What the maids wore: Dress Down Tuesday

Jane’s Parlour by O Douglas / Anna Buchan

published 1937

Linden Rise by Richmal Crompton

published 1952

The Mystery of the Blue Train by Agatha Christie

 published1928

I've been away, and before I left I set a challenge to readers, asking them to suggest books to match some pictures I had in my files. There was the most wonderful response, and I am very much looking forward to working my way through them. I won't have to think of any extra books for posts for ages.

The challenge arose from memories of an old CiB feature, Dress Down Sunday, which looked at 'what goes on under the clothes', and was always very popular. (Obviously because of the semiotics of the clothes and not because of the pictures of beautiful women in lovely underwear) So look out for those future posts.

And to set us off,  a look at the wardrobes of domestic servants, including their underwear.

Jane's ParlourMaid indeed.

I’ve said before that Jane’s Parlour is a later work from O Douglas, and shows a tailing-off. But it definitely has its moments, such as this one:

…She told me about her grand-daughter who is going to London to be a kitchen-maid with the Barntons, and who had been in yesterday to say good-bye to her. 'I didna say a word to her,' she told me, 'for ma mother aye said, "Never daunton young folk," but I could ha' tell't her yon wasna the way to dress for service.

 

“She might hev been the Duchess of York no less, with a fur collar to her coat, and a hat pulled down on one side, and a gold watch on her wrist, and a pearl necklace, by way of, round her neck. And slippers on her feet instead of good strong shoes, and silk stockings! Perfect blethers! I mind when I went to service—I was younger a bit than Jenny, mebbe fifteen—I had on ma best dress, and a coat ma mother had made for me out of one she got from the master's wife. Ma father was a shepherd and there were ten of us to bring up on a gey wee wage. All my belongings were in a bit tin box—strong cotton nightgowns and chemises that I'd sewed maself, and woollen stockings that I'd knitted on winter nights. I dare not think what ma mither would have said of Jenny's nightgowns, and as for chemises Jenny never heard tell o' them! She wears coloured rags o' things —cammy something—that are done after a few turns in the wash-tub. My clothes lasted for years and got whiter wi' every bleach... "

 

Since the beginning of time, older generations have thought this about their juniors, but this is a good thorough look at the situation of a newly-minted maid.

I recently did a post on a book called Linden Rise: that begins with a maid turning up to her new situation:

She had come by horse bus from her home in a neighbouring village, and was now walking from the bus stop to her new “place.” Her trunk had been sent by carrier’s cart, and the hold-all contained her night things and a print dress and apron in case the trunk did not arrive till next morning… She looked down with pride at her new boots of heavy black leather, her thick black woollen stockings and her new coat.

Tilly took off her coat, revealing a voluminous skirt of navy blue serge and a blouse of the same material, buttoning tightly up to the neck. A petersham belt defined sketchily a waist that would have been thick even without the unwieldy folds of serge that it enclosed…

 

She set to work unpacking her things. She had three of everything—“Two to wash each other and the third to fall back on,” as her aunt put it— three heavy calico nightdresses, three heavy calico chemises and pairs of drawers, three petticoats of dark blue twill, three calico bodices, made from the material left over when the nightdresses had been cut out, three print dresses, three aprons, three plain white caps, three pairs of black ribbed woollen stockings.

Tilly herself had made most of the “outfit” under her aunt’s direction. This is 1892, Tilly is 15.

Picture shows a display at Cornell University of clothes which have been made from men’s shirts… ‘Farmers’ Week’ 1919.

 

 And in Agatha Christie’s The Mystery of the Blue Train there is a lovely vignette of an old lady complaining about her maid ‘with skirts up to her knees and silk stockings that ladder when you look at them, and the most ridiculous shoes that ever I set eyes on…’ See my post here for more:

The Mystery of the Blue Train by Agatha Christie: Part 1

I always like to include this moment when I am giving a talk about clothes in Agatha Christie, or about the history of stockings (in which I now count as an expert).

Maid from the National Library of Ireland, 1902.