Once a ubiquitous symbol of 19th-century femininity, the corset was simultaneously a significant source of physical constraint and health issues for women. The historical battle against corsets represents a pivotal moment in women’s fashion and health reform, challenging deeply entrenched societal norms and advocating for a more natural approach to bodily presentation.
Developed in the 16th century, corsets were meticulously designed to reshape the female physique into fashionable silhouettes, predominantly the inverted cone or the idealized hourglass. Their zenith of popularity arrived in the latter half of the 19th century, when they were employed to achieve unnaturally slender waistlines across all body types. This coveted profile was crafted using rigid materials like baleen or steel ribs, encased in heavy cloth or leather, and cinched tightly by an intricate lacing system at the back.
Frances Stuart Parker’s influential book, Dress and How to Improve It, published in 1897, emerged amidst a growing chorus advocating for more sensible and comfortable attire for women. Beyond the sheer discomfort and adverse health effects of overtightened corsets, women of the era also contended with numerous layers of undergarments, dresses that severely restricted movement, and excruciatingly tight, undersized shoes. Parker did not shy away from critiquing the fashion designers responsible for this widespread physical suffering. She powerfully stated, “Could the shoemaker and the dressmaker change the order of creation and give us another body with internal organs rearranged to suit the garments they design, we could go on our wasp-like way rejoicing. As it is, the conventional is utterly at war with the natural, with the inevitable result that our clothing is neither comfortable, graceful, nor beautiful.”
These were remarkably brave words in an era where social pressure to conform to prevailing fashion standards was immense. Parker herself recounted how her own dressmaker adamantly refused even to consider her innovative designs for an improved dress, simply because they deviated from the latest Parisian trends. The widespread adoption of less restrictive fashion did not truly take hold until the years surrounding World War I, when modern girdles and more thoughtfully designed brassieres began to supersede the traditional corset. While garments still bearing the name “corset” exist today, their design is distinctly different—more comfortable, loose-fitting, and worn primarily for stylistic expression rather than bodily reshaping, often as an outer garment.
Parker’s Dress and How to Improve It was not merely a polemic; a significant portion served as a practical guide for women eager to transform their dressing habits. Its initial chapters specifically outlined a systematic approach to overcoming corset dependence and rehabilitating weakened body muscles. Subsequent chapters delved into the creation and sourcing of newer, more comfortable undergarments and outer wear. The full text of her revolutionary work remains accessible to the public in the HathiTrust online archives.
Conviction and Conversion: A Personal Revelation
Frances Stuart Parker’s seminal work, Dress and How to Improve It, was conceived as a direct response to a deluge of inquiries from women across the nation, all echoing a singular plea: “What shall we do to be saved from the bondage of clothes?” Parker embarked on this endeavor to articulate the insights garnered from her fifteen years of meticulous experimentation, striving to adapt conventional dress to her evolving convictions about health and comfort. This process, she admitted, was inherently arduous. It was no simple feat to transition from the deeply ingrained accustomed styles to the unaccustomed, especially at a time when societal norms did not yet permit a radical “revolution” in dress. Instead, change was a gradual “evolution,” unlike the effortless transformation of a butterfly emerging from its chrysalis.
Parker’s personal journey toward dress reform was profoundly influenced by her mentor, Professor Lewis B. Monroe, Dean of the Boston University School of Oratory, whom she encountered sixteen years prior to writing her book. Professor Monroe was a fervent proponent of physical culture, consistently impressing upon his students the vital importance of the unrestrained use of every muscle in the body. His extensive studies, including seven transatlantic voyages to research Delsarte’s methods, afforded him a comprehensive understanding of various forms of physical culture. Monroe, with his deep familiarity with the techniques of the finest French gymnasiums and his own impressive physique, inspired conviction in all his pupils, cementing the truth that “Not soul helps body more than body soul.”
The curriculum at Monroe’s school included gymnastics, both apparatus-based and freeform, alongside lectures in anatomy, physiology, and hygiene. It was after attending a particularly illuminating lecture by Dr. Helen O’Leary, vividly illustrated with a manikin, that Parker experienced her personal epiphany. She returned home and, in what seemed like a logical step to her “partially enlightened mind,” removed her corset, perceiving it as the fundamental cause of all bodily ailments. However, this initial act of liberation paradoxically marked the beginning of new challenges.
Parker soon realized the limitations of her immediate action. It did not initially occur to her that her skirt band remained tightly cinched, or that her overall dress was still as constrictive as before. The cumulative weight of her skirts continued to bear down heavily upon her abdominal muscles. In removing her corset, she had inadvertently deprived her already weakened muscles of their accustomed, albeit detrimental, support. Whether Dr. O’Leary had not fully emphasized the necessity for a complete overhaul of dress, or if Parker’s mind was not yet ready to grasp such an advanced concept, the immediate outcome of the lecture was a singular, unwavering resolve to discard her corsets and allow her internal organs the freedom to function naturally.
Reflecting on her past, Parker noted a common denial among women: “In all my experience, I have never met a woman whose corset was tight.” She believed herself to be a singular exception, affirming that her own corset was perpetually tight, a condition exacerbated by an “extra pull” on the laces whenever she donned her finer gowns. This painful ritual had persisted unquestioned from her early girlhood right up to the age of twenty-nine.
