7.30.2014
THE LITTLEST PRIMITIVE HUMAN
A spetacular find in Indonesia reveals that a strikingly different hominid shared the earth with our kind in the not so distant past.
On the island of Flores in Indonesia, villagers have long told tales of a diminutive, upright walking creature with a lopsided gait, a voracious appetite, and soft, murmuring speech.
They call it ebu gogo, “the grandmother who eats anything.” Scientists’ best guess was that macaque monkeys inspired the ebu gogo lore. But last October, an alluring alternative came to light. A team of Australian and Indonesian researchers excavating a cave on Flores unveiled the remains of a lilliputian human — one that stood barely a meter tall — whose kind lived as recently as 13,000 years ago.
The announcement electrified the paleoanthropology community. Homo sapiens was supposed to have had the planet to itself for the past 25 millennia, free from the company of other humans following the apparent demise of the Neandertals in Europe and Homo erectus in Asia. Furthermore, hominids this tiny were known only from fossils of australopithecines (Lucy and the like) that lived nearly three million years ago — long before the emergence of H. sapiens. No one would have predicted that our own species had a contemporary as small and primitive-looking as the little Floresian. Neither would anyone have guessed that a creature with a skull the size of a grapefruit might have possessed cognitive capabilities comparable to those of anatomically modern humans.
Isle of Intrigue
This is not the first time Flores has yielded surprises. In 1998 archaeologists led by Michael J. Morwood of the University of New England in Armidale, Australia, reported having discovered crude stone artifacts some 840,000 years old in the Soa Basin of central Flores. Although no human remains turned up with the tools, the implication was that H. erectus, the only hominid known to have lived in Southeast Asia during that time, had crossed the deep waters separating Flores from Java. To the team, the find showed H. erectus to be a seafarer, which was startling because elsewhere H. erectus had left behind little material culture to suggest that it was anywhere near capable of making watercraft. Indeed, the earliest accepted date for boat-building was 40,000 to 60,000 years ago, when modern humans colonized Australia. (The other early fauna on Flores probably got there by swimming or accidentally drifting over on flotsam. Humans are not strong enough swimmers to have managed that voyage, but skeptics say they may have drifted across on natural rafts.
Hoping to document subsequent chapters of human occupation of the island, Morwood and Radien P. Soejono of the Indonesian Center for Archaeology in Jakarta turned their attention to a large limestone cave called Liang Bua located in western Flores. Indonesian archaeologists had been excavating the cave intermittently since the 1970s, depending on funding availability, but workers had penetrated only the uppermost deposits. Morwood and Soejono set their sights on reaching bedrock and began digging in July 2001. Before long, their team’s efforts turned up abundant stone tools and bones of a pygmy version of an extinct elephant relative known as Stegodon. But it was not until nearly the end of the third season of field work that diagnostic hominid material in the form of an isolated tooth surfaced. Morwood brought a cast of the tooth back to Armidale to show to his department colleague Peter Brown. “It was clear that while the premolar was broadly humanlike, it wasn’t from a modern human,” Brown recollects. Seven days later Morwood received word that the Indonesians had recovered a skeleton. The Australians boarded the next plane to Jakarta.
Peculiar though the premolar was, nothing could have prepared them for the skeleton, which apart from the missing arms was largely complete. The pelvis anatomy revealed that the individual was bipedal and probably a female, and the tooth eruption and wear indicated that it was an adult. Yet it was only as tall as a modern three-year-old, and its brain was as small as the smallest australopithecine brain known. There were other primitive traits as well, including the broad pelvis and the long neck of the femur. In other respects, however, the specimen looked familiar. Its small teeth and narrow nose, the overall shape of the braincase and the thickness of the cranial bones all evoked Homo.
Brown spent the next three months analyzing the enigmatic skeleton, catalogued as LB1 and affectionately nicknamed the Hobbit by some of the team members, after the tiny beings in J.R.R. Tolkien’s The Lord of the Rings books. The decision about how to classify it did not come easily. Impressed with the characteristics LB1 shared with early hominids such as the australopithecines, he initially proposed that it represented a new genus of human. On further consideration, however, the similarities to Homo proved more persuasive. Based on the 18,000-year age of LB1, one might have reasonably expected the bones to belong to H. sapiens, albeit a very petite representative. But when Brown and his colleagues considered the morphological characteristics of small-bodied modern humans — including normal ones, such as pygmies, and abnormal ones, such as pituitary dwarfs—LB1 did not seem to fit any of those descriptions. Pygmies have small bodies and large brains — the result of delayed growth during puberty, when the brain has already attained its full size. And individuals with genetic disorders that produce short stature and small brains have a range of distinctive features not seen in LB1 and rarely reach adulthood, Brown says. Conversely, he notes, the Flores skeleton exhibits archaic traits that have never been documented for abnormal small-bodied H. sapiens.
What LB1 looks like most, the researchers concluded, is a miniature H. erectus. Describing the find in the journal Nature, they assigned LB1 as well as the isolated tooth and an arm bone from older deposits to a new species of human, Homo floresiensis. They further argued that it was a descendant of H. erectus that had become marooned on Flores and evolved in isolation into a dwarf species, much as the elephantlike Stegodon did.
Biologists have long recognized that mammals larger than rabbits tend to shrink on small islands, presumably as an adaptive response to the limited food supply. They have little to lose by doing so, because these environments harbor few predators. On Flores, the only sizable predators were the Komodo dragon and another, even larger monitor lizard. Animals smaller than rabbits, on the other hand, tend to attain brobdingnagian proportions — perhaps because bigger bodies are more energetically efficient than small ones. Liang Bua has yielded evidence of that as well, in the form of a rat as robust as a rabbit.
But attributing a hominid’s bantam size to the so-called island rule was a first. Received paleoanthropological wisdom holds that culture has buffered us humans from many of the selective pressures that mold other creatures — we cope with cold, for example, by building fires and making clothes, rather than evolving a proper pelage. The discovery of a dwarf hominid species indicates that, under the right conditions, humans can in fact respond in the same, predictable way that other large mammals do when the going gets tough. Hints that Homo could deal with resource fluxes in this manner came earlier in 2004 from the discovery of a relatively petite H. erectus skull from Olorgesailie in Kenya, remarks Richard Potts of the Smithsonian Institution, whose team recovered the bones. “Getting small is one of the things H. erectus had in its biological tool kit,” he says, and the Flores hominid seems to be an extreme instance of that.
Curiouser and Curiouser
H. floresiensis's teeny brain was perplexing. What the hominid reportedly managed to accomplish with such a modest organ was nothing less than astonishing. Big brains are a hallmark of human evolution. In the space of six million to seven million years, our ancestors more than tripled their cranial capacity, from some 360 cubic centimeters in Sahelanthropus, the earliest putative hominid, to a whopping 1,350 cubic centimeters on average in modern folks. Archaeological evidence indicates that behavioral complexity increased correspondingly. Experts were thus fairly certain that large brains are a prerequisite for advanced cultural practices. Yet whereas the peabrained australopithecines left behind only crude stone tools at best (and most seem not to have done any stone working at all), the comparably gray-matter-impoverished H. floresiensis is said to have manufactured implements that exhibit a level of sophistication elsewhere associated exclusively with H. sapiens.
