Le Matelot: The Unassuming Fashions of a Family Photo
For centuries, the Matelot has been a romantic seafaring figure inspired by adventure. In the interwar period, the commodification of the sea nourished a desire for all things nautical. An outcome of this obsession was the popularity of sailor fashion for both men and women (fig. 1). As reported by Cecil Beaton, “travel had become so easy that Vogue wrote of weekends in Manchuria...as casually as going to Scotland” (Hall and Fairbanks, pg. 136). The idea of sailing the sea was an enjoyable distraction to the global economic crisis that affected all corners of society, especially with the development of luxury ocean liners that were described as a “floating Babylon”. Escapism blossomed through stylish sea-faring (Hall and Fairbanks) and the idea of the sailor as the ever-travelling man became an ideal for those who were bearing the brunt of the global depression. In the middle – upper classes, the haven of a Riveria aggrandized the sea to be regarded as a playground for not only fantastical adventure but also style and suave. Popular culture promoted nautical tropes. Films like “Follow the Fleet” (1936) alongside books such as “The Sailors Holiday” (1937) solidified an aesthetic that related the sailor to the sea which found itself adopted by everyday fashions. In a very monarch-centric decade, reports of the Prince of Wales buying a “blue-and-white sailor pullover in St. Tropez” (Hall and Fairbanks) affirmed a playful relationship between fashion icons and nautical nuance (see fig 2). Obviously for them, the novelty came from the garments disconnection from their actual utility. This was a trend not only for the rich. Army & Navy stores across the United Kingdom stood as an outfitters selling military clothing and were popular amongst patriotic families – especially post-WWI (Paterson). As costal towns became more connected to the rest of the UK through the railway system (see fig.3), the whimsy of the seaside escape anchored the idea of the sailor as character in the fashion zeitgeist across the UK.
Like a forensic fashion detective, I have decided to study a picture postcard of my great-grandfather, Ted, in order to understand more about the crossover between naval uniform and sailor fashion. Ted was a Lowestoft local and an important member of the sailing community; so much so that in his retirement he volunteered at the local Maritime Museum. Born in 1919, Ted spent his formative years split between maneuvering the waves of the North Sea and working hard at the local co-operative to earn a living for his family. When the Second World War broke out in September 1939 he was drafted into the Royal Merchant Navy as a cook. The artefact I will study is a photo taken in October 1939 when Ted was 20 years old. There is a lot of information we can gather from just a single photograph, especially if it is a postcard. This essay will focus on deciphering the meaning of his outfit, asking if is it casual-wear, uniform or a mixture of both?
The Article of study:
There are many things we can tell from the physicality of this photo. It is an example of fashionable photographical vernacular in the 1930s. The picture has been taken in an indoor studio. There is a certain air of ease – the backdrop is a simple curtain with a certain disregard to the ends – they lay askew on the wooden floor. Ted is stood facing us with a bright smile and his hands rested comfortably within his pockets as if an old friend has made him chuckle. This style of informal portraiture grew in popularity following the technological advancements of the camera. Apparatus became simpler and cheaper democratising photography not only as an art form, but also as a business (Fenton et al.). This is important to consider when deciphering Ted’s fashion. As photography was democratised, it was popular to wander into a studio on a whim and get a snap of you as you were - unlike traditional portraiture pictures where you would put on your most prized garments to present yourself the best way possible as a permanent memento of your essence. This meant that the dress we see within this artefact could potentially be Ted’s everyday fashion instead of uniform. The informality of the studio could be synonymous with his casual clothing, especially with snapshot-esque candid portraits fashionable in the 1920s and 1930s (Fenton et al.). With the rise of army and navy stores selling surplus uniforms from the First World War, it wouldn't be unsurprising that parts of naval uniform were worn as casual wear. Perhaps he had just wandered into a local makeshift studio in his local town with the purpose of having a picture postcard to send when it was time to set sail again.
The postcard aspect is an integral clue in deciphering if this is fashion or uniform. It is an object made to be sent somewhere else. As we still have the photograph in our family's possession, it is rational to assume it was sent to the receiver whilst Ted was abroad (the most likely being his fiancé or mother) as we know, from oral histories collected from my grandfather, that he travelled internationally during the war with the merchant navy. This would explain the DIY nature of the background and subpar lighting one would expect for a portrait taken whilst stationed abroad. However, the mystery of how it could have been sent is one to speculate on. There is an absence of correspondence on the flip side of the postcard where “for Correspondence” and “address only” are printed and remain bare apart from speckles of what seem to be rust stains. Confusingly, a message written in ink appears at the bottom right-hand corner on the front saying, “Best Wishes + Safe Returns, Ted.”. This implies that the message was sent from Ted to someone else. However confusingly, the area for address is blank. That is until I looked closely at the artefact. As I moved it around in the fluorescent light of the library, I noticed the indents of a message (see fig. 4). It clicked that there probably was writing on the back, but it had been written in pencil and rubbed off – purposefully or not we’ll never know. This is all important to consider when thinking about his styling. It is a strong clue in the geographical riddle we are posed with - is this a photo taken in uniform whilst he was voyaging in the merchant navy? I think the answer is perhaps not as there is a more pressing clue that we should draw our attention to. The indents from the message start at the top left hand corner of the flip side and read downwards, covering the ‘address only area’ - without any address (or stamp space for that matter) the postcard will not have been able to have been sent. That being so, we can assume it was taken, written and given to the receiver in his town, Lowestoft.
