In an old river mansion built by a family that made a fortune in lumber and storm windows, several hundred people crowded into a wood-paneled music room to hear a stranger from the East: ”Needless to say, you have to be a little mad to do what I do, but I thank you for the opportunity to bring my women out west.”
It was a throwback to a time, long before Vogue and Harper`s Bazaar, when fashion bulletins were transmitted to the hinterlands by means of miniature mannequins outfitted in the latest styles from Paris and London. So popular were these outsized dolls that European battles were interrupted to let them pass, and women in the American colonies begged husbands to bring some home from the Continent.
These days such mini-models still can draw a crowd. In new renderings of Victorian and Edwardian styles, ”Les Petites Dames de Mode,” as these little ladies of style are known, are starring at the Muscatine Art Center, a city-sponsored enclave that includes, appropriately, the Sarah Eaker Hughes Memorial Bedroom, a master chamber with mahogany furnishings ”to suggest the Victorian ambiance of 1850.”
The mannequins` fashion designer, John Burbidge, has traveled back to a world of afternoon teas, formal dinners and lavish balls, ”extravagant times with lots of design changes and wonderful fabrics, when clothes were such a symbol of status.”
Quite a bit of to-do surrounded Burbidge on the opening weekend of the show, which runs until July 24. He flew out the day after he retired as senior wedding dress designer for Priscilla of Boston, a supplier of finery for the altar-bound. Over lunch at the Geneva Golf and Country Club and later during a slide show, he talked of a hobby that has occupied his spare time for 10 years.
”There`s a certain element of fantasy,” Burbidge noted, talking about
”my ladies.” It have been a relief, after 40 years of working in ivory and white, ”to revel in an orgy of color and design.”
In those days, elaborate gowns reflected majesty and dignity, although wearers needed skill to swirl without knocking over the bric-a-brac. Wardrobes were enormous. On short trips, ladies took six ball gowns, five morning dresses and five afternoon dresses. Nothing was worn twice. That, for designer Burbidge, was terrific.
To re-create a sense of the times, Burbidge fashioned 25 mannequins, each 29 inches tall, in a period dress he designed, relying on biographies, his extensive library of fashion plates and a sense of what a woman of style would like.
”It`s a slow process, making up your mind, making patterns, cutting, assembling, sewing, everything. But I never consider it difficult because I enjoy it.”
The dresses are made from old clothes or bolts of period fabrics. One piece of antique Belgian lace came from a friend in a theater troupe who found it stuffed under a piece of scenery.
Many have elaborate beadwork Burbidge did while watching television. Outfits include accessories such as working-model parasols, petite lorgnettes and rare miniature fans, ”essential items, in a society devoid of air conditioning, that saved many a maiden from an embarrassing swoon in a crowded gaslighted ballroom.”
Burbidge started with unbleached muslin, working out his costumes to the cut and lines of the period. The muslin pieces were transferred into paper patterns and used as cutting guides. Following his long-ago counterparts, Burbidge added pads and wires to flesh out what was considered in those days an ”ideal” woman`s figure. A woman was supposed to be able to balance a teacup and saucer on her bustle, known politely as a ”back projector.”
As Burbidge noted, Victorian and Edwardian ladies of wealth had ball gowns, promenade gowns, tea gowns and special gowns for ”calling,” or making the rounds of acquaintances. Few calls lasted longer than 15 minutes, he said, because topics of conversation were limited to health, weather and servant problems.
Because few dared wear makeup, women of fashion also spent much time resting during the day to look fresh in the evening. Readying for a 10 p.m. ball meant a 4 p.m. start. Hairdressers and dressmakers were called in to help with the final touches.
No such problems bedevil Burbidge`s ladies, standing these days in still grandeur in Muscatine, on the banks of the Mississippi River. They have perfectly coiffed wigs of human hair, fashioned by Burbidge`s wife`s hairdresser.
Their feet, in a common bit of museum cheating, are carved in the shape of boots or shoes and painted. Some have removable brush-braid fringe along the bottoms of their gowns, to pick up dirt. Others wear lace that has been dipped in tea to give the fabric the appearance of age. All wear fabulous miniature jewelry.
Elegant, silver-haired Burbidge does most of his mannequin work in a studio in his home in Danvers, Mass., which he shares with his wife, Cile. She usually is busy in the basement decorating elegant cakes in demand by customers whose addresses range from Nigeria, where she catered the inauguration of a tribal leader, to Tiffany`s in New York, which featured her work in its 5th Avenue windows. The Burbidges have five children.
Was Burbidge a dreamy lad?
”Yeah,” he said. ”I drew, painted, did stained glass. I wasn`t a sports person.”
The son of a builder, he met his wife at the New England School of Art. Both were fashion design students. After graduation, he got an introduction to Priscilla of Boston. A Rosalind Russell-style dynamo who was just starting her wedding-gown business, she hired him.
”In those days,” Burbidge said, ”you just sort of commenced. The competition was nothing like it is today. I knew how to put things together, and I started to make wedding gowns.”
That, he said, led to many wonderful things, including the marriage of a daughter two years ago for which he made a beaded white-silk dress and Cile cooked up a cake that called for gasps, followed by applause.
In Muscatine both beamed as the doors opened for ”Les Petites Dames de Mode.” In the crowd were many doll collectors, part of a substantial subculture whose members attend national conventions, including a recent one that drew 1,600 people to Dallas; read publications such as Doll News and Doll Reader; and make, fashion and sell dolls for prices that run to $1,000 or more.
Although Burbidge`s mannequins are larger than conventional dolls and are not for sale, the audience came with questions about construction techniques and details of design.
”In recent times,” Burbidge noted later, ”doll people have become interested in costume. They want to be authentic. I seem to be in the right place.”
Museum officials agreed.
”Our mission is to offer the public the quest of perpetual discovery,”
said Willam A. McGonagle, director of the art center, whose holdings include American art pottery, a Mississippi River collection and three prints of Hiawatha by Currier & Ives.
Burbidge had to flee home to Massachusetts after the hoopla. He would like time for his garden, but he is fashioning five new mannequins, to be dressed in costumes reflecting the period from 1880 to 1900. They are scheduled to stand for two weeks this fall in Tiffany`s windows in New York.
Later they will take their message across the country.
