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inverswayart · 1 year

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On Orlais fashion

So, while i was trying to design an outfit for Julie, I stumbled upon a problem - what the hell was considered fashionable in Orlais during Awakening? I scanned through wiki and concept art and then got an idea for a big cool post about it, but my da high is closing in to an end so I'll just ramble for a bit instead.

It's evolving (and too fast)

So yeah, if we look at the concept art and what have appeared in Inquisition, Orlais fashion seems to change at break-neck speed - on par with modern fast fashion. Why is it a problem? Because modern fashion operates in a world of mass-production, which whole kinda alluded to in Thedas, is allegedly haven't been achieved yet. But still, in DAI we see at least 3 pretty distinct silhouettes of women's clothes that feel like different stages of one evolutionary line. I'm talking those beauties:

So, as we can see, one more-or-less consistent thing about all of them is waistline - fairly high one, like something out of 16th century Italy or first two decades of 19th century. But everything else is varied - the neckline from completely closed to pretty plunging, sleeve length and form, construction of skirt...

But looking at them in this order they do resemble a solid development line - tho for me it feels like there should be at least one more phase between first and second stages - no way such high and tight wheel ruffles would collapse without a trace of their existence... Otherwise, there's a couple of noticeable trends here - first, slight widening of skirts; second, slow rising of sleeves; descending neckline.

At third image it feels like someone suddenly invented the crinoline straight out of 1850's, completely foregoing farthingale and panniers (here's all of them for comparison, in the same order):

To be clear, neither panniers or farthingale are prerequisite for crinoline to appear - but considering the alleged time period Dragon Age was inspired by and the fairly 1770's like hairdo's Leliana alludes to in DAO (the "I like your hair" dialogue where she mentions a noblewoman incorporating entire birdcage with living birds into her hair) one would expect them rather then mid-19th century invention.

Still, to line up those dresses is to insert at the very least 5 or so years between them, maybe even 10 or 15 (once again, those high ruffled collars would have not dissapered so smoothly... Imagine orlesians with those huge-ass Elizabethan lacey standing collars, wouldn't that be sick?) But to be honest, at least i can see how Origins noble dress could've evolved into the first one.

All the prerequisites are there - standing collar ready to get taller and rufflier, kinda puffed up sleeves, little cape-like decoration at shoulders, waist accentuated by fairly wide belt ready to turn even wider and more decorative, fairly narrow skirt to expand... And it would've ecen work with the timeline we have - there's roughly 11 years between DAO and DAI, and the silhouette would've had time to change - but then the Inquisition dress would be the latest fashion, not the fairly outdated one we see.

There are also two distinct outliers - Florianne de Chalons and empress Celine with their dresses more or less out of common trends we saw before:

And while Celene's dress I can still place in the general climate we got - like yeah, she's the Empress, she can be the most fashion-forward one and outclass everyone around, and her dress does look like evolution of what we saw, it would be at least 5 more tears before crinoline would start to change it's shape (ironically getting closer to panniers) and while I can read her overdress as on of the exposed underdresses in a "I'm above your backroom dealings and behind the stage machinations and so I have nothing to hide" kinda gesture, it feels like a stretch.

Florianne, on the other hand, while being more in tune with others silhouette-wise... Why does she has those pagoda sleeves? Why the train when even the Empress does not have one? Mystery for ages.

A bit unrelated but one cool canon thing about Orlesian fashion is that codex in DAI that says that it's all about hiding the actuall contour of body behind augmented forms - shoulder pads, structured garments and so on. That actually is pretty close to Elizabethan conception of man as something completely separate from nature that found it's reflection in geometrical fashions of the era.

So yeah, in the end, while very pretty, Orlesian fashion is kind of a mess (as is every other fashion in Thedas we have seen. Can't wait for Dreadwolf to throw even more aestetics wrenches in here).

#tag for words #dragon age #dragon age origins #dao #dragon age inquisition #dai #orlais #fashion #fashion history #dragon age meta #i probably put way more thought into it that devs intended #but what are they gonna do about it?