The bulk of the artifacts from Liang Bua are simple flake tools struck from volcanic rock and chert, no more advanced than the implements made by late australopithecines and early Homo. But mixed in among the pygmy Stegodon remains excavators found a fancier set of tools, one that included finely worked points, large blades, awls and small blades that may have been hafted for use as spears. To the team, this association suggests that H. floresiensis regularly hunted Stegodon. Many of the Stegodon bones are those of young individuals that one H. floresiensis might have been able to bring down alone. But some belonged to adults that weighed up to half a ton, the hunting and transport of which must have been a coordinated group activity — one that probably required language, surmises team member Richard G. (“Bert”) Roberts of the University of Wollongong in Australia.
The discovery of charred animal remains in the cave suggests that cooking, too, was part of the cultural repertoire of H. floresiensis. That a hominid as cerebrally limited as this one might have had control of fire gives pause. Humans are not thought to have tamed flame until relatively late in our collective cognitive development: the earliest unequivocal evidence of fire use comes from 200,000-year-old hearths in Europe that were the handiwork of the large-brained Neandertals.
If the H. floresiensis discoverers are correct in their interpretation, theirs is one of the most important paleoanthropological finds in decades. Not only does it mean that another species of human coexisted with our ancestors just yesterday in geological terms, and that our genus is far more variable than expected, it raises all sorts of questions about brain size and intelligence. Perhaps it should come as no surprise, then, that controversy has accompanied their claims.
Classification Clash
It did not take long for alternative theories to surface. In a letter that ran in the October 31 edition of Australia’s Sunday Mail, just three days after the publication of the Nature issue containing the initial reports, paleoanthropologist Maciej Henneberg of the University of Adelaide countered that a pathological condition known as microcephaly (from the Greek for “small brain”) could explain LB1’s unusual features. Individuals afflicted with the most severe congenital form of microcephaly, primordial microcephalic dwarfism, die in childhood. But those with milder forms, though mentally retarded, can survive into adulthood. Statistically comparing the head and face dimensions of LB1 with those of a 4,000-year old skull from Crete that is known to have belonged to a microcephalic, Henneberg found no significant differences between the two. Furthermore, he argued, the isolated forearm bone found deeper in the deposit corresponds to a height of 151 to 162 centimeters—the stature of many modern women and some men, not that of a dwarf — suggesting that larger-bodied people, too, lived at Liang Bua. In Henneberg’s view, these findings indicate that LB1 is more likely a microcephalic H. sapiens than a new branch of Homo.
Susan C. Antón of New York University disagrees with that assessment. “The facial morphology is completely different in microcephalic [modern] humans,” and their body size is normal, not small, she says. Antón questions whether LB1 warrants a new species, however. “There’s little in the shape that differentiates it from Homo erectus,” she notes. One can argue that it’s a new species, Antón allows, but the difference in shape between LB1 and Homo erectus is less striking than that between a Great Dane and a Chihuahua. The possibility exists that the LB1 specimen is a H. erectus individual with a pathological growth condition stemming from microcephaly or nutritional deprivation, she observes.
But some specialists say the Flores hominid’s anatomy exhibits a more primitive pattern. According to Colin P. Groves of the Australian National University and David W. Cameron of the University of Sydney, the small brain, the long neck of the femur and other characteristics suggest an ancestor along the lines of Homo habilis, the earliest member of our genus, rather than the more advanced H. erectus. Milford H. Wolpoff of the University of Michigan at Ann Arbor wonders whether the Flores find might even represent an offshoot of Australopithecus. If LB1 is a descendant of H. sapiens or H. erectus, it is hard to imagine how natural selection left her with a brain that’s even smaller than expected for her height, Wolpoff says. Granted, if she descended from Australopithecus, which had massive jaws and teeth, one has to account for her relatively delicate jaws and dainty dentition. That, however, is a lesser evolutionary conundrum than the one posed by her tiny brain, he asserts. After all, a shift in diet could explain the reduced chewing apparatus, but why would selection downsize intelligence?
Finding an australopithecine that lived outside of Africa — not to mention all the way over in Southeast Asia — 18,000 years ago would be a first. Members of this group were thought to have died out in Africa one and a half million years ago, never having left their mother continent. Perhaps, researchers reasoned, hominids needed long, striding limbs, large brains and better technology before they could venture out into the rest of the Old World. But the recent discovery of 1.8 million-year-old Homo fossils at a site called Dmanisi in the Republic of Georgia refuted that explanation — the Georgian hominids were primitive and small and utilized tools like those australopithecines had made a million years before. Taking that into consideration, there is no a priori reason why australopithecines (or habilines, for that matter) could not have colonized other continents.
Troubling Tools
Yet if Australopithecus made it out of Africa and survived on Flores until quite recently, that would raise the question of why no other remains supporting that scenario have turned up in the region. According to Wolpoff, they may have: a handful of poorly studied Indonesian fossils discovered in the 1940s have been variously classified as Australopithecus, Meganthropus and, most recently, H. erectus. In light of the Flores find, he says, those remains deserve reexamination.
Many experts not involved in the discovery back Brown and Morwood’s taxonomic decision, however. “Most of the differences [between the Flores hominid and known members of Homo], including apparent similarities to australopithecines, are almost certainly related to very small body mass,” declares David R. Begun of the University of Toronto. That is, as the Flores people dwarfed from H. erectus, some of their anatomy simply converged on that of the likewise little australopithecines. Because LB1 shares some key derived features with H. erectus and some with other members of Homo, “the most straightforward option is to call it a new species of Homo,” he remarks. “It’s a fair and reasonable interpretation,” H. erectus expert G. Philip Rightmire of Binghamton University agrees. “That was quite a little experiment in Indonesia.”
Even more controversial than the position of the half-pint human on the family tree is the notion that it made those advanced-looking tools. Stanford University paleoanthropologist Richard Klein notes that the artifacts found near LB1 appear to include few, if any, of the sophisticated types found elsewhere in the cave. This brings up the possibility that the modern-looking tools were produced by modern humans, who could have occupied the cave at a different time. Further excavations are necessary to determine the stratigraphic relation between the implements and the hominid remains, Klein opines. Such efforts may turn up modern humans like us. The question then, he says, will be whether there were two species at the site or whether modern humans alone occupied Liang Bua — in which case LB1 was simply a modern who experienced a growth anomaly.
Stratigraphic concerns aside, the tools are too advanced and too large to make manufacture by a primitive, diminutive hominid likely, Groves contends. Although the Liang Bua implements allegedly date back as far as 94,000 years ago, which the team argues makes them too early to be the handiwork of H. sapiens, Groves points out that 67,000-year-old tools have turned up in Liujiang, China, and older indications of a modern human presence in the Far East might yet emerge. “H.sapiens, once it was out of Africa, didn’t take long to spread into eastern Asia,” he comments.
“At the moment there isn’t enough evidence” to establish that H. floresiensis created the advanced tools, concurs Bernard Wood of George Washington University. But as a thought experiment, he says, “let’s pretend that they did.” In that case, “I don’t have a clue about brain size and ability,” he confesses. If a hominid with no more gray matter than a chimp has can create a material culture like this one, Wood contemplates, “why did it take people such a bloody long time to make tools” in the first place?
“If Homo floresiensis was capable of producing sophisticated tools, we have to say that brain size doesn’t add up to much,” Rightmire concludes. Of course, humans today exhibit considerable variation in gray matter volume, and great thinkers exist at both ends of the spectrum. French writer Jacques Anatole François Thibault (also known as Anatole France), who won the 1921 Nobel Prize for Literature, had a cranial capacity of only about 1,000 cubic centimeters; England’s General Oliver Cromwell had more than twice that. “What that means is that once you get the brain to a certain size, size no longer matters, it’s the organization of the brain,” Potts states. At some point, he adds, “the internal wiring of the brain may allow competence even if the brain seems small.”
