History's Runway: A Pair of Ladies Boots, c. 1865

Boots
French, 1865
The Victoria & Albert Museum

These red boots, laced at the back, are made of ribbed silk. They were designed to come up just above the ankle and are set with the then-fashionable “military” style heel. The heel has been covered in silk to match the uppers. They have are trimmed at the top with bobbin lace and ribbons.

London Society ladies of the 1860s and 1870s had a passion for these high-heeled French boots which were important from Parisian show-makers or often copied by English cobblers. According to the V&A, “The French influence was due to the stylish Empress Eugenie who had married the French emperor, Napoleon III, in 1853. She was probably responsible for the introduction of the shorter skirt which led to a greater emphasis on stockings and shoes.” Such boots tended to be rather gaudy by Nineteenth Century standards and were made in a variety of bold, bright colors thanks to the chemical aniline dyes which were introduced in the 1860s. 

Gifts of Grandeur: The Harrods Shoe Snuffbox, c. 1870

Snuffbox, 1870-1880
The Talbot Collection at
The Victoria & Albert Museum

In the Nineteenth Century, boots and shoes were symbols of good luck. So, it was only natural that trinkets and personal objects should take the form of footwear. This snuffbox, dating between 1870 and 1880, is an excellent example of that phenomenon. The box is made in the shape of a fashionable Victorian lady’s button-boot of the 1860s. It is even adorned with metal studs just like the real thing would have been. The top of the boot forms the container for the snuff.

It’s a sure thing that this box was made in England, but other similar examples were imported from France at the time. The lid of the box is missing, but it’s still quite attractive. While most collectible snuffboxes were made of golf, hardstone or precious metals, some—like these novelty boxes—were made of wood. The mahogany box has been carefully hand painted, partly ebonized, and adorned with brass stringing, brass nails in the sole and heel, and brass and mother-of-pearl buttons.

Now part of the V&A’s Talbot Hughes Collection, the box was originally donated to the V&A by Messrs. Harrods of London in 1913. 

Object of the Day: J. Fouent, Paris

Click on the image to dream of Jeannie.

This little lady is all tarted up like a bejeweled Genie. So, what’s she hawking? Harem pants? Cabochon-cut gems? Complicated hand fans? Nope.

This French trade card is advertising shoes. Specifically, The House of J. Fouent. You can see the original French text in the image below, but this is what it’s saying in English. More or less.

A SHOP FOR SHOES. 

BUY WITH CONFIDENCE 

THE HOUSE OF 
J. FOUENT 
51, Monge Street 

PARIS 

Shoes for Men and Women.

Shoes for Boys and Girls.

Shoes that are Sewn and Screwed

Shoes Made to Measure in 24 hours. 

Any shoe from the shop will be repaired for free.

Object of the Day: Standard Tip Shoes

The small-footed, circle-dancing children of Philadelphia required special shoes to fit their tiny toes and miniscule arches. After all, when dancing in a circle, precision is everything. So. One Thomas Harris & Co. of Philadelphia created Standard Tip Shoes especially for these diminutive dancers. Much rejoicing followed as the sextet danced around a banner in honor of Mr. Harris and his associates. I was just in Philadelphia a couple of days ago and if you listen carefully, you can still hear their cheers of “Thomas! Thomas! Thomas!” on the wind.

Okay, I kid. I couldn’t hear them at all. I was in the airport.

No. Really, this is a trade card from the early 1880s advertising for Standard Tip Shoes which were, indeed, made in Philadelphia by Thomas Harris and Co. The chromolithograph of joyful children was made for the Harris Company and was overprinted with retailer information, in this case, for T.C. Hanford & Co. of St. Louis.

In the Victorian tradition of wonky proportion in advertising imagery, the children pictured here do have especially small feet for their bodies. One would think that a card for shoes would emphasize the feet, but I suppose the illustrator made an effort to show how neat and tidy these, clearly well-fitted, shoes were.

The banner held by the children tells us that that in August of 1882, these shoes were made with “The best sole leather in the world.” It also states that the children demand them. “We’ll have no shoe without this trademark,” they declare—quite rightly, I’m sure.

