A Mysterious Domino, Part I: Background & Research

Earlier this year, The Footwork and Frolick Society hosted an early 19th century themed Masquerade Ball. I enjoy fancy dress themes, and so the idea of a masquerade (which takes the idea of a costume to another level by adding a mask) seemed like a lot of fun. But what was I to do to about a costume?

The dress: I had already decided that I wanted to wear an oldie-but-goodie dress to the ball — my ivory 1819 ruffle dress, finished in 2012 (and resized at some point, though I don’t seem to have a post about that on the blog).

The mask: I don’t really enjoy wearing masks (unless they are on a stick, like this, but that’s not good for a ball when you need your hands!). I find that masks irritate my face, but at some point I did buy a black lace mask for a fantasy masquerade that is very malleable and irritates me less. So I knew that I wanted to incorporate that mask into my outfit.

The costume: I wasn’t sure… my creative problem was to figure out what kind of costume would unite an ivory dress and a black mask!

I liked the idea of choosing something historically plausible and I know that themes like flowers, seasons, and historical periods were all popular for Fancy Dress costumes (and therefore, I figured, for masquerades), but I couldn’t think of a good theme that made sense with my color choices.

So I started doing some research, and came across the idea of a domino. Not a numbered playing piece from a game… but a mysterious, historical domino!

What Is A Domino?

What is that, then? A mysterious, historical domino?

A domino is traditionally a voluminous black robe-like hooded cape worn with a black half mask as a disguise during Venetian Carnival. Dominos were popular during the 18th century at masquerades and it seems that hooded capes in this century were sometimes just generally called dominos (such as this one, perhaps, at the Metropolitan Museum of Art). By the 19th century, dominos were occasionally seen at masquerades, and even less often at fancy dress events (a costume party without masks).

Examples Of Dominos

Below is an example of an 18th century domino in the collection of the Victoria and Albert museum. In this case, the idea has been reimagined in pink, rather than the usual black. The museum gives this information regarding a date: 1765 – 1770 (sewing), ca. 1775 (altered) (accession number T.195-1968).

Below is another example, from the late 18th or early 19th century, also pink. This domino still shows evidence of 18th century construction styles — particularly the large gathered hood and what appear to be rectangle shaped sleeves. The extant example below is from Augusta Auctions. They labeled it as a Two Piece Shot Silk Domino, c.1800.

Below is an example of a mid-19th century take on a domino. This is a costume idea for a masked ball (or masquerade). This plate is from Thomas Hailes Lacy’s “Female Costumes Historical, National and Dramatic in 200 Plates,” London, 1865 (from Getty Images).

Susan de Guardiola has collected later 19th century descriptions of dominos that are available here, as well.

Though less common, dominos were still in use for masquerades even in the early 20th century. While looking for other unrelated research, I came across a mention of them from January 1920, when the accomplished fashion designer Erté wrote in a letter he was asked to write from Monte Carlo to the editor of Harper’s Bazar:

This winter will mark the first organized effort at gaiety since the dark night of war… Already we are planning to revive the masked ball in all its mad gaiety…

The domino–aha! … In Venice until the fall of the Republic, it was commonly worn in the streets. There reigned in the enchanted city at this decadent epoch a strange corruption of manners, and the mask was a necessity. At every entrance hung the black domino. Rich and poor alike donned it, in order that they might sally forth enveloped in anonymity…

“But,” argue some, “the domino gives to the fête an air of mystery.” I reply, “Then one may attain this illusion by means of a domino of distinguished cut, a domino which shall not make one’s figure look like a shapeless bundle.”

(From Designs By Erté: Fashion Drawings & Illustrations From ‘Harper’s Bazar’ Including 8 Covers In Full Color By Stella Blum)

I think this is a great place to pause. I’ll continue sharing in my next post, which will focus on how I whipped up a quick domino and what it looked like when worn!

c. 1855 Wool Cape

Finally, I actually have photos of a garment I made back in 2011!

The story starts with my desire to be warm for caroling at the Christmas ball, so I went looking through my books and came across the image below in ‘Victorian Fashions: A Pictorial Archive’ by Carol Belanger Grafton. It looked warm and I liked the fringe, so off I went on my sewing adventure!

Since then, I’ve managed to wear my cape a number of times, often for Christmas caroling. Even though its date is c. 1855, I’ve found that the loose shape is perfect for wearing over the large sleeves of my 1830s dress as well. Here’s proof, from 2017:

 

That’s really the only photo I have that looks nice and shows the cape. Other photos that show the cape are washed out or blurry.

Last year I decided it was time to get pictures. I settled on a day I’d already be wearing 1850s (Annabelle is my dress and I’m also wearing a matching chenille headdress). It was important that there would be daylight (that’s the other problem with some of the photos I have, they’re taken during dark winter evenings–that’s usually when I’ve been caroling). Then I brought the cape (despite not actually needing to be outside for the event) and coerced the usual camera toting suspect into taking photos.

I made the pattern by looking at the inspiration image and drawing the shapes I thought would make it up, although I did take a bit of liberty in terms of closure and arm openings. I also referenced shapes and proportions in ‘The Cut of Women’s Clothes’ by Norah Waugh and ‘Patterns of Fashion 2’ by Janet Arnold.

I wanted simplicity for the closure, so my cape has a single heavyweight hook and loop at the neck. For the arm openings, the fronts are simply separate from the curve that wraps around to the back of the cape.

For warmth, I decided on a wool exterior (also good for shedding moisture). To add even more warmth, I also added a layer of high loft polyester batting to the entire cape. That may not be the most accurate choice (at least in terms of fiber content), but it is quite practical. I thought of quilting the lining to the batting but decided it would be too time consuming. I’m sure the batting extends to the edges and is stitched down, but honestly I don’t remember exactly how that was accomplished.

I loved the fringe in the image and wanted fringe on my cape, too. But not just any fringe. Wool fringe. That was a hunt! I eventually found it at an upholstery company called The Fringe Factory.

To keep the lining soft against my skin,  I decided to line the entire cape with natural cotton flannel  to match the fringe as well as including a stand up ruffle of the flannel at the neck.

As you can see, the cape is quite long. That’s quite a bit of wool, batting, and flannel! I achieved my goal of warmth, but this cape weighs quite a bit!

Looking back at my notes, this cape was more expensive than I remembered (though that’s not actually surprising, given the yardage I needed and my desire for 100% wool). I didn’t record the yardages, but I did record the costs. I spent $58.67 on the flannel at JoAnn, $81.00 on the wool at Dorr Mill (I love their wools! They are gorgeous!), and $96.36 on the fringe at The Fringe Factory. The total is $236.03. That’s way more than I often spend on a single historical garment! I had better keep wearing this to get the cost-per-wear down!

Despite the cost, I’ve been very pleased with my cape over the last 9 years and I’m extra pleased to finally have well lit, full length photos so this garment can make an official appearance on the blog!