In 1911, Paris couturier Paul Poiret, in his efforts to radically modernise women’s fashion, introduced harem pants or the Harem Skirt as it became known. The pants, made with full legs tied in at the ankle, and usually covered with a form of long tunic top, were deeply controversial.

To many they represented a moral slippery-slope toward the scandalous idea of women wearing trousers. This slide was further lubricated by Poiret’s use of Middle Eastern imagery and particularly the word harem which gave an overall impression of immorality and sexualisation.

Poiret himself insisted that he designed harem pants for the chic woman to show off ‘the harmony of her form and all the freedom of her native suppleness’¹.

The introduction of the Harem Skirt to Australia was met with shock and disdain from elements of conservative society. The Bulletin published a number of stories including The Skirt that Failed in 1913.

The Evening News in Sydney reported

MADRID, Saturday - Several serious street conflicts have occurred as the result of women appearing in the new 'Harem skirt,' and many arrests have been made. On one occasion a mob of 3000 mistakenly attacked two aristocratic ladles, who were properly garbed.

NEW YORK Saturday - A lady wearing a 'harem skirt'' almost caused a riot on Brooklyn Bridge yesterday. Large crowds followed her until she took refuge in an underground station.

Daily Post (Hobart, Tas) Saturday 22 April 1911

News from the Great Britain – THE HAREM SKIRT

The harem skirt was responsible for considerable excitement in the city last week. A lady with temerity greater than her fellows, or, perhaps, influenced by a pecuniary consideration from a costumier, appeared in Ludgate Hill in a harem skirt. No sooner was the novelty caught sight of than a huge crowd, composed chiefly of the male sex, began to follow the lady. Comments were many and loud, so much so that the objects of attention—lady and skirt—disappeared into tea shop.

The scandal was sublime.

The bold design was a sensation in Paris, a scandal in London, caused wearers to be mobbed in Ballarat, arrested in Perth, blamed for the death of an elderly man knocked down by a crowd following a harem skirt wearer in Melbourne, banned by the Pope, caused two women to be ejected from the opera in Budapest, almost caused a riot on the Brooklyn Bridge, made illegal in Illinois and caused a woman in the UK to be pursued by a mob estimated in size as 20 000 by a breathless reporter.

In a marketing tour-de-force harem skirts were supplied to draper’s shops in towns and cities across Australia and young women were selected to publicly promenade in them, sometimes wearing masks to add to the mystique.

The Muswellbrook Chronicle reported

The Harem Skirt

Bourke-street, Melbourne, on the northern side, just above Swanston Street was impassable ail day Friday by reason of an enormous throng ever crossing and going in front of the store of Russell, Robson, and Bussell, where two ladies in harem skirts walked to and fro in a large show window. At one time the pressure was so great that the plate glass gave way under it and broke. At night the crowd grew so numerous and clamorous that urgent telephone messages were sent for a strong force of police. The models, two tall and finely formed young women, were masked.

The Queensland Times reported

THE "HAREM SKIRT"

Two women appeared on the Boulevards in Paris yesterday wearing the so - called "harem skirt,' which includes the Turkish trousers. A crowd followed them and forced them to take refuge in a cloak-room, where the police rescued them.

And in Queenstown, Tasmania, 23 year old, Violet Archer, of Sorell Street, was one of the young women chosen to appear in public wearing a harem skirt.

Zeehan and Dundas Herald, Friday 5th May 1911

QUEENSTOWN - THE HAREM SKIRT AT A SKATING RINK

On Wednesday night the public of Queenstown were given by the management of the Motropole Glideaway, the first opportunity of seeing the harem skirt. The announcement that two young ladies would appear in the new costumes which may or may not be ultimately universally adopted, had spread quickly, and quite a flutter was created which had its rise in the curiosity that was aroused. As soon as the doors of the rink were opened people began to secure their seats in order to obtain a good view, and by 6 o'clock the place was crowded. When the ladies arrived every eye was directed towards them, and after applauding them the onlookers eagerly [a]waited their coming on the floor.

At last they glided out with gentlemen escorts, and moving gracefully round the room gave everyone a chance of seeing the trouserettes, and the freedom of action they permit. There was no demonstration of any kind from the packed assemblage, except for a few long-drawn 'Ohs.' Then the criticism followed, and the opinions exchanged were very diversified.

Miss Archer's costume consisted of trouserettes of cream cloth, with an overdress of crimson Indian cashmere, edged with mole silk beaded trimming. Dainty black shoes with buckles were worn, and a harem toque of crimson velvet and mole wing.

Miss Muriel Bellinger's costume was cream corded cloth trouserettes with a vieux rose overdress of the same rich material. She wore scarlet and buckled shoes.

The young ladies appeared to be thoroughly satisfied with the interest they had aroused, and in fact were radiantly happy at the end if looks went for anything. One of them confessed that she came to the ball with a certain amount of trepidation, because it has come to her ears that she was likely to be hooted and 'mobbed' by a certain number of young men.