Let’s have a look at the reverse. Ah, it seems the dancing children have donned “Robin Hood” hats. Led by a woman in trousers (Shock!) and a musical man, they have staged a parade in honor of Standard Tip Shoes. Everyone’s happy! They all have two feet! Well, except maybe for the girl in the back. A triumph for 1882, indeed!

But, are you worried that your children’s feet might not develop properly? Will they grow extra faces on their toes or whatnot? Well, Mr. Harris wants you to rest assured that he’s got it covered.

The copy reads:

THE 

“STANDARD TIP” 

WILL INSURE PERFECTLY DEVELOPED FEET 

FOR YOUR CHILDREN. 

LOOK FOR THE TRADE MARK BEFORE YOU BUY. 

Come all of you with “STANDARD TIPS”
     And fall into the line,
And as we march we sing the song
     The “STANDARD” every time.

Catchy! Catchy and comforting.

Object of the Day: A Trade Card for Boots and Shoes

Click image to enlarge.

Here we have another issue with proportion. Either that’s one giant parakeet or one very small kitten. In any event, they’re not friends. To be accurate, the parakeet doesn’t really seem to care too much. He’s unfazed, but the kitten is entirely incensed.

That said, I find this card delightful and smiled when I found it amongst a new set of Victorian trade cards. In fact, I think that’s what I find appealing. It’s just such a Victorian scene. I’m not sure what the parakeet is sitting on. It looks like a box of matzo, but doubt it. Whatever it is, in pure 1880s fashion, it’s draped in a shawl and adorned with rosebuds and wheat.

This, of course, is a stock trade card which would have been selected from a catalog. The selector, it appears, was one:
HENRY DAMON, 
Boots & Shoes. 
25 Essex Street, 
BOSTON. 

The printer is listed as “something unreadable” Stetson, Printer, Quincy, Mass.

Let’s see what the reverse says:

HENRY DAMON, 

WHOLESALE AND RETAIL 

------------------------------

---<< BOOTS AND SHOES, >>--- 

------------------------------

25 ESSEX STREET, 

BOSTON. 

O.M.A.      M.R.A.      H.C.      and      U.F. 

I have no idea what those initials mean. All I know is that these two natural enemies—parakeet and cat—will forever be frozen in a strange, blasé, antagonistic dance. And, that, to me, is neat.

Click Image to Enlarge.

Unusual Artifacts: A Pair of Red Oxford Shoes, 1925

Oxford Shoes
Coxton Shoe Co., Ltd., 1925
Shown at the London International Shoe Fair
The Victoria & Albert Museum

In the 1920’s, the footwear fashion for men was to wear “Oxford” lace-up shoes—essentially a “closed tab shoe.” They were so-called because the eyelet tabs (these are the sections of leather with holes for the laces) were stitched under the front section of the shoe (known as the vamp) as opposed to be stitched on top.

Oxfords, typically, were black or brown leather, intended for everyday wear. At the time, especially in Britain, men of taste followed strict rules of “appropriate” dress. Brown shoes worn with a dinner suit were considered inappropriate. And, any display of vivid color footwear was thought to be vulgar.

And, then, there are these shoes of bright red leather adorned with gold swirls. Clearly, these were not made for actual wear. No, these shoes were made to be displayed in order to showcase the maker’s skills. They were displayed at the London International Shoe Fair in 1925. Joining them were a black and gold pair and a thoroughly blinding, marbled blue leather creation.

Made by the Coxton Shoe Co., Ltd. of Rushden (Northamptonshire), England, the shoes were made specifically to catch the eye of American buyers. While a British man would never have dared to wear bright red shoes, American men had more freedom. Though this particular pair would have seemed vulgar, even my American standards, the workmanship demonstrated that the Coxton concern was able to produce more exciting designs than other makers. and may have been aimed at the American market which was open to more exotic designs.