Parker vividly described the elaborate and restrictive ensemble she wore during that winter, a costume universally common at the time. It comprised, in sequence: woolen under-drawers and a vest, white muslin drawers fastened at the waist, a chemise, the corset itself, a corset cover, an underskirt, a bustle, a dress-skirt, an over-skirt, and finally, a basque. This intricate layering resulted in no fewer than seven distinct bands constricting the waist, in addition to the rigid, shield-like corset. While the corset prevented the complete constriction of the diaphragm and provided some support from the abdomen, its overall impact was profoundly detrimental.
Parker urged any sensible woman to momentarily divert her attention from the admired “trim, well-rounded waist” to contemplate the true internal consequences of such a fashion. For Parker, this introspective examination brought a significant “pause.” An awakened consciousness vividly brought her internal conditions to the forefront: her floating ribs pressed into her liver, her stomach displaced from its natural, ample home and forced into the space rightfully belonging to her lungs and heart. These vital organs, in turn, suffered interference, protesting with shortened breath and accelerated action. This disturbing realization of a cascade of deranged organs—heart, lungs, stomach, and liver—fortified her determination to reclaim the natural rights of these much-abused physiological systems.
Yet, the immediate removal of the corset led to what Parker termed “muscular anarchy.” She felt as though her back was on the verge of breaking. Compounding this, she became acutely aware of the burdensome weight of her multiple skirts pressing heavily over her abdomen, while each of the seven waistbands painfully constricted her now weak and unprotected back.
Developing the Body: A Gradual Path to Freedom
Parker offered clear guidance for those embarking on a journey of dress reform, emphasizing the necessity of prudence to avoid overtaxing muscles weakened by prolonged disuse. Her first recommendation was the immediate adoption of combination garments and tights. The removal of corsets, however, was to be a gradual process. She advised removing the steels from the front and buttoning the corset, then lacing it at the back with an elastic cord. Crucially, an improved dress should be tailored to allow an additional quarter or half-inch of breathing space, with seams deep enough to permit further adjustments if required. If skirts were still worn, buttonholes should be made in the waistband, allowing them to be buttoned to the corsets or corset cover with a quarter-inch of slack between each buttonhole. The bones of the corset should be progressively removed, and the top and bottom sections gradually cut away, with all superfluous linings carefully excised over time.
Concurrently with these clothing adjustments, Parker stressed the importance of physical exercise. She recommended dedicated breathing exercises three times daily, following specific instructions provided in her book. To bolster muscle strength and development, she suggested acquiring a set of chest weights (specifically mentioning No. 10 Narragansett Manufacturing Co.) and practicing all the accompanying exercises both morning and night. For further guidance, she endorsed works such as Guthman’s Aesthetic Gymnastics, Checkley, Kafler on Breathing, and Lutzen on Respiration, or any other reputable book on exercise. The goal was to actively identify and engage the body’s muscles. Just forty-five minutes of regular daily exercise, Parker asserted, would miraculously strengthen and develop unused muscles, leading to the disappearance of common ailments like headaches, nervousness, and dyspepsia, which would “fold up their tents like the Arabs, and silently steal away.”
If access to a well-managed gymnasium with attention to measurements and a reliable prescribing physician was available, Parker encouraged enrollment. Otherwise, the recommended books would empower an individual with common sense to achieve the desired results. She cautioned against over-fatigue, advising individuals to cease exercising before becoming truly weary, and emphasizing that “short periods of practice, with frequent intervals of rest, that do the work.” Patience was paramount; one should not expect overnight strength gains, nor be alarmed by minor aches in unused muscles.
Parker cited the experience of Richard Proctor, who took two months to recover his normal muscular condition after foolishly wearing a corset for three months. Proctor, growing stout, had adopted the “feminine method” of weight reduction but quickly discovered that “greater ills in life than that of extra avoirdupois” existed. He discarded his corset but endured two months of pain. Parker extrapolated from this: if it took him two months to recover from three months of corset wear, a woman who had worn corsets for five, ten, fifteen, or twenty years could not possibly expect a full recovery in a mere week or month. However, with unwavering perseverance, a modicum of common sense, and patience, she assured her readers that nature would prove “very ready to help and quick to accommodate herself to new and better conditions.”
Indeed, Parker concluded, significant attention—a great deal of attention—must be dedicated to physical exercise by anyone considering a change in dress. Much of the success of an improved gown, she argued, lay in the symmetrical body it adorned. Shoulders could be broadened, hollow chests filled out, shrunken arms and legs developed, and backs straightened, all working towards restoring the misused body to its “divine human form.”
The Enduring Legacy of Dress Reform
Frances Stuart Parker’s advocacy for sensible clothing and physical culture was a crucial contribution to the broader battle against corsets and the restrictive fashion of the 19th century. Her work, though published over a century ago, resonates with timeless principles of health, comfort, and self-empowerment. Parker herself passed away at the age of 51, only a few years after the publication of her groundbreaking book, but her influence helped pave the way for a more liberated approach to women’s attire. The insights she offered—from the detrimental effects of unnaturally shaped garments to a practical guide for regaining physical strength and well-being—were instrumental in shaping perceptions and practices.
The transition from the highly restrictive corsets to more practical undergarments and free-flowing designs was not instantaneous, but rather a gradual societal evolution. It was driven by the persistent voices of reformers like Parker, combined with changing social roles for women, particularly during wartime. Today, the legacy of this reform movement is evident in the comfort and freedom afforded by modern clothing. While vintage-inspired corsetry exists as a fashion choice, it is a far cry from the body-altering, health-compromising devices of the past. The story of Frances Stuart Parker and the fight for functional fashion serves as a powerful reminder of how individual conviction and persistent advocacy can lead to profound and lasting societal change, prioritizing well-being over arbitrary aesthetic ideals.
