Renaissance Ruff Collars

It didn’t take long for collars to catch on among the European nobility, at which point the garment moved from being a symbol of religious modesty to a blatant display of wealth and status. As the collar became more public-facing, it transformed into a fashion statement — and the aristocracy, per usual, quickly got carried away. Along with prominent codpieces and ridiculously pointy shoes, the Renaissance wardrobe began to include increasingly extravagant ruff collars. 

By the 16th century, members of the aristocracy were stepping out in plate-sized, stiffly starched pleated ruffs that looked like unfurled accordions running around their necks. Being highly impractical — not to mention quite silly-looking by today’s standards — these ruffs were ideal for displaying social standing. If you could afford to wear something that prevented you from performing manual labor, the theory went, then you were obviously a person of means.  

After a century or so, ruffs began to fall out of fashion. By the 17th century, they had been largely replaced by two styles of band: the falling band, which lay flat over the shoulders, and the standing band, a semicircular collar that stood up stiffly around the back of the head with the straight edges at the front meeting under the chin. Both were worn by men and women and were either a built-in part of a shirt or bodice, or attached with small ties. 

Around this time, the collar as we know it today began to emerge as a standard part of everyday clothing. As well as framing the face and other purely aesthetic considerations, collars added structure to a garment and offered some protection to the neck — a welcome addition on chilly days. 

The Detachable Collar

As ruffs fell out of fashion and collars became more modest, a new practical challenge emerged. Collars were often the most visible part of shirts — which were still normally worn as undergarments, especially in public — and they also tended to be the most troublesome element of the garment when it came to collecting dirt and grime. Back in the 18th century, washing clothes was a backbreaking, time-consuming task involving washboards and considerable physical labor. As such, laundering an entire shirt just to clean the collar was wasteful at best. 

So, in 1827, Hannah Montague, a homemaker in Troy, New York, invented the detachable shirt collar. By separating the collar from the shirt body, she made it possible to maintain a crisp, clean appearance while doing significantly less laundry. Montague’s innovation revolutionized men’s fashion, and became so popular that Troy — which was soon manufacturing 90% of the collars worn in the U.S. — became known as “Collar City.” The rigid, starched collar increasingly became a mark of respectability and class, and wearing a shirt with a collar was the standard in both the workplace and at formal events. 

World War I and Beyond

The early 20th century brought dramatic changes to collar design. During World War I, it was impractical for soldiers to have stiff and uncomfortable detachable collars, so they were issued soft shirts with attached collars. In the same way that wristwatches first became popular among men during World War I, soldiers soon found themselves preferring the softer, attached collars over their heavily starched, detachable predecessors. 

With the end of the war, this preference was taken back into civilian life, and by the mid-1920s, collars — be they blue or white — were almost always attached to shirts. In the 1930s, few shirtmakers still considered detachable collars as daily wear, but they remained an option for formal evening wear. With the rise of washing machines, the need for detachable collars decreased even further, and today they are rarely seen. 

Today, softer shirts with attached collars are the norm, with different styles signaling various levels of formality and fashion sensibility. And while T-shirts have arguably become the most ubiquitous type of shirt in the modern wardrobe, a shirt with a collar — a small strip of fabric with a very long history — is still considered standard attire in many workplaces and at all manner of formal events. 

Medieval Clothing

Arguably the most plausible explanation goes back to when buttons first became fashionable in Europe during the 13th and 14th centuries. At that time, they were often made from expensive materials such as gold, silver, and ivory, and were an indicator of status and wealth. Women’s clothing in particular could be highly elaborate, consisting of multiple garments such as petticoats, bloomers, gowns, corsets, and bustles. 

Wealthy women with complex clothes often didn’t dress themselves and instead relied on the help of maids. So, when it came to buttons, the angle of attack was reversed. Men benefited from having buttons on the right side because they typically dressed themselves and people are predominantly right-handed. But when someone is dressing another person who’s facing them, the orientation is reversed. Clothing designers, therefore, crafted their outfits to be buttoned up by the hired help, with their high-society clients in mind. The trend then filtered down, becoming standard in women’s fashion and establishing a convention that persists today.

