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The shape of a woman – particularly from the bust to the knees – is the
most beautiful imaginable. Artists all down the centuries have been
obsessed with it, and I am no different. For me, a beautiful pair of
breasts is as nothing compared to the curve of the hips, buttocks and
thighs. This magical combination of contours are pure bliss, so any
skirt that accentuates them is a joy to behold.
The tight skirt that catches the wearer just behind the knees seems to
work best. The thighs are held tight together, and the curves are held
firm. They flex and become exaggerated when she tries to walk, and a
true hobble skirt emphasizes the shape and the vulnerability of the
wearer. |
To prove the point, watch a woman in a tight skirt when she bends over.
However tight it is, behind her thighs you will see surplus material billowing out. The true hobble has all that surplus removed, and the
seam sewn to follow the curve of the legs. Ideally, it is taken in to catch tight behind the knees, and then tapered over the calves to the
ankles. The hem might be only 15 inches round at the bottom, preferably
less, and sewn with a leather strap inside the hem to prevent the skirt
tearing as the wearer tries to walk.
The first seriously tight skirts appeared about 1875, and caused a sensation at the time. They were, of course, full length, and the
fashion was to catch the skirt behind the knee with a bow. The skirt kicked out behind and below the bow, to allow the lady to walk, but the
desire for elegance persuaded many women to emphasise the tightness of their dresses. The problem was – they could not then get into their
carriages! So the fashion faded quickly.
The true hobble skirt emerged 36 years later – in 1911 – when the designer Paul Poiret re-introduced the style. And this time it took off
in a big way. Women had previously been severely corseted and, as one commentator said, he had released their waists and tied up their legs
instead. The skirt was now a single column barely wide enough to allow
small steps. Again, to emphasise the fashion, a bow often featured at the back, but now around the ankles. Or a wide band of a stronger and
more rigid material at the very bottom of the skirt was sewn around to
act like a strap. Wide bands of fur were especially popular, even in the summer. The ankles themselves were usually buttoned into delicate
ankle boots with Louis heels and long narrow toes.
The hobble skirt was all the rage for at least eight years, a long time for a serious fashion style. Its inconvenience did nothing to
discourage wearers. Women loved it – and so did the men. The humorous
magazine of the day, Punch, ran a cartoon depicting ladies dressed in hobble skirts trying to board a bus, and having to be lifted on by
gallant gentlemen.
For the ladies of high fashion, the new style was not only crippling, but impossible to put on or take off by themselves. First, they wore
enormously wide-brimmed hats, and always added a full veil over their faces and hats, tied around the neck, when they went out for a drive in
the new open motor cars of the day. These veils were often quite thick,
to catch any specks of dust and dirt. They restricted the lady’s vision, and made it impossible for her to eat or drink.
These ladies of fashion also wore tiny kid gloves, with long sleeves that went under the narrow sleeves of their blouses which all finished
in what the magazine Punch called a ‘neck-corset’. This had bones to
keep it stiff and tight, and kept the head erect. Above the elbow, the
sleeves puffed out to the shoulders. These blouses were always buttoned
at the back, and once the kid gloves had been worn for any length of time their tightness rendered the wearer’s finger numb. So she needed
help to untie her veil or unbutton her blouse. So long as she was in public, to accept such intimate help was not suitable behaviour for a
lady. So she remained fully veiled, and unable to take a meal.
I have seen a photograph of Lady Astor, the first woman to be elected to
the British parliament, dressed in a crippling hobble skirt in about 1911. She had gone to Epsom Racecourse for the Derby and was obviously
being driven mad with frustration as she struggled to move around the rough grass in the paddock before the race. The fact that it was high
summer had not discouraged her from wearing the tightest possible hobble
skirt. Not only was there a fur ruff around her feet to restrict movement and ensure that the hem did not tear, but the dress itself was
made of a heavy velvet. All day at the races in such an outfit must have left her swelteringly hot in the sunshine and quite unable to seek
relief. How she climbed the steps of the grandstand, or got into or out
of her carriage is a complete mystery. A classic example of being willing to suffer in the name of fashion.
The publisher Sir Edward Hulton was a newspaper magnate in London in the
first half of the 20th century. His flagship publication was the weekly
magazine Picture Post, which kept the British people up to speed throughout the second world war. Some of the covers became news in
their own right, and sometimes Hulton directly influenced content, especially when his own obsession was legitimate news. In 1947, for
example, the magazine ran a long feature on the New Look in Paris, a fashion sensation inspired by Christian Dior, which had every woman in
Paris – and soon elsewhere - hobbled in calf-length skin-tight skirts.
