Wednesday, January 28, 2015

Pride and Prejudice 1995: The Little Things

I did threaten to write about the Ehle/Firth Pride and Prejudice, and since I'm in a writing mood without a topic I decided to make good. Regency adaptations tend to go for an overall accurate look, interpreting age and income within the confines of realistic silhouettes and colors, and so they avoid the scrutiny and reputation that a more obviously artistic and unrealistic production garners. But just as this version of P&P is not entirely faithful in every respect (e.g. the added Darcy-perspective scenes, the actors nearly all being significantly older than their characters - perhaps the most egregious example being Julia Sawalha in her late twenties playing teenage Lydia), Dinah Hill's costuming is not entirely accurate - mainly in ways that make the period more appealing to modern tastes.

The exact date when the story is set is never given; generally, the movie's taken to be set in 1813, when the book was published. I'm not going to go into the full story of English dress in the early 19th century because I'm planning a post on that later this year for the Historical Sew Monthly - specifically, what really went on with English and French dress during the Napoleonic Wars? - but I would say that that's reasonable. 1811 to about 1816 as a range.

Morning Dress

All caps from cap-that; could not resist using this one
During the Neoclassical transition period, both English and French fashion plates show many women in shorter sleeves and lower necklines when in morning walking dress. The transition into medieval/Renaissance-inspired clothing brought about a different standard, one where morning dress was required to cover the arms and usually the chest.

From La Belle Assemblée, for November 1813
("Morning dress" has a different meaning in the early part of the century than it does in the later Victorian period: during the Regency, the midday dinner was being pushed to the middle or end of the afternoon, and therefore so was the end of the morning. During and after dinner full or half dress was worn. Dress worn in the "morning" could be an extremely informal deshabille as in the Victorian era, or it could be the ordinary clothes worn for visiting, walking, or shopping. See Jane Austen and Food for more discussion of mealtimes!)

In the scene captured above, Mrs. Bennet and Mary are in morning dress, while Kitty and Lydia are in some version of evening dress - Kitty's is plausible for a less formal gown, but I don't think anyone would have made evening dress with a print like Lydia's. While there are scenes that feature chemisettes and fichus, there are numerous outfits where necklines are just too low and bare for morning dress, mostly for Elizabeth. Of the Bennet girls, only Mary tends to wear gowns that come up to her neck without a chemisette, and overall these high-necked gowns (unattractive to a modern eye) are worn by characters who are either unsympathetic, like Mrs. Hurst, or somehow at odds with Elizabeth, like Charlotte after her marriage. Though this is all less obvious than P&P05, it's still an example of artistic inaccuracy used deliberately to illustrate characterization.


He has threatened to dance with us all.
Unlike many period dramas, this one never gives us a very good view of the corsets: the best we get is this scene, where it's hidden by Lydia's bodiced petticoat. It's not worn over a chemise (not accurate) and may or may not have straps, but it also seems, based on the way the petticoat lays over it, that the shaping in the bust is done with gussets (accurate). My quarrel with the corsetry is that the shape created is essentially a historicized version of what's considered sexy now - breasts pushed together to form maximum cleavage. At the same time, other characters appear not to have any bust support at all.

Charlotte Sparrow, William Owen, ca. 1815; Staffordshire County Buildings Picture Collection PCF 6
The shape that portraits and fashion plates of the era show is bizarre to our eyes, with the breasts lifted high and separated. Extant corsets of the period generally show a large gap between the gusseted cups, the straps having to attach in front as far to the sides as possible - one corset that will appear in my upcoming book Regency Women's Dress actually has to have the straps attach to the cups themselves as they're so wide-set. Regency standards of beauty didn't favor the cleavage of two breasts being pushed together: they preferred a smooth, broad bosom. I'm not sure if any films properly represent the fashionable Regency shape - like an accurately frilly picture of the early 1920s, it's just too far from what the audience expects to see.


Another small but frequently recurring issue are the shapes of the necklines on very many dresses, especially Elizabeth's.