Breastfeeding, Horses, and Napoleon

Other theories exist, albeit of varying levels of plausibility. One involves the act of breastfeeding. Due to right-hand dominance, women tend to hold their infants in their left arm to keep their right arm relatively free. So, the theory posits, a shirt with the buttons on the left makes it easier for mothers to unbutton using their right hand, while providing slightly easier access. A second theory involves horseback riding and the once-common practice of women riding sidesaddle, which typically involved having both legs on the horse’s left side. By putting women’s shirt and dress buttons on the left, the amount of breeze entering their clothing would be reduced while the rider was trotting along. 

Neither theory is particularly convincing, but both are more plausible than blaming the whole thing on Napoleon Bonaparte. Portraits of Napoleon often show the French general and later emperor with one hand tucked into his shirt or waistcoat. This pose was strangely common during the 18th and 19th centuries, when it was considered to demonstrate a kind of calm boldness. According to one button theory, women used to mock the emperor by mimicking his hand-in-waistcoat pose. In response, Napoleon ordered that all women’s shirts be buttoned on the opposite side of men’s to end any mockery at his expense. This fanciful theory seems to have gained at least some traction but is almost certainly apocryphal, as there is seemingly no supporting evidence and button placement conventions predate Napoleon’s era.

Jeans Evolve

The feature proved so useful that when the patent expired in 1890, other manufacturers rushed to add rivets to their own work pants. Until around the 1930s, jeans were worn almost entirely out of necessity. But as the pants slowly moved from workwear to everyday wear — especially after World War II — their design, including the rivets, evolved. 

The Levi Strauss clothing company made adjustments over time based on customer complaints. Back pocket rivets, for instance, did a good job reinforcing seams, but they also scratched furniture and horse saddles. In 1937, Levi’s began concealing those rivets under the fabric, and by 1966, they were removed altogether, replaced with reinforced stitching known as bar tacks that still do the job today.

Perfecting the Design

Another early Levi’s design included a rivet at the base of the fly. That feature was removed during World War II to cut back on the use of raw materials needed for the war effort. The rivets in the watch pocket — the tiny pocket in the front of jeans traditionally used to hold a pocket watch — were also removed, but reappeared after the war, unlike the crotch rivet. This decision was rumored to have been inspired by the discomfort the small piece of metal on the fly caused when it heated up while sitting around a campfire.

Most jeans today still include rivets, especially on the front pockets and watch pocket. But while many lines of work rely on the durability of denim trousers, today’s rivets mostly serve as a nod to their heritage — a 19th-century fix that helped turn a pair of work pants into a style staple across generations.

Queen Victoria’s Wedding Dress 

In 1840, England’s Queen Victoria married Prince Albert. It was a massive public occasion, and one that revolutionized bridal fashion. Rather than wear the traditional red ermine robe of state, Victoria decided to marry in white. 

At the time, it was common for wedding dresses to come in a variety of colors, but white dresses were more rare as they were so hard to keep clean. But as soon as Victoria stepped out in her white satin wedding gown, made with English Honiton lace — a deliberate choice to support and stimulate Britain’s lace industry — she established a tradition that endures to this day. While initially embraced only by wealthier brides, the trend of wearing a white wedding gown eventually spread across all economic levels, becoming standard in the 20th century and beyond. 

Marilyn Monroe's “Happy Birthday, Mr. President” Dress 

Marilyn Monroe wore an array of iconic dresses, but perhaps none pushed the boundaries as much as the skintight, crystal-embellished gown she wore to serenade President John F. Kennedy in 1962. It instantly became one of the most talked about dresses in history, seen by many as nothing less than scandalous, especially when combined with the star’s sultry and flirtatious rendition of “Happy Birthday.” 

The sheer, flesh-colored gown, designed by French fashion designer Jean Louis, was so formfitting that Monroe had to be sewn into it. Overall, it created the illusion of nudity while technically remaining modest. Along with the performance, the gown became a symbol of 1960s glamour and rebellion against conservative social norms, and remains iconic to this day. 