LB1’s brain is long gone, so how it was wired will remain a mystery. Clues to its organization may reside on the interior of the braincase, however. Paleontologists can sometimes obtain latex molds of the insides of fossil skulls and then create plaster endocasts that reveal the morphology of the organ. Because LB1’s bones are too fragile to withstand standard casting procedures, Brown is working on creating a virtual endocast based on CT scans of the skull that he can then use to generate a physical endocast via stereolithography, a rapid prototyping technology.
“If it’s a little miniature version of an adult human brain, I’ll be really blown away,” says paleoneurologist Dean Falk of the University of Florida. Then again, she muses, what happens if the convolutions look chimplike? Specialists have long wondered whether bigger brains fold differently simply because they are bigger or whether the reorganization reflects selection for increased cognition. “This specimen could conceivably answer that,” Falk observes.
Return to the Lost World
Since submitting their technical papers to Nature, the Liang Bua excavators have reportedly recovered the remains of another five or so individuals, all of which fit the H. floresiensis profile. None are nearly so complete as LB1, whose long arms turned up during the most recent field season. But they did unearth a second lower jaw that they say is identical in size and shape to LB1’s. Such duplicate bones will be critical to their case that they have a population of these tiny humans (as opposed to a bunch of scattered bones from one person). That should in turn dispel concerns that LB1 was a diseased individual. Additional evidence may come from DNA: hair samples possibly from H. floresiensis are undergoing analysis at the University of Oxford, and the hominid teeth and bones may contain viable DNA as well. “Tropical environments are not the best for long-term preservation of DNA, so we’re not holding our breath,” Roberts remarks, “but there’s certainly no harm in looking.”
The future of the bones (and any DNA they contain) is uncertain, however. In late November, Teuku Jacob of the Gadjah Mada University in Yogyakarta, Java, who was not involved in the discovery or the analyses, had the delicate specimens transported from their repository at the Indonesian Center for Archaeology to his own laboratory with Soejono’s assistance. Jacob, the dean of Indonesian paleoanthropology, thinks LB1 was a microcephalic and allegedly ordered the transfer of it and the new, as yet undescribed finds for examination and safekeeping, despite strong objections from other staff members at the center. At the time this article was going to press, the team was waiting for Jacob to make good on his promise to return the remains to Jakarta by January 1 of this year, but his reputation for restricting scientific access to fossils has prompted pundits to predict that the bones will never be studied again.
Efforts to piece together the H. floresiensis puzzle will proceed, however. For his part, Brown is eager to find the tiny hominid’s large-bodied forebears. The possibilities are three-fold, he notes. Either the ancestor dwarfed on Flores (and was possibly the maker of the 840,000-year-old Soa Basin tools), or it dwindled on another island and later reached Flores, or the ancestor was small before it even arrived in Southeast Asia. In fact, in many ways, LB1 more closely resembles African H. erectus and the Georgian hominids than the geographically closer Javan H. erectus, he observes. But whether these similarities indicate that H. floresiensis arose from an earlier H. erectus foray into Southeast Asia than the one that produced Javan H. erectus or are merely coincidental results of the dwarfing process remains to be determined. Future excavations may connect the dots. The team plans to continue digging on Flores and Java and will next year begin work on other Indonesian islands, including Sulawesi to the north.
The hominid bones from Liang Bua now span the period from 95,000 to 13,000 years ago, suggesting to the team that the little Floresians perished along with the pygmy Stegodon because of a massive volcanic eruption in the area around 12,000 years ago, although they may have survived later farther east. If H. erectus persisted on nearby Java until 25,000 years ago, as some evidence suggests, and H. sapiens had arrived in the region by 40,000 years ago, three human species lived cheek by jowl in Southeast Asia for at least 15,000 years. And the discoverers of H. floresiensis predict that more will be found. The islands of Lombok and Sumbawa would have been natural stepping-stones for hominids traveling from Java or mainland Asia to Flores. Those that put down roots on these islands may well have set off on their own evolutionary trajectories.
Perhaps, it has been proposed, some of these offshoots of the Homo lineage survived until historic times. Maybe they still live in remote pockets of Southeast Asia’s dense rain forests, awaiting (or avoiding) discovery. On Flores, oral histories hold that the ebu gogo was still in existence when Dutch colonists settled there in the 19th century. And Malay folklore describes another small, humanlike being known as the orang pendek that supposedly dwells on Sumatra to this day.
“Every country seems to have myths about these things,” Brown reflects. “We’ve excavated a lot of sites around the world, and we’ve never found them. But then [in September 2003] we found LB1.” Scientists may never know whether tales of the ebu gogo and orang pendek do in fact recount actual sightings of other hominid species, but the newfound possibility will no doubt spur efforts to find such creatures for generations to come.
By Kate Wong in "Scientific American" February, 2005, volume 292, n.2. Adapted and illustrated to be posted by Leopoldo Costa.
7.29.2014
NEM CHURRASCO DA COPA SALVA FRIGORÍFICOS DE QUEDA DE VENDAS
Preço alto já inibe consumo e leva varejo a apostar em promoções
Nem o esperado churrasco da Copa do Mundo evitou uma queda nas vendas de carne bovina, provocada pelo preço alto dessa proteína — em 12 meses, o valor nos frigoríficos subiu mais de 20%.
Uma das apostas dos supermercados para o Mundial, as vendas de carnes decepcionaram. Ainda não foram divulgados dados sobre o comportamento do consumo durante a Copa, mas a Folha apurou com fontes do setor que o volume de vendas dos frigoríficos caiu entre 20% e 30%, na média semanal, ante o mesmo período de 2013.
Os cortes para churrasco foram de fato mais procurados, porém uma forte queda nos cortes mais simples, presentes na rotina dos brasileiros, não compensou o bom desempenho da picanha.
A baixa demanda no chamado “food service” (restaurantes e cozinhas industriais) também teve contribuição relevante para o tombo nas vendas.
O alto número de feriados ou a dispensa do trabalho para assistir aos jogos do Brasil reduziram a demanda desse tipo de comprador.
No varejo, a explicação para a queda nas vendas é a mudança no hábito alimentar do brasileiro,que trocou o arroz, o feijão e o bife pelas festas durante a Copa.
Segundo distribuidores de alimentos e analistas que acompanham esses setores, as vendas de arroz e de feijão acompanharam o tombo das carnes e caíram cerca de 30% na Copa ante igual intervalo de 2013 — em alguns casos, o recuo chegou a ser maior.
PREÇO
Com a demanda por carnes superestimada, varejistas encerraram a Copa com estoques altos. Não por acaso, supermercados e açougues fizeram promoções na semana após o final do evento. As ações tiveram reflexo nos preços. Entre 11 e 17 de julho, a carne bovina (corte traseiro, de primeira) foi o produto que mais contribuiu para a queda de 1,18% da cesta básica em São Paulo, segundo o Procon-SP. Só naquela semana,o valor médio da carne bovina caiu 0,55%. Na última semana, encerrada em 24 de julho, mais uma queda: - 0,42%.
O IPC da Fipe, que também mede os preços em São Paulo, confirmou a tendência: a carne bovina caiu 2,5% em junho e 1,1% em julho (na terceira quadrissemana).
“A alta no preço da carne tem limite, porque o consumidor tem alternativas para substitui-la, como o frango”, afirma Salomão Quadros, pesquisador da FGV responsável pelo IGP-M, que apontou a alta de 20,6% da carne nos frigoríficos em 12 meses.