The shoes feature gold leather decoration, a rounded-pointed toe, six eyelets, and gold laces. Red stitching on gold decorative strips gives interest to the backstrap, toe-cap, facing, vamp and quarters. They boast a stacked heel and a brown leather sole with a scrolling pattern along the edges and a green stripe between two red wheeled stripes. 

History's Runway: Dior-Vivier Evening Slippers, 1952-4

Evening Shoes
Designed for Dior by Roger Vivier
1952-53
The Victoria & Albert Museum

Christian Dior often commissioned the famed Roger Vivier to design shoes to go with his fantastic romantic evening gowns. These slingback, low-heeled evening shoes of hot pink satin are adorned with gold braid, and encrusted with paste stones, and sequins. They surely are the epitome of luxury footwear as well as a perfect example of the brilliant union of two genius designers.

These shoes, like Dior’s gowns, could have only been afforded by the most wealthy ladies. These shoes once belonged to Mrs. Loel Guinness. Mrs. Guinness married into one of Europe's richest families and was a constant patron of designers such as Dior, Balenciaga and Givenchy. Mrs. Guinness was voted “Best Dressed Woman” in the world by Time magazine in 1962 behind Jackie Kennedy in first place. This charming socialite owned seven homes and kept a full wardrobe in each so that she would never have to pack for a trip. 

History's Runway: A Pair of Leather and Velvet Pattens, 1730-1740

Pair of pattens
c. 1720
The Victoria & Albert Museum

Pattens—overshoes of wood or iron—were cumbersome at best. Leather overshoes and clogs served as a more comfortable alternative, protecting the shoes without being dangerous. This pair from the early Eighteenth Century, for example is crafted of leather and partly covered in green velvet. It was made for a matching pair of brocaded, patterned silk shoes. The pattens were worn over the shoes, attached by latchet fastenings with ribbon ties. These overshoes were fitted to the arch of the shoes so that the foot would be supported, even with higher heeled shoes. 

Object of the Day, Museum Edition: A Pair of Silk Brocade Shoes, 1720-1730

One of a Pair of Shoes
Silk Brocade, Leather
1720-1730
Great Britain
The Victoria & Albert Museum

These shoes obviously weren’t made for comfort. But, they certainly were made for style. So, obviously, not a lot has changed in almost three hundred years. At least for women. Made in England between 1720 and 1730, the shoes are a creation of green, cream and red silk brocade with short “latchets” for a lace of ribbons over a long tongue. Green silk ribbon seals all the edges and seams. They sport red “Louis heels” and leather soles.


I can’t quite decide if these are men’s or women’s shoes and the supporting literature from the V&A doesn’t specify for which gender these were made. I think to quickly deem them women’s shoes would be to do them a disservice. First of all, men’s shoes (in the aristocracy) in Britain in the Eighteenth Century weren’t the boxy loafers of brown and black which have become the stuff of men’s footwear in the last century. Men’s fashions allowed for color, rich materials, gems and ribbons and I could see a gent wearing such shoes with his legs sheathed in hose. That’s not necessarily a pretty picture. It depends on the man you picture, I suppose. Monty Clift would look better in them than say, Burl Ives. But, that goes for just about anything. I digress.

I’m going to state that I think they’re men’s shoes. Any shoe historians out there, feel free to correct me.

They are quite nice looking. Here is one thing, however, that I’m glad has changed. While women suffer through terrible ordeals for foot fashion, men don’t have to. I don’t think I’d last long in shoes like this. I can barely keep my balance in Doc Martens. So, while I appreciate the look of them, I’ll say that boxy loafers are a practical improvement. That and hot running water. I like that, too.

History's Runway: A Pair of Silk Shoes, 1735

Silk Shoes
England, 1735
The Victoria & Albert Museum

With the exception of boots meant for outdoor use, very little leather was used in the making of shoes, especially women’s shoes, until the 1790s. Shoes, most often, were constructed of silks in the Eighteenth Century, and they were designed more for fashion than they were for comfort and practicality. So, not much has changed in the creation of women’s shoes in the last two hundred years. Well, except for the shape. Let’s take a look at this pair which is typical of the 1730s. Made in 1735, this pair shoes the predominate fashion of turned-up toes and curved heels. Of course, such delicate slippers were intended only for indoor use. These shoes were very rarely seen, in fact—usually hidden beneath layers of gown and petticoats. Dancing, in fact, was one of the few opportunities for a lady to show off her shoes.