Audrey Hepburn’s Little Black Dress 

In 1961, the romantic comedy film Breakfast at Tiffany’s was released in cinemas to widespread critical acclaim. The fashion world also took note, thanks to star Audrey Hepburn’s instantly iconic little black dress. Designed by Paris couturier Hubert de Givenchy, the sleek, floor-length black satin gown was custom-made for Hepburn. Accessorized with pearls, long black gloves, and a tiara, the dress represented a sophisticated minimalism that went on to influence fashion for decades. Building on French designer Coco Chanel’s introduction of the “little black dress” in the 1920s, Hepburn’s gown is now considered one of the most influential dresses in the history of 20th-century costume design. 

Princess Diana’s “Revenge Dress”

On the night of June 29, 1994, Prince Charles confessed on British television that he had cheated on his estranged wife, Princess Diana, after their marriage had, in his words, “irretrievably broken down.” The same night as the broadcast, Diana attended the Vanity Fair gala at London’s Serpentine Gallery, wearing a slinky and daringly short black dress with an off-the-shoulder, cleavage-baring neckline — something rarely if ever seen worn by British royals at the time. 

The press caught on immediately, quickly dubbing it Diana’s “revenge dress.” While never confirmed, it was widely regarded as Diana’s unspoken and yet very public response to Charles’ infamous television interview. In the 1998 book Diana: Her Life in Fashion, author Georgina Howell called the princess’ gown “possibly the most strategic dress ever worn by a woman in modern times.” Whatever the intention, the “revenge dress” remains one of the most famous dresses of the last half century.

Next came a petticoat — or, more typically, several petticoats. Early Victorian-era skirts relied on multiple layers of heavy, hot petticoats, sometimes stiffened with horsehair, to create the full, bell-shaped silhouette favored at the time. By the mid-1850s, however, skirt volume was supported by a new innovation: the cage crinoline, a lightweight, steel-hooped frame worn under the skirt. By the 1870s, emphasis moved to the back of the skirt, and padded belts or cage bustles provided structure at the rear. 

After all this architectural groundwork, a woman could finally step into her actual dress. It might consist of a separate bodice and skirt, or, for a more formal occasion, a full gown with buttons, hooks, and decorative trimmings. Most women also accessorized with gloves and bonnets. 

It’s certainly a far cry from today’s jeans and a T-shirt, yet getting dressed for the day wasn’t as laborious a process as it may seem, according to Izabela Pitcher. She runs the U.K.-based historical costuming business Prior Attire, specializing in handcrafted, historically accurate garments for reenactors, museums, and interpreters. As she explained on Prior Attire’s YouTube channel, dressing herself in an 1860s day dress with crinoline took her just under 10 minutes. An 1883 day dress, complete with a side-buttoning back-bustle cage, took a little more than 10 minutes.

It’s certainly a far cry from today’s jeans and a T-shirt, yet getting dressed for the day wasn’t always the ordeal we might imagine. The time it took varied depending on the period, the outfit, and the wearer’s social status. For example, the historic interpretation YouTube channel Historic Royal Palaces’ recreation of dressing Queen Victoria in an 1840s day dress claims it took about 20 minutes just to get her corset properly fitted. But by the latter half of the century, innovations such as front clasps on the corset made it easier and faster for women to dress themselves. 

Izabela Pitcher, who runs the U.K.-based historical costuming business Prior Attire, demonstrates on her YouTube channel, dressing herself in an 1860s day dress with crinoline in just under 10 minutes. An 1883 ensemble, complete with a side-buttoning bustle cage, takes slightly longer, but still clocks in at a little more than 10 minutes. While some elaborate court or evening gowns would certainly have required assistance, for many Victorian women, dressing solo was expected and achievable.

Still, getting dressed in the Victorian era required a certain level of choreography — as did moving around through the day. Before cage crinolines, sitting down meant carefully managing layers of bulky petticoats. The introduction of the steel-hooped crinoline made skirts lighter but brought its own complications. Though surprisingly flexible and collapsible, cage crinolines were wide enough to make passing through doorways or fitting into carriages an awkward affair — they needed to be gathered and turned. Sitting required women to gather a few hoops behind them and lower themselves down between the rings. Bustles were similar: Though the simpler, padded versions sat higher on the rear and compressed more easily when sitting, the more elaborate wired bustles had collapsible frames that folded inward and required easing into a seat mindfully.

