Thursday, October 28, 2010

The Fashionable Prostitute, Part III

How Prostitutes began the Fashion Magazine Industry

Today we have the glossy pages of Vogue and Glamour to find the most fashionable clothing, but during the Renaissance, courtesans were the super models of their day. The first costume books, called alba amicorum, contained detailed information on the fashion tastes of these leading ladies. As discussed in last week’s post, sumptuary laws proved useless in distinguishing a noble woman from a courtesan. Thus, the yellow pages of prostitutes, catalogs such as Il Catalogo di tutte le principale et piu honorate cortigiana di Venezia required courtesans to register with their name, addresses, procuress (sadly, usually dear mom) and fees. (Famed courtesan Veronica Franco charged six scudi for just a kiss. )

But by the 17th century, costume books began to merge with courtesan catalogs. One of the first examples of this early amalgamation of sex and fashion was Crispijn de Passe the elder’s Miroir. In the forward of the Miroir, Crispijn writes that the book is intended as a fashion guide for the typical stay at home mom. He apologizes for using courtesans as his subject matter, but they simply were quicker to adopt new fashions.  

Yet, we can clearly see from the plate that follows that this is not your Lady’s Home Journal guide to dressing. In this typical brothel scene, a wealthy patron selects his companion for the evening based on the portraits that are presented to him.


Other plates follow, many depicting the most risqué clothing of its day worn by courtesans cleverly disguised by pseudonyms. The woman above is showing a little too much chest hair even by 17th century standards.  The Miroir became a best seller and continued to be reprinted in the 18th century.

(switching to my pedantic old lady voice that all the kids love...)
If you were to look through a typical fashion magazine today, you could argue that the line between sex and fashion is still just as blurred.

You can find more of images from the Miroir over at The Rare Books Forum.

Wednesday, October 27, 2010

I Feel Better with a Frog in my Throat receives Oppenheim award!

I Feel Better with a Frog in my Throat was just given a Platinum Best Book Award for Early Readers by the Oppenheim Toy Portfolio folks. This is really such an honor because I always look for the Oppenheim award on the toys I buy for my kids. I had completely forgotten that they have a book award too. Congratulations to the other books in this category! Please check out the winners here.

Thursday, October 21, 2010

I Feel Better with a Frog in my Throat, Book Trailer

I had some HUGE talent for this book trailer! I am going to have to pay the voice over artist in endless back rubs.

Wednesday, October 20, 2010

Elizabeth I's Magical Unicorn

In the 16th century, Elizabeth I’s seamen were like little boys running in a vast field, trying to find the prettiest wild flowers to run back and give to their queen mum. Francis Drake, John Hawkins, Humphrey Gilbert, they were all in the race of their lives to find the best trade routes and the richest treasures to bring home to the woman who held the keys to Gloriana. But on July 22, 1577, English privateer, Martin Frobisher found the holy grail of treasures when he landed in Northern Canada while looking for the Northwest Passage through the Arctic Ocean. There, washed up on the icy shores, a long, spiral horn thrust through the earth and caught the sun’s rays like spun glass. This strange, white object was the remains of one of the most beautiful mythological creatures in Christendom and so rare that it could only be captured by a virgin.
Frobisher had not found just common beach debris. He had found the horn of a unicorn. To Read more, visit On the Tudor Trail>>

Tuesday, October 19, 2010

Packing up my bags...

and on the Tudor Trail today. Catch me at my new favorite blog revealing what Elizabeth I's pearls are really made of, my favorite wife of Henry VIII and why Tudor history is so darn addictive. Stay tuned later this week for a guest post on Elizabeth I's unicorn.

Tuesday, October 12, 2010

The Fashionable Prostitute: Part 2



Rated R for Raucous Content

On the evening of October 30th 1501, Johanna Burchard made his way through Rome’s windy streets and followed the smell of roasting pig flesh and warmed chestnuts wafting out of the Vatican Palace. As Master of the Ceremonies, he was expected to attend every fete hosted by Pope Alexander VI and his son Cesare Borgia, but he had grown tired of the endless parties. Night after night, the Borgias celebrated the forthcoming marriage between the pope’s daughter, Lucrezia and her betrothed, Alfonso d’este.