During the Regency, there were two common necklines: cut-in and constructed. The cut-in neckline was, like Elizabeth's above, a curve cut into the front of the bodice; the constructed neckline was created by adding straps to a rectangular bodice front. The cut-in neckline was more common in the 1810s and 1820s, while the constructed neckline was more common in the 1800s and 1810s. And here is the most important aspect: the cut-in neckline was usually shallow and wide, the constructed neckline deeper (but also wide).

This ahistorically deep cut-in neckline has become very commonly used in Regency-set period drama, sometimes a little shallower or more pointed than this. I should note that a rounded, deeper neckline is characteristic of the Neoclassical period - but this is because the front-closing drawstrings very frequently used at that time created it. Once the front closure was lost in the early 1800s, this shape fell out of favor. The desirable silhouette was broad through the shoulders and long and narrow in the body and legs, with a very high bust, and the deep cut-in neckline de-emphasizes the width and height of the bodice.

Elizabeth's dresses all have this neckline, and in general all seem to be made from the same pattern: the bodice gathered slightly at the bottom of the neckline and more at the waist, that waist being just a bit below the bottom of the bust. (This gathering is not, strictly speaking, inaccurate, but it was more common for cut-in necklines to go along with darts around 1813. I'm also not sure I've ever seen a gathered cut-in neckline around this time, either - there are 1820s examples, however.) While most dresses of this era do have a great number of similarities in construction, I don't believe it would be normal to have all of one's dresses made on the same exact lines. For one thing, people would not purchase and get rid of all of their clothing at one time - just as today, they would gradually replace clothing as it wore out or became out of date, and a dressmaker would be unlikely to duplicate a gown she'd made a year ago exactly. Gathers would change to darts, a neckline would be a different shape or height, skirts would have more or less fullness, etc. A woman wouldn't own only back-buttoning gowns, as Elizabeth does, but would have some that gather on ties, lace, or fasten with hooks.


My last point is more general than specific. One thing that stands out to me is the volume of curls around many characters' faces.

Elizabeth always has a thick mass of curls on either side of her face, from a few inches away from her center part descending almost to her jawline. Jane's curls are similar but much shorter and more defined; Mary has only a few very small ones, as does Kitty; Lydia, like Mary, tends to part her hair on the side, but has many long curls all around her head and incorporated into her hairstyle. Their mother has two very large and very regular bunches of short curls, and Charlotte tends never to have any curls at all. Caroline has a hairstyle very similar to Elizabeth's (as does Anne de Burgh) although her curls are more like waves, and Mrs. Hurst has single short curls placed all around her forehead.

Eliza Augusta Falconet Middleton, Nicholas-François Dun, ca. 1812; Gibbes Museum of Art 1960.10.4
Two bunches of curls hanging on either side of the face are actually more typical of the end of the 1810s and the 1820s through to the 1830s. Even after the period of Neoclassical influence, very short curls that appeared artlessly placed around the face were preferred. Another option was a very few distinct curls on either side of the face, often arranged to be slightly asymmetrical in some way. Mrs. Hurst's and Jane's curls are the most accurate, being sparser and shorter, as are Georgiana's and Kitty's. Mary's and Lydia's asymmetry is period-accurate, although Lydia's long curls are more typical of some years before, during the beginning of the transition into 16th and 17th century influence. Mrs. Bennet's hairstyle, however, is from after the action takes place: it's more typical of the 1820s. Elizabeth and Caroline also have later hairstyles.

It's very common in movie costuming to dress older or more conservative characters in older styles, often exaggeratedly so, in order to emphasize the disconnect between them and the main characters. Sometimes wealthier or more fashion-conscious characters wear clothing which would not come into fashion for several years to make them stand out. The interesting thing about this case is that the actual dates of the hairstyles are not relevant in the costuming: it is just about the effect. Mrs. Bennet's hair looks dowdy, despite being too fashion-forward - and styles with no or few curls, actually appropriate for 1813 or a little earlier, appear childish and unsophisticated. (Mrs. Hurst's, I would say, is meant to look conspicuously dressed.) Elizabeth's hairstyle works as an attractive balance between dowdy, childish, and fussy in terms of its visual effect - youthfully natural - without its actual date being relevant to its interpretation.

