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Monthly Archives: February 2009

It will be no surprise to anyone who reads this blog that I subscribe to way more fashion magazines than are good for me. This year, I have resolved to save money and cut back to just 2 or 3. But which ones? I really ought to cut Vogue. They often have, er, questionable cover model choices (Blake Lively? Really? Don’t they know those Gossip Girl clothes are chosen by a wardrobe team???), condescending articles about The Wonders of Shopping at Target (who knew?), and too many socialites no one has ever heard of, yet who Vogue seems to think we should really, really care about. And yet, Vogue, I just can’t quit you. Because once in a while you come with a fabulous issue like the new March ’09.

I squealed when I opened my mailbox and saw this gorgeous Michelle Obama cover. It makes up for Blake Lively last month. Plus articles about Carla Bruni-Sarkozy, Queen Rania of Jordan, and one about English country estates incorporating contemporary art into their gardens (like Sudeley, Lismore, and Houghton Hall. I’m not sure what I think about this, really, after seeing that ridiculous Koons exhibit at Versailles last fall, but the houses look gorgeous…)
Italic
The Obama article actually deals very little with fashion, aside from a couple paragraphs and some speculation as to what influence she will have on American style. Obama says, “I love clothes. First and foremost, I wear what I love. That’s what women have to focus on: what makes them feel comfortable and beautiful. If I can have any impact, I want women to feel good about themselves and have fun with fashion.”

Fashion ‘leaders’ are nothing new, of course. There was Cleopatra, Helen of Troy, etc. And Marie Antoinette became Queen of France at a very young age, after a long line of dowdy, dusty queens (it was seen as a mistress’s job to be fashionable, not a queen’s). Caroline Weber, in her great book Marie Antoinette: Queen of Fashion says, “From her earliest days at Versailles, Marie Antoinette staged a revolt against entrenched court etiquette by turning her clothes into defiant expressions of autonomy and prestige.” And others followed her lead, even as she shocked with her rebellious innovations. Felix de Montjoie, in his 1797 biography of the queen, said, “By one of those contradictions that are more common in France than anywhere else, even as the people were criticizing the Queen for her outfits, they continued frenetically to imitate her.”

She introduced the “pouf” hairstyle, the idea of a ‘trendy’ color (such as the vividly named ‘caca dauphin’ when her first son was born), and the frilly muslin ‘gaulle’ dress and straw hat (“the unofficial uniform of the Petit Trianon,” says Weber). She also liked polonaise-style gown, the masculine-tailored redingote and tricorn hat for riding, and shorter trains and smaller panniers even for court life.

In England, queens were also not traditionally looked to for fashion trends. (Not since Elizabeth I, maybe, with her ruffs and white makeup. No one asked Queen Charlotte for style advice, I’m sure!). That was up to ton ladies, especially dashing, charismatic ones like Georgiana, Duchess of Devonshire. Her every outfit, every accessory, was observed and avidly copied (towering plumes, picture hats, colors like “Devonshire brown”). The gaulle caught on in England when Marie Antoinette made a present of one to Georgiana (which she then wore to a ball given by the Prince of Wales, setting off a furor). The Lady’s Magazine wrote, “all the Fair Sex now, from 15 to 50 and upwards…appear in their white muslin frocks with broad sashes.”

In 1785, a purveyor of perfumes and toiletries advertised he had ‘just imported a quantity of curious, beautiful, and sweet Powder a la Duchesse, or Devonshire Powder.’ In 1786, a scandal ensued when one of her dressmakers sold drawings to several ladies, supposedly of Georgiana’s latest gowns. Imagine the horror when they all showed up at a ball in the same gown–and Georgiana in something else entirely!

She was, like Marie Antoinette, not shy about using fashion in the service of politics. She often wore the Foxite “blue and buff”, especially when on the campaign trail. During the first Regency crisis, she and her friends donned a ‘Regency cap’ designed after the Prince of Wales crest with three feathers.

There could, of course, be a post days long on the crazy fashions of Marie Antoinette and Georgiana! I’m only grateful now that Michelle Obama tends toward sleeveless dresses as a trend and not poufs. But what do you think? Who are some of your favorite Fashion Icons? (I like Audrey Hepburn and Coco Chanel).