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revasserium · 10 months

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I'm being a rebel and requesting Ikesen Masamune and barefoot 💜

send me one and a character u__u

hurricane (prompt: barefoot)

masamune; 1,813; fluff and... that's it; @violettduchess is quite possibly one of the only ppl who can get me to write for a fandom that i had no plans in joining BUT HERE I AM FOLKS. here the fuCK i am.

he has always been a hurricane.

there are moments in a person’s life big enough for a single choice to put them on a completely different path, and then — there are those moments, much smaller moments, adding up to that one, bigger, monumental, life-changing moment. this is one of the latter.

the moon is heaven bright, swinging low in a full-bellied sky, and insomnia had plagued you till you’d come into the inner gardens for refuge. at least here, it felt like you were stuck between the pages of a waking dream. so… sleep-adjacent, right? right.

you swing your feet off the edge of the pristinely mopped wooden walkways, your sketchbook propped in your lap, a charcoal pencil gliding over the smooth, moon-bleached pages. you let your hand take the drawing where it wants, and these days, there’s only one place that your hand (and, subsequently the rest of your mind and body) seems to want to go.

masamune.

he appears as fish-tail flicks of your wrist bring him to life on the pages, each sketch fluid and overlapping with the next, almost like the depiction of dance — the crinkle at the edge of his eye, the curve of his hand as he rests it on the hilt of one of his blades, the strong, graceful slope of his shoulders and back, the crescent moon curve of his lips as he smiles, ever light, ever teasing, in your direction.

“ah… is that what i look like?”

his voice makes you jump, and even now after all this time, it sets your heart racing in your chest as you whirl around to find his nose inches from yours, that self-same smile hinged across his damnably gorgeous lips.

“w-wh — why aren’t you sleeping?” is your stumbling, cobbled together response to being jump-scared in the middle of his castle pagoda, but it’s the best you could come up with. he only leans back, chuckling, his arms tucked into the long thin sleeves of his kosode as he casts his eye up towards the full moon, his expression for once devoid if mischief or calculation. it’s strange, seeing him like this, so still and so quiet, and something about it makes you go still too, wondering if this is what its like to be caught in the eye of the storm, where the quiet is only ever momentary and destruction dances just beyond where your mind can reach.

“i could ask the same of you, kitten. so tell me… why aren’t you sleeping?” he grins as he joins you, propping one arm on a bent knee, watching as you gather yourself, palms pressing to the pages of your sketchbook.

“i… i couldn’t sleep.” you look down at your own knees, and it strikes you then that your feet are still bare. you can’t help glancing at masamune, and sure enough, his feet are bare too. no wonder i hadn’t heard him coming.

but something about this sets you off, the sight of his bare feet next to yours, and even though it shouldn’t be so tantalizing a thing — the flicker of bare flesh, the hint of skin unseen— you feel like one of those ancient victorian maidens, blushing at the sight of bare ankles.

you can’t help it; you start to laugh.

and masamune, sitting beside you, finds himself transfixed, held still by the sound of your laughter, pouring from you like rainwater from a stream. so clear and beautiful it sets his body arrack with shivers.

“what?” he asks, quirking an eyebrow, “is there something on my face?”

at this, you pause, stifling your giggles with a hand pressed to your lips, and you look at him. your eyes meet, and not for the first time, you feel yourself falling into them — into him. even like this, his one blue eye is something of a miracle, a thing of celestial majesty. it wasn’t until you’d met him that you’d realized what blue eyes look like up close — up close, they are the shattered light of a millions stars, fractured and reformed and singing through a universe of endless dark to end up here, shining out from him and landing on you, and god — he’s looking at you like all those million, billion years of starlight had traveled the expanse of every galaxy just to look at you.

just to see you like he does now.

“no… there isn’t,” you say, whisper, more like, reaching out a hand to trace your thumb over the lid of his closed eye. he doesn’t push you away. instead, he leans in closer.