The 1995 Pride & Prejudice is remembered as a highly accurate production, and so it should be: there are some costumes that are very good, and a lot of attention to detail throughout the production. But it's not without its flaws, and it's important not to let its visuals supersede extant garments and other primary sources when researching.

Friday, January 16, 2015

Day Dress (1865-1868)

Day dress, 1865-1868; CHM 1990.56.1 (pattern available at link)
It's been a little while since I've shown a patterned garment from the Chapman, so I thought I would give you another. This one also goes very well with my previous post From Hoop to Bustle, as it comes from the years when women wore the elliptical hoop at its widest: as you can see in the pattern, the skirt panels are quite flared. I might have made the date range a little wide - 1865 is a little early. The center back is cartridge pleated, which is characteristic of the end of the 1860s; earlier gored skirts (1860-1865) were more usually pleated all the way around. At the end of the 1860s dresses most usually had a short overskirt, but as you can see in the wonderful comparandum plate below, this was not a requirement.

Fashion plate, probably from Peterson's Magazine, 1868; NYPL 803083
The thing I love about this dress is that it strikes me as an attempt to get at a princess-cut gown, which was beginning to appear at this time (see plate above): it's made with the more common construction of a separately-cut skirt and bodice, but they're fully sewn together at the waist and the trim was applied in one piece (later sliced open), which would have helped the illusion of a princess cut.

Wednesday, January 14, 2015

From Hoop to Bustle: 1856-1875 (HSM #1)

(For a while I intended to join in on the Historical Sew Monthly 2015, using it to put together an outfit for a Halloween wedding, but I realized that the themes were not lining up exactly with what I needed to sew. Before I thought I might participate properly in '15, I came up with the idea of participating by writing an in-depth post on the subject for each period, and I decided to go back to that idea.

For January - Foundations - I'm looking at the development and evolution of the mid-nineteenth century hoop skirt to the bustle.)

Something I find very interesting about the history of clothing is the contrast between the fluidity and briefness of periods of various fashions, and the way we solidify them by naming them and choosing to concentrate on specific periods. That's a very jargony way of putting it, sorry; an example would be that the trend of a bell-shaped hoop lasted for only about five years, but somebody who chooses to recreate that period is, in a way, making it last for decades.

When I started writing this essay, I was originally thinking that the focus on specific eras makes the transitions between them take a back seat, described off-handedly as skirts gradually getting fuller or waists gradually getting lower or sleeves gradually getting wider until the next era starts - but after thinking about it more, what's really going on is that the history of fashion is the history of transitions. Eras named for political periods are especially subject to this, but periods named for one aspect of dress (such as "the hoop era", or if you were to call 1827-1835 "the big sleeve era") contain a lot of changes in other aspects.

And when it comes to these changes, there are generally 1) a series of discrete steps that appear to be a gradual slide from a more distant perspective and/or 2) outliers appearing sporadically and then becoming fashionable. For example, waistlines dropped at the end of the 1810s to the middle of the ribcage, then to the natural waist around 1824, with occasional examples of natural waistlines between 1820 and 1824. This is an elaboration on the usual statement that waistlines began to drop or gradually deepened during this period, which gives the impression that every year or season they slowly went lower and lower. (I'm definitely guilty of doing this myself all the time; I'm trying to get better at specificity.)

From Harper's Magazine, March 1858; NYPL 802649
One transition that gets the unelaborated treatment frequently is, as you may have guessed from the title, the one from the hoop to the bustle. To get a proper look at it, we have to start in the 1850s, with the advent of the hoop itself. The "skeleton skirt" was patented in 1856, with various inventors coming up with variations and improvements in order to get in on the profitable new fashion. The fashionable skirt had had a bell shape for several decades: during the early 1840s it was comparatively narrow, but it widened in 1848, and then again in 1854 (with possibly a slight narrowing in 1851). By the end of 1856, with the addition of the hoop, it had widened again. The hoop didn't cause the trend - it only supported a slight expansion of it.

More importantly, the hoop skirt allowed for different shapes. Without a support, layers of petticoats will create a belled shape, fullness bursting out from the waistline. (Petticoats that are made from rectangular panels gathered or pleated to a waistband, that is.) While the cage crinoline just exaggerated this shape at first, in 1860 the implications of a wired petticoat seem to have hit: the fullness over the hips stopped being the fashionable shape. Instead, the skirt descended in a smooth curve down from the waist, bowing out into a graceful curve around thigh or knee level. 

