How the corset once the symbol of oppression is now a sexy liberation!
By a historian who thought she’d hate them – but has been seduced, along with so many fans of Bridgerton
The corset is officially back. And with one of the most compelling aspects of fashion being not only the everevolving styles of the clothes themselves, but what they symbolise, nothing embodies this more than the corset.
After all, it has laced the line between empowerment and oppression for centuries.
A garment which restricts the female body may be seen as an outdated tool of the patriarchy, designed to physically confine women within the accepted limits of a male standard of beauty. But the history of the corset is as playful and subversive as its intricate fastenings.
And now, whether it’s Adele in custom-made Vivienne Westwood on the cover of Vogue, 55-yearold halle Berry triumphant in a white silk and mesh version, or the latest crop of Love Island contestants in a succession of eye-popping numbers, corsets have been embraced from the red carpet to the high Street.
Some claim this is the Bridgerton effect, with online searches for corsets increasing on fashion site Lyst by 306 per cent since the Netflix hit show’s second season aired.
But a thirst for Regency romance doesn’t quite explain it. After all, bonnets aren’t making an equivalent comeback.
Rather, corsets feel current in the way heels suddenly do again — in a post-pandemic world, they offer not only a sense of extravagance and escapism, but polish and even protection.
Corsets are often seen as sexy, but this wasn’t always the case. In 16th-century europe, ‘stays’ as they were known, were a mark of modesty and respectability.
In elizabethan england, the ‘ stomacher’, a whalebone-stiffened panel inserted into the front of the gown, became a display case for elite women, bejewelled or lavishly embroidered as a sign of the wearer’s wealth and status.
No one did it better than elizabeth I, who used the stomacher as a sort of message-board, choosing its decoration according to which political message she wanted to convey. Around this time, not wearing a corset was a sign of sexual availability, as in the case of Louis XIV’s mistress, Francoise-Athenais de Montespan.
The king was not a patient man and accessibility was key to his affections. To differentiate herself from Louis’s wife, Queen Marie-Therese, who spent her life trussed up in corsetry, Athenais invented a daring new dress, the ‘ deshabillé’ style, which was loose, flowing and fastened with ribbons. It scandalised the court at Versailles.
With the invention of steel stays in the 1830s, corsets became even more repressive.
According to the fashion historian Valerie Steele, the dangers of Victorian corsetry have been exaggerated — there is little real evidence that they damaged women’s internal organs, but they were certainly believed to be a moral restraint. Curiously,
the corset became saucy only after it had been rejected as the enemy of progress.
As greater numbers of women began to demand access to education and the vote at the end of the 19th century, advocates of ‘Rational Dress’ claimed the corset as a symbol of political oppression. In 1873, Elizabeth Phelps Ward called on women to ‘make a bonfire of the cruel steels that have lorded it over your thorax and abdomen!’
As they embraced emancipation, corsets were consigned to the boudoir and designers such as Mariano Fortuny and Coco Chanel introduced clean, simple lines which liberated the body as never before.
At the 1968 Miss America protest, activists consigned the corset, along with bras and girdles, to the ‘Freedom Trash Can’, but still its allure persisted.
In the punk era, ‘Queen of the Corset’ Vivienne Westwood reinvented what had become a sign of submission as a form of rebellion, while in the Eighties Thierry Mugler and Jean-Paul Gaultier sent out Glamazon versions which celebrated women’s increased confidence in their sexuality.
Dolce & Gabbana riffed on Sicilian sirens and latter-day Sophia Lorens, while Noughties Prada and Alexander McQueen contrasted sharp, masculine tailoring with discordantly sexy corsetry.
So with celebrities such as actresses Eva Longoria and Dakota Johnson, singer Dua Lipa and model Gigi Hadid showcasing corsets once more, how truly wearable is the trend?
As a woman in my mid-40s, I’m not wildly enthusiastic about a look that exposes so much upper arm and what’s left of my cleavage.
But I decide to give it go, opting for a reassuringly solid floral version from Zara, a sultry number from underwear brand Gossard and a black satin corset from Pour Moi that falls somewhere in between.
To my surprise, they actually suit me, offering a level of support and structure that stops me from feeling overly exposed. Similar to various styles lining our High Streets, Zara’s pastel corset felt surprisingly comfortable and — like all the items pictured here — felt more exciting than a normal top when paired with trousers and a great heel. For those nervous about giving the corset a try, this style would also lend itself to slipping a simple white T- shirt underneath, allowing you to enjoy the waist and stomach-cinching benefits without revealing any shoulder.
The Gossard one veers a tad too far into lingerie territory for my liking, but worn with a blazer or suit jacket for an evening out, it’s sultry without being too shouty.
Meanwhile, Pour Moi’s black satin number struck the perfect balance between reserve and romance, managing to offer a hint of playfulness without leaving me feeling underdressed.
While fastening it is a bit fiddly, it’s hardly difficult in the clinging-to-the-bedposts-tyle of Scarlett-O’Hara.
And once a corset’s on, it’s firmly on, making me feel I could stride into the day and forget about it.
On a practical level it was also notably great for my posture, and in turn my confidence — always key for feeling, and looking, truly sexy.
Because perhaps part of the appeal of corsets is they offer the sense of control of which we all feel in need. Or maybe they’re just fun.
Either way, a corset is a subtly sexy addition to your wardrobe this summer.
Even the impatiently lusty Louis XIV, I can’t help but think, would approve.
It was great for my posture as well as my confidence