Empress Eugénie was always the last to embrace new fashions or take advice, and even then, it was against her will. She was fiercely resistant to any innovations. When, eventually, these trends became an inseparable part of modern fashion and could no longer be ignored, the Empress, as Jean-Philippe Worth writes, would “merely smile.” In 1859, the Empress finally gave in and sent for Worth on Rue de la Paix.
Court etiquette required an evening gown for an official visit to the Tuileries, regardless of the time of day, but Charles Frederick declared that it suited him better to arrive in the middle of the day on business, wearing his work clothes, thus breaking established traditions. This kind of precedent became something of a habit for him. Even before that, he had challenged convention by growing a moustache. In the mid-nineteenth century, a judge or notary might decorate his upper lip, but a mere head of a business? Never! Yet, to appear before the Empress in anything other than the tailcoat prescribed by royal edict demanded more than just courage.
Engraved portrait of Charles Frederick Worth (1855)
Worth, meanwhile, was determined to save the French manufacturers and made a beautiful gown for Her Majesty from Lyon brocade. It was beige, and the floral pattern woven into the fabric was copied from a rare Chinese shawl. But when he showed the gown to Eugénie, she gave it just one glance and firmly declared that she wouldn’t wear that dress, because she would look like a curtain in it.
‘But, Your Majesty,’ Worth replied, ‘at least wear it so that your patronage would matter to the Lyon manufacturers!’
‘Why should I? Because they’re so kind to us?’ she hinted sarcastically, alluding to Lyon’s opposition.
‘Their opposition is yet another reason for you to wear their silks,’ Worth argued, ‘to show that you…’
Before he could bring up the old argument about the benefits of disarming magnanimity, the Emperor entered, and Charles Frederick turned to him. “Oh, sire, please, persuade Her Majesty to wear this gown. Perhaps ten or twelve of the most fashionable ladies are waiting for me in my shop, and as soon as I return, before I can even take off my coat, they will rush at me, shouting, ‘Show us what the Empress chose. Show us what the Empress chose.’ And the moment I show them, they’ll immediately order dresses made from the same material. If Her Majesty chooses Lyon fabric, within five minutes, the city of Lyon will know that the Empress has honoured them by wearing a dress made from their latest material.”
The Emperor nodded approvingly at Worth’s eloquence and, turning to Eugénie, said, ‘Monsieur Worth is right. Wear this gown just once, if you dislike it so much. It is a new material produced by our domestic manufacturers, and it would be a sensible gesture.’
Thus, Empress Eugénie agreed to wear the beige brocade gown that that “looked like a curtain,” and Lyon silk firmly took hold. A year later, it was even being worn on the streets.