As Burchard entered the dimly lit apartments, the low sounds of swishing velvet enveloped him as fifty beautiful courtesans beckoned him inside. Pearls, rubies and emeralds coiled around their necks and down their low cut gowns like overgrown vines strangling a tree. Rubbing his tired eyes, Burchard recognized the sumptuously dressed blonde, known as Fiammetta, strumming her lute above the banquet table. She was Cesare’s mistress and was rumored to be so rich that she had commissioned an entire fresco to be painted in the church of S. Agostino. Across the room a plump, golden haired beauty with reddened earlobes sang before her admiring crowd, demurely lowering her eyes to see who was watching. She was known as Imperia, the most beautiful women he had ever laid eyes on and the cherished muse of Raphael.  The rest of the women were nestled in corners flirting with Rome’s finest nobleman, only occasionally lifting their heads to let their silver bell laughter fill the room.

These women were not your typical meretrici (prostitutes), but members of a ruling class called cortigiana (courtesans) and they were not just beautiful ornaments, but educated in art, music, dance, poetry and most importantly, conversation. Yet, if we are to believe Burchard’s account, their greatest talents were in the art of making love. In the darker pages of his diary, Burchard writes:

 “After supper the lighted candelabra which had been on the table were placed on the floor, and chestnuts thrown among them which the prostitutes had to pick up as they crawled between the candles. The Pope, the Duke and Lucrezia, his sister, were present looking on. At the end they displayed prizes of silk mantles, boots, and other objects which were promised to whomsoever should have made love to these prostitutes the greatest number of times. The prizes were distributed to the winners according to the judgement of those present.”(1)

Understandably, the pope failed to make it to mass the next day.

Burchard (who was no friend of the Borgia) is the only person to relay such louche details so historians have long wondered if the famous “banquet of the chestnuts” is perhaps a little exaggerated. Still, we can imagine that your typical Borgia get-together probably did not have the pin the tail on the donkey type of party games.  We also can only guess at who attended this infamous orgy. Cesare, Lucrezia and Alexander were there, but we do not know if their famed mistresses attended. One thing is for certain. Any party thrown by the diabolical Cesare Borgia would have had the most desired women at his beck and call. 

The reign of the Borgias was the golden age for courtesans. Wealthy courtesans rode through the streets throwing gilded eggs filled with rose water or coyly sang from their windows down to their admirers below. Prostitution became so ubiquitous that Pietro Aretino’s  (best remembered for his contributions to the Book of the Prick) cantankerously observed that “Rome always has been and ever will be….the town of whores.” 

Aretino’s views may have been colored by his animosity toward the Romans after he was forced to flee Venice. Rome was certainly not the only city where prostitution was rampant.  Venice especially became celebrated for the classical beauty of their art, architecture and women. Estimates vary, but there were roughly 11,000 prostitutes servicing 300,000 inhabitants.

With so many prostitutes and courtesans, how could a typical traveler tell the difference between a puttana (whore) and respectable matrona (married woman)? Your lower class courtesans were usually easier to spot.  They dressed like men wearing braghesse (codpieces) and dresses cut so low that it revealed their breasts. Most fantastic of all were the shoes.  Venetian prostitutes wore shoes that would have intimidated even the most daring super models of today. Called pianelles, they were made of wood and elevated the wearer as much as a foot above the ground. You can see from the picture above that navigating a dirty street would be next to impossible without the help from a suitor or two.   

Your higher priced onesta cortegiana (honest courtesan) dressed so well that it would often be very difficult to tell them apart from the rest of patriarchal society. This was a problem not just in Venice and Rome, but throughout Italy. It was especially problematic when they attended mass. You have to remember that church was the fashion runway of the day and often the only chance most women got to show off their wares. So we can imagine that if you were a respectable noble woman and some hussy pranced by you wearing more glitter than a Christmas tree that it would start to unnerve you. Eventually, the class wars led to the upstanding socielities of Florence to put pressure on the Grand Duke to enact sumptuary laws for all courtesans. Prostitutes were not allowed to wear gold, silver, gemstones, or silk. That meant no fancy pearls. (This led to the practice of prostitutes flashing their necks to show that they were unadorned.) Florence’ prostitutes were also required to wear a yellow veil with a big, tacky yellow stripe on it known as “the whore’s mirror.”  If you wanted to find a prostitute in Florence, you just had to follow the yellow stripes like a road map.

