From Charles II’s pubic hair wig to mimicking Queen Alexandra’s limp, Rosie Harte shares five outrageous moments in the history of royal fashion…
In their prim coat dresses and pristine uniforms, the royal family are the picture of conservative style – or at least they are today. With funds and resources aplenty, British royalty has for centuries been the hub of sartorial splendour, with many of its members flaunting some very bizarre trends.
Henry VIII’s codpiece causes whispers at court
The Tudors are not remembered for their moderation; an immense sense of grandeur encourages people to ponder at their portraits, and undoubtedly Tudor fashion contributes to this appeal.
King Henry VIII was considered to be one of the best-dressed rulers of his day. He kept his wardrobe stocked with the newest and finest of trends. Yet if one item of clothing was to characterise his style, no doubt it would be the codpiece.
The codpiece’s origin is easy to trace, as it started out life as a protective garment. In the 1400s, as men’s tunics became increasingly shorter, they began to wear a triangular gusset of fabric to preserve their modesty.
By the middle of the following century (and during the rule of Henry VIII) that gusset had developed into an erect pouch, made with eye-catching fabric and embellished with ribbons and precious stones.
That rapid development prompts us to ask the question: what was the role of the codpiece? And what did it mean to those who wore or saw it?
Nineteenth-century scholars attempted to dismiss the oddity of the codpiece by ascribing it a practical purpose. Some theorised that it was used as protection and was akin to a suit of armour, while others deduced that it was used like a pocket to hold coins or other trinkets. All of them sheepishly tiptoed around the obvious and refused to acknowledge the sexual connotations.
Our current understanding of the codpiece is that it reinforced an important element of 16th-century masculine identity, drawing attention to the reproductive organs in order to stress dynastic power through male virility.
Anne of Denmark’s daring necklines
In 1981, Princess Diana battled admonishment from the press after donning a black frilly gown for one of her first official post-engagement functions.
What had the dress done wrong? According to the press, the sweetheart neckline was far too low for any respectable member of the royal family.
Yet try telling that to Anne of Denmark, the 17th-century Queen Consort of King James VI & I. Guests at the post-Elizabethan court were shocked to discover that the Queen’s preferred style of dress featured necklines that swooped so low they exposed her breasts “bare down to the pit of her stomach” (Calendar of State Papers Venetian XV).
Anne was particularly proud of her breasts, and emphasised their display further by using makeup to tint her nipples to a more prominent shade. While her portraits don’t often show the extent of her plunging necklines, her funeral effigy at Westminster Abbey certainly does. Once dressed in her own clothes, this lifesize wooden statue of the Anne is painted only in the areas not concealed by her gown and shows a neckline that cuts across below the line of her nipples.
Charles II’s shocking pubic hair wig
Well known as ‘The Merry Monarch’, King Charles II had a passion for theatre, a love of sports, and (according to one 18th-century drinking club) a wig made out of his mistresses’ pubic hairs.
The story goes something like this: after each of his many romantic escapades, Charles took a clipping of his partner’s pubic hair and, when he had collected enough, had them made into a long and curly periwig. Later he gifted it to a friend, the Earl of Moray, who took it to Scotland and passed it down through his family as a revered heirloom.
In the following century, one of the earl’s descendants took the wig and created a cult-like drinking club in its honour, with new members being forced to kiss the wig and vow to add to it with clippings from their own romantic ventures.
Surely, this sounds too absurd to be true? Well, that might be the case. We know for certain that the wig existed, but it’s possible that the pubic hair mythology was created by the 18th-century club in order to fulfil a purpose in their gatherings and validate their place amongst the many sex-focused drinking clubs of the day.
After it disbanded, the wig passed hands multiple times and was last seen in a lawyer’s office in Scotland in the 1930s.
George IV’s eye-watering corset
There are many things – both good and bad – that King George IV is remembered for, but he’d hope that one of them would be his sense of style. It could take as long as three hours for the king to get dressed each morning, and he was often entrusted with the role of curating the wardrobes of his brothers and sisters. George certainly erred on the side of vanity.
But George had another great love: food, and, by the time of his coronation in 1821 he found that he was no longer quite as trim as he wanted to be. What was the solution? Corsetry, of course.
It wasn’t entirely uncommon to see men wearing corsets, particularly in the 19th century. As the original function of structured undergarments was to provide posture support, they were adopted by men in the army and in certain sports (such as boxing) in order to provide core stability.
For George, the purpose was certainly not sporting – and when fully laced his whalebone girdles could reduce his stomach from 55 to 50 inches.
Queen Alexandra’s limp
Alexandra of Denmark, wife of Edward VII and the longest serving Princess of Wales, was a style icon for her time. Anything she wore or did became trendy – and I mean anything – even her disabilities.
In 1867 Alexandra experienced a particularly difficult pregnancy which left her vulnerable to several debilitating illnesses. One consequence of this period was a spell of arthritis and severe inflammation in one of her knees which would never fully recover.
Terrified of how the public would respond to her new limp, she did everything in her power to disguise it but rather than the horror she anticipated, the public reacted with admiration.
Soon the ‘Alexandra limp’ was being copied by women throughout high society, and in some extreme cases reported on by the press, women were cutting the heels of their shoes at different heights in order to achieve it.