The garments Ted wears in the image are surprisingly difficult to see. At first glance, the outfit seems to be a normal Class I uniform worn by seamen in the Royal Merchant Navy. This is implied by the dark colours, leather boots and most importantly, the bell-bottomed sailor trousers. Perhaps the most recognisable characteristic of the Navy uniforms, the bell-bottom trousers were made of Blue Serge – a military fabric defined by the diagonally running twill made using 100% worsted wool that provided a lighter alternative to the felted trousers of the previous conflict (“Baize and Wool Fabrics”). The diameter of the belled bottomed trousers were made to be “10 to 11 inches” at the foot, “but the measurement across the knee is to be always one inch less than at the foot.” (Jarrett, pg.121) creating the widening of the calf. Many sailors tailored their trousers beyond their pre-prescribed dimensions but to avoid disciplinary action, were compelled to reserve their more striking sartorial enhancements for wear when on leave. The trousers are also made notable for their extreme high waist and buttoned panel pocket. Buttons were favored for a seaman's outfit as they provided better dexterity for using in extreme weather conditions. From the photo, we can clearly recognize the distinct pointed corner of the pockets. There is also a slight reflection of light from the way his hands are excerpting pressure from the inside the pocket and is caught on what seems to be one of these buttons. I was able to find lots of vintage navy trousers from this period from online military collectors that provide high quality photos of these types of trousers as seen in fig. 5. Here, the clues we have extracted from the picture line up nearly exactly with the collectors piece and therefore, we can be almost certain that he is wearing his merchant navy uniform trousers.
Ted’s top poses the first of two mysteries within his outfit. Unlike standard naval uniform, Ted is wearing what seems to be a light cotton or linen shirt that is matching in colour to the navy trousers he is wearing. He has rolled up the sleeves above his elbows and tucked his shirt all the way into the high waist of his bell-bottomed trousers giving his legs extenuated length. It features one large pocket on the right breast and a three-quarter length closure on the collar. My first instinct was to assume that this shirt belongs to the tropical unform worn by the Royal Merchant Navy seaman in warm environments and linking the information I gathered through oral histories with my grandfather about him travelling abroad, it made sense. Upon further inspection, not only is the shirt the wrong colour for the tropical uniform (usually a white shirt), but it is also the wrong colour for the assigned merchant navy uniform, which was also white. The discovery of this prompted the suspicion that this photo is not of uniform but instead the everyday dress of a sailor in Lowestoft.
However, it was known and photographed that later in the Second World War, merchant navy sailors wore this kind of shirt onboard the ships as seen in fig. 6. Counteractively, this photo gives evidence of the active uniform worn by a merchant navy cook – the role that my great-grandfather worked in. There is distinct similarities between the two tops. Both feature a soft collar with a three-quarter length closure on the front and additionally, the garment looks to hold the same flexible and airy features of a soft fabric such as cotton. They even share the same styled sleeves for utility purposes. These similarities nearly declare Ted garments to be uniform... apart from the one anomaly – the fastening of the closure. Upon close inspection, the sailor in fig. 6 has buttons to fasten the shirt up to the collar, where-as Ted seems to have something abnormal for uniform – a zip. In the 1930s, the zipper industry grew in the clothing market with an average of 82% of sales going towards sports garments, which proliferated into informal styles of clothing in the interwar period (Friedel, pg. 183). Although the industry was booming, when the Second World War broke out, zips were not a part of the standard navy uniform as they were too expensive to use and came with a load of practical issues such as rusting. Therefore, it is odd to see this as part of Ted’s assumed unform in the postcard. Perhaps instead of a zip it is a pendent or even a naval lanyard that was given out to ever member of the crew to hang a whistle from, but that is unlikely as it doesn't hang correctly on his neck. The details provided by Ted’s shirt is a strange anomaly in the cohesive language of British naval uniform.
