Interesting Tidbit...

So I had an interesting conversation with a friend of of mine who happens to be a medieval historian and he revealed an interesting fact that I hadn't heard before and I thought I'd share it with you. This post has nothing to do with ecclesiastical garments but I had to post this now so I didn't forget!

All the upper class women in medieval and renaissance paintings have beautiful long gowns with these great trains. Using a great amount of material was not only a way to show off your wealth as it turns out but a way to ascertain the difference in classes. Apparently it was also the way to differentiate upper and lower class women. Apparently upper class women were taught to walk from a very early age with excessively long skirts and were able to carry things, climb stairs and do normal daily activities without ever lifting their skirts. Lower class women wouldn't be able to function with the longer floor trailing sleeves and skirts because they were used to having free limbs with their shorter skirts and sleeves.  Below is an excerpt from an article posted by Lady Melisande of Hali in regards to an experiment she did to test the theory.

"Ladies did not ever touch their skirts, or so certain experts claimed. They not only crossed halls, they carried objects in both hands and walked up and down stairs without ever lifting their trailing skirts in the least. That's what the miniatures show, too. That's how you spotted a peasant in clothes too good for her: she either handled her skirts, or she tripped.

Lady Kathea von der Eiche and I were fascinated by this dictum, so about the fall of 1977 we made some overlong skirts, and tried to see if it were possibly true. It can be done, but at all times you must "behave like a lady": no rushing, no running, no striding. You move in a placid glide, absolutely erect and not watching your feet, no more than you normally do to check the footing. Standing straight is necessary, especially in a dress which hangs from the shoulders rather than a skirt which hangs from a waistband. If you stoop, the front of your dress drags even more, and you cannot move the skirt in the proper manner with your hips and legs.

Moving slowly keeps you from over-running the front hem. You wear the soft-soled lady's shoes of the period, through which you can feel much of your footing, so you know when your hem is under your foot before your weight is committed to it. We wore ballet slippers or Scottish dancing shoes, but a ladies' dress flat, while hard, is thin enough when you know what you're doing.

At each step, you sweep your foot in a small arc along the floor, in towards your ankle, then outward and forward. This brushes your hem out of your way. Your thigh and hip follow, further pushing the skirts forward so that the hem doesn't drag back towards you. You then have clear ground on which to take your not-overlong step; you pull your toes back from their farthest extent when you do go to put your foot down. The first few steps are the hardest; once the rhythm takes over, the sway of the heavy skirt back and forth works with you, or you work with it.

When walking up or down stairs, you use the moving knee to flick the skirt up, and put your foot down quickly so as to beat the fabric to the tread. Yet the pace is still slow, because you must wait each time for the skirts to settle. Moving the hips in the wake of the foot gives this locomotion a gentle sway, very attractive in the soft, heavy gowns, in an age when the hips, rather than the bust or legs, were the primary focus of sexual attractiveness in women.

This mode of movement is confirmed by dance practices. The pavanne can be danced with bald, straight-forward steps, as is common in many dance classes. This well suits Renaissance gowns with their farthingales. However, the Medieval pavanne was danced with two levels of undulation: one horizontal, one vertical. The first undulation is an exaggeration of this sweeping step, footed by the man as well as the lady. It was, in fact, our clue to surviving the skirts.

Note that Lady Kathea and I had the advantage of dance training, historical information, and lots of determined practice. It still remained a matter for concentration, like doing a tricky dance with one part of your mind while conversing with another part. A noblegirl would have started having her hands slapped for handling her skirts at a tender age, and by her teens would have moved this way without thinking. It took quite an emergency for her to pick up her skirts and hustle.
So any peasant who was going to pass as a noblewoman would not only have to take a couple of years indoors to lose her ugly tan and restore her skin's smoothness and translucent pallor, she would have to have someone teach her how to walk in this very artificial way. Also, a noblewoman putting on a coarse gown is not going to look like a peasant as she strolls down the road, swaying slowly with her toes low to the ground. Well-born fugitives had a very difficult time of it, unless they simply avoided inhabited places. As a result, in this period people really didn't try to pass as other than they were: a nobleman incognito travelled as a nobleman on hard times, not as a commoner.

In artwork, you may notice how the hems of gowns sit on the floor: they do not turn under, but bend to the outside so that you can look inside the rolls of fullness. This is how they naturally lie when either they have trailed you, or been kicked outward by your toes.

