The intricate secret world of bridge coats


 What did Widmerpool's mother's bridge coat look like?

 


You are about to read a sentence that the literary critic and academic John Bayley described as a prime example of ‘inexplicably good moments in literary art’, and as having humour, delight, and aesthetic bliss. (Take that, Stephen King, you might say, with his dismissive remarks about clothes mentions earlier this week)

This extract is from A Buyer’s Market by Anthony Powell, (published 1952, set in 1928/29), it concerns a dinner at the Widmerpools’ flat, and the key sentence is the first one.

“Why, Mother,” said Widmerpool, speaking with approval, “you are wearing your bridge-coat.”

The garment to which he referred was of flowered velvet, with a fringe, and combined many colours in its pattern.

[Another guest arrives] Miss Walpole-Wilson…too, was wearing a richly-coloured coat. It was made of orange, black and gold silk: a mandarin’s coat, so she explained.

 

 




This post has been long requested by Chrissie Poulson, and has been a long time coming for a very specific reason. Back in 2019, the idea of bridge coats was under serious discussion around here - you can look at this post, which sums up the chitchat and has a link to another:

An Avenue of Stone by Pamela Hansford Johnson

The problem is that it is hard to define a bridge coat, and even harder to find a really good picture of one.

The original idea was: a fancy jacket you put over your nice frock when you are going to sit down to cards at an evening event, as it might be colder in the card room, and you are not moving around. This from the 1928 Illustrated London News: (Though they had been around longer than this extract implies, you can find references to them from around 1900 on.)

“Bridge has become such a national institution that it is only natural that a mode of its own has been inspired. The bridge coat is the unmistakeable mark of the seasoned player and no well-dressed woman considers her wardrobe complete without one. There is a practical side to them too, for one person is invariably away from the fire, and light sleeves give just the requisite amount of warmth.”

But then, women became aware that this was a sensible addition to other outfits – in the extensive fictional mentions, there is a strong thread of ladies of slender means using the bridge coat to zhush up their ancient evening dresses. As well as, of course, the assumption that the poshest of UK houses can still be rather cold. (See this post on a Cyril Hare book for the intricacies of trying to dress appropriately on a freezing Christmas Eve)

Barbara Pym was a super-fan of Anthony Powell’s A Dance to the Music of Time, the novel sequence that includes A Buyer's Market, and was apparently delighted by the idea of Mrs Widmerpool’s bridge-coat, according to her biographer Hazel Holt. She wanted to write ‘a short paper for a literary magazine’ on the jacket – as far as I know she never did, and I do feel that it would have been very short. Although this particular bridge-coat has mythical status, I have only found one actual reference to it in the books (please correct me if I’m wrong). Mrs W herself is very much a power in absence: she hosts the dinner party above, attends another social event (though wearing tweeds rather than bridge coat – wartime I guess) and is otherwise mostly discussed rather than appearing in the sequence. (‘Do you know that she suggested that she should live with us after we were married?’ says a potential bride of Widmerpool. Potential mother-in-law sees her off.)

Anthony Powell was himself a big fan of Barbara Pym, and John Bayley (again) says Mrs Widmerpool’s ‘coat of many colours is indeed a little bit like the contents of [Pym’s] A Glass of Blessings.

And, in Pym’s Some Tame Gazelle - published two years before A Buyer’s Market, in 1950, (and much of it written a lot earlier) we have this:

‘Belinda…was occupied with the problem of what she should wear. She hoped that Harriet had not also borrowed her black velvet bridge coat, as she wanted it herself on these late September evenings. But then Harriet was probably too stout for it, although she liked her clothes to fit tightly and always wore an elastic roll-on corset.’ Harriet and Belinda are sisters, living together in a small village, and clothes are important in their lives.

In my lately-discovered favourite, Sheila Pim, there is a classic usage in the 1950 A Brush With Death:

“Hester was plumped in a quilted bridge coat for warmth”

– she is attending a tea party in a cold Irish house.

The above-mentioned An Avenue of Stone by Pamela Hansford Johnson has two different bridge coats. The first is a tribute to wartime austerity and clothes rationing – the book dates from 1947:

‘Lovely frock, Jane,’ said Charmian.

‘Oh, do you think so? Do you know what it is? My dear, it’s half my last year’s second-best black, and half Aunt Sarah’s bridge coat, all merged together by me…at one of those Make-Do-and-Mend classes!’

