A young lady holding a pug dog

I find this portrait by François Boucher, dated to the mid-1740s, interesting because she is so very clearly made up. Rouge is usually quite easy to see on paintings, but white makeup can be harder to spot. This young lady is having it a, though.

She is wearing white makeup, probably lead white as it seems rather opaque, but she also seems a bit shiny. That could be because the white pigment is mixed with pomade, but it could be that the white pigment is Bismuth, which has a shine to it. Regardless of pigment, her face and neck are liberally painted, but her ears looks quite rosy. Her bosom isn’t painted either, though pale it isn’t as white as the face.


Source; Wikimedia. Follow the link back for a high-res version.

Her cheeks are heavily rouged covering just about the whole of the middle of the face, if one disregards the nose. The tone is quite warm, so the pigment may very well be the mercury-based Vermillion. However, rouge made of Red Sanders or Brazil wood also gives a warm red shade, so let’s hope she has left off the mercury. She is also a little red around the eyes. There are indications that rouge could be applied around the eyes too, so perhaps that is what she has done. But it can also mean that she hasn’t used white makeup around her eyes and it is the natural skin tone we see. Her lips are also painted, probably with the same red makeup as the rouge. Her mouth is quite small, but the lip colour is painted on the whole of the lips. The contour is also quite soft; there were no lip liners around to give a sharp and defined shape to the lips.

The eyebrows are quite dark and may be painted, but as her hair is fashionably powdered we don’t really know what her natural hair colour is. She might be dark haired and the eyebrows left au naturel. That the hair looks more grey than white may support that, dark hair powdered white turns grey, but as grey hair powder was used as well, it is next to impossible to tell. Worth noting is that her eyebrows looks quite natural and are not overly groomed. To finish off her makeup she is wearing a rather small patch at the corner of her eyes. She is dressed, but is still wearing the loose garment that provided protection of the clothes at the toilette.

18th Century Hair & Wig Styling: History & Step by Step Techniques

I'm on vacation and hadn't planned to post in a while- Internet in the archipelagio outside Stockholm isn't the best, but this is exiting news and I want to share. I am sure that most of you already know about Kendra of Démodé and have already caught wiff of her upcoming book, 18th Century Hair & Wig Styling: History & Step by Step Techniques. But in case you haven't, then I hope that you feel as exited as I over the chance of getting a book with how-to's for 25 hairstyles. There is a FB-page here.

Making Queen's Royal

I finally had time and material enough to try out Queen's Royal, the mystery recipe I talked about here.

Updated recipe
1 gramme each of brown ochre, rose-pink, red and black pigment. I used cosmetic pigment meant for soap making.
60 drops of Bergamot essential oil
30 drops of Lemon essential oil
10 drops of Lavender essential oil
10 drops of Caraway essential oil
6 drops of faux Ambergris oil
10 drops of Clove essential oil
6 drops of Rosemary essential oil
10 drops of Cinnamon essential oil

In the original recipe only the Bergamot and Lemon are stated to be essential oil, the rest are just oils. Essential oils are made by distillation, but you can also perfume oils by steeping the scent material in it for some time. 18th century recipes are notoriously unclear of what is used so even if the recipe might suggest that the two different kinds, that might not be the case. As essential oils are what is readily available if I used that. Essential oils are not particularly oily, so if using the other kind, the end result would be fatter. As for the pigments, Ican't be sure on the exact shades that were used in the 18th century. Black is, I suppose black, and the original Vermillion is a warm-toned red. Brown ochre is a warm-toned brown, but the rose-pink? I'm not sure. I used a fairly pale pink as that was what I found, but rose-pink could mean a pink more akin toward red.

I mixed the pigments and then I dripped in the essential oils before I mixed it very well. The end result was a rather stiff paste in dark brown with reddish hints. It first smelled very strongly of the Bergamot and Lemon, but after a while is smelled more spicy, with Cinnamon as the dominant smell. At first it was easy to spread out, but the essential oils evaporated quite quickly and the dried out pigment crumbled into powder when touched. I tried out the various thoughts and suggestion of the purpose of this scented mystery and here are the results. I've lumped similar suggestion together.