Hulton married a minor Russian royal princess, and their relationship was tempestuous and exciting. It was driven by their mutual interest in
what became known later as S & M. Towards the end of his life, Hulton
wrote his autobiography, called When I Was A Child. It reveals his fascination with woman hobbled by their skirts and he describes several
encounters and memories as a growing boy, watching his mother, sisters and governess fighting with their hobble skirts. It became a life-long
passion with him.
Here are six extracts:
1. Mama was smartly turned out in a tight new white serge coat and skirt and white shoes with Louis heels. But like all coats and skirts
in the new slim fashion it was as uncomfortable as it was unpractical. Her skirt, which just left her feet free, was only about 18 inches
around. The more she tried to stride up Trundle Hill the more it clung to her legs. She attempted lifting it up a few inches, but since ladies
were not supposed to do this under any circumstances it only made her more embarrassed and cross. At intervals she stopped and exclaimed “My
skirt is too tight” or “Oh, my feet. The pain is excruciating.” Before
we got to the top she collapsed, crying hysterically on the turf, which stained her white skirt and made her more furious than ever. She sat
there and cursed Monsieur Poiret and her dressmaker. “I told her to give me more room. I told her again and again. She has trussed me like
a chicken”. This was the first time I had noticed that women now wore
terribly tight skirts. I asked Mama “why”. “It’s the fashion darling”,
she replied, embarrassed. “But your father likes me in it”
2. A little later these “hobbles” as they were known, began to excite
me, especially when I saw strong, haughty girls of 18 or so in them. They always took a superior attitude with boys like me, but now they
could be as superior as they liked. They couldn’t climb over railings,
or even run. Walking was a struggle and a misery for them.
3. Our governess, Miss Brown, was a lady – a living model of what a lady
ought to be and look like. She was the epitome of fashion, invariably worn so tight that she could hardly move. Her shiny boots laced up to
her knees and the high heels crippled her. She wore white silk blouses surmounted by the high stiff collar worn by all respectable girls. Some
girls were already rebelling against the fashion and clergymen wrote to the papers deploring the idea that women should reveal their necks. She
wanted to be in the height of fashion yet longed for bodily comfort.
Her walks with us were a martyrdom for her. When we saw how tight her
skirt was we could not resist taking steps just a little bit longer than
she could. One day she saw a smart young lady mincing along in front of
us in a crippling hobble-skirt which she lifted up an inch or so to cross the street. Miss Brown said indignantly: “That woman ought to be
arrested.”.
4. One day the electric light bulb in our classroom fused and our governess tried to get on a chair to change it. She had reckoned
without her hobble-skirt. She struggled to get her foot on the chair without pulling up her skirt a little. Even when it was pulled up to
her knees it was so tight she could not get her foot up. “It’s no
use", she cried in rage, “it just won’t let me”.
5. It was now 1918 and women’s skirts were now desperately tight again
[after the war]. Paris had re-introduced the hated hobble. Our housemaid, Edith was a martyr to fashion and never stopped complaining
at this turn of events. “Our skirts are now so hobbly. I can’t move.”
Being in one of her ‘hobbly’ costumes was not only exasperating but embarrassing, for it meant hoisting her skirt up to descend the steps
when she left the house. Mama was quite capable of lecturing her later
for daring to show her legs in public.
6. Mama, like every woman, announced firmly “I am not going to wear any
kind of tight skirt again. The nit-witted girls who wear them have to mince.” But she was soon flattered by her dressmaker into the new
narrow silhouette. Unfortunately she first put this on to go to London for a charity committee.
| As ill luck would have it the car was not
available to take her to the station. So she gaily announced that she
would walk the two miles to the station. Her two suitcases were carried
by the chauffeur and the butler, as she was staying the night. Her
black lacy hat was enormous and in the high wind she kept it on only by
clutching at it with one hand. In the other, her large handbag bulged
with papers for the meeting. She had forgotten all about her new
silhouette and the fact that she was wearing her highest heels. As she
walked along the dusty road the dark-red velvet dress, which fitted like
the proverbial glove, clung to her legs from waist to ankles and ended
in a fur border which constituted a real hobble. The more she tried to
step out the more it clung and gradually got her into a rage. She
eventually arrived at the station in tears. |
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