Later on, one of the main characters – Helen, an older woman -

appeared defiantly at dinner-time in a bridge coat criss-crossed with rambler roses, a terrible garment which Daniel had long ago banished.



In Moray Dalton’s 1938 Death in the Dark, we have a very low-rent version, reduced to the bare bones of the look and the necessity:

Mrs. Ramblett came in. She looked very sallow and weary … She was wearing a velvet bridge coat over her old torn cardigan. “Do sit down. What a wretched fire. I tell Mrs. Lacy to pour some oil on it. But she’s so silly. She says it’s dangerous.”

All these ones seem to be black, probably velvet, with embroidery or fringing or some other decoration, probably in additional colours. And no-one ever seems to have a new one, they are venerable garments, brought out year after year, to be thrown over your equally long-serving dress.

But then the shape (straight, not fitted) and name of a bridge-coat migrated as a handy description of something smarter and newer, in other colours and fabrics. People bought, or made, new ones.



In Dorothy L Sayers’ Busman’s Honeymoon (much discussed here lately) the newly-married couple go to dinner with the vicar:

Harriet was glad they had taken the trouble to dress. The vicar’s wife… had done honour to the occasion with a black lace dress and a daring little bridge coat in flowered chiffon velvet.

 

This sounds to me to be on the cusp: I’m guessing a venerable dress, and a recently-acquired jacket – colours not clear.

In a history of weddings, With this Ring by Anne Alloway, there is this description of a 1932 wedding. The bride’s mother wears a ‘charming gown of black satin marocain and Chantilly lace …with which was worn a lace bridge coat and a chic hat of black straw’.

(Marocain is a ribbed crepe fabric)

Designers could see that women like a jacket or short coat over a dress (then and now), so took the name for a different version. Here are some available in Liberty’s in 1928:

..  flowered gauze in soft pastel shades trimmed with marabout ; next, a brown velvet appliquéd with gold; and on the right a double black georgette with appliquéd embroideries in exquisite colourings, a panel of gold gauze ...

Incidentally, there is some everyday sexism apparent when you start looking into them: a bridge coat can also refer to a heavy coat worn by a naval officer (on the bridge of his ship, d’you see?) and that is fair enough, but all dictionaries and reference works inexplicably ONLY give this definition. (And if you do find women’s ones on an internet search, you will likely find my blog turning up – nice for me, but not much help)

I have very much not exhausted the topic, and am also relying on readers digging up a few more bridge coats for my collection – either pictures or literary references.

 

Top picture by William Orpen of Dame Madge Kendal, an actress of the Victorian and Edwardian era.

The second jacket was originally owned by a dancer of the Ballet Russe, from around 1920.

File:Jacket, woman's (AM 1992.77-1).jpg - Wikimedia Commons

Black bridge coat from the National Trust:   Bridge coat 1361795 | National Trust Collections

Blogfriend Sovay found the splendid sewing patterns, during a previous discussion (in the comments on this post) on evening wraps/coatees/bridge coats.

Comments

  1. This is fascinating, Moira! And you've got such great examples of where they pop up in novels. Bridge coats certainly served a useful purpose, and I'll bet there were some beautiful coats out there. My guess (and I could certainly be wrong here!) is that as central heating became more effective, bridge coats became less necessary? Or perhaps as people changed the way they dressed, that had an impact, too?

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    1. Yes, good point Margot. I think some of those Golden Age mystery houses would have been very cold, so a sensible move to have an attractive and warm jacket.
      But also, as you suggest, as the 'rules' for dress became less restrictive, you could dress more sensibly. Somewhere here recently I reminisced about suddenly realizing that a really nice, fancy, decorated sweater was more use than a skimpy glittery top, given our social life - which was not posh at all, but might feature houses that were not over-heated....

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  2. I wonder if Miss Silver's black velvet coated (so warm, so cozy, for visits to drafty country houses) was a form of bridge coat.

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  3. Coatee. Drat auto correct.

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    1. I knew of course (and yes, drat auto-correct). Very much so I think. Their purposes were the same, I am still pondering what the differences were between coatee and bridge coat.

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    2. A coatee seems to be a less flamboyant garment: 1930s patterns I found online had a lot in common with the bolero – much shorter and more fitted than a bridge coat and less likely to be in a multi-coloured patterned fabric, though some of them had elaborately puffed sleeves.