“then, what’s so funny, kitten?”

you simply shake your head, trying to swallow down your belly-full of laughter, your mind showing you a strobe-quick flash-forward of you trying to explain the concept of foot kinks and websites that cater to such 500 years in the future before deciding — no. alas, tonight is not the night you try to educate one date masamune on the intricacies of body part kinks. though no doubt he’d take it in stride. no — that thought too, you tamp down before you’ve the mind to follow it down into a deep, dark rabbit hole from whence you might never recover or be recovered.

“tell me, please…” he grins, a grin that is simultaneously plea and pleasure, and in it, you can hear the knife-sharp promise of desire, “i’d like to know if something other than me has the power to make you laugh so much.”

“it’s just —” you bite your lips, fighting for the words, “we’re both barefoot.”

he blinks. and you can tell that whatever he was expecting the answer to be, this is clearly not it.

you track the flitter of emotions as they dance in quicksilver steps across the planes of his face — surprise, confusion, amusement, all painted porcelain perfect on the dark of his brows, the faint twitch of his lips. finally, he settles on a sorted of muted bemusement as he cocks his head at you.

“and… do people of your time tend to sleep with socks on?”

“no, it’s just…” you blush again, unable to help yourself.

“just what?” his voice is light, and he is still.

you swallow, hard,

“just… it’s weird — i mean — it’s not like i haven’t seen anyone else barefoot before just… this was — you’re just — and i —” you trip over your words in a hurry and end up tumbling through into incoherence so fast all you can do to styme the flood is to clamp your mouth shut and pray.

oh god please… tell me this is a bad dream.

but when you open your eyes, masamune is still there, watching you with that singular eye of his, expression inscrutable. and still, he doesn’t move.

“so…” and finally, finally, the stillness breaks — he cracks it open like an eggshell, stretching himself out as he leans back, propping himself up on his elbows, lengthening till he’s splayed out over the gleaming wooden boards of the walkway, his face bathed in ghostly moonlight.

“i’m not the first man you’ve seen barefoot, hm? that is a problem.”

your mouth drops open and for a moment, you gape at him wordless and fish-like, and he laughs as he turns to look at you.

“tell me his name — i’ll have his head in the morning,” he says, in a voice so casually serious that for a moment you think he might actually mean it.

“masamune!”

and then, he’s laughing too, a big, bright, uproarious thing that shakes his entire body like the foundations of the earth. it is deep and rich and lovely, warm and sweet as sun-kissed honey. you let yourself be swept up in his laughter, dropping into silent giggles, and then something louder, letting your shoulder bump into his, your bodies finally touching and then —

there’s a flurry of clothing, a shifting of weights. you find yourself pulled into him, tipping towards him like inevitability.

your sketchbook lays forgotten on the walkway next to you as masamune holds you close against his chest.

“ah… i really don’t like that…”

an entourage of tingles frissons through your body at his words.

“don’t like what?”

“the fact that you’ve seen someone else barefoot before. it bugs me.”

you peer up at him, lifting your head ever so slightly from his chest. he’s looking at you, and the sunrise-blue of his eyes are shadowed with something darker now, something decidedly less innocent than just the thought of bare feet.

“then… what will you do about it?” you ask, feeling the heat of his body, the solidness of him, the rightness of you between his arms.

“hm… are you teasing me, kitten?” his voice is gravel and earthquake and you’re emboldened by the sound, by the way his pupil dilates, the black hole at the center of every galaxy — gravity made solid, made real.

“yes,” you breathe, leaning up like a dare and he meets you gloriously, his lips hard and pressing and soft and pulling. there’s a fire unspooling at the base of your spine, stoked by the heat and truth of him, so close, too close — you break apart gasping. he grins, lynx-like and wolfish as he grazes his teeth along the column of your throat.