A scented powder to make into sachets? No. Scentwise it would work, but the very fine and very brown powder would eventually work itself out of a fabric sachet and discolour things around it. no sense in using pigment is something that you can't see.

A rouge for cheeks or for the nipples? For cheek rouge I would say a definite no- it is far too brown. As nipple rouge, though, I think it is plausible. It was very easy to spread out on skin and though it tingled slightly upon application due to the cinnamon, that feeling disappeared very quickly. I applied it thickly, medium thick and thinly on my arm and found that the two thicker layer started to shed pigment as soon as it dried out. There are nothing in this recipe that would help it adhere like Gum Arabic. The sheer application stayed on quite well, though. here.) So yes, I think this recipe may have been meant to tint nipples. However, the pigment rub off at the touch so even if it would show up if covered by a lightweight chemise, it would also discolour the fabric, so it would only be useful if the nipples were completely bare. The scent would work well here too, as it would drift up from the chest.

The pigment is clearly brown, but with a warm red tone on my arm so for the sake of science I did try it on a nipple as well. No, there are no pictures of that, you will just have to believe me. I can tell you that the result was a darker nipple that still looked fairly natural. I did some research in the habit of showing the breasts in the 17th and 18th century and though never common, it was fashionable from time to time and it was not completely uncommon on stage and masquerades. (A whole blog post dedicated to the subject can be found here.)

Tinted perfume meant for hair powder? As the end result is a brown pigment with a scent, this could work. In fact, the only thing against it, is the fact that all the other hair recipes in the book are all together and clearly stated to be just hair powders. There is also a recipe for dark brown hair powder, so why not put this together with that one?

To tint grey hair? Probably not as the preferred method to hide grey hair in the 18th century was to powder everything white. I did smear some in my hair though, and it did turn nicely brown, so it would work. It doesn't adhere well, though.

For tinting eyebrows or pubic hair? Plausible when it comes to tinting eyebrows. I used a stiff brush to paint my eyebrows and it worked remarkably well, making them dark, but not as harshly dark as a black tint. I was a bit worried that the scent would irritate my eyes, but there was no problems at all. I left it on for an hour or so and during that time the scent drifted around my face, but not very strongly. I have actually read modern perfume tips that you should perfume your eyebrows as perfume lasts longer on hair than skin. As for pubic hair, well... I did not try that- I hope you excuse me for not going all the way, but I don't think it would work anyway. It would just rub off on clothes, I think.

A repellant for lice? I can imagine that the scent could be thought to repel vermin, but the pigment would make everything it touched brown, so I don't think so.

Scented pastilles for burning? Possible. The pigment was easy to shape into pellets, they were almost impossible to handle when they were dry, due to teh fact there is no binding agent. They did burn, though, with an alarmingly huge flame. While it burned the only smell I got was smoke, but with the flame extinguished the smell of the essentials oil came through much stronger. So burn and smell-wise it worked. What talks against is is the lack of a binding agent. As they are now they would crumble into dust with a minimum of handling. However, as a powder it would probably work to trow it into a fire to scent a room. I have never heard of that method being employed in the 18th century, though. The biggest argument against it, is the use of pigment. Pigment was expensive and though one might want to colour something to make it pretty before use, the dark brown of this recipe isn't very pretty at all. So why use up a lot of expensive pigment just to burn it?

I didn't try the last suggestion, though:

To rub into a porous material to give scent and tint? That would work, I think, on wood or bone, but again, I would think it would discolour everything it would come into contact with, unless one sealed the pigment in some way. And would that not mean sealing off the scent as well?

As you can see, the result is inconclusive. There are a few things that it very probably wasn't used as and some that are possible. To my mind the most plausible uses are eyebrow or nipple tint as that seems to make the most use of both pigment and scent. What do you think? Or perhaps you have an idea that is much better that I haven't thought of? I promise, if I find out more, I will keep you updated. It was a lot of fun doing this experiment, though!

One thing I consider doing is to mix the same proportions of the esential oil together, adding a neutral oil to make a perfume oil. Though it wouldn't, strictly speaking, be an original perfume recipe, it would still be an 18th century perfume blend.