Fashions for September 1861, Godey's Lady's Book; NYPL 803346

Like the petticoats mentioned above, skirts in the 1840s and 1850s had always been cut from broad panels and pleated or gathered at the top. Cutting the skirt panels in gores, as began to happen in the early 1860s, got rid of the need for heavy pleating at the top, emphasizing the smooth line over the hips and the fact that a woman was not achieving her silhouette with layered petticoats.

June 1868, unknown periodical (Peterson's?); NYPL 803508
The smooth line was extended down to the ankle by the end of 1865, with what's now called the elliptical hoop. Extra fullness in the back had been important to fashionable silhouettes from the beginning of the century, even with the first hoop skirt, but this version of it projected out into a kind of train. Because of the conical shape, it was especially suited to the gored skirt. A higher waistline started to became fashionable at the same time, possibly in part to emphasize the steep slope. After this, however, the changes picked up speed: by 1868, raised waistlines were firmly a part of fashion, and the elliptical hoop changed again: finally shrinking in the hem circumference, although the shape remained the same. 

From Peterson's Magazine, 1870

The emergence of the bustle in 1870 was actually a partial return to the pre-1860 shape. Because "crinoline" now meant the straight-lined hoop, the French word tournure came into use in English to describe a separate support worn over the hoop skirt - either a full petticoat or a small pad (usually called a pannier tournure). However, "crinoline" quickly became used to mean a full hoop skirt with the tournure shape created in the back with wires - or, very often, a skirt with a few hoops at the bottom and a tournure structure fixed to the back.

Two years later, in 1872, the skirt contracted at the bottom, the depth of the back projection remaining the same; the next year, the fashionable waistline descended again to the natural level. In 1874, the crinoline/hoop/tournure at last narrowed at the sides and took on the now-iconic look of the bustle.

from Peterson's Magazine, October 1872; NYPL 803797

Wednesday, January 7, 2015

2014 In Review - Writing-Style

I very briefly considered looking at my sewing output from the last year, but as it consists of the Cranford dress, a yoked circle skirt, a pair of pants, and two knit tops, it was too depressing to contemplate. As my true work is in writing, I thought that instead of depressing you with more self-criticism of my fitting skills, I would put together a Best Of 2014 by-the-month compilation instead.


Cabinet des Modes, 5e Cahier, 1ere Planche (January 15, 1786): Nakara satin robe à la turque with white satin corset and petticoat.


Cabinet des Modes, 10e Cahier, 2e Planche (April 1, 1786): A woman in a white gauze baigneuse and veil with nakara ribbon, and a woman in a hat à la Maltoise.


Cabinet des Modes, 13e Cahier, 1ere Planche: (May 15, 1786): Woman in a blue pékin turque, trimmed with white crêpe and artificial roses, and in a chapeau-bonnette.


Cabinet des Modes, 21e Cahier, 2e Figure (September 15, 1786): Man in a puce wool coat, striped moire gilet, canary cashmere breeches, and striped silk stockings.


Mary DeLong West's Wedding Dress, 1896Bodice and skirt of off-white silk satin, trimmed on the torso with silk gauze; pattern available here.


Emile Pingat (1820-1901) - an exploration of a great artist's career.


Perfection Salad: Review/discussion of Perfection Salad by Laura Shapiro.


In Defense of Pride & Prejudice (2005): A different perspective on the movie's costuming.


A Difficult History: Feminism and Corsetry, Part I: Technically, all of September was taken up with this multi-part series.


On Mourning: Discussion of American, English, and French mourning practices of the 18th, 19th, and early 20th centuries.


Jennie Goodman's Wedding Dress (1878): A purple taffeta Natural Form era dress, also with pattern.


Waistcoats: 19th and 20th Century: The evolution of vests, with hints for dating them.

