Guess the Date: Shoes

My mom was flipping through a box of old photographs the other day and found an article she had forgotten she tucked away. Any guesses as to the year it was written? (Click on image to read the article...)

Marie Antoinette, Big Hair and moi (Part III)

These poufs, no doubt, were impossible to wash and provided a bit of a breeding ground for bugs. Special head-scratchers called grattoirs were made from ivory, silver and gold. Women gracefully slid the flattened, slightly curved end of the stick up into their do for a graceful, discrete scratch.

Christie’s, Paris, April 2006

from Les Arts Décoratifs

The reign of the three Louis Louis Louis is synonymous with everything elaborate, dramatic and no doubt dazzling. Not one object – even utilitarian – seems to have escaped the court unadorned or under embellished. Shopkeepers, hairstylists and menuisiers benefited from this extravagance (while peasants paid the price). So why would a hair dressing chair be ignored? A variety was created, in different forms and from different materials. Fauteuils à coiffer, as they were called, were comfortable. They had to be, women had to sit in them for long hours. Cushioned during the winter months and caned for the summer, they were indented back to facilitate the fixing of a lady's do.

Christie’s, London, April 10, 2002

Sotheby's, Paris, France, June 14, 2006


Christie's, London, United Kingdom, December 14, 2005,
by Antoine Nicolas Delaporte, circa 1775

Marie Antoinette, Big Hair and moi (Part II)

By 1769, shortly after Marie Antoinette arrived to the French court, there were no less than 1200 hairdressers in Paris. Over time, Marie Antoinette began wearing larger and more ornate bouffants. The collaboration between her famous milliner, Rose Bertin, and her hairdresser, Léonard, proved to be quite a creative one and the vogue for these hairstyles lasted for ten years. Marie Antoinette began to don more and more outrageous hairstyles. She didn't invent fashions -- she promoted radical new ones – and set the trend. These hairstyles became all the rage among the aristocracy. Women began to do more than decorate their big coifs with ribbons, feathers, flowers, beads and jewelry. They crowned it with silk or lace. But after some time, that just wasn’t enough.

Marie Antoinette by Jacques-Fabien Gautier D'Agoty (1775) Musee Antoine-Lecuyer, Saint-Quentin France

In the court of Louis XVI, members competed for attention and tried to outdo each other with witty remarks and the latest novelty fashions. The most unusual hairdo would soon have to be outdone by another -- something more ingenious and over the top.

Image from La Mesure de l'Excellence.

A beehive form made from wire was created stuffed with wool or horse hair, and then it was mounted on top of the head. Hair was wrapped around these frames – and when women didn’t have enough (or it was too fine or thin) false hair was added -- building it up to soar up to three feet high. The do was powered with flour which helped to set the creation and absorb natural oils from the head. But it was this same flour that so many starving peasants desperately needed to have to bake bread.

Image from La Mesure de l'Excellence.

Women placed in their hair little figurines made from fabric and small objects made from papier maché. Their hairdresser arranged them as sceneries or landscapes. Sometimes, they used their hair as a stage to replicate historical scenes or sometimes to communicate an emotion -- sentimental pouf -- this type of do was called.

Image from La Mesure de l'Excellence.

Themes began to develop. Marie Antoinette wore a pouf à la jardinière which included such garden vegetables as carrots, radishes, an artichoke and a head of cabbage. Another woman exclaimed in glee after seeing the pouf do that she would never again wear anything but vegetables in her hair. “Vegetables were so much more natural than flowers,” she said. Women were not to be involved in politics. It wasn’t a ladylike thing to do. But it didn’t mean they couldn’t participate in their own way. Marie Antoinette wore her pouf a’ la inoculation in support of the small pox vaccination which showed Aesculapius’s serpent wrapped around an olive tree.

She wore these hairstyles at court and in town, and this had a swift and contagious effect. Rose Bertin, a mere plebeian, was now known as the Minister of Fashion.

"Everybody was talking of the poufs created by the firm of Bertin . . . one famous pouf was that of the Duchesse de Lauzun. She appeared at a reception wearing a most delicious pouf. It contained a stormy sea, ducks swimming near the shore, someone on the point of shooting one of them; on the top of the head there was a mill, the miller’s wife being made love to by an abbe, whilst near the ear the miller could be seen leading a donkey."

excerpt from Rose Bertin -- The Creator of Fashion at the Court of Marie Antoinette. By Émile Langlade. Published in 1913. I so want to find this book....

“The Preposterous Head Dress, or the Featherd Lady", London: Published by M. Darly, March 20, 1776. Yale Library.


The Duchesse de Chartres was one of the biggest big pouf wearers. She wore in her pouf small figures of her five children. Another time she appeared at the opera with her hair dressed in a sentimental pouf – nestled in it she had a little figure of her eldest son in his nurse's arms, a parrot pecking at a cherry, a little black boy, and the initials of her son and husband.

This trend spread England and to Sweden, one woman was report to have even created a replica of her dead husband’s tombstone.

“Miss Juniper Fox”, London. Published by M. Darly, March 2, 1777. Yale Library.

One of the most fashionable hairstyles of the eighteenth century was called: À la Belle Poule, which commemorated the victory of a French ship over an English ship in 1778.


In 1776 the Duchess of Devonshire was said to have made the addition of ostrich feathers, beads and flowers fashionable in le pouf. “Lady All-Top", London: Published by J. Lockington, May 15, 1776. Yale Library.