Poudre d'Amour - Flesh coloured face powder from the 17th century

French noblewoman, possibly Louise de Kérouaille
by follower of Pierre Mignard, ca 1690

I have read several times that in the 17^th century not only white makeup was used in the face, but also flesh-coloured and I have always wondered what was in it. So imagine my delight when I found a recipe on Poudre d'Amour from the reign of Louis XIV.

The recipe

Scrape 6 juicy raw carrots and 1/2 a pink beet root, squeeze the juice out through a muslin bag and put it aside. Take 3 ounces of finely powdered cornstarch, mix it with the carrot and beet juice, expose it to the sun and stir occasionally until fluid evaporates, leaving the tinted starch dry. Sift through a piece of silk gauze and add:

Powdered Venetian talc-300 grains
Powdered lycopodium-300 grains
Powdered bergamot-45 grains
Powdered bismuth-7 grains.
Sift grain and keep in a sandalwood box

Breaking down the recipe
Carrot & Beet root Root vegetables that are bright orange and red.

Cornstarch- see Starch in the ingredients list at the top of the page

Venetian talc- see Talc in the ingredients list at the top of the page

Lycopodium powder The spores from club moss plants. It is very flammable and is today mainly used in explosives. It has several other uses, though, like stabilizing ice cream, finger print powder or lubricating dust on latex gloves. In Sweden it has historically been used on baby bottoms instead of talcum powder.

Bergamot A citrus fruit that is shaped as an orange, but yellow. Bergamot essence is used in the perfume industry and to give flavor to foodstuff. Powdered bergamot probably means the powdered peel, which is used in aromatherapy today.

Bismuth- See Bismuth the ingredients list at the top of the page

My thoughts
This face powder seems quite doable; almost all the ingredients are easily obtainable. The exception is Lycopodium powder which even if I can get my hands on it (questionable) is also quite expensive, apart from being flammable. I just wouldn’t feel comfortable putting that on my face. . I can imagine that it has a purpose in getting the right colour as it seems to have a pale yellow tint, but I think I might mix ochre pigment with corn starch to approximately the right colour and use that as substitute. I do wonder about the final colour of the powder. The carrot and beetroot must tint the starch a very vivid colour- orange-pink? But the Talcand Lycopodium powder  must temper that. The powdered Bergamot and Bismuth too and the latter must give the powder a bit of a shine. I highly doubt that the end result will look natural, though.

A must try, don’t you think?

Making real pearl powder

Seed pearls

Last year I started to make real pearl powder, but at the time I lived at our summerhouse for several weeks as the plumbing was renovated in our apartment, so I made it and then forgot about it. So, finally, here is the result.

I used real pearls, but the small and irregular kind that is called seed pearls. As that was the kind of pearls that apothecary's kept in the 18th century for medical purposes, it seems exceedingly likely that they were used to make pearl powder as well. Nowadays you find seed pearls in hobby stores and I bought the smallest amount possible for my experiment. I put them in a small bottle and poured enough vinegar on top of them to cover them. Here I made a mistake and took apple cider vinegar instead. Though I poured it away and took real vinegar, a slight discolouration remained.

Almost at once flakes of nacre could be seen floating around in the vinegar and the pearls noticeably shrunk over the next couple of days and the holes in them were enlarged and more and more nacre could be seen in the vinegar. Then it stopped, or so I thought. I poured in some more vinegar and nothing seemed to happen for a day or two and then I noticed that the pearls were floating in the vinegar! Upon examination I realised that the pearls were completely hollowed out and only a thin layer of nacre remained! When I pressed down on one it felt like it does when you press down on a boiled pea and I ended up with peal mush on my finger. So I poured everything in a mortle and mushed them all throughoutly, put it all in a bowl and let the vinegar evaporate.

As you can see it behaved quite funnily, climbing up on the walls on the bowl. Good thing, actually, because the discolouration emigrated to the top. Though it looked solid, the pearl powder was really very brittle, so I just broke off the discoloured parts. The surface was a bit shiny in a satiny way, but inside the peal powder was just white. This suprised me a bit as I had expected it to be pearlescent. After reducing it to a powder it became a somewhat satiny white, but I found that when I pressed down on it, pearlescent glints could be seen. It was very subtle and I couldn't manage to capture that on a photo.