Only the sole of the shoe is leather with the upper part constructed entirely of silk. The shoe maker took great care in matching the floral pattern to ensure that it fitted correctly over the toe of the shoe. The straps would have been held closed by a show buckle which would have been made of cut and polished steel to simulate diamonds or set with pastes. Sometimes, real stones were used on expensive buckles.

This pair was made in Spitalfields, England by an unknown maker.  

Unusual Artifacts: A Pair of Red Oxford Shoes, 1925

Oxford Shoes
Coxton Shoe Co., Ltd., 1925
Shown at the London International Shoe Fair
The Victoria & Albert Museum

In the 1920’s, the footwear fashion for men was to wear “Oxford” lace-up shoes—essentially a “closed tab shoe.” They were so-called because the eyelet tabs (these are the sections of leather with holes for the laces) were stitched under the front section of the shoe (known as the vamp) as opposed to be stitched on top.

Oxfords, typically, were black or brown leather, intended for everyday wear. At the time, especially in Britain, men of taste followed strict rules of “appropriate” dress. Brown shoes worn with a dinner suit were considered inappropriate. And, any display of vivid color footwear was thought to be vulgar.

And, then, there are these shoes of bright red leather adorned with gold swirls. Clearly, these were not made for actual wear. No, these shoes were made to be displayed in order to showcase the maker’s skills. They were displayed at the London International Shoe Fair in 1925. Joining them were a black and gold pair and a thoroughly blinding, marbled blue leather creation.

Made by the Coxton Shoe Co., Ltd. of Rushden (Northamptonshire), England, the shoes were made specifically to catch the eye of American buyers. While a British man would never have dared to wear bright red shoes, American men had more freedom. Though this particular pair would have seemed vulgar, even my American standards, the workmanship demonstrated that the Coxton concern was able to produce more exciting designs than other makers. and may have been aimed at the American market which was open to more exotic designs.

The shoes feature gold leather decoration, a rounded-pointed toe, six eyelets, and gold laces. Red stitching on gold decorative strips gives interest to the backstrap, toe-cap, facing, vamp and quarters. They boast a stacked heel and a brown leather sole with a scrolling pattern along the edges and a green stripe between two red wheeled stripes. 

Object of the Day: Standard Tip Shoes

The small-footed, circle-dancing children of Philadelphia required special shoes to fit their tiny toes and miniscule arches. After all, when dancing in a circle, precision is everything. So. One Thomas Harris & Co. of Philadelphia created Standard Tip Shoes especially for these diminutive dancers. Much rejoicing followed as the sextet danced around a banner in honor of Mr. Harris and his associates. I was just in Philadelphia a couple of days ago and if you listen carefully, you can still hear their cheers of “Thomas! Thomas! Thomas!” on the wind.

Okay, I kid. I couldn’t hear them at all. I was in the airport.

No. Really, this is a trade card from the early 1880s advertising for Standard Tip Shoes which were, indeed, made in Philadelphia by Thomas Harris and Co. The chromolithograph of joyful children was made for the Harris Company and was overprinted with retailer information, in this case, for T.C. Hanford & Co. of St. Louis.

In the Victorian tradition of wonky proportion in advertising imagery, the children pictured here do have especially small feet for their bodies. One would think that a card for shoes would emphasize the feet, but I suppose the illustrator made an effort to show how neat and tidy these, clearly well-fitted, shoes were.

The banner held by the children tells us that that in August of 1882, these shoes were made with “The best sole leather in the world.” It also states that the children demand them. “We’ll have no shoe without this trademark,” they declare—quite rightly, I’m sure.