“good,” he says, sighing into your flesh as you arch up into him, your fingers curling into his hair as he flips the pair of you over. he pulls you beneath him and he is storm and thunder, he is rain and wonder — he is water to your desert skies, the sunlit days to all your moonless nights.

and as he makes to rend you into pleasure, into nothing more than ache and belonging, he pulls back with a bone-deep growl, a sliver of hesitation, of self-preservation.

“are… are you sure you want this?” that you want me? the echo is not lost on you.

and it’s not the first time he’s asked you the question, and you have a feeling that it wouldn’t be the last. but you reply as you had, once upon a time, in a distant, sun-drenched afternoon, when you’d been telling him about one of your favorite poems from your time.

you smile, tug him down for a kiss.

“yes,” you say, like you’d done on that long-ago afternoon, “i want you — i want this, masamune. because… I love you.”

“i will love you when you are a still day… i will love you when you are a hurricane.”

#ikemen sengoku #ikesen #ikemen series #date masamune #ikemen sengoku x reader #ikesen masamune #date masamune x reader #ikemen sengoku imagines #ikemen sengoku headcanons #ikesen imagines #ikesen headcanons #floofy floof floof #OKAY but the feeling of tagging a REAL HISTORICAL FIGURE LFMAO #vi i blame u for all the bullshit im about to rain on this damn fandom LOL i havent played these games in YEARS i tell u #is this IC? IDK WHO KNO WHO CARE lol #i hope u liked it u_u #ALL CREDIT WHRE CREDIT IS DUE that last line comes from clementine von radics #i love her poetry pls go read it; this one comes from her collection called 'mouthful of forevers' its SO GOOD GO READ IT #doNT tease me with humans as metaphors for natural disasters man i will fucking GOBBLE that shit up #i love it almost as much as i love sky/star/sun/moon/ocean/general astronomy anaologies

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gogmstuff · 2 years

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1860s dresses (from top to bottom) -

1861-1863 Clare (Miss Clara, his daughter) byJohn Prescott Knight (The Shire Hall Gallery - Stafford, Staffordshire, UK). From artuk.org 917X1200 @72 261kj.

1860s Lady by Franz Xaver Winterhalter (location ?). From tumblr.com/blog/view/glitterofthepast; erased spots and rip w Pshop 1811X2226 @72 1.5Mj.

1869 Lady in a Lace Shawl by Adalbert Begas (Muzeum Narodowe w Warszawie - Warszawa, Poland). From Amber Tree's photostream on flickr 1570X2000 @72 506kj.

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brooklynmuseum · 1 year

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Quintessential 1990s pop aesthetics are on full display in the “Too Funky” music video.

Released in 1992, the music video was directed by Thierry Mugler alongside George Michael, who at the time, had filed a lawsuit against his record label and was refusing to appear in his music videos. Instead, he assembled an extraordinary cast of supermodels, actresses, and performers to lip-sync his songs. In the video, Mugler contrasted the glamour of a fashion show runway with the chaos behind the scenes.

📷 Emil Larsson (born Sweden). Prêt-à-porter spring/summer 1992. Les Cow-boys collection, Hand-painted Plexiglas “motorcycle fairing” bustier (Jean-Jacques Urcun), quilted heart on the back. Metal spike-heeled, hand-painted leather ankle boots. © Emil Larsson → Emil Larsson (born Sweden). Prêt-à-porter Spring/Summer 1991 collection (“Superstar Diana Ross”). Metal bra, shorts, articulated armpieces, and helmet, made in collaboration with Jean-Pierre Delcros. © Emil Larsson → Emil Larsson (born Sweden). Prêt-à-porter spring/summer 1992. Les Cow-boys collection, Rubber-lace slit sheath with pagoda sleeves. © Emil Larsson

#Brooklyn Museum #brooklyn #museum #art #design #fashion #ThierryMuglerBkM #Couturissime #Thierry Mugler #Mugler #New York City #nyc #exhibition #george michael #music video #too funky #supermodels #pop music

