A few weeks ago I posted the below image across socials, which made the comments explode… In a good way. So here is some more fun stuff about historical fashions.

This was accompanied by my caption/addition of:

Yes, you’re going commando. There is no effing way I’m teaching you how to put on a loincloth. 😳

Many people continued the theme in the comments, mainly on Threads. On Facebook, Eric Klein pointed out that if you have time travel you can live outside of objective time and have all the subjective time to make your time period appropriate fashions in time. I sent him back to watch Dr Who from the beginning, because he clearly doesn’t understand all the wibbly wobbly, timey-wimey… stuff.

To the person who said “They could just go back in time and buy/steal clothing from any period” I could only point out that the comment about loincloths still stands… Also, you might naively try to put on your boots after the corset. Good luck with that.

And, of course, aspiring time travellers should get used to some intense itching and chafing. People in historical movies don’t scratch their bits and butts nearly enough.

Speaking of which, for those who love historical accuracy (like all you wonderful people reading this blog and my brand of historical fantasy), here’s a fun “tidbit”: this is how armour for women is depicted in fantasy games and movies (“historical” movies are a sub-genre of fantasy, as the correlation to history is rather loose):

It holds as much reality as a Frank Frazetta painting, which adorned the walls of teenaged-me’s room. (I wish I could find the old Dragon magazine’s cartoon “Lucky I was wearing my chainmail bikini”; but I digress).

This, for comparison is what the real Jeanne d’Arc armour looks like:

Meanwhile, here is a sample of REAL HISTORICAL ARMOUR from the early 1500’s:

Travelling back to the 16th century? Forget pants mate, your hose and cod-piece are on the chair. (Seriously, read that article on cod-pieces. It was not just like a jock strap; it was meant to be… aggressively suggestive).

It’s not just clothing, of course. Hairstyle and make-up matter too. Janet Stephens is known to have proven that the hairstyles on ancient Roman statues could be done with original equipment and techniques and just the woman’s hair, without wigs and extensions. She’s got a whole YouTube channel about it, and publishes in scientific magazines.

Now, possible and comfortable are two different things, and either way you’d need a maid to construct it before going out in public. And if you’re think you’re lucky for travelling as a male, let’s talk about wigs. And make-up. There are enough periods and circumstances where you’d need both, or at least a wig. And you’ll be wearing the same piece for extended periods of time. Don’t worry, everyone else’s will be just as unsanitary and flea-ridden. With bedbugs you can at least sleep on the floor. I’ll presume our time travellers get their hair cut back at HQ, because any discussion of mediaeval barbers will quickly devolve into medical practices and the time-travellers’ union will definitely negotiate for the most futuristic dentistry it can.

Cosmetics have also evolved over time. We have plenty of pictorial evidence and the occasional recipe. A discovery of a jar of face cream from ancient Rome, still with finger marks from the last time its owner dipped in, allowed researchers to analyse the composition.

The bad news for our time traveller with their modern sensibilities? Animal fats and lead paint. Try not to wear too much, so your skin doesn’t rot.

Felix’s wardrobe

All of this does make it into the novels. Well, maybe not all, but enough to give a depth and richness to the world-building. I’ve had authors respond to the above image with “wardrobe are the unsung heroes of my production,” and I can only ask whyyy? Clothing and appearance (and grooming habits) are such a fundamental aspect of human society, it absolutely has to make it in. Don’t be like Hollywood, who think Vikings wore drab clothes and that William Wallace wore tartan and painted his face blue.

It doesn’t have to be heavy-handed, either. Felix makes off-hand comments about layering tunics in winter, notices Aemilia’s complex hair styles at formal events, or buys cosmetics as a present. My favourite sartorial quote comes from In Numina:

It was the first time I had to wear a toga to a brothel. Most such establishments are quick in-and-out affairs — no affront meant for my male readers — where a tunic is preferred for ease of access.

Looking for more reading on the subject?

Many people mentioned The Chronicles of St. Mary’s by Jodi Taylor (14 books) and the Oxford Time Travel by Connie Willis (2 books), both of which seems to involve bungling time travellers who suffer wardrobe malfunctions among other accidents. Those went on straight on the TBR list.

This isn’t the first time I dabble in historical fashions. I’ve written a 3-paragraph flash fiction on Dressmaking for Werewolves, and an article on Fleeting Footwear Fashions in ancient Rome (a follow-up piece on Cost of Living in Ancient Rome).

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Curious where all these details about historical fashions lead to? Why don’t you try Felix’s Roman-inspired world, or Jack’s historically-steeped modern ghost stories. Meet them on the free short stories and novels!