Let’s have a look at the reverse. Ah, it seems the dancing children have donned “Robin Hood” hats. Led by a woman in trousers (Shock!) and a musical man, they have staged a parade in honor of Standard Tip Shoes. Everyone’s happy! They all have two feet! Well, except maybe for the girl in the back. A triumph for 1882, indeed!

But, are you worried that your children’s feet might not develop properly? Will they grow extra faces on their toes or whatnot? Well, Mr. Harris wants you to rest assured that he’s got it covered.

The copy reads:

THE 

“STANDARD TIP” 

WILL INSURE PERFECTLY DEVELOPED FEET 

FOR YOUR CHILDREN. 

LOOK FOR THE TRADE MARK BEFORE YOU BUY. 

Come all of you with “STANDARD TIPS”
     And fall into the line,
And as we march we sing the song
     The “STANDARD” every time.

Catchy! Catchy and comforting.

History's Runway: A Pair of Leather and Velvet Pattens, 1730-1740

Pair of pattens
c. 1720
The Victoria & Albert Museum

Pattens—overshoes of wood or iron—were cumbersome at best. Leather overshoes and clogs served as a more comfortable alternative, protecting the shoes without being dangerous. This pair from the early Eighteenth Century, for example is crafted of leather and partly covered in green velvet. It was made for a matching pair of brocaded, patterned silk shoes. The pattens were worn over the shoes, attached by latchet fastenings with ribbon ties. These overshoes were fitted to the arch of the shoes so that the foot would be supported, even with higher heeled shoes. 

Object of the Day: J. Fouent, Paris

Click on the image to dream of Jeannie.

This little lady is all tarted up like a bejeweled Genie. So, what’s she hawking? Harem pants? Cabochon-cut gems? Complicated hand fans? Nope.

This French trade card is advertising shoes. Specifically, The House of J. Fouent. You can see the original French text in the image below, but this is what it’s saying in English. More or less.

A SHOP FOR SHOES. 

BUY WITH CONFIDENCE 

THE HOUSE OF 
J. FOUENT 
51, Monge Street 

PARIS 

Shoes for Men and Women.

Shoes for Boys and Girls.

Shoes that are Sewn and Screwed

Shoes Made to Measure in 24 hours. 

Any shoe from the shop will be repaired for free.

Object of the Day: Edwin C. Burt Fine Shoes

Click on image to ride in a shoe.

I know that when I’m sledding in a giant ladies shoe (or, specifically in a giant lady’s shoe), I like to wave the American flag. Mine has fifty stars, I’m proud to say, but when this card was printed, the U.S. had markedly fewer states and wasn’t even twenty years past the Civil War.

This clever bit of Victorian weirdness was printed for “Edwin C. Burt, Fine Shoes.” Burt Shoes were a popular brand which was marketed through many retailers. The Burt Company would distribute these trade cards to retailers as a means of advertising individual shoe shops. As we can see, this one was overprinted with the information of a shop in Massachusetts. It reads, “Presented by P/B/ Robinson, 221 Essex St., Lawrence Mass.”

The reverse is neatly printed with additional information about Mr. Robinson’s shoe shop as well as some very vital data about Mr. Burt’s fancy shoes.

P.B. ROBINSON, 

Dealer in BOOTS and SHOES of every description, 

No. 221 Essex Street, 

LAWRENCE, MASS. 

Has a fine line of BURT’S GOODS, manufactured 

expressly for him by 

                                           EDWIN C. BURT, New York. 

CAUTION. 

THE GENUINE BURT SHOE has the name of 

EDWIN C. BURT 

stamped in full on the LINING and SOLE of EACH SHOE 

and are warranted. 

The Major Knapp, Lith. Co., 56 Park Place, N.Y. 

It seems that in the printing process, the sheet became misaligned and the “CAUTION” type was repeated. There’s also a curiously placed “Over” which makes little sense. However, look at that nifty logo for Burt’s Shoes! That indicates to us that this card was printed in 1878 or so.

Object of the Day: A Trade Card for Boots and Shoes

Click image to enlarge.

Here we have another issue with proportion. Either that’s one giant parakeet or one very small kitten. In any event, they’re not friends. To be accurate, the parakeet doesn’t really seem to care too much. He’s unfazed, but the kitten is entirely incensed.

