Casting off the crinolines

IMAGINE a typical Edwardian lady, her gown a bell shape flowing from her tiny waist. Her posture is erect, her face composed, as she enters a room full of men. They're there to talk politics - a subject not fitting for female ears - yet when they see her, they don't react. If anyone looks at her, it's merely to nod or raise their hat. She smiles demurely, knowing that she's pulled it off: little do they suspect that she's a spy in the camp.

Before they won the vote, in 1918, women had to resort to such tactics. Considered too fragile for things like politics, they were condemned to being dictated to by men. Then in 1903, with the founding of the Women's Social and Political Union, things took a different turn. Fed up with their second-class status, women like Emmeline Pankhurst started making waves. They wanted the vote - and nothing would divert them from their course. While known for chaining themselves to railings, they also employed more subtle tactics. Their simplest weapon - their femininity - was perhaps their most potent.

As a costume historian, Gillian Stapleton knows all about women's suffrage. She and her partner Lucy Adlington, with whom she runs The History Wardrobe, perform the re-enactment Votes for Women, in which they tell the movement's story. Their prominent theme - and one which strikes me as anomalous - is the link between politics and fashion. According to Gillian, who lives in Helmsley, North Yorkshire, the two are inseparable.

"There were two ways in which the suffragettes used fashion," she says. "They used it as a disguise and they used it as a weapon. If they were dressed as a lady and they went to a political meeting, for example, they would be allowed in because it would be assumed that they would be an observer. That's where the weapon part of it comes in, in as much as you're using high fashion to give you a passport into places where you might not normally be allowed."

From her extensive research, Gillian knows that Emmeline Pankurst was greatly concerned with how she looked. "All the Pankhursts dressed extremely fashionably - they really liked fashion," she says. "Emmeline's daughter Christabel was a lawyer and was able to advise the suffragettes on legal issues. They were very highly documented in the papers at the time because it was a sensation that women would take militant action for a political cause."

In the re-enactment, Gillian plays the part of a suffragette, donning an outfit from the era. "We start off in 1903 and I'm a suffragette getting ready to take on Westminster," she says. "You see how a fashionable campaigner would dress herself."

At this point, Gillian brings out some of the clothes. The first item is a peach coloured corset - not the torso-skimming sort but a real rib-crusher. She hands it to me and it weighs a ton - and that's without a heavy dress. Next comes the corset cover, a delicate garment in cotton and lace, and after that, an exquisite shawl, as diaphanous as a cobweb. Yet, when it comes to the pretty parasol, a must-have accessory for any lady, there's hidden menace. "It has a metal tip on the end - very useful for pushing policemen out of the way," says Gillian, smiling gleefully.

While women used it to their advantage, fashion could also be repressive, as exemplified by the corset. According to Gillian, it's no surprise that at the time of the suffragettes, clothing was at its most restrictive. "It's always reflected women's political position," she says. "When corsets were at their most restrictive, women were most constrained by political and social obligations. If it was a coincidence, it would be a very strange one.

"The cause of women's suffrage was most marked in the mid-19th century, when women were encumbered with massive crinolines, corsets and elaborate hairstyles, but as they were beginning to win rights, both political and legal, the fashion restrictions on them grew less and less."

So, just as in politics, was it men who set the rules? Gillian concedes that they probably did. "It has to be said that a lot of the fashion designers, particularly in the mid-19th century and the early 20th century, were men," she says. "The person who was credited with inventing the crinoline, Charles Frederick Worth, was an Englishman working in Paris. But women didn't stop them. They were happy to embrace the fashions."

A revolution came with the First World War, when women really showed their worth. Their role replacing men throughout the workforce led to startling freedoms - not least in what they wore. "In the First World War, many women were taking over factory jobs, driving ambulances and being conductors on trams, so they had to have practical clothing," says Gillian. "The Women's Land Army started then, so you saw women working in the fields in overalls and breeches, which must have been a shock to conservative people. The First World War would really have been the first time it was acceptable for women to wear trousers."

In 1928, ten years after the war ended and women first acquired the vote, the age of suffrage was reduced to 21, making it equal to that for men. It had been just 25 years since Emmeline Pankhurst wore a crinoline, and yet fashion had progressed immeasurably. Part two of the re-enactment covers this time. "Lucy dresses as a 1920s flapper who's setting off to vote," says Gillian. "You see a huge contrast from the suffragette of 1903 and how with the world war between and women's suffrage, you get to the free and easy fashions of the 1920s. While women were being freed politically, they were also getting freedom in fashion."

A significant force for change was the rise of female designers, most notably Coco Chanel. She gave permission to discard the layers for a lighter, more streamlined look. "Coco Chanel was very influential in making clothes which were much more practical and comfortable to wear for women," says Gillian. "She opened her first boutique of women's sportswear before the First World War. She was definitely independent. I think she was aware of the effect she had."

With the move to minimal clothing came another drastic shift. From full and curvy, the fashionable figure went to lean and straight. "It was one of the most radical changes that I can think of," says Gillian.

One thing her research has taught her is that fashion runs in cycles. As common wisdom dictates, if you wait for long enough, everything comes back in vogue. While it may not be so obvious as in the 1900s, according to Gillian, politics still plays a role. "When the Iraq war began, combat fashions were popular among young girls - things like imitation bullet belts and pink camouflage," she says. "It was a feminised version of combat uniform."

We all know the pressures on modern women to look their best, with the cults of youth and being slim, but are things worse than in the past? Has fashion now, more than ever, become a tool of repression? Gillian's response is hardly cheering: "I think some designers play about with women's expectations and see how far they can push them until they kick back. For example, I think the recent fashion for very tight corsets will soon cause a reaction in the opposite direction," she says.

"We're still judged on what we wear, just like the suffragettes were, and I don't think women have ever been happy with the shape nature gave them. The difference now is that we're more on show. In the past, an ordinary woman would have followed fashion, but she would have had best things to go out in and simple things for home. Women weren't so much in the public eye as they are now.

"I think there's a great deal of pressure on modern women to hold down jobs, have children, be the perfect wife and look good. We're given impossible goals."