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jewellery-box · 5 months

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Wedding dress

American, 1851

This wedding dress presents a conundrum in that some stylistic aspects of the dress appear to be later than the marriage date of 1851 provided in the original accession records. While the bodice has very fashionable full size pagoda sleeves, which were a new shape in 1851, the skirt with bustle, train and ruffles at bottom is more consistent with the 1870s rather than the dome shape of the 1850s. While it is possible that the skirt was re-made for a later bride, there is no obvious indication of that being the case. Wedding clothes have traditionally been vehicles for fantasy and historicism, however, which may be the case in the styling of this one. It nevertheless is a grand dress made for a wedding in Grace Church, a high society Brooklyn house of worship.

The MET Museum

#victorian #victorian era #victorian fashion #fashion history #19th century #historical fashion

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the1920sinpictures · 1 year

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1928 c. Embroidered black satin with white rabbit fur trim, reversible, evening coat. Chinese for the European market, it is worked with satin stitched blooms, the sleeves bands with a traditional scene of figures amongst gardens and pagodas, buttons to the front.

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digitalfashionmuseum · 1 year

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Peach Pink Silk Robe à la Française, 1760s, French.

MFA Boston.

#womenswear #extant garments #silk #18th century #1760s #1760s france #1760s dress #peach #pink #dress #france #french #mfa boston #robe à la française #reign: louis xv #fave #peach pink #pretty

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chic-a-gigot · 8 days

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La Mode nationale, no. 16, 19 avril 1902, Paris. Groupe de toilettes pour dames et jeunes filles. Bibliothèque nationale de France

(3) Robe de dîner pour jeune femme. Jupe en dentelle sur transparent blanc, bordée d'un volant bouillonné en liberty vert d'eau ou en crêpe de Chine. Au-dessus du volant, croisillons de velours noir.

Veste bouillonnée à la taille et formant basque mi-longue, ouverte sur un dessous de dentelle et rattachée devant par des velours croisés, avec de gros boutons fantaisie. Col fichu en mousseline de soie, souligné d'un volant froncé. Manche courte en dentelle, avec grand volant bouillonné.

(3) Dinner dress for a young woman. Lace skirt on white sheer, edged with a bubbled ruffle in water green liberty or crepe de chine. Above the ruffle, black velvet braces.

Jacket gathered at the waist and forming a mid-length peplum, open to a lace underside and attached in front with crossed velvets, with large fancy buttons. Silk chiffon kerchief collar, highlighted with a gathered ruffle. Short lace sleeve, with large bubbled ruffle.

Matériaux: dentelle en laize; 8 mètres de liberty.

—

(4) Robe de ville pour jeune femme ou dame d'âge moyen, en lainage rayé abricot, de ton effacé. Jupe plissée derrière terminée par trois volants en forme, découpés en créneaux et bordés de biais. Au volant supérieur, un biais souligne la tête. Jaquette ouverte et découpée sur un plastron de liberty noir. Manche à coude, revers assez large.

(4) City dress for young women or middle-aged ladies, in apricot striped wool, in a faded tone. Pleated skirt at the back finished with three shaped ruffles, cut into crenellations and edged at an angle. On the upper ruffle, a bias highlights the head. Dust jacket open and cut on a black liberty bib. Elbow sleeve, fairly wide lapel.

Matériaux: 8 mètres de lainage, 0m,75 de liberty noir.

—

(5) Toilette de visites pour jeune femme, en foulard rouge glacé. Jupe en forme; au bas, quatre volants légèrement badinés, soulignés de comètes de satin noir et surmontés de quatre rangs de comètes. Jaquette dentelée devant, bordée de biais à dépassant noir. Un biais semblable s'arrondit par des pinces en arrière. Ceinture de satin noir passant sous les devants. Col arrondi incrusté de guipure. Guimpe de soie noire. Manche pagode à pèlerines dentelées; celle du milieu est semblable au col.