“O preço é o maior fator de influência para o consumidor no momento da compra”,diz Péricles Salazar, presidente da Abrafrigo (Associação Brasileira de Frigoríficos).
Para Quadros,a aceleração dos preços no atacado ensaia uma parada. Na segunda prévia de julho do IGP-M, a carne bovina recuou 0,09%. Consultorias especializadas já apontam uma queda mais significativa no atacado, entre 1% e 2% neste mês, em comparação com junho.
NO CAMPO
A menor demanda já afeta até as negociações no campo. Na semana passada, o preço do boi gordo caiu 1%, para R$119 por arroba em São Paulo, segundo a InformaEconomics FNP, consultoria especializada no setor.
“O fraco consumo interno faz com que os frigoríficos, sem pressa para comprar a matéria-prima, pressionem mais as negociações com os pecuaristas para obter preços menores”, diz José Vicente Ferraz, diretor da Informa.
Influenciado pelo consumo interno aquecido e pelo bom desempenho das exportações, o boi gordo também vem de uma sequência de alta no preço: 17% em 12 meses, segundo a Informa.
Texto de Tatiana Freitas publicado na "Folha de S. Paulo" de 27 de julho de 2014. Adaptado e ilustrado para ser postado por Leopoldo Costa.
7.26.2014
AÇOUGUES MUDAM PARA FAZER CLIENTE GASTAR
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| Empório no Ponto |
Objetivo das empresas é elevar a margem de lucro; cliente gasta em média R$ 340 cada vez que vai a loja em SP.
Os açougues “gourmet” de São Paulo estão investindo na identidade visual de suas lojas para se distanciar do aspecto rústico dos negócios tradicionais. A estratégia dessas butiques de carne é ampliar a gama de produtos comercializados e a oferta de serviços agregados.
Segundo a consultora do Sebrae-SP Karyna Muniz, o objetivo das lojas é aumentar o tíquete médio (gasto estimado de cada cliente por compra) e a margem de lucro.
“O caminho para essas empresas é investir nos serviços agregados à venda de carnes, que são também diferenciais competitivos”, explica.
O fortalecimento desse mercado ocorre em paralelo à alta de 10% no consumo de carne bovina no país entre 2010 e 2014, segundo a consultoria Agroconsult. Neste ano, estima-se que cada brasileiro consuma 42 quilos.
Recém-aberto no Itaim Bibi, bairro nobre da zona sul de São Paulo, o Feed tem móveis e painéis coloridos, prateleiras feitas sob medida, além de sofás e pufes.
A casa, que trabalha com margem de lucro de 30%, vende as carnes que produz no Centro-Oeste do país e tem cerca de 1.200 clientes ao mês. Cada um gasta em média R$ 340 por compra.
Além dos cortes bovinos, o açougue criado há cinco meses oferta 45 tipos de porções, como bife a rolê, hambúrgueres e ossobuco.
A empresa também oferece cursos de gastronomia, livros de receita em redes sociais, entrega em casa e espaço para clientes cozinharem e receberem amigos.
Segundo o sócio-fundador Pedro Merola, 35, a expectativa é de que o investimento de R$ 5 milhões dê retorno em um prazo de quatro anos.
Outra empresa da área que está investindo nesse nicho é o Empório no Ponto, aberto há dois anos. Inspirada em açougues da Califórnia, a marca investiu R$ 500 mil para reformar a loja, que fica no bairro de Moema, na zona sul, e também mudou a identidade visual.
O investimento inclui a expansão do açougue, com a abertura de uma nova loja, no bairro de Alphaville, em Barueri (SP), a um custo de cerca de R$ 520 mil.
A companhia também está criando uma plataforma de e-commerce, que será lançada daqui a três meses.
“Ampliamos nossa gama de produtos e agora oferecemos cervejas,vinhos, molhos e massas. É uma necessidade de mercado. O brasileiro classe A também tem a cultura do churrasco, mas quer açougues diferenciados”, afirma a sócia-proprietária Natália Regina, 26.
Cada um de seus 2.000 clientes gasta cerca de R$ 200 em cada compra.
Mais tradicional, o Empório Marcos Bassi, que funciona no mesmo espaço do restaurante homônimo, na Bela Vista,ampliará seu serviço de e-commerce em agosto.
A plataforma receberá pedidos de entrega de carnes, além das vendas que já faz, de DVDs e livros de gastronomia do fundador.
Segundo Mauricio Nogueira, da Agroconsult, o mercado de carne gourmet tende a crescer. Ele aponta a melhora da qualidade do gado nacional, o aumento da produção e da demanda como os fatores responsáveis.
“Esses açougues ensinam o público a consumir e a preparar diferentes cortes de carne, o que é positivo para toda a cadeia produtiva.”
Texto de Isabel Kopschitz publicado na "Folha de S. Paulo" de 20 de julho de 2014. Adaptado e ilustrado para ser postado por Leopoldo Costa.
7.21.2014
LA NAISSANCE DE L'AGRICULTURE
N’est pas responsable de l’explosion démographique.
L’émergence de l’agriculture a constitué pour l’espèce humaine une révolution technologique, culturelle et environnementale sans précédent. On pensait jusqu’alors que l’abondance des ressources qu’elle a générée, associée à la domestication et à la sédentarisation, avait constitué le point de départ sur chaque continent des plus grandes explosions démographiques que notre espèce ait connues. Pourtant, de récents travaux avaient déjà quelque peu mis à mal cette théorie pour le continent africain.
Les chercheurs Etienne Patin et Lluis Quintana-Murci (unité Génétique évolutive humaine, Institut Pasteur/CNRS) apportent aujourd’hui des résultats venant corroborer et compléter ces conclusions, grâce à la publication de la plus vaste étude jamais entreprise sur le sujet. Les travaux des scientifiques ont été menés en étroite collaboration avec des équipes du Museum National d’Histoire Naturelle, de l’université Lumière-Lyon 2 et de l’université de Montréal. Ils reposent sur l’analyse poussée du génome entier de plus de 300 individus d’Afrique centrale, issus des populations pygmées, le plus grand groupe de chasseurs-cueilleurs persistant aujourd’hui, et des populations sédentaires d’agriculteurs.
On peut dater le développement de l’agriculture en Afrique subsaharienne à il y a environ 5000 ans. Or, cette étude génomique établit que la principale explosion démographique qu’ont connue les ancêtres des agriculteurs est bien antérieure à cette période. Même si les scientifiques n’excluent pas que les premières communautés de fermiers soient également entrées en expansion il y a 5000 ans, ils pensent qu’en réalité les ancêtres des actuels agriculteurs, alors chasseurs-cueilleurs, auraient connu il y a 10000 ans à 7000 ans un succès démographique tel qu’il leur aurait été nécessaire d’adopter un nouveau mode de vie, de s’établir et d’avoir recours à l’agriculture pour subvenir à leur besoins. A l’inverse, les populations de chasseurs-cueilleurs pygmées auraient, elles, subi entre - 30000 et - 10000 ans un goulot d’étranglement démographique. Ainsi, bien avant l’agriculture, ces deux populations auraient évolué très différemment, indépendamment de toute activité agricole.
L’enquête révèle également d’autres conclusions inattendues : les brassages génétiques entre les pygmées et les peuples fermiers n’auraient commencé qu’il y a environ 1000 ans. Or, on savait, grâce à l’étude de leurs traditions orales et de leurs langues, ainsi qu’à la diversité génétique de certains agents pathogènes qu’ils partagent, que ces populations cohabitent et entretiennent des contacts depuis déjà 5000 ans. Ce mélange tardif, qui ne rentre pas dans le schéma démographique classique et témoigne de la structure socioéconomique particulière de ces populations, a néanmoins été par la suite très intense : aujourd’hui, les génomes des populations pygmées montrent jusqu’à 50% de mélange avec les populations d’agriculteurs. Un brassage qui ne s’est opéré par ailleurs que de manière unilatérale:les hommes agriculteurs se sont associés aux femmes pygmées, mais rarement l’inverse.
