Written by Tilly Bankes
Picture this – it’s a Sunday afternoon, you are tired, but you and your friends have agreed to watch this new blockbuster that everyone is raving about at the local cinema. You do not know whether you will be able to keep your eyes open for the advised ninety-five minutes of thriller, but what you do know is that you have allowed yourself to binge extensively on a family sharing pack of popcorn. You meet the ticket officer and you and your ‘new’ eight-month baby bump bulging from your zipped coat, happily waddle smugly through to the directed screen.
Let’s be honest, we have all done it – who hasn’t smuggled in sweets and snacks to avoid extremely expensive prices? Jokes aside, this is not anything new. In fact, we have been smuggling to save a pretty penny for centuries. Let me introduce you to ‘fashionable smuggling’.
In the mid-to-late-nineteenth century, fashions from Paris were extremely popular. The phrase ‘French Legend’, coined by fashion designer Elizabeth Hawes, encapsulated the idea that if a garment was fabricated in France, then it was immediately luxurious and of great quality. The desire for the French aesthetic also infused itself into occupation names, and dressmakers were defined as Madame, Mademoiselle or Modiste. This appeared on the surface as a sustainable practice, as designers could receive French fashion plates, then incorporate and steal the silhouettes, styles and ensembles of the Parisian couture houses for their non-European clients. There was one problem though – the import of the materials and finished garments. If, for example, a Modiste’s client wanted a French lace, trim or fabric, then she would have to resort to paying extraordinary duties. As the primary port of entry, the US Customs House in New York was the government institution responsible for this nuisance.
The US Customs House realised that in order to create revenue, they had to practice protectionism in which they would deter Americans from buying goods from other countries and therefore boost the country’s economy. The McKinley Tariff Act was put in place in 1890; raising the average duty on imports to almost 50 per-cent. Following this, the ‘Moiety System’ – which allowed for custom officers and collectors to enjoy cuts of tariffs – resulted in unfair trade when the employees abused the system for their own personal wealth. This uneven ground allowed for bribery between the officers and travellers, and it was a commonly known practice to leave dollar notes on the top of trunks in order for officers to look away at the smuggled goods. In 1875, it became abundantly clear that there was a problem; $300,000,000 of goods subject to tax were imported illegally from Europe to America, and in 1871 at least $272,000,000 was lost in the US Government’s revenue due to this issue.
So how did they do it? Well, first we must differentiate who the smugglers were. In 1881, a man returning from Europe declared that he was travelling with only his daughter’s personal possessions. It was later found that he was smuggling $130,000 worth of French luxuries, including a wedding gown valued at around $16,000. Although this was a hefty sum, it was actually dressmakers and milliners—who were prominently women of that period—dominating the game. Known as ‘respectable ladies’ for serving high-society women, they could use their accumulated years of skill, knowledge, and position in the social hierarchy to hide almost anything – invisible to the untrained eye. Other travellers had less fortune when instead declaring that they had no taxable goods, or simply undervaluing their commodities.
When sewing linings, an intelligent modiste might have hidden material within these premade pockets. Crinolines too could hold extensive volume from which to hang bags of trinkets. Bustles provided a great foundation for holding accessories, and the ruffles and poof would only conceal any irregularities in shape. A mademoiselle might have also delicately unpicked the expensive label of a French dressmaker to give the appearance of a more commercial garment and then finely sewn it back when charging her American client. Finally, a petticoat would serve as a perfect layer on top of a smuggled dress. The dressmakers and milliners of this time were incredibly efficient and adept at this business, proved by one woman who was even able to transport a whopping “thousand yards of lace, half a dozen bottles of perfume, six lengths of expensive silk, three dozen pairs of gloves, twelve bottles of brandy”, and finally, “ten ready-to-wear dresses”. That trumps my popcorn.
Inevitably, the US Customs House needed a solution. Officers of this time acquired quite the fashionable eye as they started to note the silhouettes and fit of garments that just did not seem right. For example, if a lady was spotted wearing a dress that was either too big or too tight, she would often be pulled over. This would be under the suspicion that the lady was carrying a dress that was made for another i.e., a modiste wearing her client’s dress. Crinolines became a big giveaway because of their expansive proportions and capacity to stash the most valuable goods. It was even said in periodicals of the time that the change in fashion from crinolines to narrower skirts could be in part responsible to women fed up with being pestered. Of course, looking under women’s skirts was not a greatly dignifying activity for male inspectors, so female inspectors were hired from 1861 and known professionally as ‘inspectresses’ in 1867. This fine eye of the officers became so well known that travel guides started to warn globetrotters to wear their plainest fashions when boarding ships so as not to cause concern to either themselves or the keen inspectresses.
Although women of that period did not have half as many rights or political power as men, this was surely their way to cunningly deceive them whilst looking fashionably ‘chic’!
Bibliography
Smuggled in the Bustle: an interview with Hind Abdul-Jabbar – Dressed: The History of Fashion – Omny.fm
The tariff question in the Gilded Age : the great debate of 1888 : Reitano, Joanne R :Free Download, Borrow, and Streaming : Internet Archive
Smuggled in the Bustle — The Fashion Studies Journal
Featured image credit: 1888 fashion plate from Peterson’s Magazine. https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:1888_Peterson%27s_Magazine_Fashion_plate.jpg
Retrospect Journal 
