When the photographer asks you to bring along your favourite toy for the photo shoot...

A little 19th century sauciness...

19th century calves, oh my!

Perhaps just slipping into the confines of the Gilded Age is this 1860's 'occupational portrait' of a lady of abilities in Vienna, Austria. This could well be a naughty little 19th century stereocard, too. 

The amount of leg she's showing is truly scandalous for its time, though Regency era ancestors wouldn't have been nearly so outraged. Certainly a few blokes would've thought she was a bit of alright.

Everything about this image can be filed under 'marvellous': her casual, uninhibited pose that allows her shapely legs to be exhibited, the very genteel way she grasps her tea cup as they she was born in a manor home, those thoroughly amazing boots and the way she gazes at the photographer with a perfect hint of cockiness and humour.

I bet she loaded that teacup with whiskey or brandy and told her customers the most magnificent dirty jokes.

The God-barber

I had a pun for you, but I'll shave it for later.

Barber: Would you like a hair cut, sir?
Client: No, cut all of them, you fucking cheapskate.

Taken around the turn-of-last-century (boy, that's always a mission to type), we're viewing Ruby Sohn's barber joint in Junction City, Kansas, courtesy of Historic Fine Arts. We'll note, if we take in the finer details, the number of the shaving mugs stored in a shelf on the wall. The fellow in the vest standing on the right appears to be an affable sort of fellow.

He's sexy and he knows it...

Well, SOMEONE needs a good spanking.

OH sir! How you do make my knees tremble and my heart feel weak. Will someone so kindly ring the bell for my maid Eliza to fetch the revival salts on the double. Tell her to make haste, for I am now certain the room is spinning and there are, I see clearly now, stars appearing before my eyes. An impertinent gaze, terrific sideburns and an authoritative, cocky manner toward the camera will do that, you know. Pout away, handsome chap. If I'm not mistaken, and if I should be I will hasten to rectify my claim, this fellow was taken by Charles Dodgson, quite an accomplished photographer, in Daguerreian Dandy's eyes.

19th century transportation-getting from A to B

Due to a draught on the subject of 19th century transportation options (okay, we admired a steam train a while back, perhaps, but I think that's really about it in the way of transport methods-unless we delve in Spring-heeled Jack's rather crafty and prudent methods involving a pair of nifty DIY shoes) we really should delve into some sensible choices to assist one in getting from A to B. Comfort and style varied substantially, but we'll first cast a glance at the phaeton (named so after a god of Greek mythology), a small carriage with limited seating options, born around the late 18th century. They remained in service for a good portion of the following century, and were a vehicle that a gent or lady could be in command of, rather than one having to acquire the services of a coachman. This one's quite a good looker with it's elderly leather top and original seat cushions, wouldn't you agree? I would assume it would be pulled by 1-2 horses, and was desirable due to it's lightweight nature and it's ability to be driven around town with ease.

Daguerrian Dandy will return after tending to his dark, luxuriant sideburns, though perhaps not quite so rapidly as old mate and English terror Spring-heeled Jack after a poor, helpless maiden in a graveyard after midnight.

A young fellow of the 19th century...

Tintype of a little 19th century gent, courtesy of Daguerreian Dandy.

Yes...a wee gent we have here. Marvel at that top curl and direct stare. 1/6 plate tintype, American. 

You really have to hand it to the Victorians...

Oooh, this looks rather handy.

Cordial apologies, first up, for the less-than-astounding quality of the image above. However, we must bare with what we have. And what exactly, then, DO we have? Daguerreian Dandy, sitting here in that spiffy brown checkered day suit we gazed upon not a moment ago, has not settled on a date for this charmer of an object. If I simply had to hazard a guess, if Dandy's stash of fresh tobacco and collection of naughty meerschaum pipes were on the line, I'd say perhaps 1850's, maybe 60's. Nevertheless, Dandy could be way out and it may in fact be a tribute to a bygone era. 

Enough babbling. What is it then, young dandies? Made of wood and whale ivory (no eyebrows raised back in them days) it is in fact a wax seal. I do wonder of it's origin too. A capital choice for the off-centre Victorian, yes. 

Gent's mid-century day ensembles...

It's time to get one's dandy on, I say. Image courtesy of Museum at FIT. 

Two absolutely spiffing day ensembles for dandies of the mid-century. Good heavens, aren't they a delight? Waltz on down the avenue in these babies and you'll do quite alright, I can assure you. The suit to our left is a wool number with a fetching checkered vest for the Victorian wishing to add a little flair and personality. To the right, looking as thought it's been lifted directly from 1970's era Mod Ken is a brown cotton and linen suit for the late 1840's gent.

Emily, Charlotte and Anne Bronte...

A gathering of Bronte's...take a good squiz and you may notice the faint outline of brother Branwell in the centre. He later turned his self-portrait into a pillar behind the sisters.

Portrait of Charlotte, Emily and Anne Bronte, the work of second-born sibling Branwell, painted c. 1834. The portrait seen (discovered by Elizabeth Gaskell in the 1850's) here has been partially cropped-the original, with it's wear, tear and age-related creasing, is a 3/4 length piece. Branwell, who fancied himself an artist and would live to be only 31, originally had included himself in the painting, but later altered his work and removed himself, adding a pillar as, so the story goes, he considered the painting too cluttered upon completion.

In the last few days, the original 1830's portrait made it's way back to Haworth Parsonage in West Yorkshire to celebrate the 200th anniversary of Emily's birth. The portrait will reside in the Parsonage until August, where it will then be transported along with it's four ghosts back to the National Gallery.