Wednesday, December 31, 2014

Waistcoats: 19th and 20th Century

Apart from certain stylistic keys, I've always had a harder time dating men's clothing. It's just not as interesting to me, so I haven't taken the time to really study dated extant pieces and images and improve my skills. But lately I've come across more undated waistcoats while cataloguing - it's become something that I need to work on. And how better than by putting together a blog post?

Wedding waistcoat, 1808; MMA 2009.300.7449 [OASC]
At the beginning of the century, fashionable waistcoats were cut straight across at the bottom to match fashionable coats, although the vests often protruded slightly below the waistline of the coat. High collars, also matching the coats, would cover the sides of the shirt collar that extended up to the jawline. Both coats and vests could be single- or double-breasted, generally with self-covered buttons. While coat lapels were generally wide, waistcoat lapels were somewhat narrower.

Toward the end of the first decade of the century, the openings above the buttoned areas in both tended to be shorter and narrower, and around 1812 they began to appear sometimes almost fastened up to the neck. The standing collar was much shorter by this point, no longer covering the shirt. (In formal dress, waistcoats retained the longer, angled hems and types of embroidery that had been worn in the later eighteenth century.)

Around 1814-1815, the fashionable male figure began to have a distinctly nipped-in waist, which could be reflected in the cut of the waistcoat or in padding added to the chest. Emphasizing this, they would generally be buttoned only at the bottom, the shirt's jabot bursting from the opening. The waisted effect increased and continued through the 1820s, though the fashionable waist was located lower toward the end of that decade.

At first the trend of only buttoning waistcoats around waist level had no effect on cut, but at the end of the 1810s the construction changed: buttons and buttonholes were placed only on the lower half or two-thirds of the opening, and the front edges themselves might be cut on a curve so as to keep the lengthened lapels narrow all the way up, with only a slight notch.

"Waistcoat of gros de Naples with pearl buttons, lined with a contrasting color," Petit Courrier des Dames, ca. 1835; NYPL 802030
The bottom edges of the vest remained horizontal for most of this time; around the middle of the 1820s, they were cut with a slight curve to create separate points at the opening below the buttons when worn. As the puff of the chest was emphasized more at the end of the decade and the front edges were curved more, the lowest button was left unbuttoned and the points were then larger. However, these points didn't last very long - by the very early 1830s, it was more common for the fully-closed vest to end in a gradual slope to one point, or simply a straight line, the latter especially if the waistcoat were double-breasted.

Very little change occurred over the rest of the 1830s, but the unnotched shawl collar began to be more prevalent at the end of the 1830s; the angled breast pocket seems to have begun to appear between 1840 and 1845. Lower points without buttons reappeared after 1840 as well, whether single- or double-breasted, and while very narrow lapels remained in use wide ones were seen as well, more and more frequently toward the end of the decade.

Wedding waistcoat, 1846; MMA 1985.363.6 [OASC]
Early in the 1850s, the points dropped out of favor for a flat lower edge: at first with some space below the lowest button to create two wide points, then a completely straight line around 1855. While a deep opening to reveal the shirtfront remained in use, especially in evening dress or at home, for day dress a higher neckline became more common around 1855 as well. By the end of the decade, when buttoned high a waistcoat could have no lapels at all.

The greatest change in the mid-1850s was that a pinched male waist was no longer fashionable. The chest was still to be rounded, still enhanced with padding, but the defined difference between waist and hips was smoothed out. Vests less commonly flared below the waistline.

Waistcoat, ca. 1865; MMA 1979.346.47 [OASC]
In the early 1860s, slight points reappeared at the lower edge of waistcoats, and the shawl collar began to be set aside in favor of either no lapels or notched and pointed ones.

Around this point, it becomes very difficult to find images of men's waistcoats, as it was common to keep the coat fully buttoned, or just fastened at the top, during the day. Magazines aimed at gentlemen and their tailors, however, such as the Gentleman's Magazine of Fashion, made an effort to show or at least describe them, and it's clear that the era of the three-piece suit had begun: many waistcoats were made in the same fabric as a coat and trousers. When not made to match, vests were generally plain, not in the bright patterns and colors of prior decades. Their forms stopped changing, pointed lower edges and no (occasionally notched) lapels remaining most common through the early twentieth century, though double-breasted vests with flat lower edges were also worn. (A second breast pocket seems to have been frequently added after the turn of the century.)