At this point I had been able to obtain readymade pearl powder and upon testing I found that the one I had made was virtually impossible to tell apart from the one I had bought. A bit of a relief, actually, because the home made pearl powder is so full of vinegar that I would never put it on my face. I'm really pleased that it turned out to be possibly to make pearl powder yourself, but I won't be doing it again. The bought pearl powder is so close and much better to use (no vinegar) that I will stick to that.

Here you can see how alike the both pearl powders are. I mixed powder with an equal part of water and it turned into a semi-opaque whiteness. You can see the pearlescent glints at all. Alongside is Bismuth and it is very easy to see why the literature says that even if this was called pearl powder as well, it has a completely different look. It is much more shiny, but a lot less white. Almost impossible to see is a version of Nun's cream that I made with real pearl powder. The ratio here is one part powder to two parts pomade and it doesn't show up much at all. It is more visible in reality than on the photo, but it only whitens the skin slightly, though it evens out the skin very well. I think it is quite light-reflecting, even if the nacre isn't visible, it is still there.

The amount of whiteness a pigment leave on the skin is partly due to the pigment, but also on how much you use. Even after brushing my test areas with a powder brush, the pearl powder stayed on quite well, though it is not very opaque. In the future I need to test all my white pigments to see how they compare to each other, but here and now I can just say that I find it interesting that pearl powder, which was the most exclusive white pigment you could buy, doesn't leave a very opaque whiteness.

I still need to mix up pearl powder with liquid and try, but last week I had the opportunity to try the Nun's cream when I made up my friend Anna as part on the entertainment at a big party my 18th century society held. I was allowed to put my stuff on a bona fide 18th century vanity table, which was quite exiting! The Nun's cream did brighten Anna's complexion and she looked slightly paler, but she didn't look overly made up with white makeup. Her rouge is the Economical rouge with Carmine as pigment and the lip paint is pigmented with Alkanet.

I also made Lithia's hair. As it is dyed a bright red, it turns pink when it is powdered with white hair powder. She is also using the Spanish white I made. Her skin is very white naturally, so the makeup just leaves her skin glowing.

I did a try on a Rococo hairdo, which I was semi-pleased with . The front is just brushed back and put up in a top-knot- preferably there would have been curls and a bit more going around here. The back was inspired by a bust of Madame Pompadour and made up in three braids that was pinned to the top knot and the ends curled. Of course I should have made sure that more pictures were taken, but I was too busy having fun.

Cyprian powder

Lady at Toilette, Utrecht school, 17th century
Click on the link for a fun article on 17th century beauty.

Today I have a 17^th century perfume recipe for you, taken from Polygraphice by William Salmon, published in 1685.

The recipe

To make Cyprian Powder.

Gather Musk moss of the Oak in December, January or Februarys wash it very clean in Rose-water, then dry it, steep it in Rose-water for two days, then dry it again, which do oftentimes: then bring it into fine Powder and fierce it: of which take one pound, Musk one ounce, Ambergrise half an ounce, Civet two drachms, yellow Sanders in powder two ounces, mix all well together in a marble mortar.

Another way to make the same.

Take of the aforesaid powder of Oak-moss one pound, Benjamin, Storax of each two ounces in fine Powder: Musk .Ambergrise and Civet of each three drachms, mix them well in a mortar.

 Breaking down the recipe

Oak moss Despite the name, this is really a lichen, Evernia prunastri, and has been used in perfumes since the Middle ages. The scent has been described as dry, woody, and smoky with a hint of tar. Used as fixatives in modern perfumes, or rather, a synthetic is, real oak moss is now forbidden, and is often used in men’s perfumes and in the perfume family that is called chypre.

Musk A common base notes in perfumery derived from glands from various animals. Today synthetic musk is almost exclusively used. Musk in large doses smells rather pungent, but diluted it is a warm, sweet and woody scent.

Ambergris A base notes in perfumery with a sweet, vanilla-ish scent with aquatic undertones. It comes from the intestines of sperm whales that habitually vomit out lumps of ambergris, which then age into scent maturity by the sea water. Though it is perfectly, even preferable, possible with ethically gathered ambergris, it is also very expensive and synthetics are almost always used today.

Civet Another animalistic base note, derived from the civet. It is similar to musk, but even more pungent concentrated and more sweet, smoky and sharp when diluted. Nowadays usually a synthetic.

