Quite a long time ago, back in 2006 I went to see a fashion exhibition in Amsterdam with a provocative, so I thought then title “Fashion DNA”. The collection included mainly pieces owned by Rijksmuseum and private individuals. There were 18th century court dresses, men’s clothes, a few samples of 19th century fashion, interesting bits of underwear from different eras and some more recent garments from about 80 years ago. Another words – a very similar selection to what you can see quite often in other museums elsewhere in the world.
So what was so special about it that even after many years it is still on my mind and I want to write about it? And here we come to the DNA included in the title. The exhibition did not present a linear history of fashion or a fragment of it. It did not show the evolution of certain piece of garment, like say, shoes or trousers. What it did show was close relation of fashionable outfit with human body in various moments in history. Costume that shapes the wearer, not just physically but emotionally as well. Imposes limitations, forces certain behaviours but also protects and rewards with a boost of self confidence. Costume that creates its owner. True, the comparison with DNA is perhaps slightly pulled, since we can easily choose clothes we wear ourselves which cannot be said about the genom, at least for now. I understand however the point was to show that in both cases we have a coded information that determines our performance without our conscious will. Very cool way to approach this issue, I think.
RIGHT: detail of 18th century dress, Amsterdam Rijksmuseum collection
And specifically? The exhibition was not very big and its two most interesting bits were located towards the end. First was the room where you could try on various parts of underwear used in the past. You could slide into 19th century crinoline on large hoops, 18th century French panier almost 3 meters wide or attach a puffy bustle to your waist and bottom, all hassle free since all petticoats were provided with absolutely modern velcro straps. In the same room there stood also a chair, an armchair, small sofa and one chaise longue and next to them, innocently looking little tables. Additionaly, all that arrangement was surrounded with several door frames of different sizes.
After putting one of the petticoats on, the challenge was to try sitting down on one of the chairs, without smashing small coffee table standing next to it and, needless to say, without displaying any part of your body that ended up underneath. Second challenge was trying to pass through the door, solo or in tandem. The costume, even incomplete as it was, changed the dynamics of movement in just a few seconds. It demanded the wearer to walk straighten up, thoughtfully and with greater dignity. It worked with the body imposing limitations but in return showed another possible version of one’s self. For that short moment it existed with the body in very real, physical context.
The real feast was waiting at the end. There in the last room stood a large mirror in massive, golden frame. At the top of its surface you could read: “WHO YOU REALLY ARE?” The very presence of the mirror combined with such question prompted metaphysical reflection.
On the side there was a rack with theatrical costumes, each representing different period in history. I threw myself enthusiastically into renaissance dress in deep burgundy with golden haberdashery. All the splendor that I adore in portraits in real life made me look pitiful. A bit like Zwarte Piet in December in a shopping mall (those who live in NL know the connection). I decided to travel even further back in time and tried one late gothic number, with train and sleeves tight from arm down to the elbow and further dramatically widened and nearly as long as the train. I cannot remember the color but I remember my disappointment with the silhouette I saw in the mirror. It was clearly a trashy copy of Dysney’s Maleficent. I thought then that perhaps I need to choose closer to my own times and I risked an Art Nouveau dress. Without much success. Maybe it was me being too short or there was too much lace but I looked as if I was wearing a lacy bathrobe. It was also annoying that another art lover tried the very same dress a moment ago and she looked so convincing you immediately wanted to cast her in multi episodes period drama.
I was beginning to feel desperate. And then I put my hands on a rococo dress. It was extremely rich, with flounces,, ribbons, bows, glittery at places and cascaded on the sides. I did not like it. I do not like rococo at all, in architecture, costume or furniture. I looked in the mirror and I saw….. myself. My true self. I was not disguised, I was not ridiculous – I was dressed. This costume suited me regardless my lack of warm feelings towards rococo aesthetics.
At that moment I thought that eras are like colours. Some suit us, some not. And often it is not the ones we like most that suit us best and it takes time to find your colours and your eras. Presumably both change during one’s life time.
Mary Katrantzou, dress spring/summer 2016 
Court dress with characteristic “Watteau fold” at the back, in fashion 1730-90
Does it matter at all? On the scale of what we are facing everyday, probably not so much. I think however that such observation makes it easier to establish one’s personal dressing style thereby communication through what we wear. Once you know which eras suit you best selecting the right clothes becomes easier and you can aptly communicate some information about yourself. It matters in our very visual culture. This dependence is certainly largely explained by the fact that each era had its favourite type of beauty, silhouette and even age. And we, contemporary people represent one type or another, rarely being aware of that. It is well known to those responsible for organising film cast and costume designers. The first ones look for actors with appearance compatible with the era in the script. The latter face a real challenge once the part is offered to a talented actor with the look very distant from ideal beauty of times in question.
Non actors have it easier. The do not need to squeeze themselves into styles they do not belong to. They only need to find their own, get to know it closer and look carefully. After all, many elements of period costumes are still present and endlessly exploited first by haute couture designers then by big clothing chains.
Examples? Coming up….
LEFT: Infanta Isabella Clara Eugenia c. 1579, painted by Sanchez Coello
Ladies’ top, Zara collection, winter 2019/20
painted by Katharina van Hemessen
