Fashion Victim
The Regency hero Beau Brummell took such great pride in his appearance that he actually advocated washing instead of disguising his natural aroma under a cloud of perfume, as was the general habit of the period.
Such was his fastidious nature that he would spend two hours in the bath scrubbing the flesh with a stiff brush before donning any fresh garment. It used to take him up to five hours to prepare for the adventure of leaving his house, longer if the weather changed during that period; the slightest alteration in conditions necessitated a complete reappraisal of what would constitute suitable garb.
Not that he would select a waterproof outer coat and splash along the road – he might meet his deadliest enemy, mud. As he preferred not to risk being disturbed in any way by wind or rain, his sedan chair was brought into the hall and he would gently climb aboard at the foot of the stairs. Such was his precision that he would not raise his hat to a lady because it would necessitate a return home and hours in front of the mirror trying to recapture that previous perfect placement.
At dinner he would not turn his head either right or left to engage in conversation with either of the ladies at his side – for to do so might have caused a crease in his cravat, which would mean leaving the meal, returning home and dressing all over again. Better be rude than starve was his motto.
The idea of wearing a necktie with a suit may well have been his. And if you have a great admiration for the exquisite figures presented by beaux in Regency portraiture, bear in mind that nature was readily, if uncomfortably, improved on by means of lace-up whalebone corsets, and stockings either padded to add shape or with artificial calves (not young animals, but muscle-shaped pads) inserted into them.
Having come into a fortune, Beau Brummell, the son of Lord North's secretary and the grandson, would you believe, of a gentleman's gentleman (yes – a dashed valet) set himself up as the arbiter of fashion and taste, and could reduce the Prince Regent to sobbing just by looking disdainfully at his coat. Later, after their famous quarrel, and being pursued for gambling debts, Beau fled to France.
He ended his life in a pauper's lunatic asylum at Caen. As any young child can, and will, tell you, it must have been all that washing that tipped him over the edge.