Note that this did not continue forever. In the next fashion, a lady always had one hand tied up holding a bunch of overskirt high on the abdomen, showing off the underskirt and giving the full-bellied, "Pregnant Virgin" look. An Italian breviary of 1380 (Boucher, pg. 204 above at left) perfectly shows the start of the transition. Most of the ladies stand in the puddles of their skirts. One alone has drawn up her pink overgown with her wrist (note that her hand is not clenched on the cloth) only to show off the azure undergown, NOT to clear her feet, which are still enshrouded in dragging blue hem. Yet in "Hunting with falcons at the court of Philip the Good" (Boucher, pg 211; this Duke of Burgundy reigned 1419-1467 at right), the lady with the red gloves, directly below the musicians on the left, is strolling blithely towards us with idle hands, a foot of hem on the sward, while the next lady to the right has a handful of hem -- but no show of toes! There must have been a long period, a generation or two, when everyone went through the usual fidgets about whether to be elegant and dignified (old-fashioned) or to be dashingly modern and fashion-forward (handle their skirts)."

I realize this is a longish post but I thought that this was absolutely fascinating. I'm still trying to find more proof but I hope you enjoy this entry!

Ecclesiastical Garments of the 13th Century: The Dalmatic

The Dalmatic of Charlemagne-back

The Dalmatic, an over-sized super tunic,takes its name from Dalmatia. Dalmatia itself is s a historical region on the eastern coast of the Adriatic Sea. It stretches from the island of Rab in the northwest to the Bay of Kotor in the southeast.* The dalmatic was in use by the general population, by both men and women, of the area from an early period. The dalmatic is shorter than the alb, only reaching the knees, with shorter, wider sleeves and is worn over the alb but under the chasuble. It also has slits up its sides from the hem for quite  a ways. The photos to the right and below shows the front and back of an extant example. This dalmatic is said to have belonged to Charlemagne and is kept in the sacristy of St. Peter’s. It’s not only a great example of an early piece it is a marvelous piece of early needlework. Named because it was said to have been worn by Charlemagne at his coronation it was later proved that the garment is from the fourteenth century.

14th Century Iranian Dalmatic

There is another extant example in the V&A museum collections that also dates to the fourteenth century. The image to the left shows the great detail of the images on the silk dalmatic. What it does not show is the side slits which in this case extends up to the under arm. For a garment like this there would have to have been ties or buttons to keep it on properly.** This one is beautiful though a mixture of symbols. The pelicans depicted on the textile are more of an Italian embellishment where they were used as a symbol of Christ’s sacrifice. In opposition there is the flower scroll motif which is mostly associated with the Chinese influence of the time. Added to China and Italy the V&A experts have determined that the fabric from which the dalmatic is made must have been exported to Europe from Mongol-Iran from the structure of the cloth. I find it fascinating that three different cultures which were quite far apart all fell into this one piece. It’s astounding.

The Dalmatic of Charlemagne-front

*Wikipedia contributors. “Dalmatia.” Wikipedia, The Free Encyclopedia. Wikipedia, The Free Encyclopedia, 21
Jul. 2011. Web. 30 Jul. 2011.
**Mary G. Houston, Medieval Costume in England and France: The 13th, 14th and 15th Centuries (New York: Dover, 1996) 28.

Ecclesiastical Garments of the 13th Century: The Chasuble

This looks like it’s going to be a lengthy post so I apologize in advance bit this particular piece has a lot of history!
The chasuble  in it’s original form was perfectly round with a hole cut in the center for the head to go through. The name is said to be derived from the Latin word casula which means little house. A good translation in my opinion since I think of my circular cloak as a small tent. Moving on. There’s a mosiac of Pope Honorius who died in 638 A.D. in the Church od St. Agnese at Rome which depicts him vested in a chasuble that touches the ground all around him. This version of the garment effectively covers his entire figure. During the following centuries the garment became shorter and eventually it was clipped and altered so that there was a considerable diversity in the make of it. I’ve included a photo to the left of varying styles.

Embroidered Chasuble

Figure 29 in the photo (the one in the center) is a measured drawing from an extant extant example in the V&A museum.  (No. 8359 of 1863) I tried to find the image within the V&A collections but there was no image attached to the file. Boo. This particular model is seamed at the shoulders  to fit the pattern (it is made of a striped silk). The chausable in the figure was measured at 59 inches in length and 48 inches in width.* It has been deduced that the cut of the chasuble changed due to its weight. Some of them were heavily embroidered like the one to the right and so got quite heavy. Less material over the arms allowed movement and lightened the burden on the poor man wearing it!

*Mary G. Houston, Medieval Costume in England and France: The 13th, 14th and 15th Centuries (New York: Dover, 1996) 24.