Suitable male attire for afternoon tea

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Vitezslav Ivicic

Member
Could anybody tell me, what would a suitable afternoon tea attire for a young man be? Maybe Cutaway? Or it's a day suit ok?
In Cameron's Titanic you can see Ismay and other gentlemen in suits (in Verandah Café, Reception room), and some of them (the older ones) are wearing frock coats, and later, on Sunday in the first class lounge, they are wearing cutaways and frock coat.

Thank you for your help
Regards, Vitezslav
 
Although not wise to trust a movie for reference, I think you've already stated your answer.

In the deep South of the USA, it was also customary for men of any age (although more popular by the younger set) to wear what is called a "seersucker" suit. This is a suit made of lightweight, puckered cotton and is almost always in a vertical striped pattern (often blue or tan). During the summer months, it was also popular attire for those spending their Summer days on the East coast in places such as Newport, Rhode Island; the Hamptons in New York; and other fashionable areas as well. A linen suit was also acceptable day attire. These outfits were only to be worn during hot weather and are still worn today.
 
As I've commented on the board previously, I think we have an exaggerated idea of just how frequently the Edwardian rich changed their outfits throughout the day. Obviously, turn-of-the-century clothing was far more formal and far more complicated - all those buttons and hooks which in themselves required either great dexterity or the services of a maid or valet - but I don't believe that first-class passengers returned to their staterooms five or six times daily to change. What would be the point? Aboard ship, the field of social activity was far more restricted than on land and, besides, I have a feeling that any lady who appeared hourly in a brand-new Parisian frock would have been deemed flashy and vulgar by her peers.

But to return to your point, Vitezslav. Afternoon tea took place around 4.00PM or 5.00PM and (I seem to recall) was originally instituted by the Duchess of Bedford in 1840 as a means of filling the gap between lunch and dinner and also as a convenient way of entertaining callers one didn't necessarily want to provide a twelve-course banquet for. As we all know, Lucile specialised in loose and frothy tea-gowns, worn sans-corset, which provided ladies with a little light relief from the discomforts imposed by whale-bone and starch. But - and here I may be wrong - I suspect tea-gowns were more usually worn 'at home' rather than in the public arena - which the first-class lounge, reception room, palm courts and Cafe Parisien very much were. Taking tea aboard the 'Titanic' would have been akin to a rendezvous at the Ritz in London or the Plaza in New York. Flirty little scraps of chiffon and lace, worn in full view of three-hundred fellow travellers, would not have been deemed appropriate at such a time and in such a place. Moreover, falling as it did in the mid- to late-afternoon, teatime often caught both ladies and gentlemen 'on the hop' as they went about their daily business. During the Season, an impromptu gathering might unfold at any one of several thousand fashionable town-houses, with a motley array of visitors dropping by for a cup of Assam, a cucumber sandwich and other light but much-needed refreshments. Some gentleman might conceivably be en route to or from Westminster or the Palace and, if so, would have indeed worn formal sponge-bag trousers and cut-away coats. On the other hand, there might also be dapper chaps - those with no other demands on their time - sporting casual, light-weight summer suits and panama hats. And, if tea was taken on the manicured lawn or terrace of some country-house (a la Merchant-Ivory's 'Room with a View'), then visitors might be just as likely to sit down in tennis whites!

In other words, I doubt there were hard-and-fast rules which dictated what should or should not be worn at tea-time. It very much depended on the formality (or otherwise) of the venue.
 
Speaking from the other side of the green baize door, Martin, my grandmother was in service in a large London house at the turn of the 20th Century and she told me in no uncertain terms that these vast and frequent Edwardian meals were both routine and unquestioned, but largely for impressing hospitality - there were always tea-time callers and dinner guests, and comparatively little social privacy among the upper classes.

Ladies were expected only to nibble - that was ladylike. Leisured and sporting Edwardians, of either sex, could cope as they spent hours in the saddle, tramping across moorland, doing Swedish exercises and on gym contraptions etc. Sedentary and greedy ones did not usually live long lives. She recalled considerable quantities of food finding it's way down to the servants quarters (who were always peckish as they worked so hard) or to destitute callers at the door in the 'area' (basement).

Did you see the recent program on TV where Giles Coran and someone called Sue tried to recreate Edwardian eating and living for two weeks? She ended up swearing horribly about her corsets, and screaming for some vegetables before she exploded, and he put on about 16lbs a week (he was a keen eater). They also tried out strange Edwardian fads like chewing every mouthful until it was totally liquid - to aid digestion - and making real beef tea. Ugh!
 
Afternoon tea is the most splendid social innovation and it is such a shame that, now most people have to go out to work during the day, the habit has more-or-less died out. I tried to institute a weekly 'at home' at my student house, with friends dropping by after lectures, but - as often as not - alcohol was substituted for Rose Pouchong and we were all raging by the time dinner came around.

But on a more serious note. Yes, tea-time in the great Edwardian houses (both in the town AND in the country) was not simply a matter of little sandwiches. Along with their other meals, it could be an incredible spread with treats like lobster salad and ten different kinds of cream-filled pastry. In summer, there would be iced drinks as well as tea itself and I'm sure I remember reading that the raciest hostesses served cocktails too - and this well before the age of Jeeves and Wooster! Nor were tea-parties confined to small groups of four or five. Great ladies were known to have certain days on which they received and, on that particular afternoon, their drawing rooms might become regular thorough-fares, with as many as thirty or forty visitors dropping by over a two-hour period.
 
Thank you. I have another question: If you would like to give an edwardian tea party, what would the guests wear? I read that guests from other cities would wear street clothes, and the home ladies tea dresses. Was is also possible that one guest would wear a tennis suit, another a riding habit and another a cutaway? I guess not...
 