Now dear reader, in these tough economic times, I hope you can relate to the sentiment that everyone has to make a living. Telling a courtesan that she can’t wear her pearls is kind of like telling a fire fighter he can’t use a hose.  Most courtesans simply ignored the sumptuary laws or were granted special dispensations to dress as they please. Such was the case with famed courtesan and prolific writer, Tullia d’ Aragona  who pulled a few “favors” from the Duke and was allowed to dress like a noblewoman.  As educated women and skillful conversationist, most courtesans sought to distance themselves from the common prostitutes. Lucieta Padovana was indignant regarding the sumptuary laws arguing, “non reptandose meretrice” but instead a “cortesana” (2). (Basically…I am not some common prostitute. I am a courtesan. Big difference. )

Still sumptuary laws persisted and often became difficult to keep track of. In Florence, prostitutes were required to wear gloves, wooden high heels, and a bell on her headpiece (assumingly so everyone could hear her siren jingle coming.) In Bergamo 1490, a saffron colored scarf was required. In Piedmonth, they had to decorate their headgear with horns.  In Milan, they were required to wear white in 1492, black in 1498, white again in 1541. You could see how all of this would get confusing for the common traveler. As they say, necessity is the mother of invention, or at least it was for Crispijn de Passe the elder whose best seller, the Miroir (1603) became the defacto guide for seeking out fashionable courtesans.

to be continued in Part 3 of the Fashionable prostitute…


Notes:
(1) Bradford, p. 121
(2) Rosenthal, p. 72


Sources and Further Reading:
Bradford, Sarah. Lucrezia Borgia: Life, Love and Death in Renaissance, Penguin 2005
Rosenthal, Margaret. The Honest Courtesan, University of Chicago Press, 1993
Rosenthal, Margaret F. and Jones, Ann Rosalind. The Clothing of the Renaissance World, Thames and Hudson, 2008

Wednesday, October 6, 2010

A Most Dangerous Game

Treacherous, Corrupt, Self-serving. Say what you will about Milan’s Visconti family, but they sure knew how to play cards in style.  The Visconti Tarot (also know at the Cary-Yale deck) may be one of the oldest set of playing cards in existence. The ornately painted, gold-leaf deck was created by Bonifacio Bembo between 1428-1447. We do not know who commissioned it, but its owner was most likely the third duke of Milan, Filippo Maria Visconti. Filippo was an avid card player and astrologist paying 1500 gold pieces for another set of cards containing gods, animals and birds.  

The image above depicts the Knight of Swords, but interestingly instead of the usual male figure, the cards show a demure woman wearing a balzo (her hairstyle) surrounded by some serious bling. Due to the female depiction, it is believed the deck was used by a court lady. My guess would be Maria di Savoia, second wife of Filippo Maria Visconti, but the woman in the card may be a portrayal of Filippo's previous wife - Beatrice di Tenda. 

Queen of Hope
Beatrice was the wealthy window of condottiero and defacto ruler of Milan, Facino Cane. On his deathbed, Facino encouraged Beatrice to take Filippo as her husband to secure an alliance with the Visconti family. Although she was twenty years his senior, Filippo was willing to look past such things when the misses came with a hefty dowry and an army of soldiers ready to die for her. While the people of Milan adored Beatrice, Filippo’s resentment toward her and her more popular dead husband grew daily. He increasingly ignored her and fixed his attentions on his mistress Agnes de Maino. In her solitude, Beatrice surrounded herself with men of letters including one unfortunate musician named Orombello.

You can guess what followed. Filippo accused Beatrice of having an affair with Orombello and threw them in the castle dungeon. Set to the rack, Orombello confessed, but Beatrice remained steadfast in her innocence. It hardly mattered. Both were condemned to die without a trial. Fearing the people’s outrage at what was basically a judicial murder, he ordered Beatice’s to be decapitated under cover of darkness. After a few more rounds of torture to get that confession, Beatrice di Tenda was executed at the Castle of Binasco in 1418.

The Card of Hope

What is also of note is the cards of Faith, Charity and Hope (shown above), which were not usually included in a 15th century deck. Notice that the figure of Hope is chained to an anchor while a man at her feet is bound to the same anchor. In Renaissance art, St. Peter is usually depicted at the feet of Faith, but the card of Hope may have a more literal translation.  