And be sure and check out my Oscar picks here, and don’t forget to become a ‘fan’ of Risky Regencies on Facebook! Happy weekend, everyone…


It’s a perpetual problem for me, and I suspect for most of us, staying motivated. Especially since I have no deadline except for a self-imposed one. Which is a roundabout way of saying I know I’ve blogged about this before, but it is something that surfaces often:

How can I maintain a writing schedule and discipline, especially when things–MI-5, the recession, my son’s homework, ironing the Dandy Spouse‘s shirts, going to the gym, etc.–all serve to distract me from writing?

Right now, I am sitting in my friend Liz Maverick‘s apartment, having made a Writing Date with her. That is one way for me to write, if I schedule it in; another way is to remind myself that while I am not published now, the only way for me to have that possibility is to generate new writing (my agent, btw, is still out with my Regency-set historical, but things are moving slowly, so it’s not completely a dead ms. Whew for me).

Another way to motivate myself is through rewards: If I write this chapter, I can justify spending money and time on novels. If I don’t keep writing, I’ll just be wasting my time and money on a passion I can ill afford.

Plus Spring always makes me cheery, and today is a particularly beautiful day in New York City.

So now? I am going back to writing. Let me know how you stay motivated for whatever you do.

Megan

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On this day in 1815, Napoleon escaped from the island of Elba, where he’d been exiled for just under a year, set sail for France, and in one of those unexpected twists of history, returned to power. No one’s quite sure how he managed to escape, but Napoleon was a man of great energy and industry, and although contemporary cartoons depict him as a disconsolate exile on a rocky island, that was artistic license. His exile gave rise to this palidrome–able was I ere I saw Elba.

Now one of the many differences between the rest of us and the Corsican Monster is that if we were living in a castle in this sort of scenery, we’d grit our teeth and stay put. But not Napoleon. Apart from plotting his escape, he was quite busy as Emperor of Elba, carrying out social and economic reforms. He had a personal escort of 1,000 men, a household staff, and 110,000 subjects.

It was a time of great misery for Napoleon, the man who’d once had almost all of Europe at his feet. The Treaty of Fontainbleu, which appointed him Emperor of Elba, also sent his wife and son to Vienna. Napoloen was so distraught he attempted to commit suicide with a vial of poison he carried, but the poison was old and only made him sick. Shortly after his arrival, he learned of the death of the former Empress Josephine.

It’s possible his English guardians on the island aided, or at least turned a blind eye to, Napoleon’s escape plans. The restored French monarchy was proving unsatisfactory, which meant that once again the balance of power in Europe was threatened. This is discussed in this fascinating article, A Sympathetic Ear: Napoleon, Elba, and the British, which also explores the phenomenon of Napoleon as tourist trap.

British seamen proved to be keen visitors. Indeed, Napoleon had embarked for Elba on April 28th, aboard the frigate HMS Undaunted, whose captain, Thomas Ussher, wrote home on May 1st: ‘It has fallen to my extraordinary lot to be the gaolor of the instrument of the misery Europe has so long endured’. By the end of the month, the man whom Ussher could not even bring himself to name had become his ‘bon ami’, and had given him 2,000 bottles of wine, and a diamond encrusted snuffbox. In return Ussher presented Napoleon with a barge, which he flatteringly reserved for his own exclusive use.

Napoleon landed in Cannes on March 1 and declared:

I am the sovereign of the Island of Elba, and have come with six hundred men to attack the King of France and his six hundred thousand soldiers. I shall conquer this kingdom.

As he progressed through France, soldiers sent to attack him instead joined him, so that he made a triumphant return into Paris on March 20. There’s a great first-hand account of his arrival here.

I’m over at the History Hoydens today talking about the French invasion of Fishguard in Wales, a fascinating but fairly obscure event, and it brings to mind similar thoughts. We have the popular image of Napoleon brooding alone on his rocky island, when in fact he was as busy as ever, planning his escape and probably with British collusion.

So why do you think some historical legends persist and others are forgotten?

Would you have gone to visit Napoleon on Elba?

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Good morning, everyone! It’s always such a delight to be a Risky for a Day.