Les chercheurs tentent dorénavant de comprendre les mécanismes génétiques à l’origine du succès ou du déclin démographique observés chez les deux populations. Selon eux, ils pourraient être liés aux pressions environnementales différentes auxquelles ces ethnies ont été soumises par le passé, y compris à celles exercées par les agents pathogènes.
Dans "Science Magazine n. 42, mai-juin-juillet 2014, edité per Entreprende (Lafont Presse), Boulogne-Billancourt, France. Dactylographié et adapté pour être posté par Leopoldo Costa.
L’émergence de l’agriculture a constitué pour l’espèce humaine une révolution technologique, culturelle et environnementale sans précédent. On pensait jusqu’alors que l’abondance des ressources qu’elle a générée, associée à la domestication et à la sédentarisation, avait constitué le point de départ sur chaque continent des plus grandes explosions démographiques que notre espèce ait connues. Pourtant, de récents travaux avaient déjà quelque peu mis à mal cette théorie pour le continent africain.
Les chercheurs Etienne Patin et Lluis Quintana-Murci (unité Génétique évolutive humaine, Institut Pasteur/CNRS) apportent aujourd’hui des résultats venant corroborer et compléter ces conclusions, grâce à la publication de la plus vaste étude jamais entreprise sur le sujet. Les travaux des scientifiques ont été menés en étroite collaboration avec des équipes du Museum National d’Histoire Naturelle, de l’université Lumière-Lyon 2 et de l’université de Montréal. Ils reposent sur l’analyse poussée du génome entier de plus de 300 individus d’Afrique centrale, issus des populations pygmées, le plus grand groupe de chasseurs-cueilleurs persistant aujourd’hui, et des populations sédentaires d’agriculteurs.
On peut dater le développement de l’agriculture en Afrique subsaharienne à il y a environ 5000 ans. Or, cette étude génomique établit que la principale explosion démographique qu’ont connue les ancêtres des agriculteurs est bien antérieure à cette période. Même si les scientifiques n’excluent pas que les premières communautés de fermiers soient également entrées en expansion il y a 5000 ans, ils pensent qu’en réalité les ancêtres des actuels agriculteurs, alors chasseurs-cueilleurs, auraient connu il y a 10000 ans à 7000 ans un succès démographique tel qu’il leur aurait été nécessaire d’adopter un nouveau mode de vie, de s’établir et d’avoir recours à l’agriculture pour subvenir à leur besoins. A l’inverse, les populations de chasseurs-cueilleurs pygmées auraient, elles, subi entre - 30000 et - 10000 ans un goulot d’étranglement démographique. Ainsi, bien avant l’agriculture, ces deux populations auraient évolué très différemment, indépendamment de toute activité agricole.
L’enquête révèle également d’autres conclusions inattendues : les brassages génétiques entre les pygmées et les peuples fermiers n’auraient commencé qu’il y a environ 1000 ans. Or, on savait, grâce à l’étude de leurs traditions orales et de leurs langues, ainsi qu’à la diversité génétique de certains agents pathogènes qu’ils partagent, que ces populations cohabitent et entretiennent des contacts depuis déjà 5000 ans. Ce mélange tardif, qui ne rentre pas dans le schéma démographique classique et témoigne de la structure socioéconomique particulière de ces populations, a néanmoins été par la suite très intense : aujourd’hui, les génomes des populations pygmées montrent jusqu’à 50% de mélange avec les populations d’agriculteurs. Un brassage qui ne s’est opéré par ailleurs que de manière unilatérale:les hommes agriculteurs se sont associés aux femmes pygmées, mais rarement l’inverse.
Les chercheurs tentent dorénavant de comprendre les mécanismes génétiques à l’origine du succès ou du déclin démographique observés chez les deux populations. Selon eux, ils pourraient être liés aux pressions environnementales différentes auxquelles ces ethnies ont été soumises par le passé, y compris à celles exercées par les agents pathogènes.
Dans "Science Magazine n. 42, mai-juin-juillet 2014, edité per Entreprende (Lafont Presse), Boulogne-Billancourt, France. Dactylographié et adapté pour être posté par Leopoldo Costa.
THE SECRET WORLD OF THE BALSAMIC VINEGAR ELITE
Vinegar is not taken lightly in Modena. One store on the main street has a couple of very small bottles of the traditional balsamico in the window—behind bars—priced at $150. Aweeklong vinegar conference features the mayor and food dignitaries from around Italy and the world.
Not until my second year living in Modena was I able to crack into the secret world of the vinegar elite and get a bottle for myself. I stumbled into this illustrious society when I made a grave error. I told Franco, the owner of the pet store in Vicolo Forni, about our Sunday drive up into the hills above Bologna with a couple of American friends. Once the words left my mouth, I wished I could have reached out and stuffed them back under my tongue. I blabbed to Franco how well we ate at a little trattoria, enjoying the delicious crescentini, a sort of flat bread, which we were told came from around Bologna. Franco was shocked and perhaps even a little offended. Fortunately he doesn’t have a problem finding the right words, or as his wife says, “He likes to communicate.”
Franco gently corrects me that crescentini, also known as tigelle, originate from the hills of Modena, not Bologna. Then he breaks into a smile. “The Bolognesi were lucky to have the good people from Modena next to them to teach them how to cook properly. If it weren’t for us, they’d still be wearing animal skins and beating on drums.”
And so my lesson in Modenese cuisine begins. Franco gestures to the huge covered market at the end of the alley and explains, “For example, it’s difficult to find true vinegar inside there; it’s only an industrialized imitation. If you come to my house this Sunday, I’ll show you how the real balsamico is made in my acetaio,” which he defines as a room with vinegar barrels.
I have already visited an industrial vinegar maker in Modena the year before, so I’m familiar with Modenese pride in their food. The man who led me around the little factory with industrial stainless-steel casks let me taste their very good approximation of the tradizionale balsamic. The company put dozens of different labels on the bottles of this vinegar to send all over the world. The guide then turned red with anger and told me, “Have you heard? Neapolitans are trying to steal our recipe! They’re making cheap stuff with labels saying, ‘Balsamic Vinegar from Modena, made in Napoli’!” He regained his composure about the vinegar fraud and assured me, “Anyway, it’s impossible to make true balsamic vinegar anywhere but Modena.” When I asked why, he replied, “Oh it’s the air, the grapes, the humidity, everything.”
In spite of his claim of authenticity for the industrial vinegar, this man showed me his own private, family acetaio with twenty barrels. I wiped away the cobwebs over the door, and he wiped a grubby window with his sleeve to let in a ray of light. “This is my mother!” he exclaimed with love as he pointed to a little cask in the corner. The “mother barrel” was full of the thick syrupy vinegar he claimed was more than a hundred years old. “I would never sell my mother. If the house catches on fire, it’s the first thing we carry outside!”
This protectionist attitude toward the real tradizionale vinegar makes it almost impossible for a Modenese to part with it. In old times, balsamico was given as a priceless dowry and still today is usually exchanged as a gift since all the time and effort to produce the vinegar makes it far too expensive to buy.