      Incidentally, when looking up bridge coats and coatees I also looked up knitted spencers as I suspect Miss Silver has one under the last-year’s afternoon dress she wears up in the evenings. It turns out the old-school tank top has now been re-branded as a spencer!
      Sovay

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    3. Do we think coatee shorter, bridge coat longer... Coatee originally had a specific meaning, I think, a kind of military coat, short and fitted indeed, and quite decorated.
      Now, I thought the defining quality of a spencer was that it had buttons near the neck, but perhaps I have made that up. Googling is greatly affected here by the universality of the company Marks & Spencer, who are rather masking any more general use of the word!

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    4. Shorter and fitted v longer and looser is what’s in my head, though hard to pin down with examples.

      The spencer IIRC started off at the start of the 19th century as a garment very like the coatee - a waist-length long-sleeved jacket to put on over your muslin gown for a bit of extra warmth. They went out of fashion as outer wear but eventually evolved into a knitted underbodice that buttoned up the front. Short length and the front fastening seems to be what distinguishes a spencer from a vest - I have a Patons & Baldwins booklet from around 1930 with three spencer patterns looking very like snug-fitting v-neck cardigans.

      Sovay

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    5. Lovely bit of history for the spencer! I associate the buttonfront tshirt style with American companies in the 90s & 2000s.
      I like the sound of your knitting patterns.

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    6. Miss Silver and her spencer appear in "The Ivory Dagger" - she's dressing hastily at crack of dawn having made a breakfast appointment with a client, to the disapproval of her housekeeper Emma who thinks people ought to have their crises at a more civilised hour, and who's bringing in her early morning tea: "Miss Silver stood revealed in a slip petticoat of grey artificial silk and a neat white spencer whose high neck and long sleeves had also been adorned with a narrow crochet edging".

      The coatee (black velvet with a fur collar) also gets a mention later as Miss S changes into last year's silk dress for dinner in a country house: "... having arrayed herself in navy blue with a pattern of little yellow and green objects which resembled tadpoles, she fastened it at the neck with her bog-oak rose and added a string of small gold filigree beads. The coatee hung in a spacious mahogany wardrobe [...] but she would not require it" as the country house has not only central heating and log fires, but properly lined and interlined brocade curtains.

      Sovay

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    7. Great reporting! And how very rare EVER to have a country house that is actually warm enough...

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    8. Miss S and Poirot think alike on this subject though Poirot complains a lot more - Miss S simply comes prepared.

      Sovay

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    9. Undaunted, that's Miss S. It is quite easy to daunt Poirot....

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  4. Great post! I would never have grasped the elements of bridge but would definitely have been freezing in those country houses so the extra layer would be much appreciated (although I suspect the bright young things would freeze rather than wear something unfitted).

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    1. It's always the question isn't it - aesthetics versus comfort. Is it a sign of getting older when you value flat shoes and warm body. Where I grew up - Liverpool in the north of England - is notorious for hardy girls who dress to impress rather than for the cool seaport climate.

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    2. I think the hardy girls in short skirts and strappy tops are a general Northern phenomenon - plenty of them in Newcastle in the dead of winter! Bridge coats do seem to be a middle-aged-to-elderly choice - the 1930s younger set in Angela Thirkell’s “Pomfret Towers”, though not prepared to freeze, prefer a small fur cape or wrap over their evening dresses.

      I feel sure the Provincial Lady must need a bridge coat in her rambling draughty country house - can’t find a reference though.

      Sovay

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    3. You are so right - of all people - you would definitely assume she had one, for cold evenings at dinner with Lady Boxe. But, like you, I can't track down any reference... There was a tennis coat, which always intrigued me.

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    4. Ah yes - the tennis coat trimmed with rabbit that the second-hand clothes dealers turn their noses up at – doesn’t she consider dying it and converting it into an “evening cloak”? So perhaps it ends up as, essentially, a bridge coat. Though my feeling about bridge coats is that there’s an element of informality about them – not suitable for all occasions. So the PL would wear one if invited to supper with Our Vicar and Our Vicar’s Wife, but maybe not at an evening party with all Lady B’s grand and condescending friends, when she wants to keep her end up despite feeling the cold.

      Sovay

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    5. That's an interesting perception, that it brings down the formality level. The posher you are, the more you must freeze!

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    6. A fascinating look at some of the discomforts and suffering enforced by poshness: https://www.peterdickinson.com/murdermanor/

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    7. Indeed fascinating - I love Peter Dickinson, so clever and perceptive in his books, and those traits demonstrated here.