You might know I’ve started my own blog called “In Search of Heroes,” and I’m having alot of fun with it- the way I look at it, everything related to reading and writing romance is the search for the hero. Today reinforces my theory because today, my hero is a woman, Susanna Dalton Dalbiac, the Heroine of the Battle of Salamanca..

Susanna was born in 1787 and married James Charles Dalbiac, who had joined the 4th Light Dragoons as a cornet in 1797 and made them his lifelong career. Charles joined the Portugal campaign in April 1809, and when he fell ill of a fever, Susanna rushed to his side to nurse him,
and thereafter stayed with him.

According to William Napier, “This gentle lady has followed her husband through two whole campaigns in the Spanish Peninsula. She has been by his side in every danger- in every vicissitude she has borne her loving share. In all the thrilling movements of the past few days she has ridden close to her husband’s regiment. Again and again has he urged her to seek security but as often she has refused to leave him.”

On the night before the Battle of Salamanca, Susanna and her husband slept beneath the stars, she wrapped in his greatcoat, when a thunderstorm struck, stampeding the terrified cavalry horses. Charles snatched up his wife to safety atop some artillery pieces, and he climbed up after her, but there were many of the dragoons who were trampled, Thirty horses were still missing the next morning.

Despite such an inauspicious start to the day, Wellington found the advantage he needed in the audacious mistake of his counterpart, Marmont, who thought he was seizing an opportunity to outflank the British-Portuguese Army. But he didn’t know Wellington had judiciously hidden Pakenham’s 3rd Division behind the hill, at an angle to the main force, the very place where Marmont’s troops hurried to attack and turn the British flank. As the French over-extended themselves to trap their foe, Pakenham lunged, cutting off a good part of the French forces. Then
Le Marchant’s Heavy Cavalry came at the enemy in a wild and brutal assault that left the French in ruins and their commander, Thomieres, dead..

The 4th Light Dragoons were a part of Le Marchant’s assault, and Susanna rode after them. As described by Major Elliott, “The cannon shot of the enemy flew past her, the French shells burst all around. Leaden bullets pierced her riding habit in many places.. . The cavalry trumpets rang
out an order, the horses broke into a rapid trot, she drew aside her horse, for she knew that a desperate charge was at that moment to be delivered.”

As the cavalry rode into their own cloud of dust, Susanna spotted a color guard with an arm wound gushing blood, and she bandaged it and gave him wine from her flask. From then on, she raced about from one wounded man to another offering aid, and when her wine was gone, she
bent to a stream to refill her flask, bullets flying all around her and splashing water in her face.

It was many hours later, hunting through the thousands of dead, dying and wounded, not knowing if he lived or had died, before she finally caught up with her husband again, and they embraced on the battlefield. “As the regiment was dismissed from its ranks, all its remaining men gathered around the brave lady with demonstrations of deepest admiration and respect.”

Susanna stayed with her husband until they returned to England, and never returned to the campaign again. In 1814, she gave birth to her daughter, Susanna Stephania Dalbiac, who later married the Scottish Duke of Roxburgh. Many years later, Charles spoke of his wife, “Of this
incomparable wife I will only add that a mind of the most refined cast, and with the frame of body alas too delicate she was, when in the field, a stranger to personal fear.”

In looking for pictures of Susanna, I could find nothing at all. Then I came upon a family genealogy site which showed a picture of her husband James Charles Dalbiac, in his later years, still in uniform, and one of her daughter. But there’s something wrong with that photo. Most of you can probably spot it quickly. The young woman in the photo- probably a photo of a painting- is wearing a dress of the very late 18th or very early 19th Century, when the elder Susanna would have been a young woman. The younger Susanna was not born when this style was in
fashion. So I think the similarity of names fooled someone, and likely the younger Susanna’s husband was better known.

There’s another reason I believe this photo is of Susanna Dalton Dalbiac. When I look at her as a young woman, and at Charles as an older man, there’s just something in their faces. These two were married to each other, don’t you agree?

Delle Jacobs
SINS OF THE HEART
ADVENTURE as rich as gold * LOVE as delicious as chocolate
www.dellejacobs.com

In all the rampant Oscar coverage, I’m shocked that no journalist unearthed the fact that the early versions of all five of this year’s Best Picture nominees were actually written by Jane Austen!

There. You didn’t know it either, did you?

