Evening cape 1894 - 1904

Editor: So, this "Evening Cape" by Caroline Reboux, dating from around 1894 to 1904...It's currently residing at the Met. There's something almost ghostly about its pale silk and the way it drapes. What strikes you most about it? Curator: Ghostly is a perfect word. For me, it whispers of hidden identities and veiled secrets. That shimmering silk throws light around in such an ethereal way, like catching moonbeams in a teacup. And those dark, wriggling lines of trim - do you see how they almost vibrate against the stillness of the fabric? It's not just ornamentation; it's like a visual metaphor for the conflicting desires of the era. What do you think those dark embellishments represent? Editor: Maybe a tension between societal expectations and individual expression? A need to be seen, but also to conceal? Curator: Precisely. It's that tightrope walk women navigated then. Imagine stepping into this cape. Do you think it feels weighty with the gaze of society, or freeing, allowing one to become whoever they wish behind its delicate facade? Editor: I think a bit of both, maybe. I definitely get a sense of carefully constructed beauty. It’s less about practicality and more about…artifice? Curator: Absolutely. Consider the time. Reboux wasn't just making garments; she was crafting illusions. And those illusions told stories of wealth, status, and the tantalizing allure of the "new woman" emerging at the turn of the century. It's a fascinating blend of vulnerability and power, isn’t it? Editor: It is. Seeing it this way really makes you consider what stories clothes can tell. I will never look at fashion the same way again. Curator: Exactly, every fold a verse, every stitch a carefully chosen word.