Actually you uneducated worm, girls used to have to do that back in the ol’ days. The reasoning is that during their periods, they didn’t have the resources to find wool or cloth as an absorbant for the blood, so they’d just have to let it soak their beautiful gown :,( and after each gown was deamed uncomfortable and/or unpresentable, they would change.
Like imagine that, you’re going to your quinceañera and your pantyhose just starts feeling really gross so u grAB ANOTHER GOWN Out of ur heckin??? Purse??? And change into it like wth how badass is that
In the mid-1970s the relevance of haute couture was seriously debated. The political and social upheaval of the 1960s, the emergence of a plethora of creative ready-to-wear designers, and the increasing preference for a sportswear approach to dressing as represented by American fashion were among the shifts in lifestyles and taste that appeared to sound the death knell of the calcified and elitist world of the maisons de couture.
It was at this time that Yves Saint Laurent, haute couture’s preeminent practitioner, threw caution to the prevailing winds with a presentation of unrivaled fantasy and luxury. He called it his ‘Russian Collection,’ but his designs were Slavic only in their Oriental excess and opulence. Inspired by the Bakst costumes of the Ballets Russes, each ensemble appeared to be a repudiation of the informal, pared-down, and functional looks of the street. By employing all the techniques of the petites mains-those workshops of embroiderers, passementerie makers, lace weavers, feather workers, and jewelry makers-Saint Laurent revived the taste for elegant excess. Compared to the Art Deco spareness of the 1930s-revival crepe and jersey evening columns popular during the period, the Russian ball gowns were a sensory explosion of color, ornament, scale, and even sound, for each skirt was supported by a coordinated taffeta petticoat that announced the approach of its wearer with a dry rustle.
the rosaline + benvolio chase scene was rlly satisfying cause for the first time ever we get to see a pissed off woman in a period gown fuckin bolting through the streets while easily keeping up with and sometimes passing the dude not wearing sixty pounds of clothing and jewelry