Yellow sanders Wood from a tree, Zanthoxylum flavum. The scented and durable tree is on the brink of being endangered, unfortunately.

Other ingredients can be found at the ingredient list at the top of the page

My thoughts

I bought some oak moss last year and have wanted to try my hands at a Cyprian, or Cyprus powder for some time. It was a popular perfume in the 17^th and 18^th century as well as the 19^th. In the 18^th century it was popular to mix it into hair powder to scent it, but it can also be sewn into small sachets to be worn inside clothes or pockets. There are several recipes around and they are all rather alike. Unlike modern perfumes that consist of base, middle and top notes, this perfume is all base notes. Such notes are long-lasting and often quite heavy.  I’m going to make this recipe, as I have vegetal musk, civet and ambergris substitute that I want to try. It is a very easy recipe. Wash, dry, steep dry and pound. I have actually done the first steps. The oak moss is currently steeping and smells quite lovely of roses and rain wet forests.

Queen's Royal, a cosmetic mystery

Theophila Palmer Reading Clarissa by Joshua Reynolds, 1771

I have encountered a little mystery. At the very last page of Charles Lillie’s The British perfumer we find the following recipe, which completely stumps me. I have absolutely no idea what it is supposed to be used for. Lillie wrote his manuscript in the 1740’s though it wasn’t published until 1822. The publisher has kindly provided notes of enlightenment on several recipes, but not on this one.

The recipe

QUEEN'S ROYAL:

Take one ounce of brown ochre,

One ounce of vermillion,

One ounce of rose-pink,

One ounce of ivory-black,

 

Three ounces of essence of bergamot,

One and a half ounce of essence of lemon,

Half an ounce of oil of lavender.

Half an ounce of oil of carraways, A quarter of an ounce of oil of ambergris,

Half an ounce of oil of cloves,

A quarter of an ounce of oil of rosemary,

and Half an ounce of oil of cinnamon.

 

These are to be well mixed together; but care must previously be taken to reduce the first-mentioned ingredients into very fine powder.

My thoughts
The recipe is in two parts. In the first several, finely milled, pigments are mixed in brown, red, pink and black. The first three would make a reddish brown; the addition of black will make the colour darker and duller. Pigments were expensive so there must be a reason for them to be in there. They must be meant to give something colour.

The second part is purely scent. Bergamot and lemon essence with oils of lavender, caraway, ambergris, clove, rosemary and cinnamon. That’s a lot of scent and several of the oil is very strongly scented like cinnamon and clove. So this is clearly meant to smell. Mixing pigments and scent together would either give a scented pigment or a paste. It is a bit hard to say until you have tried as it depends on the ratio between powder and liquid. I lean on a paste, but I’m not sure. And what was it used for? I have a few ideas, but they are just theories.

A scented powder to make into sachets? I don’t think so. Too much valuable pigment to hide away. Had it was meant for that purpose, the scent would have been mixed with starch.

A rouge? I don’t think so either. With ¼ black pigment the shade would most likely to be too dark and unbecoming. Also, cinnamon and clove oils can sting and redden skin upon application and would be uncomfortable to have on your face.

Can in be a tinted perfume meant for hair powder? Might be, but in that case it needs to be mixed with hair powder. Now I know that 18th century recipes aren’t always constant, but the other scented powders in this book are placed together and they also have clear instruction of the ratio between scented powder and hair powder.

For tinting eyebrows? That doesn’t seem too unlikely, but why not say so? The colour could work for hair and to scent your eyebrows aren’t that far-flung, actually- I have encountered that notion elsewhere, though never in an 18th century context.

Then I got a suggestion from a friend, and, well, it doesn’t seem too unlikely. That would explain why it is tucked away at the last page and that it lacks any kind of direction. Could this be meant to rub into the hair of your nether region? It would tint it and scent it, and might that be something that would be considered attractive? I balked at the thought of cinnamon oil on those parts but I have been informed that today you can buy oils, often containing just cinnamon that are actually meant to be used down there for added stimulation. So can this be a more risqué cosmetics for ladies (and gentlemen) who dared? What do you think? Or perhaps you have an excellent idea of what this was really used for that I haven’t thought about. I would love to hear what you think!