Daily Archives: April 19, 2012

Exquisite Brocade, A Short Rambling, and A Storied Gown

Perhaps my problem arose because I spend too many hours in a haphazard array of cotton and fleece, writing in a cold climate, in a cold downstairs room, and as I am told, looking like a quasi-homeless person.

Perhaps, to contradict my prior musing, it’s because I have a tendency to lust after frippery, stopping just short of slapping it on my person.  Stealing from museums, you see, is not really a realistic pursuit at this point in my life.  Well, to be honest, it never was.

Oh, the woe.

Fantasies of reckless fashion acquistions thus abandoned, the obsession I am referring to today, readers, involves what has passed out of natural life and into state and private collections, namely the luxuriant and often excessive finery that prompted Madame de Pompadour to gaze at her surroundings and proclaim, “Après nous, le déluge.”

As curiosity is a weakness of mine, I find it impossible to blithely stroll past a gown this richly nuanced and not ferret out under what extravagent circumstances it was worn.  The occasion, as I was soon to learn, belonged to a little known Englishwoman whose portrait has been lost to the public, though a history of the Fanshawe family once described her as ‘strikingly handsome’.  We’ll have to take their word.

Not to be confused with Lady Ann Fanshawe, the 17th century English memoirist, our Ann Fanshawe was th eldest daughter of the newly appointed Lord Mayor of London.  Her father Crisp Gascoyne, Master of the Brewers since 1746, was sworn into office one cool evening in November 1752, and it fell upon Ann, a 28 year old wife and mother, to don this magnificent gown and pose as ‘Lady Mayoress’ in place of her deceased mother.

As you can glean from the considerable amount of silver thread used throughout, every inch of fabric was designed to glow in the flickering candlelight that presided over the night’s celebrations.  Sadly, the gown was worn only once but then again, it’s not exactly something a gentlewoman can step out in twice.  “Oh, look, she’s wearing the beer gown again.”

If only for a night, Ann must have looked a shining advertisement of the family’s glory.  The white silk is Spitalfields; the brocade serves as both an allusion to her father’s successful brewery business and a reassurance of his future achievements as the Lord Mayor.

Look closely and you’ll see a theme: barley and hops spill from silver cornucopias, silver anchors rest on silver barrels, and indigo and crimson flowers flourish over the remainder of the mantua.  There’s even a tale behind the indigo dye and the expense involved, but if you want to read more about the gown and its creation, head on over to the Museum of London.

I’m once again ready to admire.

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