historical men in dresses

anonymous asked:

What are your thoughts on menswear/men's fashion post-18th century? I personally think that it's been pretty stagnant, but I don't know much about menswear in general. I don't really read/hear people talk about it in (terms of historical dress) too much, so I might be completely wrong

Men’s Regency Fashion


The transition of men’s fashion from the 18th century to the early 19th century can best be described as the desire for a more casual and active look. At the end of the 18th century the politics of the established, as well as new, governments were becoming less rigid and embracing the ideas of Enlightenment and more reliance on the self. This emphasis on the self and intelligence inspired a Greek revival, which is why this era is referred to as Neoclassical. This revival influenced fashion as well as politics and popularized the “new natural style” of women’s dress modeled after Greek statutes. This also affected the way men’s clothing was cut and worn, making the fabric more form fitting in order to portray its beauty.

Many fashion historians attribute this era’s look to Beau Brummell, a young man close to the Prince of Wales. He drew his fashion sense from his time in the military and the less formal “riding” look. He was well known and considered one of the most handsomely dressed men in the country, which didn’t help his already inflated ego, or his image as a dandy. Men followed his lead and chose to transition their day wear from frock coats (which would take on another meaning in the years to come) and stockings to tailcoats and longer breeches that ended below the knee for a seamless look with the hessian or top boot. 

Beau Brummell

Hessian Boots

As with a more casual look, wigs fell out of style, with the help of a 1795 powder tax, and the longer hair kept in a pigtail was abandoned for a cropped windblown look often helped with hair wax. Many of the hairstyles were named after notable Romans-Caesar, Titus, Brutus- as well as the angelic cherub.

Napoleon sporting the Caesar 

The shorter TItus 

The Brutus, the popular hairstyle worn by Brummell and his “followers”

The men’s evening look of this fashion era remained similar to the day look but with different footwear. Rather than sporting the popular boots of the day, men wore dress shoes with a low heel, some with buckles. Wearing heeled shoes also required the men to abandon their longer breeches for knee breeches and stockings. For the torso, the tailcoat was usually dark in color, navy being the most popular. These darker coasts covered white shirts and white waistcoats. A common accessory was the Chapeau-bras or bicorne which was carried under the arm. The use of wigs during the evening was usually one of personal preference and was more popular with older generations. 

For court dress, there is little difference between the late 18th c. and early 19th c. The frock coats with beautiful metallic embroidery and matching breeches took on darker jewel tones and white waistcoats were the standard dress for men at court. They continued to wear the shorter breeches with stockings and slippers and festooned themselves with wigs, which for the younger generation were only worn at court, swords on their hips, and the bicorne under their arms.

One accessory that was of great importance to men of this era no matter the time of day was the cravat or neck-cloth. A simple white cloth cravat became popular in regency fashion over the lace frills of the late 18th c. Our old friend Beau Brummell played an important role in popularizing the many looks of the cravat. It is said that he had the idea to have his neck-cloths starched in order to get a better knot and wear out of them. This also created a lot of work for his valet Robinson who would have to remove the piles of limp failures that did not meet Brummell’s standards.

In the next installment of men’s fashion in the 1800s, we’re going to talk a lot about pants so get ready!


have you ever considered those old timey pictures and historical accounts of “women who dressed up as men” might actually be closeted trans guys and not women giving the middle finger to gender roles or some sort of fuck you to heteronormativity

I, Witness

We’re back.

Was that the best episode ever? No. But it had a huge list of tasks that it had to accomplish – explain what happened during the time jump, work on mending the breach between Crane and Abbie, re-introducing us to Jenny, introducing Pandora and Betsy, plus a case of the week – and it did it all ably along with some wonderfully moving bits and some laugh-out-loud moments. If this is what we have to look forward to, I can’t wait to see what’s next. Let’s get into it:

  • OH HEY NO FAKEOUT COLD OPEN. What a pleasant surprise! And this really was the right way to start things. It was a passing of the torch, of sorts, Headless giving way to the new baddie in town while ably demonstrating that however bad Headless is, Pandora can whup his ass with a song. And even though Headless is off the table for now (though he can come back!), it felt like this was acknowledging what made Headless a great villain, as opposed to what he became. So even if we don’t get him, I hope we get that feeling back. 
  • The song Pandora sings, “Who Killed Cock Robin?” is, like the song she sings later, an English nursery rhyme about birds. It lists a number of birds. Interestingly, it could be a recounting of the death of Baldur in Norse myth, which basically involves Baldur (god of light) being murdered by Loki (god of mischief, not Tom Hiddlestone) with an assist from his hapless brother Hoor. So, maybe something to keep an eye on.
  • Does Pandora’s box remind anyone of the Ghostbuster pack thingies? Just me?
  • Current sexuality; Abbie smashing dudes in the face with a trash can lid.
  • Then Abbie goes from beating him in the face to reassuring him, telling him he’ll be protected, advocating for him because, of course, she’s been in shoes not so different from his. God I’ve missed you, Miss Grace Abigail. Throughout this episode we have moment after moment reminding us of Abbie’s greatest strength: her empathy. And it’s beautiful.
  • THE SWELLING ICHABBIE THEME WHEN ABBIE LOOKS AT CRANE FOR THE FIRST TIME. The fact that she has to laugh and look away lest this becomes something too deep too fast. The Romantic Lead look on Crane’s face when he sees her! 
  • So it seems that Crane did tell Abbie in some way that he was going to “clear his head,” and just never came back. That’s better than just leaving. You’re marginally forgiven.
  • “I required solitude. Then it became a habit. A deeply regrettable one.” Don’t we all know this feeling? You need to be alone, to heal, to remember who you are, but then it becomes easier and easier to be an island. And by the time maybe you don’t want to be alone anymore, you’re too far from shore to find your way back. This is very believable to me, especially for someone grieving.

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The Walking Broomstick

A/N: For my CS Secret Santa, scribblecat27! Even though I’ve only been talking to you for about a week and a half now, it’s been a pleasure getting to know you. Also, this wasn’t supposed to be 4000 words, but I had a lot of fun writing it. Slightly AU/slightly canon/all the fun of meeting in a mysterious tavern that crosses time and realms. Enjoy! Happy Holidays! Merry CS Feels! :]


She stalks the cold streets of the Historic Trail. During the summer, this place is crawling with tourists. It’s nearly impossible to drive, and like any true Bostonian she knows better than to try unless she absolutely has to, and even then she would drive badly enough to warrant the nickname Masshole. You had to be if you wanted to get anywhere down there, or anywhere else in the city’s labyrinthine one-way streets.

But this time of year, it’s empty. Most people are at home, celebrating Christmas Eve with their families, eating roast turkey and stuffing and cranberry sauce. Emma’s mouth waters just thinking about it. With a sigh, she throws her take-out into a nearby trash can. There’s no point in carrying around leftover Chinese when you’re planning on going out and getting drunk.

Maybe now, in some alternate universe, she’s gathered around the TV with a son and husband, or walking the snow-free streets of Tallahassee to look at the lights, or laughing about their desire for a white Christmas that’s not the cottony stuff they put on display at the mall. God, if Christmas Eve isn’t the worst night to be haunted by memories and possibilities, nothing is.

The first bar she comes across will have to do.

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