It is a peculiar peculiarity of the English aristocracy that you can carry a title such as Duke of Devonshire and have no connection with the part of the country to which it refers. The Devonshires – first earls and later dukes – do not reside in Devon. Past and present properties include Bolton Priory in North Yorkshire and Chiswick House and Burlington House in London. The jewel in the portfolio is Chatsworth: a magnificent Grade I-listed pile in Derbyshire, often described as one of Britain’s best-loved stately homes. For those who have too much, land becomes just another heirloom to be parceled out, sold, bequeathed, and passed down through generations, like a beautiful handbag or antique opera coat.
This summer, Chatsworth is hosting the exhibition Virtue: Imaginary Conversations, which explores the influence of the late Deborah Cavendish (née Mitford), former resident and muse of the designer’s spring/summer 24 collection. The opening look, showcasing deconstructed ball gowns and bejeweled insects, is the funniest; The frayed tweed skirt suit hints at the Duchess’ love of Derbyshire redcaps and Scottish models. Erdem says he wanted the building to look ‘ravaged by chickens’.
Fun as it is, this look epitomizes the fashion world’s strange respect for aristocracy. From Tim Walker’s whimsical days shooting in stately homes to Princess Anne-inspired Fendi outfits, the visual codes and sprawling homes of the upper classes often grace mood boards and magazine pages. Part of the appeal, at least for designers and photographers, seems to come from this highly ostentatious combination of glamor and squalor; a nod to a world where clutter is a weary unconventionality and quality is important but nothing is too precious. ; With an archive full of 19th-century hand-dyed fabrics to raid, principles like “make and mend” take on a different, more aspirational tone.
On a more basic level, the aristocracy, with their dresses and Capability Brown-designed gardens, satisfies fashion’s taste for high fantasy: it offers a close approximation of a real-life fairy tale, complete with crown and castle (albeit funny, just as many fairy tales are fictionalized) while the aristocracy do the same to hide their displeasure. He is also an expert at hiding dark, exploitative secrets beneath idyllic exteriors). However, while it may seem obvious why an industry that sells expensive clothing might decide to reference the historically rich and powerful, it is disturbing to see how easy it is to constantly romanticize inherited titles, inherited mansions, and immense inherited wealth (average value). This headline doubled after the financial crisis to £16 million; For those lucky enough to be in the feudal order, it serves as soft propaganda, encouraging love and even admiration.
The duchess of Devonshire, popularly known as Debo, spent half a century at Chatsworth castle after marrying Andrew Cavendish in 1941. In 1981 the ownership was transferred to the Chatsworth House Trust, a charity responsible for maintenance and community outreach, along with the family pay market. They rent their private rooms.
Over the decades, the duchess became a relatively beloved corporate figure: an archetype of old-school style, a no-nonsense, flamboyant girl with a mythological childhood who loved animals (as long as they couldn’t hunt) and preferred to buy her clothes from agricultural produce stores. shows (apart from bespoke Turnbull & Asser shirts in every colour) and as a lifelong Conservative, she has managed to maintain a veneer of neutrality compared to her sisters, who include a Nazi (the League) and a fascist (Diana). repeatedly pronounced Debo’s favorite).
In the exhibition, Erdem defends Debo’s creativity and indomitable British spirit, and praises his business savvy in regenerating Chatsworth – selling off land, buildings and artworks to fund a windfall £7 million inheritance tax bill, later opening a farm shop and farm garden – while citing all the key references one would expect: Cecil Beaton portraits and statement jewelery are lined up alongside stylish dancing slippers and sensible walking shoes.