In 1428, Filippo married Maria di Savoia and her dad reigned as antipope Felix V.This deck of cards may have been given to Maria as a wedding gift with a potent reminder of what became of his previous wife.

Today, Beatrice’s legacy lives on in the tragic opera by Vincenzo Bellini, but could she also be portrayed in the card of Hope?

You can see more of these beautiful images at the Beinecke Rare Books & Manuscript Digital Collection.  Just search by "Visconti Tarot."

Sources and Further Reading:
The Beinecke Rare Books & Manuscript Library, Call Number ITA 109
Kaplan, Stuart & Huet, Jean, The Encyclopedia of Tarot, Volume II, US Game Systems, 1986.
Buell Hale, Sarah Josepha, Woman's record; or, Sketches of all distinguished women, from "the beginning" till A.D. 1850. Arranged in four eras. With selections from female writers of every age, Nabu Press, 2010


Monday, October 4, 2010

The Fashionable Prostitute: Part 1

(lock the young ones in their rooms…this one is for the adults)

Said in my old lady, lecturing voice…
Today’s celebrities have it much easier than fashionistas of the past. One minute they can sashay on stage donning a slab of meat and the next minute slip into a velour tracksuit with some catchy double entendre/logo splashed across their derriere.  (I am so fashion ignorant that whenever I see the Juicy Couture logo across someone’s chest, I immediately wonder if they are lactating.) Liberated women (aka prostitutes) of the past were stuck wearing the same clothes day in and day out.  The following is a brief history of how to dress like a prostitute.  

The unVeiled Seductress
In Ancient Assyria, respectable women could not leave the house without wearing a veil, but prostitutes did not have to cover up. In fact, if a prostitute dared to wear a veil then they were punished with a 100 lashes.

The Tattooed Temptress
What are sometimes referred to as “tramp stamps” today, may have identified ancient Egyptian women as concubines. Several preserved mummies of dancers and concubines have been found with geometric designs tattooed on their bodies. The best example is Amunet Priestess of Hathor found inked up with parallel lines on her arms and thighs and elliptical patterns below her navel.

Clothing with a Message
If you wanted to flaunt your juicy booty in ancient Greece, you certainly didn’t write it on your buttocks. Way too obvious. Instead, you had the words “AKOLOTHI” (follow me) inscribed on the bottom of your sandals with small metal studs. These sandals left impressions in the unpaved earth and soon prostitutes became known as “chamaitype” or “earth beaters.” Other prostitutes wrote messages on their clothing. In one example, Asclepiades wrote of a streetwalker named Hermione who wore a girdle embroidered coyly with, "Love me always, but do not be jealous if others do as you do." (1)

Blonde-alicious
By the time Ancient Rome was in full swing (and roads were paved), prostitutes became so ubiquitous that authorities needed a way to distinguish women of the night from the more respectable matrona. Enter the blonde bombshells. Roman sumptuary laws required prostitutes to identify themselves by wearing a blonde wig. The theory went something like this; if only whores are blonde then aristocratic women would naturally want venerable dark hair. Unfortunately, most women were quick to figure out what Miss Clairol new all along – Blondes have more fun. Famed bad girl, Messalina certainly wasn’t going to stay cooped up inside brushing her dark locks. She was rumored to sneak out at night to Rome’s red light district hidden beneath an ash-blonde wig.  Sometimes she even staggered home without her yellow hair, only to have it disgracefully returned in the morning. Eventually, Messalina's party going ways left her blonde head a tad shorter when she seduced Roman Senator, Gaius Silius. Her husband, Emperor Claudius ordered Messalina's death and traded her in for a far less forgetful, Agrippina the Younger. 

Stay tuned for part two : The Fashionable Renaissance Prostitute.

Notes:
Vern, p. 38 


Sources and Further Reading
Bullough, Vern. Women and Prostitution: A Social History, Prometheus Books, 1887
Pitman, Joanna. On Blondes, Bloomsbury, 2003
Sherrow, Victoria. For Appearance' Sake: The Historical Encyclopedia of Good Looks, Beauty, and Grooming, Greenwood, 2001