Letters
Letter from Paris: Worth It
Dear friends,
Last night I had that dream again. The dream where I walk right up to Coco Chanel at somebody’s cocktail party–Mamie van Doren’s, I think–and tell her in front of everyone to stuff it. Then, with a flick of my Battenberg lace fan, I turn on my heel and sail away in a cloud of silk taffeta as she begins to sob into her sloe gin fizz.
I am sure this down to my just having been over to the Petit Palais to see Worth: Inventer la haute couture (Worth: Inventing Haute Couture), which is on until September 7, 2025.
Charles Frederick Worth, founder of the fashion house that bore his name, was an English immigrant to Paris. While Chanel has been credited (wrongly, it is becoming understood) with “liberating” women from the confines of elaborate dress, by the time she arrived Worth and his sons had already made several fortunes by churning out exactly those sorts of dresses for women who demanded them.
The show at the Petit Palais is a cavalcade of Worth’s output from the earliest days (when Worth collaborated with the Swede Otto Bobergh) until its closure in the 1950s. I won’t give you the whole story of the house in this letter, though. Instead, I want to show you some of my favorite bits and talk to you about why I loved them.
Just Enough Too Much
One of the complaints of everyone–Chanel included–who railed against 19th century ornamentation was that it was a crutch or a smokescreen. That frills, flounces, and embroidery were the hack designer’s way of compensating for a lack of talent, taste, or quality.
I do not disagree that this was often true. But I would also assert that plain frocks that boast of having “clean, modern lines” can be, and often are, every bit as much a bamboozle.
True simplicity is difficult to pull off. So is true complexity. Me, I happen to most admire and emulate complexity.
The best designs from the House of Worth, especially in the 19th century, are remarkable for striking a balance between plain and patterned, vivid and subtle.
You have, for example, these Worth and Bobergh specimens from the later 1860s. Each is almost entirely composed of a single, vibrant silk solid—including most of the elaborate trimming.
The main fabrics are powerful statements in and of themselves. Using them also to create tucks, frills, bows, and floral sprays gives added layers of richness without pushing things over the top.
The potential depth of working in monochrome is explored even further in a wedding gown from 1878–a swirl of textures shiny and matte, soft and hard, smooth and nubbly…
And in this richly embroidered jacket (1858-60) for the ultimate fashionista of the Second Empire, the Empress Eugénie herself.
Yet even in a piece notable for the number of colors employed, like this day dress from 1885…
…the potentially overpowering brouhaha of yards and yards of wide, figured ribbon (fringed, no less, in multiple colors) is kept in check by the sober punctuation of navy blue bows at the waist and elbows.
“Rich, not gaudy,” as that nice Mr. Polonius advises in Hamlet. Of course, I know there will be those for whom—balanced or not—these will still be much too much. That’s okay. For me, they were quite perfect.
Category Is: Bonkers
And then, oh then, there are the designs in which Worth had not only the permission, but the encouragement, of clients to really let themselves go.
These were works of travestissement, fantasies intended for costume balls. Worth and Bobergh got a lot of practice working on these in the 1860s, when Empress Eugénie’s tastes for exotic attire and grand entertainments were setting the standard.
When I say bonkers, I mean it. Worth and Bobergh would happily dress you, if you were so inclined, as a moonlit orchard…
Or a snake in the flowerbeds…
Or whatever the hell this is…
Or even the alphabet (?) …
Yet you could have confidence that in a Worth travesti you would draw gasps of admiration rather than shrieks of laughter.
I couldn’t get enough of this stuff. Simply put, it made me feel good.
At a moment when it often seems (and I understand why) that everything must earn its keep, that even beauty must make a point, I admit to having drunk up the Duchess of Devonshire’s eye-popping “Zenobia” costume like a bottle of champagne on the first day after Prohibition.
Many Little Hands
That said, I do appreciate it—as the descendant of manual laborers as far back as I can go—that fashion exhibits are acknowledging more and more the human, and not only material, costs of the world that Worth dressed.
This being France, the workers who did the sewing (the famous petits mains, little hands, who labored mostly anonymously in the workrooms of the Rue de la Paix) literally lead the exhibition, covering the walls of the first room.