Formalwear fossilized to an even earlier shape, with shawl collars and deep necklines. White and black fabrics were the only ones used - for, respectively, white and black tie.

Howard Fenton Ross's wedding portrait, 1905; CHM 1983.15.8

Wednesday, December 17, 2014

Tableaux Vivants at Clermont

Clermont at night
On Sunday, I volunteered at the Candlelight Evening at Clermont - playing Cornelia Livingston in 1843 as she sewed a Christmas present while her sister-in-law read and a servant decorated a small tree. Here are some photos of the other rooms (1776, 1778, 1808, and 1860s), please check them out!

For the event, I rewore my Cranford dress with some alterations. The main thing was that I took the bodice side seams in about 3" in total, I think: it really didn't fit before (where now it has "fit issues"). I still need to mess some more with the armscyes and add bust padding to achieve a decent smoothness, and need to cut about an inch off the bottom, but I'm much happier with it than I was before.

I also wore it over two more petticoats, one of which is made of crinoline and wired, and that helped the silhouette enormously. This period requires a mass of petticoats to create a softly belled shape, which I believe I came closer to achieving. Sometimes even bustle pads were used in order to make sure that the fullness stood out more in the back, and so I wore my flat bustle pad ... however, this might have been a bit too much. I ended up with a slightly shelfy backside. No pad next time!

Wednesday, December 10, 2014

Fashion History Mythbusters: The Cage Crinoline or Hoop Skirt

As Julia Thomas points out in Pictorial Victorians, the satirical cartoons and anecdotes in Punch heavily colored contemporary (and modern) impressions of the fashions of the 1850s and 1860s. As a result, the wide skirts seem like fantastical costumes that played havoc with ordinary life and were impossible to move around in. And so the myths have proliferated.

“Cool Request,” Punch, or the London Charivari, Volume 32, January 31, 1857, p. 50.
- compare to the actual 1857 fashion plate below
The first myth to address is the name of the garment. My impression is that most people use the term "cage crinoline"- "hoop skirt" sounds farby: it gives the impression of a cheap and flimsy petticoat worn by someone who doesn't know any better. eBay and Etsy sellers using elastic and plastic sell hoop skirts, but those who use metal and fitted waistbands (and the more established companies with their own websites) sell cage crinolines. Even when used without a negative implication, "hoop skirt" tends to be reserved for fabric skirts with channels for bones.

This distinction, however, is not historical, though it's handy for a modern context. I can find one reference to the "cage crinoline" in a Peterson's Magazine of 1863, but every American patent for one calls it a "hoop skirt", as did most merchants. "Crinoline", used without an article (eg. "but wife and daughters alike received the sarcasm carelessly, and the wrath meekly, and continued wearing crinoline as before." - from "Who Killed Crinoline?", reprinted many times, found here in Once a Week, 1869), appears frequently, but it refers to the whole genre of skirt supports rather than a specific type. When used in a specific way, such as in an advertisement, it still lacks the "cage"; in this description, "crinoline" is used for what we now call a hoop skirt.
The feminine world had skipped swiftly from the clinging fashion of high directoire waists into the hoops of an exaggerated crinoline (invented by Worth for the Empress Eugénie, in order to conceal her pregnancy).
- Phantom Crown: the Story of Maximilian and Carlota of Mexico. Bertita Harding, 1934, reprinted in 2008. pp 31-32.

The myth that Empress Eugénie had the hoop invented to hide her pregnancy is frequently connected with Worth, most likely because Worth is known to have worked for her and also to have autocratically caused fashionable changes. But Worth was not working for Eugénie at the time of her pregnancy (1855-1856), and did not even have his own firm until 1858. And on the other side, the hoop didn't need to be invented as it was actually just an innovation on petticoats stiffened with cords threaded through sewn channels.