These big hairstyles created problems though. Hairstyles would obstruct other patron’s views at the theatre. It was difficult to move through doorways or in and out of carriages without knocking it over. Women would stick their head out of a moving carriage – the roof was simply not high enough. Some women kneeled on the floor for the extra room. Rumor says that many slept upright for weeks as not to muss their do. And many others would get their hair caught on fire from candlelit sconces. Lice, mice and other such things were said to have made these pouf their home.

This one is my favorite: "Miss Shuttle-Cock", London, Published by M. Darly, December 6, 1776. Yale Library.

Queens were always expected to look like the king’s dutiful subject – necessary only to produce heirs. It was the king’s expensive, flashy favorite mistresses for whom ultra-chic fashion was appropriate -- not his wife. But Louis XVI was faithful to Marie Antoinette and instead of providing excitement in the bedroom, he allowed her to spend spend and spend some more. Marie Antoinette’s end was tragic, no doubt. She lived a life of furbelows, flounces, and fandangle, (I don’t think I’ve used that word since 1982!); extravagance and excessive spending. And then she paid for it -- her pouf permanently separated from her shoulders.

(Top image from Boston Museum of Fine Art: Gallerie des Modes et Costumes Français. 2e. Cahier des Nouveaux Costumes Français pour les Coeffures B.12 (duplicate) "Pouf d'un gout nouveau..."French, 1778)

Marie Antoinette, Big Hair and moi (Part I)

I’ve never particularly liked my hair. It is fine and of a dark reddish-brassy color. I can fix the color (as I do often) but I can only do so much with the lack of thickness. Root boost, thickening spray, Velcro rollers and backcombing helps, but only for a few hours. It ultimately grows weary and limp. The only lift I have is an enormous cowlick on the right side of my forehead. That area sticks straight up with no help at all. And it won’t lie down either – despite wind, rain, snow, humidity or even a bucket of water dumped on my head.

In grade school my mom would often put my long hair in two braids. Because my hair was so fine, I would always lose one of my ponytail holders by the end of the day. Somewhere on the play ground, or on the floor of a classroom or in the gymnasium was one of my lone plastic and elastic hair bobbles. It would just slip out and fall away. I would ask the teacher for some scotch-tape to hold my loose braid together.

After the original Star Wars movie came out in 1977, I desperately wanted to go as Princess Leia for Halloween. I wore my Dad’s white dress shirt which fell past my knees and tied a thick rope around my waist. I had my mom do my usual two braids, but then wrap each one around and around pinning them to the sides of my head. But my braids weren’t anything like the big, fat cinnamon buns like Princess Leia had. I had two dinky little nuts on either side of my head. I was embarrassed for myself and mad at my Mom for not making them look thick like Carrie Fisher’s. No one knew who I was that night as I rang doorbells for candy.

I’ve always wanted thick hair. I’ve mixed packages of gelatin with water and slurped it down, washed my hair with horse shampoo, and coated my thin, straight strands with all sorts of thickening sprays and creams. The only thing I have not tried is crimping it with an iron. A crimping iron makes me think back to 1989, torn Levi’s, Woo Woo shots and a particular ‘Guns ‘n Roses’ song... all with quite a bit of distaste. It also makes me think of more recent times wondering if Kelly Wearstler was trying to bring it back when she appeared on Top Design. I couldn’t crimp then and I still can’t now. So when I’ve read stories about characters -- real people or in fables -- with thick, glorious hair I’ve gotten… a little envious.


Most of us know about Queen Marie Antoinette (1755-1793). And we’ve heard about her penchant for big hairdos. Many of us can’t understand why she went to such measures to create tall and enormous dos. Though we may desire to have big bouncin’ and behavin’ hair, to go to the great lengths as the women of the court in the eighteenth century did is hard to understand. But we need to put this in historical context. Marie Antoinette's came to the spectacular and glitzy court created by the "Sun King" Louis XIV who had rebuilt Paris and Versailles as THE style centers earlier in the century. Under his reign, "couturière" was born. Women seamstresses were taken seriously and under the protection of a guild, they were allowed to create their own dreamiest of gowns. Some of these women were specifically sought out and recognized in Paris and became the first celebrity designers. Hairdressers as well. The Sun King encouraged luxury goods, fancy furnishings and the latest fashions, and this was to entrance Marie Antoinette.

Court of Versailles was always crowded with hairdressers, dressmakers, and milliners (much like stylists today), who exercised more influence than the King's Councilors. Big hair wasn’t anything new before Marie Antoinette discovered it. Although the Sun King was only about 5’-7” tall, he towered over six feet tall sporting with his high 6” heels and his tall coiffeur. Hairstyles in the early eighteenth century were big and high, so much so that Duc de Saint-Simon who resided for many years at Versailles complained that women's faces were now "in the middle of their bodies."

From very humble beginnings, came a dress designer and stylist named Rose Bertin. According to legend, when Rose was a small girl she would sneak food to a woman in prison who was a fortune teller. She told Rose that one day she would be very successful in life. After apprenticing as a milliner in Paris to Mademoiselle Pagelle, things quickly moved ahead for her, and she eventually became Pagelle's partner. In 1770, Rose opened a shop in Paris called The Grand Mogol filling it with all sorts of grand and gilded displays. Customers walked through the door and felt they were in a jewelry box. She quickly had customers, many among them were influential noble women at Versailles, who included many ladies in waiting to the new Dauphine, Marie Antoinette.

Rose’s style wasn’t limited to clothing; she worked with the court’s leading hairdresser, Monsieur Leonard, developing le pouf – the latest hairstyle. In 1774, when Rose Bertin was presented to Marie Antoinette by the Duchesse of Chartres, that is when the vogue for the big hair began.

(Top image from The Brat Pack Blog...)