|—||Carlo Emilio Gadda (1893 – 1973), Italian writer and poet (via a-l-ancien-regime)|
Green watered silk stomacher, richly embroidered with roses, carnations and poppies in shades of red to pink silks. Heavy gold embroidery, of birds and animals in Chinese style. Lined with cream silk. Size: Length: 40 cm; Width: 30 cm. (across top).
Object Type: stomacher
Actual Date: c. 1740
Century: 18th century
Materials: Silk, watered, Silk, Gold Thread
The stomacher is a piece of stiff fabric, roughly the shape of a triangle, that covered the gap of the robe over stomach and chest. It was covered with fine fabric and often heavily embroidered or decorated with lace. The fronts of the robe were pinned onto it to hold them in place. Stomachers could be boned like a corset, or even substituted with a corset, provided that the corset itself was beautifully done (though then the corset and robe would have to coordinate).
OMFG YOU GUYS HERE’S THE EPISODE
I CAN’T I CAN’T
It’s from an episode where they go back in time to Vienna.
And meet with Mozart.
Who asks them to call him “Wolfie”.
Just when you thought Jem couldn’t get any better.
The Robe de Cour
In case you couldn’t tell, the robe de cour (court gown) was the most formal of formal dresses. The sleeves were often covered in rows of lace, the necklines cut more across the shoulders rather than in a strict square, unlike gowns like the francaise, and it closed in the back instead of having an open front featuring a decorative stomacher, again unlike the francaise.
Cours still featured an open skirt, though, which was sometimes left so open as to need very little actual overskirt—the jupe then functioned as skirt proper rather than just a decorative petticoat. The skirt would at times drape slightly over the hip/panniers, as above, or be virtually non-existent, which was often the case of British robes de cour (in a manner similar to the blue gown above). These gowns also feature either long trains—much longer and more elaborate than in francaises—or the sort-of tails you see in the first gown, which was, again, more popular in British versions of the cour.
Archduchess Maria Josepha Gabriela Johanna Antonia Anna of Austria (Vienna, 19 March 1751 – 15 October 1767). She was the daughter of Francis I, Holy Roman Emperor (1708–1765) and Maria Theresa of Austria, Holy Roman Empress (1717–1780). She died of smallpox at the age of 16 and was buried in the Imperial Crypt, Vienna, Austria.
painter: Anton Raphael Mengs (1728-1779)
date: c. 1767
location: Museo del Prado, Madrid
She was a member of the House of Hapsburg-Lorraine and also the older sister of Marie Antoinette.
Definitely having a Jem and the Holograms watching marathon today, and I don’t care. I never watched it when it was on TV (Just a wee bit before my time) and I’ve always been curious about it, so here goes.
Jem + rococo = complete sense.
there is a definite trend towards rococo. deal with it.
preach it, sister!
While existing a bit too early to be classified as rococo, I’ve decided to throw up a post about the robe volante because of its close relationship to the robe a la francaise.
The robe volante, according to the Heilbrunn Timeline of Art History, is the dress that was the transitional garment from the mantua/manteau to the robe a la francaise, a garment whose “unstructured silhouette…made it particularly appropriate for the display of large-scale patternings,” which practically screams damask.
Also called the contouche or sack dress (not to be confused with the francaise’s moniker as the sack-back gown), the volante featured pleats in the back, which can still be seen in francaises and piemontaises, something that was mirrored by the closed front of the gown, though without pleats. This front eventually became more fitted along the bodice and open in front to reveal the underskirts of francaise-style gowns. Volantes began their existence as the least formal of gowns, but gradually grew more formal as their popularity increased.
So candied orange peels might be one of my favorite things ever (especially if you dip them in chocolate…don’t get me started). They were also popular alongside candied citron in rococo-era desserts and can be easily made—just make sure you get fruits that were organically raised or grown without pesticides, which would be absorbed by the fruits’ peels or skin.
- 1 cup orange (or lemon, lime, grapefruit) peel, cut into strips
- 1/2 cup white sugar
- 1/4 cup water
- Place peel strips in large saucepan and cover with water. Bring to a boil over high heat, then reduce heat and simmer 10 minutes longer. Drain. Repeat this process two more times.
- In a medium saucepan, heat sugar and 1/4 cup water over high heat until boiling. Place peel in sugar mixture, reduce heat and simmer 15 minutes, until sugar is dissolved. Remove peel with slotted spoon and dry on wire rack overnight. Store in airtight container.
If you’ve never candied fruits before, check out AllRecipes’ Candying Fruits Article for some helpful hints before getting started!
“The Queen’s necklace”, reconstruction, Château de Breteuil, France
The Affair of the Diamond Necklace was a mysterious incident in the 1780s at the court of Louis XVI of Franceinvolving his wife, Queen Marie Antoinette. The reputation of the Queen, which was already tarnished by gossip, was ruined by the implication that she had participated in a crime to defraud the crown jewellers of the cost of a very expensive diamond necklace. The Affair was historically significant as one of the events that led to the French populace’s disillusionment with the monarchy, which, among other causes, eventually culminated in theFrench Revolution.
South facade, the Catherine Palace.
If you couldn’t tell by the photograph of the ballroom, the Catherine Palace was ornate. And big. It stretches over 352 meters lengthwise in a gargantuan line of white-and-aqua decadence.
Upon her ascension to the Russian throne, Catherine II (a.k.a. the Great) found out about how much money was being spend on the “whipped cream” architecture of the Catherine Palace, and promptly flipped her shit, forcing workers to stop gilding the garden statuary, something Elizabeth had started prior to her death.
The ballroom of the Catherine Palace in Tsarskoye Selo, Russia.
The Catherine Palace, erected in 1717 for Catherine I of Russia by German architect Johann-Friedrich Braunstein, was the “rococo summer residence” of the tsars. The original palace was demolished in 1752 by the Empress Elizabeth, who replaced the “outdated” structure with an exceedingly elaborate 352-meter-long structure.
The exterior allegedly featured over 100 kilograms of gilding.