Taken on its own terms, it is a fine exhibition, especially as it illuminates Moralıoğlu’s obvious taste in the research process. And going to Chatsworth leaves you wishing, despite yourself, that it has ceilings large enough to host murals of goddesses and kings. But a closer look reveals Debo as the poster girl for the still-influential interwar fiction of a ruling class on the brink of extinction; Their roofs and cardigans are full of holes, the old world is in decline, heating bills are increasing. This deliciously decadent image, complete with tulle skirts in storage and an endless supply of valuable artworks and tapestries to sell in case of emergency, lights up a strange nostalgia synapse in the British psyche. It’s the same part that’s been tickled by endless Brideshead Revisited and The Pursuit of Love remakes, where the big house dream is offset by more relatable problems: chills, melancholy, emotional distance, the threat of obsolescence. But it’s worth remembering that in Debo’s case, the grand narrative isn’t victory over the odds or the threat of any real challenge, but something akin to a princess who must hold the palace.
Inspiration takes many forms, and designers often turn to imaginary evocations of national characters, playing with a mix of crude stereotypes and selective cultural history to create the idea of a particular type of woman. French designers go for understated elegance, Italian designers for sexy maximalism, etc. is getting together. British designers often resort to the idea of extreme eccentricity: the clash between monarchs and punks, pearls and hoodies.
Although this suggests a more democratic class open to all, subcultural or working-class aesthetic elements are often presented as ridiculous stereotypes or bravado tempering upper-class fantasies; This isn’t surprising in an industry that still has a shocking number of titles. and the golden age of honorifics and working-class designers is long gone. Previously, more interesting and provocative remarks on aristocratic codes had come from the likes of Alexander McQueen and Vivienne Westwood, who grew up in East London and left school at 16 when she was offered an apprenticeship at Savile Row. factory technician and primary school teacher. But research from 2022 showed that the number of working-class people in Britain’s creative industries had halved since the 1970s to just 7.9%, while a recent report from Vogue Business flagged several systemic barriers to entry; The expectations included endless free labor. Beginning one’s career in fashion, especially at a time when the cost of living crisis continues to hurt, automatically excludes those who cannot afford to work for free.
Styles continue to evolve. Browse Peerage and you’ll see many notable fashion names, from models Cara Delevingne, Rosie Huntington-Whiteley, Jodie Kidd and Lady Jean Campbell to designers Serena Bute and Samantha Cameron. The Mitford sisters have single-handedly been responsible for raising a generation of models, editors, ‘It’ girls and stylists; Fashion is an industry where connections and wealth offer keys to the castle rather than opening the front door. In 2016, Burberry’s then-chief creative officer and CEO, Christopher Bailey, described the Mitfords as “a mix of glam rock, military, boots… things I love” (which, considering Unity and Diana’s politics When taken, the question of which military comes to mind?)
Burberry went through a period of rebranding its image in the late 2000s after its famous tartan began to be worn by “chavs”, whom some classify as the “wrong kind of people”. The answer was to revive a distinctive image of English heritage and tasteful trench coats with mud on silk hems. The results were generally pleasant to look at, but there was an underlying ugliness to the desire to get rid of unwanted customers in pursuit of a higher customer base.
This is another reason why aristocracy retains its innate thematic appeal: Chatsworth, once able to dictate fashion and fads, was also home to Georgiana, the famous 18th-century duchess of Devonshire whose hairstyles became legendary; There’s a good chance that many of them are still customers.
In her updated foreword to Brideshead Revisited, published 15 years earlier, Evelyn Waugh wrote in 1959 that it was “a paean preached over an empty coffin” and added: “Brideshead will be open to travelers today, its treasures will be rearranged by expert hands, its fabric more delicate than Lord Marchmain’s.” “It will be well protected,” he said.
The “country house cult” he described at the time remains strong – Chatsworth remains enormously popular and Erdem’s exhibition will undoubtedly be a hit – but the status of the aristocracy remains stronger. Peregrine, son of Debo, the current duke of Devonshire, has an estimated net worth of £910 million, placing him at 182nd on this year’s Sunday Times rich list. This is not surprising, given that it follows the general trend of extraordinary wealth consolidation among Britain’s peers through land ownership, asset management schemes, investments and more.
We may now be allowed to enter their magnificent halls and even take great pleasure in their gowns, but it is worth remembering that the aristocracy are not ordinary relics or fun, spirited ordinary characters, but active participants in a deeply unequal landscape.