I still have the March 2009 issue of Vogue magazine. Granted, part of the reason I'm hanging onto it is that I am a notorious pack rat. Throwing away anything that I think might have a future use is against my nature. But I have specifically saved this issue, because First Lady Michelle Obama, wearing a sleeveless dress, is on the cover.
When the March issue of Vogue appeared on the stands, Mrs. Obama had only been First Lady for about six weeks. Even so, she had already started a buzz in the fashion world because of her taste in clothing, and, especially, her tendency to wear sleeveless dresses. I read the commentaries on her "sleevelessness" with a sense of bemusement. Some things never change.
One hundred and twenty-three years earlier, in mid-1886, another First Lady was making headlines because of her sleeveless attire. That First Lady was Frances Folsom Cleveland, a young, lithe, extremely attractive woman, who had returned from her pre-wedding trip to Paris with a trunk-ful of new clothes. Naturally, her new role as the nation's First Lady was a two-edged sword: her beautiful and stylish attire would be on display during Washington's social season, and her clothing would be the subject of much discussion.
Her sleeveless dresses, with their low necklines, were indeed a subject of much discussion. The most outspoken group was the Women's Christian Temperance Union, which sent her a letter asking her to dress more modestly as an example for young women throughout the United States. The letter from the WCTU was especially curious, considering that Frances was a professed teetotaler, and that her college roommate was the niece of the WCTU's founder, Frances Willard. (The WCTU never did take a full liking to the nation's First Lady; it also criticized her for using a bottle of champagne to christen a ship, suggesting she should have used something non-alcoholic.)
Sleevelessness was not the only thing that Washington's society writers noted about the First Lady when it came to fashion. They found it newsworthy that she removed her bonnet when she attended theater - which was quite regularly - and started a trend that was ultimately seen as respectful to those who sat behind women wearing large hats that normally blocked the view of the stage.
The one "fashion statement" that was attributed to Frances, but which, in fact, she had nothing to do with, was the elimination of the bustle. That rumor was started one hot summer day in 1887 when there was no real news and a reporter needed to file something with his paper. He announced that Mrs. Cleveland's new wardrobe would no longer feature the bustle, and women's clothiers immediately packed the contraptions away in the basement. When Frances returned to Washington in the fall and embarked on a shopping trip, she asked for a bustle. "But Mrs. Cleveland," the sales clerk informed her, "ever since you stopped wearing the bustle, we took the remaining ones we had and put them in the basement. No one is buying them any more!"
"In that case," Frances replied, "I guess I really will have to stop wearing them." And she did.
Frances never waffled on her views about sleeveless dresses and low necklines, though. Her 1899 official portrait, by the artist, Anders Zorn, renders her in a sleeveless gown with just the right amount of decolletage to still be considered modest.
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