(5) Visiting ensemble for young woman, in iced red scarf. Skirt shaped; at the bottom, four slightly embellished ruffles, highlighted with black satin comets and topped with four rows of comets. Serrated dust jacket in front, bias-edged with black protruding. A similar bias is rounded by darts at the back. Black satin belt passing under the front. Rounded collar inlaid with guipure. Black silk wimple. Pagoda handle with serrated capes; the middle one is similar to the collar.

Matériaux: 14 mètres de foulard.

—

(6) Robe élégante pour jeune fille ou jeune femme, en bengaline bleu-pastel. Jupe plissée devant, ornée d'un volant en forme que surmonte un large entre-deux. Corsage plissé; col empiècement en guipure; sous ce col commence un pli genre Watteau qui s'évase sur la jupe. Manche plissée sur l'épaule et séparée en deux bouffants par un bracelet de guipure. Poignet haut et collant en guipure. Ceinture ronde en taffetas blanc, rayé de velours noir.

(6) Elegant dress for a young girl or young woman, in pastel blue bengaline. Pleated skirt at the front, decorated with a shaped flounce topped with a wide in-between. Pleated bodice; guipure yoke collar; under this collar begins a Watteau-style pleat which flares out on the skirt. Pleated sleeve on the shoulder and separated into two bouffants by a guipure bracelet. High, sticky guipure cuff. Round belt in white taffeta, striped with black velvet.

Matériaux: 12 mètres de bengaline.

—

(7) Robe de visites pour jeune femme ou dame d'âge moyen en drap satin chamois. Jupe en forme cerclée de biais en taffetas pékiné. Boléro très ajusté, ouvert sur un gilet de drap blanc à revers. Grand col de moire, rayé et bordé d'entre-deux. Cravate de mousseline de soie noire. Manche courte à petits revers.

Bas de manche collant en soie blanche moucheté de noir.

(7) Visiting dress for young or middle-aged ladies in chamois satin cloth. Bias-rimmed skirt in pekiné taffeta. Very fitted bolero, open over a white cloth vest with cuffs. Large moire collar, striped and bordered with insertions. Black chiffon tie. Short sleeve with small cuffs.

Fitted cuffs in white silk speckled with black.

Matériaux: 5 mètres de drap; 1 mètre de soie mouchetée; 0m,30 de drap blanc; 0m,50 de moire.

—

(8) Robe de visites pour jeune femme, en lainage fantaisie vieux rose. Jupe en forme, cerclée de biais posés en dents de soie et tombant sur un volant en forme liséré de biais. Même garniture au corsage et à la manche demi-pagode. Devant, coquillé de dentelle; au col montant, liséré de liberty noir; ceinture ronde en l'étoffe de la robe.

(8) Visiting dress for young women, in fancy old pink wool. Shaped skirt, surrounded by bias placed in silk teeth and falling on a shaped ruffle edged at an angle. Same trim on the bodice and half-pagoda sleeve. Front, shell of lace; with a high collar, lined with black liberty; round belt made from the fabric of the dress.

Matériaux: 7m,50 de lainage.

—

(9) Toilette de réception pour jeune femme ou dame d'âge moyen, en surah vieux rouge très pâle. Plis cerclant la jupe. Veste Louis XV en grosse dentelle. Plastron et manche de dentelle. La manche se termine sous un revers arrondi orné de plis. Col arrondi en forme. Echarpe de mousseline de soie, même ton, nouée sous le col et tombant jusqu'au bas de la robe.

(9) Reception ensemble for young or middle-aged lady, in very pale old red surah. Pleats encircling the skirt. Louis XV jacket in large lace. Lace bib and sleeve. The sleeve ends under a rounded lapel decorated with pleats. Rounded shaped collar. Silk chiffon scarf, same tone, tied under the collar and falling to the bottom of the dress.

Matériaux: 10 mètres de surah; dentelle en laize; 4 mètres de mousseline de soie.

#La Mode nationale #20th century #1900s #1902 #on this day #April 19 #periodical #fashion #fashion plate #color #description #bibliothèque nationale de france #dress #collar

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