I think it unlikely that male guests would have arrived at the same tea-party, wearing as many different types of costume as you suggest. Remember: day-to-day life for the Edwardian rich followed a fairly rigid pattern. In London during the Season, ladies and gentlemen might well have ridden out on the Row during the morning but NONE of them would have presented themselves in an Eaton Square drawing room for a formal tea, still attired in smelly riding gear. On the other hand, if a hostess was entertaining at a summer 'Saturday-to-Monday' (NEVER call it a weekend), her guests might have spent their afternoons engaged in seasonal sports like croquet, tennis and boating. Then, as now, the Edwardians liked to be outside as much as the weather would permit and a country-house tea would be a decidedly more casual affair, probably on the lawn, with takers flopping down in tennis whites or whatever they had put on after lunch. But town-clothes (cut-away coats and sponge-bag trousers) would hardly ever have been worn in the country and, likewise, sports-kit would never have been worn in London.

In the grandest Society households, guests would have been waited on by liveried footmen. The livery itself would most probably have been dark in colour, claret or navy-blue, and consisted of knee-breeches, silk stockings and swallow-tailed coats.
 
A footman serving afternoon tea in a typical Edwardian drawing room would be wearing a standard working livery of dark, brass-buttoned tailcoat, waistcoat (often of a contrasting colour but not white) and white tie. As Martin pointed out, knee breeches (and very elaborate and historic liveries) were still worn in the most aristocratic of households, but ordinary trousers were more typical elsewhere. See pic below of a typical late Victorian or Edwardian footman's outfit. This cartoon figure is a bit sloppy - he's not wearing his white gloves! At tea the footmen would often be the best-dressed men in attendance.

120782.jpg
 
And what would wear a footman in the country house - on a tea party on the lawn?

And there is one more thing about which I have to think about the whole time: What did men do with their hats? I think they could not wear it in a company of women. In the Cameron's Titanic, in the tea scene in the reception room, you can see an old man having his top hat on his knees. But if he would like to take a tea or eat a cake at table, what would he do with his hat?
 
Outside, inside - no matter. See above.

On arrival at a house, a visitor would be relieved of his overcoat, hat, cane etc by the butler or footman who answered the door, and these items deposited on a hall stand or in a small cloakroom.
 
Not always, Bob! One of the tactics of the Edwardian lothario, bent on seduction, was to take his top hat and cane into the drawing room where he would lay them beside his chair. Should he and his hostess be surprised by her husband, returning from his club unexpectedly early, the visitor could always argue that he was paying only the most fleeting of calls and that it had hardly seemed worth-while troubling the servants with his belongings. Such a strategy was only adopted, of course, when a married woman and her caller were having a 'one-on-one', with the promise of rather more than a cucumber sandwich at the end of it! At more formal tea-parties, the butler and footmen would certainly relieve the gentlemen of their coats and hats.

Re. liveried footmen. Both Bob and Sashka are correct. The colour and style of the uniforms varied from family to family, according to tradition. From the top of my head, I can't recall specific family colours - say, blue for the Marlboroughs or red for the Devonshires - but we can be sure that they wouldn't have been too garish. Servants, no matter what their status, were always supposed to be unobtrusive. At grand evening parties, footmen would have whitened their hair with sweet-smelling violet powder. This was mixed with water to the consistency of a thick and sticky paste and then slathered all over the pate, where it rapidly dried to form a rigid 'cap' (rather like modern gel). I've read the memoirs of one footman from this period who recalled how much he and his colleagues HATED this picturesque but troublesome practice. Throughout the evening, the powder-mix would have to be regularly re-applied and flakes would chip away and slip down the back of the collar where they would itch intolerably. It seems that the last time footmen ever powdered their hair in a private household was at the coming-out ball given for Lady Sarah Churchill at Blenheim Palace in the summer of 1939.

In smaller and less grand households, parlour-maids would take the place of footmen. By mid-afternoon, when visitors arrived for tea, they would be wearing precisely the kind of uniform with which we're all familiar from French farce - a black dress, a frilly white apron and a starched cap. Around 1912, one magazine noted that some 'artistic' mistresses were substituting prettier, pastel shades like mauve or pink for the traditional black although this practice was only taken up in the most advanced households.
 
As an interesting aside on footmen, their traditional role was as much decorative as functional. They were generally the best-dressed of the servants and it was a Victorian tradition that only young men who were at least six feet tall, well-built and good-looking would be considered for the job. Ideally they were matched in size and appearance like carriage horses, and were trained to act in unison like a pit team at a Grand Prix!

The role of 'First Footman' would often go to the man with the most impressive appearance rather than the longest experience, and he would often be addressed as 'James' or 'John', whatever his given name. Maids also were often re-named to avoid clashes or a name which was regarded as 'unsuitable' or non-traditional; thus almost every large household had a 'Rose', but never more than one.

In addition to his general duties, the First Footman would traditionally have the role of personal servant to the Lady of the house and would accompany her in the carriage or car during her time away from the house. The cliched theatrical line "Home, James" is often associated with a call to the chauffeur; it was actually addressed to my Lady's footman.
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"..it was a Victorian tradition that only young men who were at least six feet tall, well-built and good-looking would be considered for the job."

I say, Bob. My grandfather was a footman! And he met my grandmother, Rosina, while in service. As you know, her name caused a slight problem tracking her down in the 1901 Census as she had been re-named as Rose - already a Rosina in the servants' Hall. I never knew my grandfather, but I wish I had, as I would have liked to ask him about the hair stuff, among many other things. Their household wasn't aristocratic as it was only a doctor's (albeit a knight and a Royal doctor) but it still boasted a butler, two footmen, a housekeeper, a cook, and numerous maids. I could use a team like that myself.
 

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