When I titled this blog post, I wasn’t lying. Petticoats have a fascinating history. Once worn on the outside of a dress, as a decorative skirt, they evolved to become undergarments with a dual purpose. The first was to add an extra layer of warmth. The other…to disguise the shape of the legs.
When we think of a petticoat, we tend to first imagine the underskirt, and that is what they evolved to. Some petticoats, however, had bodices in them, which makes it difficult to tell in some historical drawings if a woman is wearing a chemise or a petticoat. The chemise was the first layer worn next to the skin, to protect the clothing from oils in the skin. It makes sense, when laundry was a difficult thing, and many fabrics, especially for a fancy dress, would be impossible to wash.
In the 1840s, the number of petticoats worn increased, primarily to bring fullness to the dress. On a standard day, two were worn, however as time went on, a woman might wear far more, as many as six or seven! The fabrics of a petticoat were usually cotton or muslin or flannel.
While many petticoats were simple straight, some had a flounce, or a bit of a bustle build in. I won’t lie…I’ve always wondered how comfortable that would be, to sit while wearing such a thing.
Interestingly, it wasn’t just a female who wore the petticoats, but the dolls of little girls as well! Dolls wore replicas of the clothing that women and girls wore, so a doll might also have multiple petticoats.
So, what brought to mind petticoats for my post today? Well, in just a few days, I’m releasing Westward Dreams, and in it, my main character Mary Clinton is a skilled seamstresses who makes matching dresses for little girls and their dolls. Hence, my research into if dolls wore the same as their owners!
I’d love to give one reader an ebook of Westward Dreams. The catch is, you have to wait until it releases on Friday before I can send it to you! 😉
To have a chance at winning, simply read the blurb, and tell me something you think might happen in this story. Here’s the book description.
Mary Clinton arrives out west with dreams of marrying her sweetheart—only to discover he didn’t wait for her. Stranded and heartbroken, she stumbles upon a terrified child wandering alone and escorts her home, where she’s mistaken for the girl’s new governess. With nowhere else to go, Mary accepts the role, and the chance to rebuild her crumbled future.
When Simon Alexander returns from his business trip, he’s immediately suspicious. He never hired a governess—and after losing his wife, he’s vowed to protect his daughter from any threat. But his little girl has already fallen in love with the mysterious Mary, and Simon realizes he desperately needs help raising her. Against his better judgment, he lets her stay, despite his doubts.
As Mary finds purpose in her new role and Simon’s guarded heart begins to thaw, an unexpected attraction blooms between them. But when the man Mary came west for returns to threaten her, everything she’s tentatively built threatens to crumble. Can Mary prove to herself she’s worthy of a chance at love? And can Simon learn to trust again—before he loses the only woman who’s made him want to?
I’ll choose one winner, and once you contact me, I’ll be sure you get your ebook copy on Friday!
I was on a writer retreat with my bestie, Liz Flaherty a couple of weeks ago. It was fabulous. We wrote, we drank wine, we ate chocolate, we talked, we processed her book and mine. Our retreats are always as Liz puts it,
We talked about the little pieces of ideas that wander through our writer minds—snippets of conversations, words, things we notice that perhaps no one else notices. We share ideas about settings, even as minute as the furnishings in a specific house in a setting. That got me thinking about where my random ideas rest in my imagination—on a chintz chair, I think. Faded old flowered fabric on a huge overstuffed chair sitting in a sunny spot under the eaves. Maybe there’s an ottoman, but it doesn’t have to match because honestly, my decorating style, like my writing style, is as random as my ideas. So why would I imagine something that matches?
Everyone has word pictures in their minds—and often it takes just seeing a pair of fancy cowboy boots in a store in West Yellowstone, Montana, or a rusty pump on a ranch in Virginia City for a story to start to happen.
These books were usually around a hundred pages long and had bright, colorful covers. The ones set in the West quickly became some of the most popular, but mysteries, military feats, explorers and adventurers, and romances had their niche. As you might guess, not all these writers were men. It’s estimated that from twenty-five to thirty percent were women. You might recognize some of the names among the dime novelists: Horatio Alger, Upton Sinclair, Jack London, Bret Harte, Zane Grey, Edgar Rice Burroughs, Max Brand, and Louisa May Alcott. Some used their real names, and some used pen names when writing dime novels. Often, this was how they got their start. Prentiss Ingraham, who made Buffalo Bill even more famous, completed more than 6oo novels.
The invention of the first practical typewriter in 1868 made it easier to write these short novels. An author could make up to $1,000 per book, which was a lot of money in the 1800s. One thousand dollars in 1870 would equal almost $25,000 today, and most writers could write a book a month. These books normally had a single plot and targeted the “common” class.
That’s what happened to my hero in The Writer’s Rescue. A debilitating accident on the ranch leads Wade Easton to become a wealthy Western dime novelist, but also a recluse. When he loses yet another housekeeper, he has no other option but to accept a woman he feels is too young for the job. However, she starts changing him without even trying. Can his own story perhaps be written with a different ending than he thought?
One of my favorite childhood memories was heading over to my Aunt Donna’s house to spend the night. Often, we’d watch a favorite movie–the Apple Dumplin’ Gang was one of our top choices. It’s a movie hubby and I have shared with our kiddos to much laughter and shouts of “Mr. Donovan, I gotta go!”.