An exchange student from the United States staying in Spilamberto, just outside of Modena and the real home of balsamic vinegar, was clandestinely offered vinegar by a high school classmate. Boys wanted to meet this beautiful young American girl but didn’t know what to say to her. Finally one approached her, whispering romantically in her ear, “I can get you some real balsamic vinegar if you want.” The American student couldn’t have cared less about some dark, stinky vinegar; she was far more interested in meeting cute boys and having fun.
I have to find out how they make this precious elixir, so I jump at the chance to visit Franco’s homemade vinegar setup. Franco and his wife, Giordana, pick Katy and me up early Sunday morning to take us for a breakfast of cappuccini and heart-stopping deep-fried dough called gnocco fritto. We then risk the dense fog of the Padana plains, driving dangerously fast to reach their house in the country and taste this Modenese elixir. Franco’s nephew meets us at the door of the house, and Franco brings us some special coppa salami to taste. Franco’s nephew doesn’t want any. “Uncle, you know that I don’t eat meat.”
“What?” Franco shakes his head in mock dismay, “I don’t understand why my own flesh and blood insists on being a vegetarian. We have the best pork in the world here, and all he wants to eat is salad!” Franco’s nephew tells us, “If I don’t eat a bowl of tortellini every year at Christmastime, I’ll be written out of the inheritance!”
After the pork products, we venture up to the little attic of Franco’s farmhouse to see a series of musty wooden barrels — each one smaller than the next—filling the room. The windows are wide open, and Franco explains, “Vinegar is alive and must be properly aged. Besides, I love it when the whole house has this fantastic odor of vinegar. It permeates everything!” he says, delighted. I’m sure we’ll never be able to wash the acidic, molasses smell out of our clothes.
Franco describes the process to us, “Every November, Giordana and I boil a big batch of white Trebbiano wine to produce the fermented juice, or must. We add a little to the biggest barrel since almost a quarter of the liquid evaporates every year.” Franco lifts a stone on top of this huge barrel, which seals a hole in the wooden slate. Nearly half of the rock is eaten away by the acid of the wine inside. I wonder what the vinegar must do to your stomach, but Franco assures me, “You need the acid, otherwise the vinegar would become a syrup.”
Each barrel is made from a different type of wood — from juniper to chestnut — to give unique flavor to the black liquid. Once a year, the vinegar is decanted from the second smallest barrel into the mother barrel, from the third smallest into the second, and so on. Every year, an expert from the balsamic vinegar consortium, like a wine sommelier, tours the various acetaia (vinegar makers) to make sure the process is going as planned. “It’s a very tense time,” Franco tells me. “If you don’t follow the process, your vinegar will be ruined. Ruined! Then you have to throw away all your bad vinegar, which was begun more than a hundred years ago. This is a disaster for the family.” Franco drops his head sadly in sympathy for those who have lost all of their priceless liquid.
“After all this work, we produce only two liters a year, which we extract in January,” Giordana cuts in when she sees Franco bow his head.
Franco recovers his gregarious manner and continues, “Now you can understand why no one wants to sell the real vinegar since we barely have enough for ourselves. For us Modenesi, we care a lot about preserving this tradition of balsamico, and I hope in the future someone will keep looking after my barrels to produce the real vinegar from Modena.” I don’t dare tell Franco that I heard a company in California is now trying to produce authentic balsamic vinegar also.
After the tour, Franco bestows upon us a tiny bottle of his dark brew. I carefully wrap paper around the four-ounce bottle of precious liquid to avoid any disastrous cracks or unnecessary shaking. Once we’re back in the car, however, Franco guns the engine and swerves violently around the turns and joggles the vinegar, which nearly pops the puny cork.
We make it home safely, and the vinegar has survived. We can’t resist the almost creamy sweet flavor of the vinegar, so we pour it on everything — from splinters of Parmigiano - Reggiano cheese to meats and even on desserts like fresh strawberries and gelato. The balsamic tang of the vinegar is addicting. As with any bad habit, the absence of the desired object leaves us wanting more.
Our neighbor upstairs, the little old lady with the two fat dogs, hears that we visited Franco’s acetaio. “Now, you must try some balsamico from my barrels,” she says and hands us a bigger bottle. Over the next week, we flatter both her and Franco (separately) that their vinegar is indeed the tastiest. “Just wait until next year’s batch,” Franco tells us.
By Eric Dregni in "Never Trust a Thin Cook and Other Lessons from Italy’s Culinary Capital", University of Minnesota Press, USA, 2009, excerpts pp. 124-128. Adapted and illustrated to be posted by Leopoldo Costa.
Not until my second year living in Modena was I able to crack into the secret world of the vinegar elite and get a bottle for myself. I stumbled into this illustrious society when I made a grave error. I told Franco, the owner of the pet store in Vicolo Forni, about our Sunday drive up into the hills above Bologna with a couple of American friends. Once the words left my mouth, I wished I could have reached out and stuffed them back under my tongue. I blabbed to Franco how well we ate at a little trattoria, enjoying the delicious crescentini, a sort of flat bread, which we were told came from around Bologna. Franco was shocked and perhaps even a little offended. Fortunately he doesn’t have a problem finding the right words, or as his wife says, “He likes to communicate.”
Franco gently corrects me that crescentini, also known as tigelle, originate from the hills of Modena, not Bologna. Then he breaks into a smile. “The Bolognesi were lucky to have the good people from Modena next to them to teach them how to cook properly. If it weren’t for us, they’d still be wearing animal skins and beating on drums.”
And so my lesson in Modenese cuisine begins. Franco gestures to the huge covered market at the end of the alley and explains, “For example, it’s difficult to find true vinegar inside there; it’s only an industrialized imitation. If you come to my house this Sunday, I’ll show you how the real balsamico is made in my acetaio,” which he defines as a room with vinegar barrels.
I have already visited an industrial vinegar maker in Modena the year before, so I’m familiar with Modenese pride in their food. The man who led me around the little factory with industrial stainless-steel casks let me taste their very good approximation of the tradizionale balsamic. The company put dozens of different labels on the bottles of this vinegar to send all over the world. The guide then turned red with anger and told me, “Have you heard? Neapolitans are trying to steal our recipe! They’re making cheap stuff with labels saying, ‘Balsamic Vinegar from Modena, made in Napoli’!” He regained his composure about the vinegar fraud and assured me, “Anyway, it’s impossible to make true balsamic vinegar anywhere but Modena.” When I asked why, he replied, “Oh it’s the air, the grapes, the humidity, everything.”
In spite of his claim of authenticity for the industrial vinegar, this man showed me his own private, family acetaio with twenty barrels. I wiped away the cobwebs over the door, and he wiped a grubby window with his sleeve to let in a ray of light. “This is my mother!” he exclaimed with love as he pointed to a little cask in the corner. The “mother barrel” was full of the thick syrupy vinegar he claimed was more than a hundred years old. “I would never sell my mother. If the house catches on fire, it’s the first thing we carry outside!”
This protectionist attitude toward the real tradizionale vinegar makes it almost impossible for a Modenese to part with it. In old times, balsamico was given as a priceless dowry and still today is usually exchanged as a gift since all the time and effort to produce the vinegar makes it far too expensive to buy.
An exchange student from the United States staying in Spilamberto, just outside of Modena and the real home of balsamic vinegar, was clandestinely offered vinegar by a high school classmate. Boys wanted to meet this beautiful young American girl but didn’t know what to say to her. Finally one approached her, whispering romantically in her ear, “I can get you some real balsamic vinegar if you want.” The American student couldn’t have cared less about some dark, stinky vinegar; she was far more interested in meeting cute boys and having fun.
