I bought this (loud) coral silk shirt a few months ago at a local thrift store (see Kudzu Antique Market). I put off wearing it because I couldn’t figure out what went with this color. At the time, I succumbed to purchasing it because it’s silk and only $12! I don’t think I own anything that drapes this well on my body (and I definitely don’t own anything this pinky coral). Apologies for the craptastic photos (they don’t do justice to the drapey-ness of the blouse), but indoor photos during the dark wintery months are a challenge.

And what does beautiful fabric make me think of? Art history! But of course!

Enter (mainly) headless Hellenic statues:

Before Common Era, Greek sculptors had mastered the perfect fall and drape of fabric in stone. They magically turned marble into gauzy, rippling pieces of clingy fabric. Before the Hellenic era, poor sculpted bodies had to endure all sorts of uncomfortable stony attire. Hellenic artists created haute couture in stone.

Skip ahead a few centuries to the Dark Ages; a return to Walmart-quality stone wardrobes for all. Even Jesus and Mary had to put up with pointy, rigid gowns and shrouds that did absolutely nothing for their figures.

Skip ahead a few more centuries to the Renaissance and Baroque eras (deep sigh of relief); both sculptors and painters perfect the verisimilitude of fabric out of stone or paint. Below, Artemesia Gentileschi so convincingly paints the folds and fabrics in bed sheets that you (almost) barely notice ole Holofernes getting his head chopped off by strong-armed Judith. Go drapery!

And now we come full circle back to fashion. Long, long before the first wet t-shirt contests were even thought of, Josephine Bonaparte and her fashion lemmings (I would have been one of them) discovered a way to make wet drapery literal. Under their barely-there empire-waisted gowns, ladies would wet their slips (the only other layer they wore) so that their dresses would cling to every curve and leave even less to the imagination. Herve Leger’s bandage dresses have nothing on these 19th century gentlewomen. 

Now don’t you want to go out and buy more silk things?! I mean who wouldn’t? The next time you wear something that feels deliciously liquid as it drapes over your body, you can imagine yourself a Greek god or goddess, a mighty biblical figure (on bed sheets!?), or the wife of the most powerful emperor of the era. Not bad, eh? Do you already have something in your closet that makes you feel that way?

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