That said, I find this card delightful and smiled when I found it amongst a new set of Victorian trade cards. In fact, I think that’s what I find appealing. It’s just such a Victorian scene. I’m not sure what the parakeet is sitting on. It looks like a box of matzo, but doubt it. Whatever it is, in pure 1880s fashion, it’s draped in a shawl and adorned with rosebuds and wheat.

This, of course, is a stock trade card which would have been selected from a catalog. The selector, it appears, was one:

HENRY DAMON, 
Boots & Shoes. 
25 Essex Street, 
BOSTON. 

The printer is listed as “something unreadable” Stetson, Printer, Quincy, Mass.

Let’s see what the reverse says:

HENRY DAMON, 

WHOLESALE AND RETAIL 

------------------------------

---<< BOOTS AND SHOES, >>--- 

------------------------------

25 ESSEX STREET, 

BOSTON. 

O.M.A.      M.R.A.      H.C.      and      U.F. 

I have no idea what those initials mean. All I know is that these two natural enemies—parakeet and cat—will forever be frozen in a strange, blasé, antagonistic dance. And, that, to me, is neat.

Click Image to Enlarge.

Gifts of Grandeur: The Harrods Shoe Snuffbox, c. 1870

Snuffbox, 1870-1880
The Talbot Collection at
The Victoria & Albert Museum

In the Nineteenth Century, boots and shoes were symbols of good luck. So, it was only natural that trinkets and personal objects should take the form of footwear. This snuffbox, dating between 1870 and 1880, is an excellent example of that phenomenon. The box is made in the shape of a fashionable Victorian lady’s button-boot of the 1860s. It is even adorned with metal studs just like the real thing would have been. The top of the boot forms the container for the snuff.

It’s a sure thing that this box was made in England, but other similar examples were imported from France at the time. The lid of the box is missing, but it’s still quite attractive. While most collectible snuffboxes were made of golf, hardstone or precious metals, some—like these novelty boxes—were made of wood. The mahogany box has been carefully hand painted, partly ebonized, and adorned with brass stringing, brass nails in the sole and heel, and brass and mother-of-pearl buttons.

Now part of the V&A’s Talbot Hughes Collection, the box was originally donated to the V&A by Messrs. Harrods of London in 1913. 

History's Runway: A Pair of Ladies Boots, c. 1865

Boots
French, 1865
The Victoria & Albert Museum

These red boots, laced at the back, are made of ribbed silk. They were designed to come up just above the ankle and are set with the then-fashionable “military” style heel. The heel has been covered in silk to match the uppers. They have are trimmed at the top with bobbin lace and ribbons.

London Society ladies of the 1860s and 1870s had a passion for these high-heeled French boots which were important from Parisian show-makers or often copied by English cobblers. According to the V&A, “The French influence was due to the stylish Empress Eugenie who had married the French emperor, Napoleon III, in 1853. She was probably responsible for the introduction of the shorter skirt which led to a greater emphasis on stockings and shoes.” Such boots tended to be rather gaudy by Nineteenth Century standards and were made in a variety of bold, bright colors thanks to the chemical aniline dyes which were introduced in the 1860s. 

Gifts of Grandeur: The Dame Joan Evans Shoe Buckles, 1770

Silver Shoe Buckles Set with Pastes
Circa 1770
The Victoria & Albert Museum

Dame Joan Evans didn’t just collect necklaces, earrings, tiaras and bracelets. Oh, no… She collected some shoe buckles as well. From Dam Joan’s collection, we have these shoe buckles of blue and white pastes set in silver. The rounded buckles are decorated with a ribbon of white pastes which is interrupted by larger pastes.

Gold or silver shoe buckles were in fashion during the bulk of the Eighteenth Century (falling out of vogue by the 1790s), adding a bit of an elegant touch to the bottommost part of an outfit. These glittering buckles were worn by men and women alike. Pastes were usually use in place of real gems on shoe buckles for the obvious reasons.