To conclude the investigation, the nature of what purpose the postcard was sent for remains a mystery. Due to the evidence of a naval issued bell-bottom trousers and sister shirt to the one worn by the cook in Fig. 6, one can assume that this photo is a example of Ted in his uniform - but I beg to differ about it being worn actively. Instead, I believe that he was wearing it passively as casual wear before setting sail with the Navy. The lack of address and evidence of a stamp provides us with practical information about the improbability of it being sent from anywhere in England, let alone from abroad. It must be considered that the photo was taken just as the war broke out and as an already trained sailor, perhaps these were clothes he would wear regularly. Pop culture reflected people's anxious desire for life to be normal despite the gathering storm clouds, and it encouraged people to confront hardship and danger with clothing and style. For Ted, perhaps he found that in combining his naval uniform with his sailor suave – fashioning himself into a matelot of the 1930s.
Like a forensic fashion detective, I have decided to study a picture postcard of my great-grandfather, Ted, in order to understand more about the crossover between naval uniform and sailor fashion. Ted was a Lowestoft local and an important member of the sailing community; so much so that in his retirement he volunteered at the local Maritime Museum. Born in 1919, Ted spent his formative years split between maneuvering the waves of the North Sea and working hard at the local co-operative to earn a living for his family. When the Second World War broke out in September 1939 he was drafted into the Royal Merchant Navy as a cook. The artefact I will study is a photo taken in October 1939 when Ted was 20 years old. There is a lot of information we can gather from just a single photograph, especially if it is a postcard. This essay will focus on deciphering the meaning of his outfit, asking if is it casual-wear, uniform or a mixture of both?
The Article of study:
There are many things we can tell from the physicality of this photo. It is an example of fashionable photographical vernacular in the 1930s. The picture has been taken in an indoor studio. There is a certain air of ease – the backdrop is a simple curtain with a certain disregard to the ends – they lay askew on the wooden floor. Ted is stood facing us with a bright smile and his hands rested comfortably within his pockets as if an old friend has made him chuckle. This style of informal portraiture grew in popularity following the technological advancements of the camera. Apparatus became simpler and cheaper democratising photography not only as an art form, but also as a business (Fenton et al.). This is important to consider when deciphering Ted’s fashion. As photography was democratised, it was popular to wander into a studio on a whim and get a snap of you as you were - unlike traditional portraiture pictures where you would put on your most prized garments to present yourself the best way possible as a permanent memento of your essence. This meant that the dress we see within this artefact could potentially be Ted’s everyday fashion instead of uniform. The informality of the studio could be synonymous with his casual clothing, especially with snapshot-esque candid portraits fashionable in the 1920s and 1930s (Fenton et al.). With the rise of army and navy stores selling surplus uniforms from the First World War, it wouldn't be unsurprising that parts of naval uniform were worn as casual wear. Perhaps he had just wandered into a local makeshift studio in his local town with the purpose of having a picture postcard to send when it was time to set sail again.
The postcard aspect is an integral clue in deciphering if this is fashion or uniform. It is an object made to be sent somewhere else. As we still have the photograph in our family's possession, it is rational to assume it was sent to the receiver whilst Ted was abroad (the most likely being his fiancé or mother) as we know, from oral histories collected from my grandfather, that he travelled internationally during the war with the merchant navy. This would explain the DIY nature of the background and subpar lighting one would expect for a portrait taken whilst stationed abroad. However, the mystery of how it could have been sent is one to speculate on. There is an absence of correspondence on the flip side of the postcard where “for Correspondence” and “address only” are printed and remain bare apart from speckles of what seem to be rust stains. Confusingly, a message written in ink appears at the bottom right-hand corner on the front saying, “Best Wishes + Safe Returns, Ted.”. This implies that the message was sent from Ted to someone else. However confusingly, the area for address is blank. That is until I looked closely at the artefact. As I moved it around in the fluorescent light of the library, I noticed the indents of a message (see fig. 4). It clicked that there probably was writing on the back, but it had been written in pencil and rubbed off – purposefully or not we’ll never know. This is all important to consider when thinking about his styling. It is a strong clue in the geographical riddle we are posed with - is this a photo taken in uniform whilst he was voyaging in the merchant navy? I think the answer is perhaps not as there is a more pressing clue that we should draw our attention to. The indents from the message start at the top left hand corner of the flip side and read downwards, covering the ‘address only area’ - without any address (or stamp space for that matter) the postcard will not have been able to have been sent. That being so, we can assume it was taken, written and given to the receiver in his town, Lowestoft.