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    8. I wondered if someone would mention the Provincial Lady's tennis-coat. Did that serve a similar function to a bridge coat except outside? i.e. keeping you warm while you waited for your turn to play tennis? There is an incident where the Provincial Lady gets very cold watching people play squash, or real tennis or something, while the odious Lady Boxe wears an emerald-green leather coat with fur collar and cuffs.

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    9. That tennis coat always fascinated me - fur-trimmed! and doubling as an evening coat if dyed! I tried to find a picture in early days, and although I was happy with the tennis-playing family I found https://clothesinbooks.blogspot.com/2012/06/midsummer-tennis-but-not-wimbledon.html back then, I am tempted to have another dig around.
      I was surprised when leafing joyously through to see if she had a bridge-coat, to find that leather coats and jackets abound in her books. The kind of contemporaneous detail that if someone were writing historical fiction now, I'd be all 'well thats not very likely'....

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    10. One great feature of GA tennis parties does seem to be that everyone spends a lot more time sitting about waiting for a court than actually playing, so given the usual British summer weather, a tennis coat seems a sensible thing to have with you.

      I’ve just started reading Carola Oman’s “Nothing to Declare” - the protagonist is doing a bit of shopping in the village in 1939 and has met a neighbour, a young woman ‘attired in a well-worn leather jacket, a crocus-coloured head-handkerchief tied under the chin, a brief tweed skirt of startling green and yellow checks, silk stockings, woollen socks and brogues’. I suppose a leather jacket would be warm and wind-proof (and more affordable than fur) but it’s hard to get away from the default modern image of the black leather biker jacket.

      Sovay

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    11. I remember her! couldnt find a picture so confined myself to church memorial from the book.
      I'm glad I'm not alone in being surprised by the prevalence of leather coats and jackets.
      Yes, a very good reconstruction of a tennis party, and probably an all-fur coat would be seen as a bit much,

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    12. I've never come across 'head-handkerchief' for 'headscarf' before. The woollen socks over silk stockings were unexpected too, though I remember a vogue for ankle socks over brightly coloured or fishnet tights back in the 1980s.

      Sovay

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    13. I think it was meant to be eccentric, but not beyond the bounds... silk stockings more out of place in a village than the socks, they should be sensible cotton lisle according to A Christie in Moving Finger. I have seen photos of my own mother and her friends wearing ankle socks with stockings...

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    14. I thought it sounded quite a sensible outfit - silk stockings of the heavy daytime variety would probably be warmer than cotton lisle (it’s March and the pair have met in the Post Office whilst sheltering from a hailstorm).

      Sovay

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    15. I thought it sounded quite a sensible outfit - silk stockings of the heavy daytime variety would probably be warmer than cotton lisle (it’s March and the pair have met in the Post Office whilst sheltering from a hailstorm).

      Sovay

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    16. Wentworth and Christie both very firm that silk stockings not right for the country! Liable to catch on the hedgerows I expect.

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    17. One would think the logical choice for country wear in the winter would be wool stockings, but they are seldom mentioned except in connection with school uniform - but much warmer than cotton and the elasticity of the yarn makes for a nice smooth fit, whereas cotton must have a tendency to sag and wrinkle round the ankles, especially when wet.

      Sovay

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    18. Yes, but one immediately thinks 'itchy'. But you are right, surprising they are not mentioned more. I will be on the lookout and collect examples from now on.

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  5. Well worth the wait, Moira! An absolute tour de force. Lots to reflect on....

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    1. I'll be expecting to hear more from you on this topic in due course!

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  6. Christine Harding3 April 2025 at 20:52

    What a wonderful post! I so want a bridge coat - they have quite supplanted bed jackets in my affections! Silk, velvet, embroidery, fringing, beads… What’s not to like! Kind of hippyish without trailing on the ground. If I could find a suitable garment in a charity shop I would embellish it to create my own version.

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    1. oh decorating your own sounds like a great idea - so many possibilities.
      And I feel when I am establishing my line of Clothes in books bedjackets, I am now going to have a parallel bridge jacket collection....

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  7. I'd forgotten Belinda Bede's bridge coat! The heyday of the bridge coat seems to be pre-WW2 (though women who had them post-war would certainly keep on wearing them) - but then I always envisage "Some Tame Gazelle" in the 1930s when it was written, rather than 1950 when it was published. It's full of clothes and food, with never a hint of shortages or rationing, and all references to war are to are to WW1.

