The late 18th Century era of French royalty is known for it's extremely elaborate, ornate, and arguably almost decadently fancy clothes such as the famed powdered wigs, the huge voluminous robe à la française best associated with Marie Antoinette, make up, guilded shoes, ruffled shirts and robes. They were also known for being extremely trendy and constantly updating and changing the styles, cuts, materials of these clothes and often had numerous pairs of shoes and outfits. Because of this ostentatiousness some have argued that it was one of the sources of anger and resentment that helped fuel the French Revolution.
Of course everyone focuses on the end product, but few know about all the work it took to make them, the costs of the work, and the number of people in the clothing industry that went into making them, which is what I would like to know more about.
"Marguerite!" Nicholas, Comte d'Ogeras, stalked into his wife's dressing room. She did not pause, continuing to apply pomatum as he came to stand next to her toilette. "Marguerite, what is this bill?"
"Je n'ai aucune idée," she murmured. "You ought to show it to me before you demand that I explain it. It's most unjust of you to expect me to describe a little piece of paper that you've crumpled up in your hand."
With some effort, Nicholas smoothed it out, then held it up to the light. "From Bertin's workshop — for one of your robes à la turque to be trimmed, she is asking for two hundred twenty-four livres. Two hundred twenty-four! Trimmings of blonde lace, pink and white satin, and pearls — rows and rows of pearls! Sixteen livres for more blasted blonde lace on the gown! And fifty-six — fifty-six — for those little ruffles on your elbows!"^1
Finishing her task, Marguerite suddenly swung around to meet Nicholas's eyes. "And?" she demanded. "I am not buying more than anyone else in our circle. Do you want me to look like a mere bourgeoise?"
"Marguerite, these are excessive sums! Rose Bertin may be the queen's modiste, but her work is not worth so much."
"Indeed it is! You know nothing of fashion, obviously!"
—
When the comtesse's striped velvet turque had arrived at Le Grand Mogol, it made very little impact on the majority of Rose Bertin's workers. Masterpieces of their art came in and out every day, and while one particularly hungry modiste might feel a pang of jealousy over the fact that just adding some ribbons and spangles to a worn gown could grant her employer more money than she herself would see in months, for the most part they were simply used to the finery they handled every day.
Jeanne was the hand assigned to sew a new lace edging to the gown. The work went fast, as she gathered the strip down the center and attached it as she went, although her tablemate, Marie, managed to finish the entire cap she was making in the same time.
"That looks very nice," Marie noted, snipping the end of a linen thread. "What else is to be done with it?"
"Just some pearls put on over the satin bands, I think. That's Annette's department, though — she has the eyes for it. I thought I'd do the satin petticoat next, but I can't see where it got to." She stood up and gazed around the room, at the other sets of girls working at tables strewn with bits and pieces of ribbon and gauze.
"Lise was given it, I think. Should I put a second set of ruffles on this?"
"If you like, but it's fine as it is."
—
The robe à la turque had been made months before in a workroom on the second floor of a shop that was much less well-regarded than Le Grand Mogol, a fact which never ceased to irritate the proprietress. The ouvrières sewed at a table in front of the one window, making use of the daylight as they bent over to make rows of neat, tiny backstitches through vibrant velvet and linen.
Despite the technical skill Mme Oudot's workers required in order to put together gowns and caracos of varying styles, it was their lot to be considered only artisans, while Bertin and her ilk were "artists" whose mere suggestion and addition of excess frippery was worth, financially speaking, as much as the hours her girls spent at their tasks. It didn't matter that they had to fit a bodice to a woman, matching the height of her waist and the fullness of her bust, making allowances for thin arms and sloped shoulders, or that their work had to be strong enough to allow a gown to be worn over and over while the modistes' work was basted on and ripped off after a season.
It was true that the marchandes des modes weren't allowed to have a guild and weren't promised the same kind of legal protections as the seamstresses … but one of those protections was supposed to be that the marchandes had to be married to and working with husbands who were mercers! And was Bertin married, let alone to a mercer or even a draper?^2
—
When Marguerite visited the mercer's shop, the owner himself waited on her, which was most gratifying.
"Madame la comtesse!" He wore very good selections from his own stock of silks, which was also pleasing — how could you be served well in matters of fashion by someone who dressed poorly? "What sort of goods can I bring out for you today?"
"I am in need of some new winter clothing before the snows hit," she announced. "Perhaps something in that so-fashionable canary yellow."
"Ah, the yellow? In a satin, I suppose — so suitable for the season."
Marguerite nodded as an assistant brought forth some samples. "And some in puce, perhaps, to contrast with it." The mercer nodded, and more bolts of fabric were brought out to compare. "Yes, I'll have these two. The yellow will make for an excellent pair of shoes as well. I don't suppose you have anything else to tempt me today, do you?"
He looked around the shop, then leaned in conspiratorially. "Madame, something very special has just come in, and I have set it aside for one of my most discerning customers." Intrigued, she smiled, and he sent the assistant to the back room with a wave. "The only thing better for winter than satin — a most extraordinary velvet striped with pink and black. And the pink just so happens to happens to exactly match another satin I've got in stock. Perhaps for a redingote and petticoat … or something more exotic?"
Actual prices/items from a bill from Rose Bertin to the Comtesse d'Ogeras, February 1786, as reprinted in the 1912 edition of Galerie des Modes.
For more on the sewing guilds and regulations, check out Fabricating Women: The Seamstresses of Old Regime France and Credit, Fashion, Sex: Economies of Regard in Old Regime France by Clare Haru Crowston.