What — you don’t believe me?

Here, as proof, are excerpts from all five:

Jane Austen’s SLUMDOG MILLIONAIRE

No one who had ever seen this slumdog in his infancy would have supposed him born to be a millionaire. His situation in life, the poverty of his father and mother, his predatory elder brother, were all equally against him. He was fond of all boy’s plays, and greatly preferred cricket not merely to reading, but even to life itself–for how else might one explain his unaccountable attachment to bowling at the wicket even in the face of rapidly descending airships? His school was three months in teaching him the names of two of the musketeers, but he never was able to remember the third, for he was often inattentive, and occasionally lured by an award-winning soundtrack into running through the streets of Mumbai during school hours.

Jane Austen’s BENJAMIN BUTTON

Daisy, who could not think a man only a few years older than herself so exceedingly ancient as he appeared to the fancy of certain in the room, ventured to clear Grandma Fuller from the probability of wishing to throw ridicule on his age.

“But at least, Grandmamma, you cannot deny the absurdity of the accusation, though you may not think it intentionally ill-natured. Benjamin Button is certainly older than I am, but he is young enough to be my brother. It is too ridiculous! When is a man to be safe from such wit, if youth and vigor will not protect him?”

“Vigor!” said her grandmother, “do you call Benjamin Button vigorous? I can easily suppose that his age may appear much less to you than to one my age; but you can hardly deceive yourself as to his having the use of his limbs! Did not you hear him complain of the rheumatism? and is not that the commonest infirmity of declining life?”

“Grandmamma, you are not doing me justice. You know very well that Benjamin Button is not old enough to make his friends yet apprehensive of losing him in the course of nature. He may live twenty years longer.”

Jane Austen’s MILK

Harvey Milk ascended the podium and began speaking. “There is one thing,” said he, “which a man can always do, if he chuses, and that is, his duty; not by manoeuvring and finessing, but by vigour and resolution. It is the duty of any American to enter a vote in favour of equal rights. He knows it to be so; and if he wished to do it, it might be done. A man who felt rightly would act at once, simply and resolutely, within the ballot box, as well as without.”

Jane Austen’s FROST/NIXON

Mr. Frost gazed steadily at his companion. “I say again, Mr. Nixon–Did you see what happened to the missing eighteen minutes? And do you feel in your heart any degree of shame or regret for committing actions which were not in complete accordance with legal statute?”

“And now that I understand your question,” cried Mr. Nixon, “I must pronounce it to be a very unfair one. It is always the president’s right to decide on the degree of erasure of any secret record. John Dean must already have given his account.– I shall not commit myself by claiming more than he may chuse to allow.”

“Upon my word! you answer as discreetly as G. Gordon Liddy could do himself. But his account of every thing leaves so much to be guessed, he is so very reserved, so very unwilling to give the least information about any body, that I really think you must say more than you have so far.”

“Must I, indeed?” exclaimed Mr. Nixon. “Then I will speak the truth, and nothing suits me so well. The truth, my dear Mr. Frost, is that if the president does it, it cannot with literal truth be said to be in actual violation of the law.”

Mr Frost’s handsome face betrayed surprise. After a moment, he said quietly, “Excuse me?”

“Do I shock you?”

“No,” said Mr. Frost in some embarrassment. “I simply have no idea what you just said.”

Jane Austen’s THE READER

It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single woman in possession of a good figure, must be in want of a young, skinny, inexperienced lover.

However little known the feelings or views of such a woman may be on her first meeting any teen boys, this truth is so well fixed in the minds of the boys (if, indeed, such creatures can be said to have minds at all), that she is considered the rightful property of some one or other of them.

“My dear beautiful blonde mystery woman,” said one such skinny teenager, “have you heard that I am available to have an intimate liaison?”

The blonde woman replied that she had not.

“But I am,” returned he; “and I can offer you all the benefits of a regular love affaire except for skill, experience, clever conversation, or any knowledge of the world.”

There you have it! The scoop of the year!

And you saw it here first — on Risky Regencies. (And if you want to read Jane Austen’s versions of STAR TREK, DARK KNIGHT, and more, just click on the “Austen Trek” link at the bottom of this post!)

Cara
Cara King, who was also written by Jane Austen

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