    Mrs Widmerpool isn't a particularly sympathetic character in either of her brief appearances but it's hard not to feel for her a little as Widmerpool pushes her out of his life, exiles her to the depths of the country and in the end can't even be bothered to attend her funeral (which he has his secretary organise).

    Sovay

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    1. Yes, that's how I feel about Some Tame Gazelle.
      I skimmed through the Powell books to check out Mrs W, and tryng to find further references to the bridge coat - and just longed to sit down and read the whole lot again. So funny and clever, and he was a great writer, and a wonderful creator of fascinating characters. Both Widmerpools are masterpieces.

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    2. ADTTMOT is a great comfort read for me, to be dipped into at any point, though there are some volumes I re-read more than others.

      I was quite surprised when I looked back in the archive to find no post on "Some Tame Gazelle"; so many interesting clothes, right from the first sentence! I've always wondered how Belinda knows that the curate's wearing combinations, not just long pants ...

      Sovay

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    3. I am less interested in the central section, the war years, but it is all so beautifully done.
      I am slowly working my way through Barbara Pym, as they come to mind!

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  8. What a great post! I would love a bridge coat. It's the sort of thing that Droopy and Brown might make (if the shop is still going), and I can imagine Tan France wearing one.

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    1. Droopy and Brown disappeared, to my grave disappointment, but yes very much could imagine them doing one. They somehow would go with their wonderful riding-jackets. I had to look up Tan France, but yes.

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    2. Monsoon used to do some rather nice velvet or embroidered evening jackets and coats which seemed quite bridge coat-ish. Now, opera coats - are they rather more substantial, designed to look glamorous worn over evening dress, but removed once inside?

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    3. I absolutely had a Monsoon decorated black velvet jacket, and also one from Laura Ashley ( who always had some quite un-LA-ish fashions round the edges). After immersing myself in this, I am wondering why I got rid of them - I want to wear one now.
      Ah opera coats - I have got one for you already, here's a sneak preview https://digitalcollections.nypl.org/items/510d47e0-fe39-a3d9-e040-e00a18064a99
      I found it while looking for evening clothes, and filed it away. I am a great opera-goer, though tragically not looking like this (no, really), and thought I might use it as an avatar at some point.
      This is really a cloak I think - and I guess the important aspect of an opera coat was that you could have elaborate sleeves under it without crushing. Definitely a topic for investigation.

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    4. I once bought a 1930s full length opera coat in black silk velvet on eBay. I was the only bidder (apparently there isn't really a market for opera coats these days) so I got it very cheaply. It was lovely - and quite warm. Apart from the outer layer of thick black velvet, it had lining of also quite thick silvery grey silk and then a wool interlining. I lived in a very cold old house at the time, so I used it as a dressing gown. It was perfect. When I moved to a much warmer flat I had to have the woolen interlining removed but continued to use it as a luxurious winter dressing gown.

      Alas, it finally expired: I wore through the velvet on the sitting down part. Too many long leisurely Sunday breakfasts, I suppose. But I loved it so much I took it to a seamstress who shortened it to a hip-length jacket. And as I have been reading this post I have realised that what I have now is a bridge coat. I don't play bridge but it is a very stylish alternative to a cardigan when you feel slightly chilly indoors and want to add a layer.

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    5. This is a wonderful story - lucky you. I'm seeing it as the framework of a novel, where the changes in the coat reflect changes in your life?
      And yes - you now have a bridge coat.

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    6. There are some opera coats on Pinterest too, both old and new. This one is that controversial lame (not fully gold though) with mink collar: https://a.1stdibscdn.com/archivesE/jewelry/upload/46/1463/46_1355086025_5.jpg?disable=upscale&auto=webp&quality=60&width=1400

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    7. This one is gold metallic cloth (with rabbit collar) and would only set you back around $7000 (USD): https://i.pinimg.com/736x/04/42/7e/04427e885b94536879c264f1ad89732f.jpg

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    8. Oh those are both gorgeous. Once you start looking it's all too easy to become obsessed. I think I like the white collared-one best.

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    9. What beautiful creations! I'm not convinced by your implication that you have no opera coat, and prefer to envisage you sweeping into Covent Garden looking like something out of the Gazette du Bon Ton.

