Tie me up, tie me down

The history of the corset covers the female body's history, says Lisa Allardice.

Daily Telegraph (London, England); 10/20/2001; Allardice, Lisa

The Corset: a Cultural History by Valerie Steele

199pp, Yale, pounds 29.95

Posh wore one to tie the knot, Kate Moss modeled one in a recent photo shoot and girls in trendy London bars are wearing little else. Fashion editors urge us to take a deep breath - the corset is back. Valerie Steele's book arrives unfashionably on time to reveal that the story of the corset covers nothing less than the history of the female body. Misunderstood for centuries as an instrument of torture, oppression and mutilation, the corset has had to withstand much more than generations of straining girths. Steele sets out to clear its name.

Those hoping for a racy read will be sorely disappointed. This scholarly apologia, firmly upholstered with footnotes and bibliography, provides all the corset's vital statistics, from Jean Fouquet's 15th-century painting Madonna and Child to the 20th-century conical-breasted Madonna. Unlike the recent popular "cultural histories" of the unphotogenic cod, nutmeg and potato, this is no diminutive volume. The Corset is bursting with paintings, cartoons, advertisements and photographs of scantily clad women, along with amusing anecdotes and literary tidbits.

When it comes to a lady's undies, the personal is most definitely political; Steele shows how the French, Industrial and sexual revolutions all played their part in shaping the corset's fortunes. Corsetry originated as part of aristocratic court culture in the 16th century; declined, along with moral values, during the Revolutionary era; and reached its prime in the Victorian age. Wearing corsets or "stays" embodied the paradox of Victorian sexuality: nice girls did, bad girls didn't. Then, no lady worth her smelling salts would be seen without one on. In the 19th century, God clearly intended respectable women to have heaving bosoms, wasp waists and to whisper breathlessly.

Steele certainly seems to subscribe to the no-pain-no-gain school of beauty. But her detailed evidence of exaggerated health risks doesn't let the corset off the hook completely. Bruising, skin irritation, muscle atrophy, rib deformity, punctured lungs, constipation and incontinence are just some of the ailments to afflict the hapless corset-wearer of old.

Although the emphasis was on more "hygienic" underwear, corsetry flourished well into the 20th century. American women's contribution to the First World War was by no means modest - by sacrificing their stays they produced enough steel to build two battleships (it's hard to imagine that President Bush can count on Wonderbras for the same support). In 1956, Nancy Mitford deemed stays or corsets important enough to pronounce them "U" and "non-U" respectively. But they could not survive the era of bra-burning and free love.

Sadly, this is no simple story of progress and emancipation. In our insatiable desire to stay young and beautiful, we have endlessly invented ways to make our lives miserable. Now we improve upon nature through "body sculpting" - diet, exercise and plastic surgery. As Naomi Wolf observes: "women's sense of liberation from the older constraints of fashion was countered by a new and sinister relationship to their bodies".

Here Steele flirts with the central questions of contemporary sexual politics. Adopting a post-feminist position, she claims persuasively that anti-corset propaganda patronizes women as vain and foolish and blames them for their own victimization. But at times this argument seems as ambivalent as the corset itself. Its reputation has always been risque (some boys like to wear them too, apparently). Today, we are told, the corset is an ironic weapon of female sexual empowerment. Women gave their lives, after all, for this liberty. The Corset is an uplifting defense of fashion and a woman's right to make herself as uncomfortable as she pleases.

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