporting Magazine (1792).
The magazine opens with an “Address to the Public” outlining its mission and including this fabulously long sentence: “Fortunately we have it in our power, from our official as well as enterprising concerns with the Gentlemen of the Turf, the Chase and the Temples of the fickle Goddess, to furnish such information as we hope will be found satisfactory to our Readers, and entitle us to such credit for our future endeavors as cannot fail to create reputation, and extensive circulation to our Periodical Performance.” They were right! The Sporting Magazine was a big success. In no time gentlemen became addicted to “sporting” news, as Eloisa depicts in Much Ado About You.