Of course, women still had to heed nature’s call in the Victorian era, which was no small task in such elaborate garb. While many wealthier homes featured indoor water closets by the late 19th century, most people still relied on more rudimentary options. Women typically relieved themselves while in their layers of dress using a handheld chamber pot. Commode chairs were also common, and could be approached frontward or backward. Regardless, women didn’t usually need to undress to use the bathroom: Drawers had an open-front design that allowed women to use the toilet by lifting up their dress or skirt, a practical feature that left the elegance of the era up to the rest of the attire.

1940s: The “New Look” 

Between 1930 and the end of World War II, hemline trends resembled a rollercoaster. After the shorter hems of the 1920s, most dress and skirt lengths plummeted back down to midcalf or the ankle during the Great Depression in the 1930s. They stayed that way until the onset of World War II, when fashion, like much of the rest of life, became dictated by rations and utility. Hemlines raised up to knee length; this look, seen on the A-line skirts worn by women in the military, not only preserved fabric, but also was practical for movement and comfort on the job, a necessity given that more women than ever were joining the workforce. 

After the war, another dramatic hemline reversal happened. The introduction of designer Christian Dior’s “New Look” in 1947 brought back the long, voluminous skirts of an earlier era, with hemlines falling back to midcalf or even to the ankle. The luxurious look may have been a rejection of wartime austerity, but many also saw it as a step back toward traditional gender roles. The longer hemlines, as well as the New Look’s signature hourglass silhouette, stood in stark contrast to the more utilitarian styles of the war years. A backlash ensued, with protests happening in the U.S. and abroad. “Mr. Dior, we abhor dresses to the floor,” a sign at one American demonstration read. It wasn’t long before these progressive protesters were wearing their shortest skirts yet.

1960s: Miniskirt Revolution 

After the conservative styles of the 1950s, the rebellious spirit of the ’60s ushered in radical shifts in fashion, including one of the most dramatic hemline changes in history: For the first time in American fashion, skirts rose to several inches above the knee. Miniskirts were worn by style icons such as the model Twiggy and embraced by the youth culture, which was booming like never before. In 1960, almost half the population of the U.S. was under the age of 18, while in the U.K., the burgeoning “Swinging London” scene emphasized everything youthful and modern. By the middle of the ’60s, the miniskirt was the quintessential wardrobe item for young women — both a novel trend and a powerful cultural symbol of liberation and defiance. While British designer Mary Quant is often given credit for the style — and she indeed popularized it — she always credited the youthful London street style of the time, insisting, “It was the girls in the street who did it.” 

1970s: Maxi Skirt Revival 

What goes up must come down again, and as the miniskirt’s dominance of ’60s fashion fizzled, an opposing trend also driven by the surging youth culture began to emerge. More and more young people began to vocalize their rejection of mainstream societal establishments and instead embraced the ideals of peace and love. They were known as hippies, and their wardrobe of choice — in addition to the burgeoning bell-bottom pants that became synonymous with the ’70s — included flowing, long-sleeved maxi dresses and skirts. Hemlines were once again at the ground, but this time it wasn’t an embodiment of buttoned-up conservatism; the maxi length reflected a laid-back, bohemian style that characterized the era. The midi skirt also attempted a comeback in the 1970s, but didn’t quite catch on — at least, not yet.

1980s: Power Dressing and Princess Di

In the 1980s, hemlines fluctuated once again — this time, trending back upward. The maxi hem of the ’70s was out, and the midi length came back as part of the broader “power dressing” phenomenon. The look — sleek, suit-inspired, and with a midcalf hem — was largely influenced by Princess Diana; the young royal captivated the public with her singular style throughout the ’80s and ’90s. More women were also entering the corporate world, and the fashion reflected growing female professionalism and authority. As the decade pressed on, hemlines crept up further still. Miniskirts also reappeared in the ’80s, often in patchy acid-washed denim or the colorful, ruffled, flouncy “rah-rah” style. 

Other popular looks have come and gone since then — the midi asymmetrical handkerchief hem of the early 2000s, for one — but the rise of fast fashion, individualism over collective style, and the increasingly rapid turnover of trends mean the ’80s may well have marked the end of a single hemline trend defining an entire decade.