The garments Ted wears in the image are surprisingly difficult to see. At first glance, the outfit seems to be a normal Class I uniform worn by seamen in the Royal Merchant Navy. This is implied by the dark colours, leather boots and most importantly, the bell-bottomed sailor trousers. Perhaps the most recognisable characteristic of the Navy uniforms, the bell-bottom trousers were made of Blue Serge – a military fabric defined by the diagonally running twill made using 100% worsted wool that provided a lighter alternative to the felted trousers of the previous conflict (“Baize and Wool Fabrics”). The diameter of the belled bottomed trousers were made to be “10 to 11 inches” at the foot, “but the measurement across the knee is to be always one inch less than at the foot.” (Jarrett, pg.121) creating the widening of the calf. Many sailors tailored their trousers beyond their pre-prescribed dimensions but to avoid disciplinary action, were compelled to reserve their more striking sartorial enhancements for wear when on leave. The trousers are also made notable for their extreme high waist and buttoned panel pocket. Buttons were favored for a seaman's outfit as they provided better dexterity for using in extreme weather conditions. From the photo, we can clearly recognize the distinct pointed corner of the pockets. There is also a slight reflection of light from the way his hands are excerpting pressure from the inside the pocket and is caught on what seems to be one of these buttons. I was able to find lots of vintage navy trousers from this period from online military collectors that provide high quality photos of these types of trousers as seen in fig. 5. Here, the clues we have extracted from the picture line up nearly exactly with the collectors piece and therefore, we can be almost certain that he is wearing his merchant navy uniform trousers.
Ted’s top poses the first of two mysteries within his outfit. Unlike standard naval uniform, Ted is wearing what seems to be a light cotton or linen shirt that is matching in colour to the navy trousers he is wearing. He has rolled up the sleeves above his elbows and tucked his shirt all the way into the high waist of his bell-bottomed trousers giving his legs extenuated length. It features one large pocket on the right breast and a three-quarter length closure on the collar. My first instinct was to assume that this shirt belongs to the tropical unform worn by the Royal Merchant Navy seaman in warm environments and linking the information I gathered through oral histories with my grandfather about him travelling abroad, it made sense. Upon further inspection, not only is the shirt the wrong colour for the tropical uniform (usually a white shirt), but it is also the wrong colour for the assigned merchant navy uniform, which was also white. The discovery of this prompted the suspicion that this photo is not of uniform but instead the everyday dress of a sailor in Lowestoft.
However, it was known and photographed that later in the Second World War, merchant navy sailors wore this kind of shirt onboard the ships as seen in fig. 6. Counteractively, this photo gives evidence of the active uniform worn by a merchant navy cook – the role that my great-grandfather worked in. There is distinct similarities between the two tops. Both feature a soft collar with a three-quarter length closure on the front and additionally, the garment looks to hold the same flexible and airy features of a soft fabric such as cotton. They even share the same styled sleeves for utility purposes. These similarities nearly declare Ted garments to be uniform... apart from the one anomaly – the fastening of the closure. Upon close inspection, the sailor in fig. 6 has buttons to fasten the shirt up to the collar, where-as Ted seems to have something abnormal for uniform – a zip. In the 1930s, the zipper industry grew in the clothing market with an average of 82% of sales going towards sports garments, which proliferated into informal styles of clothing in the interwar period (Friedel, pg. 183). Although the industry was booming, when the Second World War broke out, zips were not a part of the standard navy uniform as they were too expensive to use and came with a load of practical issues such as rusting. Therefore, it is odd to see this as part of Ted’s assumed unform in the postcard. Perhaps instead of a zip it is a pendent or even a naval lanyard that was given out to ever member of the crew to hang a whistle from, but that is unlikely as it doesn't hang correctly on his neck. The details provided by Ted’s shirt is a strange anomaly in the cohesive language of British naval uniform.
To conclude the investigation, the nature of what purpose the postcard was sent for remains a mystery. Due to the evidence of a naval issued bell-bottom trousers and sister shirt to the one worn by the cook in Fig. 6, one can assume that this photo is a example of Ted in his uniform - but I beg to differ about it being worn actively. Instead, I believe that he was wearing it passively as casual wear before setting sail with the Navy. The lack of address and evidence of a stamp provides us with practical information about the improbability of it being sent from anywhere in England, let alone from abroad. It must be considered that the photo was taken just as the war broke out and as an already trained sailor, perhaps these were clothes he would wear regularly. Pop culture reflected people's anxious desire for life to be normal despite the gathering storm clouds, and it encouraged people to confront hardship and danger with clothing and style. For Ted, perhaps he found that in combining his naval uniform with his sailor suave – fashioning himself into a matelot of the 1930s.
“Le Matelots” illustration by Lewis Baumer for Punch Magazine, 1931
Marlene Deitrich at the Hotel du Cap Eden Roc, 1939
Lowestoft, LNER LMS Promotional Poster by Kenneth Denton Shoesmith, 1930
Indents of writing as seen using the light reflection
Blue Serge Naval Trousers
“THe Royal Navy During the Second World War” by J.H. Smith (not dated)