A very few are named later on, with bits of their stories brought into the light.
19th-century decorated pin box, reportedly given by C. F. Worth to a favorite head seamstress
I don’t think it’s at all incompatible to stand breathless in front of the case containing three of Worth’s most famous creations, all for the magnificent Comtesse de Greffulhe…
The “Lily” Gown, train detail
The “Byzantine” Gown, bodice detail
The Emerald Velvet Tea Gown, back detail
…and also remember that a lot of sweat and quite a bit of blood went into making them. They cost more than just money.
Likewise, we can admire the court gown of Lady Mary Curzon, Vicereine of India (née Mary Leiter of Chicago, whose papa built a fine department store out there with Marshall Field)…
…and also note (as the museum label points out) that the gorgeous silver embroidery on the train—which stretches across a quarter of the gallery—was not done at Worth but in India, and therefore raises the same troubling issues of colonialism and exploitation as Lady Curzon’s infamous Peacock Gown.
Kiss the Hem
I am an unusually hardy museumgoer, but I confess that this show made my head spin so hard that by the time I reached the 1920s, I had to admit defeat. I was surfeited. Happily so, giddily so, but utterly unable to absorb one more sequin. I plan to go back again at least once.
The last photo I took was of a museum label in front of the final gown on display, a late but perfectly graceful Worth from the 1950s. The label was way down low, almost at floor level, and as I knelt to capture it I realized that I might as well just stay there and rest for a moment.
A lady with a classic 16th Arrondissement blunt bob and expensive sneakers looked down at me and said wryly, “On dirait que vous vous agenouiller.” It looks like you’re genuflecting.
She wasn’t entirely wrong.
Cordialement,
Franklin
WOW! Just amazing …
WOW!!!!
Merci beaucoup d’avoir partagé cette magnifique exposition. Votre article est digne d’intérêt.
I want what Worth was smoking
I bet it was good.
Once again Franklin shares not only photos of incredible needlework, but adds a layer of interpretation. A knowledgeable guide.
Thank you
Thank you, Franklin. This is almost as good as being there. Right down to the blunt bob lady.
Thank you for sharing this. It’s as close to being there as I’m going to go. Beautiful!
Great tour “with enthusiasm” much appreciated. The weight of the gowns!
This level of ornamentation is indeed too much for my taste. But I do admire the work that went into them and would happily go to see the exhibit, if I were able. As ever, your description of it and of your reactions is wonderful. I’m glad you had a good time and would love to see another report from your next visit.
Thank you for sharing these gorgeous details with us! A beautiful way to start my day!
Incroyable!
Couldn’t help but notice – those ladies in the workroom – wearing Chanel knock offs? complete with bobbed hair
It’s more that Chanel was very good at (and shameless about) claiming as her own invention things that others had created. She didn’t invent the bob, and her influence on the more relaxed post-War silhouette was also *greatly* exaggerated. (Largely by Chanel herself.)
Worth evolved with the times, and produced its own takes on the dropped-waist silhouette, etc. (They’re not in the article because by the time reached the 1920s, I was too exhausted to take more photos.)
What the petit mains are wearing aren’t Chanel knock-offs – they reflect what was generally fashionable in Paris at the moment, at the price point that a workroom seamstress could afford.
I always learn so much from your articles. Thank you!
Fabulous. Thank you for sharing.
Franklin is impeccable and flawless and he loves beauty. Retired professor of French here (U of WI). Agenouillez with a z. On dirait que does not take an infinitive.
There. Now order is restored to the universe.
Fascinating! Thank you!
Very grateful, Franklin, for this curated look at this incredible exhibit. In mind’s eye I see any number of Henry James heroines wafting about in such gowns and their precarious positions. Just yesterday I shopped at the store I go to because the pants fit me and came out with a fresh pair of ankle jeans and a nice shirt (my new wardrobe for the season) and actually said to myself, “It ain’t Worth’s, but I didn’t need a new tea gown.” Wonderful article and photos.
Worth is my favorite, and holy glory is this exhibit amazing! I wish I could get to Paris to see it, but your closeups and descriptions are the next best thing. Thank you.
Stunning!
So fabulous Franklin!