I have to find out how they make this precious elixir, so I jump at the chance to visit Franco’s homemade vinegar setup. Franco and his wife, Giordana, pick Katy and me up early Sunday morning to take us for a breakfast of cappuccini and heart-stopping deep-fried dough called gnocco fritto. We then risk the dense fog of the Padana plains, driving dangerously fast to reach their house in the country and taste this Modenese elixir. Franco’s nephew meets us at the door of the house, and Franco brings us some special coppa salami to taste. Franco’s nephew doesn’t want any. “Uncle, you know that I don’t eat meat.”
“What?” Franco shakes his head in mock dismay, “I don’t understand why my own flesh and blood insists on being a vegetarian. We have the best pork in the world here, and all he wants to eat is salad!” Franco’s nephew tells us, “If I don’t eat a bowl of tortellini every year at Christmastime, I’ll be written out of the inheritance!”
After the pork products, we venture up to the little attic of Franco’s farmhouse to see a series of musty wooden barrels — each one smaller than the next—filling the room. The windows are wide open, and Franco explains, “Vinegar is alive and must be properly aged. Besides, I love it when the whole house has this fantastic odor of vinegar. It permeates everything!” he says, delighted. I’m sure we’ll never be able to wash the acidic, molasses smell out of our clothes.
Franco describes the process to us, “Every November, Giordana and I boil a big batch of white Trebbiano wine to produce the fermented juice, or must. We add a little to the biggest barrel since almost a quarter of the liquid evaporates every year.” Franco lifts a stone on top of this huge barrel, which seals a hole in the wooden slate. Nearly half of the rock is eaten away by the acid of the wine inside. I wonder what the vinegar must do to your stomach, but Franco assures me, “You need the acid, otherwise the vinegar would become a syrup.”
Each barrel is made from a different type of wood — from juniper to chestnut — to give unique flavor to the black liquid. Once a year, the vinegar is decanted from the second smallest barrel into the mother barrel, from the third smallest into the second, and so on. Every year, an expert from the balsamic vinegar consortium, like a wine sommelier, tours the various acetaia (vinegar makers) to make sure the process is going as planned. “It’s a very tense time,” Franco tells me. “If you don’t follow the process, your vinegar will be ruined. Ruined! Then you have to throw away all your bad vinegar, which was begun more than a hundred years ago. This is a disaster for the family.” Franco drops his head sadly in sympathy for those who have lost all of their priceless liquid.
“After all this work, we produce only two liters a year, which we extract in January,” Giordana cuts in when she sees Franco bow his head.
Franco recovers his gregarious manner and continues, “Now you can understand why no one wants to sell the real vinegar since we barely have enough for ourselves. For us Modenesi, we care a lot about preserving this tradition of balsamico, and I hope in the future someone will keep looking after my barrels to produce the real vinegar from Modena.” I don’t dare tell Franco that I heard a company in California is now trying to produce authentic balsamic vinegar also.
After the tour, Franco bestows upon us a tiny bottle of his dark brew. I carefully wrap paper around the four-ounce bottle of precious liquid to avoid any disastrous cracks or unnecessary shaking. Once we’re back in the car, however, Franco guns the engine and swerves violently around the turns and joggles the vinegar, which nearly pops the puny cork.
We make it home safely, and the vinegar has survived. We can’t resist the almost creamy sweet flavor of the vinegar, so we pour it on everything — from splinters of Parmigiano - Reggiano cheese to meats and even on desserts like fresh strawberries and gelato. The balsamic tang of the vinegar is addicting. As with any bad habit, the absence of the desired object leaves us wanting more.
Our neighbor upstairs, the little old lady with the two fat dogs, hears that we visited Franco’s acetaio. “Now, you must try some balsamico from my barrels,” she says and hands us a bigger bottle. Over the next week, we flatter both her and Franco (separately) that their vinegar is indeed the tastiest. “Just wait until next year’s batch,” Franco tells us.
By Eric Dregni in "Never Trust a Thin Cook and Other Lessons from Italy’s Culinary Capital", University of Minnesota Press, USA, 2009, excerpts pp. 124-128. Adapted and illustrated to be posted by Leopoldo Costa.
NEGROS NÃO TIVERAM A PROTEÇÃO DE ANCHIETA
RESUMO
Canonizado em abril, José de Anchieta (1534-97) é lembrado por sua atuação entre os índios do Brasil colonial. Pouco se fala, porém, de como os jesuítas não só toleraram como se beneficiaram da escravidão de negros, que, para eles, poupava os nativos e preparava os africanos para a fé católica e o perdão divino.
O DESTAQUE
Dado à canonização dos papas João 23 e João Paulo 2º eclipsou a santidade de José de Anchieta, oficializada dias antes, em 3 de abril passado, no Vaticano. Como todo mundo aprendeu na escola, Anchieta é o apóstolo do Brasil.Fundador de São Paulo,ativo na fundação do Rio de Janeiro e de cidades capixabas, Anchieta deixou ainda sua marca na Bahia.
Redigida pouco depois de sua morte, em 1597, pelo padre Pero Rodrigues,a biografia de Anchieta tinha um claro propósito hagiográfico. Logo em seguida teve início o processo de sua beatificação, etapa preparatória da canonização.
Na época, os jesuítas espanhóis estendiam sua influência sobre a Cúria, no embalo do poderio que a Espanha filipina exercia sobre Roma e boa parte do território italiano. Feito papa com o esmagador apoio de Madri,Gregório 15, grande aliado da Sociedade de Jesus (SJ), canonizou o primeiro time dos jesuítas espanhóis em 1622: Inácio de Loyola e Francisco Xavier — respectivamente fundador da ordem e apóstolo do Extremo Oriente.
Anchieta poderia ter embarcado nessa galera como o apóstolo do Extremo Ocidente, da América Ibérica, a maior região ultramarina de povoamento europeu. Mas sua beatificação encalhou. Por quê?
Talvez por causa de seu pró-lusitanismo. Embora nascido em Tenerife, nas Canárias, território espanhol, Anchieta estudara em Coimbra, onde ingressou no seminário jesuíta. Ativo nas missões e na conquista do Brasil, Anchieta vestiu a batina portuguesa de corpo inteiro. Fator que deve ter pesado negativamente nos anos 1620-1630, quando o antagonismo luso-espanhol se acentuava.
Depois piorou, porque a Cúria romana ficou do lado de Madri em 1640 e só reconheceu a soberania da Coroa de Bragança em 1668.Na circunstância, o insucesso da beatificação de Anchieta pode ter sido um efeito colateral da rivalidade entre Madri e Lisboa no século 17.
Muito mais identificado com Portugal do que com a Espanha, Anchieta trouxe entretanto de Tenerife, de onde saiu aos 14 anos, duas referências capitais.
A primeira foi o conhecimento da língua basca, idioma de seu pai, nacionalista basco deportado para Tenerife.Escrevendo em 1584 na Bahia, Anchieta se dizia basco — “biscainho”, e não canarino ou castelhano. Muito provavelmente, o domínio da sintaxe basca — língua aglutinante como o tupi-guarani — deu a Anchieta a chave para redigir sua gramática sobre o idioma indígena do litoral do Brasil.
A segunda referência atlântica de Anchieta foi a sua familiaridade com a violência colonial.
Terá sido na sua terra natal, e não na Bahia ou em Piratininga, que ele ouviu falar pela primeira vez de “entradas” e viu gente acorrentada no cativeiro.
