What Edwardian Fashion Teaches Us About Class, Gender, and the Art of Making

Ever wondered what it’s like to walk—literally—in the shoes (and corsets) of a woman from the early 1900s?

No? Well, off we go, into the Edwardian era (1901–1914), a time of elegance, empire, and shifting gender norms.

Let’s imagine a world of corsets with S-bend silhouettes, ankle-length skirts, sharply tailored walking suits, and more rules about propriety than you could iron pleats into. If you're a seamstress, you know this means there's no such thing as “too much detail.” This is no exaggeration. For upper-class Edwardian women, clothes were all about structure and display. Tailored suits spoke of wealth and respectability. For working-class women, fashion had to be practical, adapted for affordability, comfort, and, yes, laundry day. And no, they couldn’t just “throw it in the washer”… or the dryer, for that matter.

Recreating garments from this era (and others that precede it) is a hands-on history lesson. Imagine sourcing wool suiting, cutting horsehair interfacing, or hand-stitching a jacket cuff. It’s slow fashion in its truest form and it’s revealing. For instance, sewing a replica 1908 walking suit doesn’t just tell us how it looked. It shows us how it felt to move in, sweat in, and live in.

Edwardian Walking suit.

Maker: Kontoff (American, born Minsk 1874–1926 died Boston)

Date: 1905–10

Culture: American

Medium: wool, silk

Credit Line: Brooklyn Museum Costume Collection at The Metropolitan Museum of Art, Gift of the Brooklyn Museum, 2009; Gift of Mrs. David William Harris, 1957

Object Number: 2009.300.256a, b

Courtesy of the Met:

https://www.metmuseum.org/art/collection/search/157410

Spoiler: movement was restricted, posture was policed, and breathing room? You guessed it, optional.

Think about it. Fashion, then and now, is never just about clothes. It’s about who made them, who wore them, and what they said without saying a word. I won’t even begin to dive into this era’s hobble skirt craze.

Postcard, circa 1911.

A man pointing at a woman wearing a hobble skirt. The caption says, "The Hobble Skirt. 'What's that? It's the speed-limit skirt!'" Because a hobble skirt limits the wearer's stride.

After looking at the postcard of the Hobble Skirt (above), you get what I mean. I didn’t have to say a word, and I bet you and I arrived at the same judgment. What was your critique? Drop it in the comments—I’d love to read your thoughts.

OK, back to the topic at hand...

Corsets weren’t just tight they were symbolic of an idealized, controlled femininity. Yep, you heard right: controlled femininity. Shirtwaists and walking suits marked a new mobility for women entering education and the workforce. That’s why some fashion historians (myself included) reconstruct garments. It lets us see and feel how power, identity, and social class were quite literally sewn into the seams.

This is more than cosplay. (And I’m not knocking cosplay; I love a good costume moment.) But reconstruction is a research method that bridges museum studies, gender theory, and good old-fashioned craftsmanship. It connects modern folks to the women who lived in these clothes and challenges us to think critically about how fashion shapes who we are and who we’re told to be.

Curious? Watch my video where I recreate an original 1904 drop skirt. Never heard of a drop skirt? Even more reason to check it out. It's both educational and entertaining. I take you through the journey of its research and reconstruction.

So the next time you pull on your favorite tailored blazer or “ick out” at the thought of shapewear, remember: you're echoing a long tradition of dressing that speaks volumes, whether through wool, whalebone, or something stitched by hand.