Napoleon and Eugénie with their son, ca. 1859
At first, I thought that the idea that Eugénie had the hoop skirt developed to hide her pregnancy came from Gone with the Wind, either in book or movie form, and its insistence that Victorian women were never seen in public while they were pregnant - which is not true by any means. (Maternity corsets were designed to attempt to keep the fashionable shape while allowing for the growing fetus, to some extent.  Pregnancy wasn't glorified, but it also wasn't cause for a woman to be sentenced to a dark room and a wrapper for nine months. See also: Sylvia Hoffert, Private Matters, pp. 26-30, and Annmarie Adams, Architecture in the Family Way: Doctors, Houses, and Women, 1870-1900, pp. 108-109)

However, the story has existed as long as the hoop skirt itself. "Those newspapers, - but, then, newspapers are never accurate - have insinuated that the Empress Eugenie brought in crinoline for a most womanly reason", reported The Spectator (in 1860) while denying the validity of the rumor. "One is the Empress Eugenie, who at a certain period, for personal reasons, introduced an excess of crinoline which gradually led to cane hoops and steel petticoats", Charles H. Bennett wrote in Shadow and Substance in the same year. The timing certainly is helpful: the hoop was patented in 1856, and Eugénie was pregnant during late 1855 and early 1856.

The fact that even contemporary sources scoff at the rumor is a decent enough reason to set it aside, but let's consider it for a moment. It might be physically possible for a woman to hide a pregnancy at an early stage, or a low-carrying pregnancy, with a hoop and a raised waistline, but the same feat could be accomplished with a voluminous crinoline petticoat. And fashion at the end of the 1850s called for a lower waistline: the waistband of the hoop or crinoline would probably hit right on the tell-tale bulge.

Peterson's Magazine, October 1857
The result was that serious injury or death became a kind of occupational hazard for crinoline wearers.  The most common danger came from fire.
- The Anatomy of Fashion, Susan Vincent, p. 92

To be completely honest, I had assumed for a while that hoop-wearers being in great danger of catching on fire was not true. It's stated without a source very frequently, it tends to go along with the statement that fire and childbirth were the most common deaths for women, and its period sources are also generally vague and non-specific. But there does appear to be an element of truth to it. Frances Appleton Longfellow, wife of the poet, died in 1861 from her dress catching fire. (Frances is also noted in an article in The Living Age (1861), along with Elizabeth Brodhurst, whose death by fire is corroborated in The Annual Register (1861).) However, as Florence Nightingale notes in Notes on Nursing (1860), chemicals could be mixed with starch to render petticoats less flammable. (This is also touched on in an article in the Medical Times and Gazette (1863).)

Information about more named crinoline fire deaths here, use of satirical photo seriously notwithstanding.
I find questionable the claim of crinolines worn by factory workers operating machinery. Since there's been no response to the citation needed template added in June 2007, I've posted a query on the original editor's User talk page. All editors are invited to help clear up this matter. -- Deborahjay (talk) 06:41, 9 September 2009 (UTC)
- Wikipedia, "Crinoline" Talk Page

Like others, I found it unlikely that factory workers would dress in something as obviously impractical as a hoop. Surely that would be immediately apparent to them - and besides, wouldn't such a fashionable accessory be out of their price range?

Searching period sources reveals a Miss Marshall dying in 1860 from her crinoline - from context, most likely the proper horsehair crinoline rather than a cage - being caught in a machine. But for the most part, references (such as this one in the Eclectic Magazine, 1862) are vague and don't specify names, and so are suspect as urban legends or deliberate propaganda.

There are, however, many references to servants dressing in hoops. That Cassell's Household Guide (1869) specifically recommends that employers prohibit their maids from wearing crinoline is a strong indicator that those maids would otherwise wear them. A column called "Centre-Table Gossip" in the Ladies Magazine in 1860 (summarized and excerpted in Domesticity With a Difference) also stresses the unsuitability of hooped skirts for household tasks, along with some suspicion that maids in crinoline are either failing to save their money for necessary expenses or are stealing or prostituting themselves to afford them. In texts from all historical periods, you come across complaints about servants looking too much like their employers (maids wearing silk in the early 18th century, printed cotton some decades on, and white muslin during the Regency were all issues) - clothes are always used to signal something to viewers, and an affluent woman's are meant to show her status. If one of her servants can mimic them well , then what's she left with for her own signals?

By the 1870s, it seems to have been accepted that maidservants would wear hoops, but the concerns over the hoops being impractical still existed.