      Sovay

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    10. I'd be happy with that too! It is an opportunity to dress up occasionally, though the nice thing is that anything goes there, from jeans to tiaras. Also in the summer there are 'garden operas' - Glyndebourne, Grange, other Grange, Garsington (I don't know why they all start with G). Dressing up - or dressing dramatically - definitely recommended. And, evening wraps/jackets/cloaks needed for the end of the evening. The UK doesn't change.

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  9. I searched the V&A collection site with no luck(mind you, this could be my poor searching skills) . What a useful , versatile but enigmatic garment but perhaps a little disreputable. I imagine Madame Arcati in Blithe Sprit, as played by Margaret Rutherford, having one.

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    1. It is surprisingly hard to track them down, given how omni-present they obviously were. I spent ages (most enjoyably) but still only found a relatively small number.
      Yes, HOW useful, we all should have them. I'm going to go with 'dashing' rather than disreputable. I love the idea that they were a brave and showy way of solving the problem of having no money for a new frock.
      Absolutly Madame Arcati - I also saw Angela Lansbury playing her on stage, and if she wasn't wearing one (as she danced around the stage aged approx 90) then she should have been.
      Oh, and how about Salome Otterbourne in Death on the NIle - another Lansbury role - I bet she had one, talking of slightly disreputable...

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    2. https://collections.vam.ac.uk/item/O15680/evening-jacket-jeanne-lanvin/
      I found this Lanvin evening jacket dated 1936/37 on the V&A site. On the site of the Met in New York I found an evening dress which came with a wrap. The dress is backless, which was the heighth of fashion in the 1930's of course, so I expect the wrap was very welcome.
      https://www.metmuseum.org/art/collection/search/156062
      Clare

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    3. https://collections.vam.ac.uk/item/O75158/evening-dress-jeanne-lanvin/
      https://collections.vam.ac.uk/item/O318747/evening-tunic-lanvin-jeanne/
      Two more Lanvin evening jackets.
      Clare

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    4. What glories! the Met dress and wrap is maddening because pic cannot be enlarged or downloaded, and I would love to see the details - they are described in the text but need to see!
      Lanvin - a wonderful designer - obv had a real eye for a great jacket. I love the yellow kimono style particularly.
      Do you think the tunic might actually have been worn with evening trousers....?

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    5. Charles James' 1937 padded cream silk evening jacket would make an admirable bridge coat - elegant and warm.

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    6. Oh my goodness! It is amazing, I haven't seen it before. Like a super-elegant puffer jacket.

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    7. The V&A had the Charles James jacket on display for decades. It's gorgeous, but it seems a bit bulky for wearing inside.
      Maybe a daring woman might have worn evening trousers. However, the tunic is dated 1928, so it would go with a dress or skirt with the lowered waist which was then fashionable.
      Clare

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    8. Ideal for wearing to watch the fireworks in Christie's Peril at End House, out on the terrace. Beware of being murdered.
      Is the tunic the main part of the outfit, ie not just an over-jacket, do you think? It would look super-good with trousers.... but as you say, for the daring party-goer

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    9. Well, you have to pull it on over your head, though the opening is is very wide. That wide opening also means you have to wear it over something else. I imagine you could put a bridge coat on or take it off in public, if you wanted to. With this tunic that would be a bit more complicated, depending on hairdo and makeup.
      Clare

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    10. Yes, exactly: I thought it was a beautiful but I cannot quite visualize it in action, I need some help. We need a beautiful portrait by Sargent or Orpen of someone wearing it to get the full effect.

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  10. It has always seemed very unfair to me that evening wear for women often involves bare chests and arms, while men are fully wrapped up in shirts and warm woollen coats. This works against them in hot weather of course, but how often do you get that in north-western Europe?
    I also think those velvet wraps can't have added that much warmth.
    Clare

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    1. Yes it is very odd and not sensible. But then the UK residents on the whole just weren't sensible about weather - traditional British overcoats and so on just aren't the best way of wrapping up, with their fine woollen material, open collars, and absence of hoods. All hail the arrival of the puffer jacket and coat.
      I remember reading an article about partywear in a women's magazine, when I was a young thing, which said that the ideal outfit for a party was loose silky top and trousers, with pockets, and flat shoes. Easy to wear, flattering, comfortable and practical, and easy to add another layer. I did actually pay attention to that, even though it wasn't remotely what we usually wore for occasions back then.
      But the fixed nature of clothes rules in the first half of the century was skewed against women! surprising more of them didn't die of pneumonia.

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