Thank you
For sharing these ornate creations.. amazing
Stunning! Such incredible detail. Looking forward to your next visit/installmentt!
Inspiring article! Really enjoyed it❤️
Thank you for this tour of a marvelous exhibit and your inimitable storytelling
If I had to choose just one detail, it would be the blue bow at the elbow. Swoon-worthy.
I have a friend in her nineties who is a well know painter and she told me that she goes to a museum to see one or two paintings. That to try to absorb more is not possible for her. I always remember that as I slog through huge exhibits.
C’est toujours un plaisir de vous lire!
love love love this love letter, thank you Franklin
Franklin, your pictures and words have made this exhibit more alive for me than if I’d been able to see it for myself. Thank you so much. In the absence of being able to jet over for a visit, your letter was an enormous gift.
Oh wow, how I wish I could see this! And go back several times to take it all in, swoon and genuflect. Meanwhile your thoughts and perspective are greatly appreciated. As an artist and lifelong student of all things art historical including fashion, I can no longer ignore the toil of the ordinary people who helped to make the fabulous creations. It doesn’t detract from my enjoyment but does add another layer of meaning.
A tour de force, Franklin.
I absolutely love this article, it has made my day! Unbelievable works of art! The angelic gown with the cherubs along the hem made me laugh. They looked to me like they were busy being sick!
Early Worth and Bobergh pieces? So very rare!
Also what added to the design sense of Worth’s gowns were his use fabric designed/created for his house and how well the design elements were used, placed and matched.
Amazingly beautiful.
Sadly his son’s later designs lack some of that brilliance -but what brilliance there is. And beautiful workmanship.
Tres jealous. Need a bridge over the Atlantic.
Thanks for the beautifully detailed ‘taste’!
(And agree re:Chanel. Now if you want to talk Poiret….)
Thank you! The intoxication of seeing all these beautifully crafted garments takes your breath away. The thought of being in the same room where every woman would be wearing some version of gorgeous tea gowns is beyond imagining. If I could travel back in time to that room I don’t think I could refrain from swooning! Those seamstresses with their “little hands” are truly gifts.
Thank you for a delicious peek at the exhibit; your descriptions and pictures are wonderful.
Thank you, Franklin.
Loved this! Thank you for sharing!
Five thousand museums later, it surprised, and kind of shocked, me to recently learn that museum labels/signs are called “tombstones.”
Fabulous, just fabulous.
So much fun! Thank you! I too like the navy bows best of all….
…wipes drool off keyboard. Alas, I cannot get to Paris to see this exhibit. Grande merci, Franklin. I have loved Worth’s work for most of my life – interestingly, not because of his gift and boldness for ornamentation, but because of his unerring sense of proportion. What a gift.
I greatly appreciate your museum writing. It always makes my day. Thank you.
Thank you for the tour of the exhibit…hopefully we’ll see a part 2! What an enjoyable way to start the morning and I loved the closeups of the details…especially the beautiful beading and embroidery.
Thank you so much for sharing this beautiful exhibit. I’m still trying to catch my breath. ❤️
I got such a kick out of the red typewriter gown. That led down a rabbit hole of what-if the IBM Selectric ball (ok – element) had been the first design for typewriters. They were the absolute best for typing but perhaps not for an edging design.
Franklin-First, as a continually failing student of French language classes, I’m so impressed that you knew the word for genuflecting when you heard it! I’ve mastered the technique of doubling over in museums ‘to read the display information’ while giving my back a rest…one day they will call the medics for me I’m sure.
Your review of the exhibit is as exquisite as the couture on display! In this case, too much is not enough!
Thank you for sharing the pleats, pearls, beads, and embroidery, and for giving credit to their creators, the petit mains.
I learn so much from each of your posts.
Oh Franklin, thank you so much I know I could have spent hours enjoying and absorbing every detail. I can’t be there physically but you transported me!
Grazie!
I can see you doing just that! What a wonderful image for my day today! You are a treasure, Franklin.
Merci! This was magnificent, I wish I could see it in person but seeing it through your eyes was wonderful
Excellent. Wonderful commentary. Genuflecting is perfectly acceptable.
ah, Franklin, if only you took admirers on private tours….
I do hope you go back, and see the rest, and tell us about it!