To guard against this she secured male protection from the time she left home, and by this means prevented interference from rough hands. She confesses though that she suspects one or two spitefully inclined people of attempting to trip her whilst she was skating, but they failed in their intentions

Zeehan and Dundas Herald, Friday 5th May 1911

MISS ARCHER APPEARS IN PUBLIC

RUNS FOUL OF WATER-HOSE - LEGAL PROCEEDINGS PENDING

Yesterday afternoon Miss Archer again appeared in her costume in public, and paraded the streets. She first visited the firm of drapers who supplied the costume, and then, proceeded to the local photographer's, to have her photo taken. Her appearance in the main thoroughfare aroused some interest, but while adults confined themselves to a curious stare, the school children followed her, and appeared to regard the new attire as something to be vastly amused about. However, no hostile demonstration was made against her, and serenely indifferent to her surroundings, and the fact of all eyes being concentrated on her, Miss Archer was doing famously, until she suddenly found that she was in contact with some water that was spurting from a hose held by Mrs Fremont Anderson. Whether the ducking was intended or not, is a matter of opinion, but certain it is that the jet of water followed Miss Archer across the road while she was beating a hasty retreat. Indignation was written on her face, and under the smart she had suffered, she at one proceeded to the office of Mr A. B. Cruikshank, solicitor, to whom she stated the facts as they forced themselves on her, and the outcome may be that a claim will be entered for damage done to the new Harem skirt.

Miss Archer, via her solicitor later issued a letter of demand for £5 in damages.

Alleged photograph of Miss Archer (not wearing a harem skirt) from the Galley Museum, Queenstown. Please note, identity of Miss Archer in this photo is disputed by her descendants

The caption authored by Eric Thomas, under the photograph which reads: “Queenstown 1911. Said to be Miss. Archer, who first wore the harem skirt in Queenstown and run foul of water-hose for lifting her gear up two inches & being naughty. (Gee I be the corset laces were pulled to breaking strain around her waist.) That’s why they wore splity knickers so they would not have to bend. She has a pair of arms like a leg of mutton.”

¹ Davis, Mary E. (2007). Classic chic : music, fashion, and modernism. Berkeley: University of California Press. pp. 31–34 ISBN 978-0520245426

The Ballad of Violet Archer

My name is Violet Archer
And I make beautiful things
I will never walk the streets of Paris
But I can read the magazines.

Have you ever touched real velvet?
The proper stuff
smoother, sleeker, more luscious than cat’s fur
Finer than baby hair
dog’s
ear
soft.

Have you ever finely worked an applique?
With tiny, imperceptible stitches
Or slipstitched a hemline
Straining under kerosene glow as night falls
Daydreamed, drawing pictures of a fancy hat or headdress
On treadle machine and by chilblained hand
a flower or two in silk thread
Understood the satisfaction as you
Crafted and admired
delicate
smooth
stiches.

My nest is my treasured boarded-in end of the veranda
overlooking the street
one small crucifix window
cracks between the boards big enough to lose a needle in
invaded in winter by millipedes when the boggy soil below is
damp
and
mossy.

I have tried to make it cosy
chequered pink curtains
borrowed odd-legged chair
my tapestry cushion
Pictures of Paris fashions on the slab wall
cut
from
magazines.

It shudders in the southerly howl
leaves and dust push under the door
ice on the glass May to August
It freezes, but holds me
in
vicious
winter.

Looking out at this town
that I may never leave until I am old enough to die
children play with sticks in the mud
and women strut with their
baskets
and
attitudes.

I watch you from this cradle
Whistles call the change of shift
and the stacks of the smelter breathe out poison
As the rain comes
Then sleet and sometimes snow
And
trees
wither.

I spin beauty from the ends of fabric rolls
The draper is kind to me
I let the mole silk slip gently in my lap
I smell the crispness of linen
Engulfed by the sweet luxury of indigo blue
These
exotic
scraps.

I touch crimson cashmere
Periwinkle and turquoise
I teach myself torchon lace
for time-slipping hours
and the spiders weave the edges of my
tiny
window
panes.

From this eyrie I see
you poison the river
And blow the top of a mountain
Black crepe processions go by
And the old miners
cough
and
spit.

I went to a ball once
No glass slipper
But scarlet buckled shoes
and a glorious borrowed harem dress
Lately from France
It
was
fine.

In skates at the Metropole
I glided on the arm of a nice young man
Entranced the whole town
Who ‘oohed’ and ‘ahed’ and whispered
A shining dream coming true
I
was
beautiful.

They wrote an account in the papers
‘The young ladies appeared to be radiantly happy’
Published around the country
from Queensland to Bendigo
Port Pirie to Wodonga
But I should have guessed you would
Trip
me
up.

So much fun you had
How shriekingly merry you were
in the main street, waiting
with cracked face and cruel eyes
to turn that hose on me and
Drown
My
Dreams.

Overdress of wine-coloured cloth,
trouserettes of same
trimmed with silk velvet and valenciennes insertion,
Merry Widow hat with aeroplane bows
moss green velvet,
rich green ostrich wing
sodden
and
torn.

My name is Violet Archer
I once made beautiful things
My memorial is your mockery
On display in a town museum
A frame of me with witty captions that ridicule my
waist
knickers
arms.

Seek me out now
I will elude you
There is barely a whisper of me on the old veranda
which is quietly falling away into the earth
Not a zephyr in history
or a breath of chatter
because now I keep
myself
to
myself.

My name is Violet Archer
I dreamt of beautiful things
I never walked the streets of Paris
but I read the magazines
And you won’t find me in the papers
Not
Ever
Again.

Susan Wallace

Susan is a Tasmanian born playwright and screenwriter having made a number of successful short films and worked for SBS television for many years. She is also an advocate for affordable housing, asbestos disease sufferers and workers’ rights. The Moonland Project represents an opportunity to return to her writing and work to further her deep fascination with Tasmania’s West Coast. Also a celebrant, she is interested to explore ceremonial acts and the pause they give us in our daily lives. Susan hopes to explore some of the powerful imagery of the 1912 Mount Lyell Mine disaster and its echoes through our history.