In which we ponder fashion

Historical fashion, that is. Lately it seems everywhere I look, fashion is casting an eye to the past. There was a stab at a Watteau train on "Project Runway" last week, steampunk corsets were featured in a catalog that popped in my mailbox--even Forever 21 is getting into the mix. I saw flirty little tulle skirts in the window at my local mall, a pleasantly trashy take on Degas. And I started thinking about the movies I've seen that feature incredibly delicious clothes--the brocade confections of Sofia Coppola's "Marie Antoinette", all of the alluring white lawn in any Jane Austen adaptation. And I think we've been robbed.

I know it must have been horrifically uncomfortable to wear most of those things. Well, perhaps not the Empire styles of Jane Austen's time. Most of those girls look as if they were wearing their nightgowns. And one isn't really surprised that this high-waisted, casual look was the result after the towering powdered headdresses and panniers of the late 18th century. But still. Historical clothing is unspeakably gorgeous, all those feathers and swathes of costly lace that were doubtless crafted by blind nuns. (For a peek at a true lace-aholic, check out the profile of Rita Lydig in Annette Tapert's The Power of Style. It takes rather a lot of nerve to wear 11th century altarcloths as tunics, don't you think?)

And I think men are missing out as well. Besides Darcy's obvious aloof charm, I think it's his wardrobe that attracts us. Flowing white shirts, preferably dampened by a dip in the pond, and skintight breeches are an arresting look. They can take a milquetoasty sort and make him irresistible, while an already handsome man becomes a threat to public safety. (More than one of us might end up wandering beneath the wheels of a passing carriage while admiring a tight thigh, I suspect.)

How much nicer we would all look if we went around in silks and velvets and ribbons rather than Juicy Couture tracksuits and gym shorts! I strongly suspect that loosening our standards in what we wear has resulted in loosening our standards of polite behavior. I'm not talking about morality--what you get up to with our without your girdle is entirely your own business. But I think it's entirely likely that when men no longer felt the need to go out without their hats and neatly-pressed handkerchiefs, they left something of their best manners behind too. And the same goes for us! There's an entire generation of young women who think that flip-flips are the same as shoes and that it is perfectly acceptable to flash their nethers as they exit a car because Britney and Lindsay do. (Ironically, women have only worn underwear for a very short period of history, but one must respect the Bennet girls for never showing off what they oughtn't. Even Lydia.)

I'm not naive. I know it would be monstrously uncomfortable and hideously expensive. I know the vast majority of us would have to make do with grotesquely shapeless garments of homespun because only the aristocracy could afford beautiful clothes. (And by law, they were the only ones permitted to wear them for many centuries.) I also know it would throw us back into gender roles that were too restrictive, and nobody wants that. But just imagine the sweeping whisper of a silken train behind you, the rustle of taffeta petticoats, the clip of tiny pearl-encrusted heels, and the shade from a parasol thick with fringe. Being held by a gentleman wearing black breeches and an inviting smile. Now, doesn't that sound nice for just a day or so?