Na sua infância, se desenrolava em Tenerife o final da extinção dos “guanchos”,aborígenes de origem berbere das Canárias, primeiro povo ultramarino a ser exterminado pelos europeus. Na mesma época, preadores ibéricos desembarcavam nas Canárias muçulmanos escravizados nas “entradas” lançadas no litoral do Marrocos.
Anchieta reencontrou em Piratininga a pilhagem sertaneja das entradas, dessa vez capturando índios; e, na Bahia, a pilhagem marítima,desembarcando negros.
Parte desses africanos, traficados pelos jesuítas de Angola associados a Anchieta, era entregue ao Colégio da Bahia.
Quando Anchieta era superior do Colégio e provincial da ordem, Miguel Garcia, um jesuíta que ele conhecia bem, protestou frontalmente contra a conversão dos missionários ao escravismo, prevenindo Roma em 1583: “A multidão de escravos que tem a Companhia [de Jesus] nesta Província [do Brasil], particularmente neste Colégio [da Bahia], é coisa que de maneira nenhuma posso tragar”. Desafiados,Anchieta e a hierarquia da ordem recambiaram o padre antiescravista para a Europa.
TRANSMIGRAÇÃO
Como todos os missionários do Brasil, Anchieta protegia os índios e benzia a escravidão dos negros. Para ele, o cativeiro dos últimos livrava os primeiros da exploração colonial. Depois, o padre Antônio Vieira completou a justificação jesuítica do tráfico negreiro, afirmando que o escravismo também salvava os africanos do paganismo. Sua “primeira transmigração” para o Brasil nos tumbeiros facilitava sua conversão à fé e sua “segunda transmigração”, para o Céu.
Ao fio dos anos, acumulando negócios, os jesuítas se tornaram grandes proprietários de escravos. A fazenda de Santa Cruz, que lhes pertencia — hoje sede da base aérea de mesmo nome, na zona oeste da capital fluminense — , era a maior propriedade escravista das Américas por volta de 1750, concentrado mais de mil cativos negros e mulatos.
Presentes e muito influentes em Angola e no Brasil quando a deportação de escravizados deslanchou e se intensificou, os jesuítas, mais do qualquer outra ordem religiosa, estavam no miolo do complexo escravista do Atlântico Sul.
A história da SJ ocultou seu envolvimento negreiro na rota Angola-Brasil para dar relevo à catequização dos indígenas na América Ibérica, e, particularmente, nas veredas do Paraguai.
MISSÃO
Na altura em que se anunciou a escolha do papa Francisco, Umberto Eco escreveu um artigo sobre a saga dos jesuítas na América Latina. Asseverando que o novo papa argentino foi influenciado pelo exemplo das missões paraguaias, Eco engrenou o debate do Iluminismo, citando Montesquieu e outros filósofos que exaltaram ou estigmatizaram o experimento jesuítico no Paraguai e terminou com as cenas de Robert De Niro no filme “A Missão”. Nada disse sobre a dimensão escravista e negreira do experimento jesuítico no Brasil e Angola.
Vindo de um país onde a presença negra, considerável em Buenos Aires no século 19, tornou-se bem oculto se o papa jesuíta Francisco pode ter as ideias que lhe são atribuídas por Eco. Em todo caso, a decisão papal de canonizar Anchieta avaliza a imagem unilateral de defensores dos índios que os inacianos cultivam no Brasil, na Argentina e na América Latina.
Na realidade, os jesuítas e a Igreja perpetuam uma hierarquia calcada no passado, mostrando-se pouco permeáveis às mudanças da sociedade brasileira. Como nas Forças Armadas e na Magistratura — os dois outros pilares do Império escravista — , os negros continuam sendo minoritários no clero brasileiro.
O único estudo que conheço sobre o assunto, de autoria do padre Toninho (Antônio Aparecido da Silva),militante da causa negra na Igreja morto em 2009, é revelador.
Conforme os dados do padre Toninho, a Igreja Católica no país contava em 2001 com 16 mil sacerdotes. Destes, 4.000 eram estrangeiros. Dentre os 12 mil brasileiros, apenas mil padres eram afrodescendentes — nos anos 1960, seu número não chegava a cem.
Interpretação seletiva do passado, a imagem piedosa de santo Anchieta como protetor dos índios e apóstolo do Brasil inteiro está em descompasso com a história de sua época. Está também em descompasso com a história de nossa época, engajada numa política afirmativa instaurada pelos Três Poderes da República para configurar a verdadeira imagem do Brasil inteiro;para dar mais representatividade aos afrodescendentes, maior contingente populacional do Brasil.
Texto de Luiz Felipe de Alencastro publicado no caderno "Ilustríssima" da "Folha de S. Paulo" de 20 de julho de 2014. Adaptado e ilustrado para ser postado por Leopoldo Costa.
7.18.2014
CANIBALISMO MÁS ANTIGUO DE LOS HUMANOS
CANIBALISMO CULTURAL (06/09/2010)
Hace dieciséis años que descubrimos los registros fósiles de dicha cavidad, un hallazgo que nos causó un gran impacto. El estudio taxonómico de los restos esqueléticos indicaban que más de la mitad de los mismos habían sido alterados por marcas de corte y percusión antrópicas.
Habíamos descubierto las pruebas de canibalismo más antiguas de la evolución humana. Después de más de una decena de años de trabajos de investigación hemos podido comprobar que el estrato Aurora, lugar en que se encuentra los registros de la primera prueba de canibalismo de la historia, está representado por una serien de subniveles, lo que nos indica que la práctica de la antropofagia por parte de Homo antecessor no fue un evento concreto, sino que se extiende en el tiempo.
Excavacions a Gran Dolina
Hemos generado una nueva hipótesis que complementa al canibalismo gastronómico, la redundancia de este comportamiento nos ha hecho plantear que nos encontrados delante de lo que puede ser la primera prueba de que los homininos ejercían esa práctica como forma de adaptación a un entorno, conscientes que evitando la competencia, son capaces de obtener más energía de su entorno.
¿Que diferencia puede haber entre el canibalismo gastronómico y el canibalismo cultural? Pensamos que no es un problema de comportamiento etológico, sinó que algo que se produce como consecuencia de una situación determinada acaba convirtiéndose en un hábito, y puede ser que sea en Atapuerca donde la humanidad empieza esta forma de comportamiento, cosa difícil de afirmar, pero lo que está claro es que es la primera vez que esto se contrasta de manera empírica.
¿Por qué en Atapuerca? Atapuerca es una encrucijada de caminos y el Corredor de la Bureba, como zona de paso, es de las más cruciales, pues conecta el Este y el Oeste peninsular, a la vez que es zona de acceso a la cordillera Cantábrica i a la Meseta. Es posible que la Sierra de Atapuerca, que representa un ecotono importante fuera una área con gran energía, los grupos odian competir por instalarse estacionalmente allí, la defensa del territorio podía ser el disparo de salida para la practica cultural del canibalismo por parte del Homo antecessor.
Deberemos trabajar más en los registros de los yacimientos de la Sierra con la perspectiva de ir confirmando nuestra hipótesis: Cuantos más datos mejor, pero la hipótesis ya está planteada.
HOMO SAPIENS (11/07/2014)
Nuestros colegas del Equipo de Investigación de Atapuerca (EIA), Yolanda Martínez, Carlos Díez y Jordi Rosell, se dieron cuenta en seguida de que los primeros restos de Homo antecessor que descubrimos estaban canibalizados, pues se observaban marcas de corte y fracturas sospechosas, de aquellas que sólo se pueden producir por la acción de otros humanos. El estudio posterior no hizo nada más que apoyar la visión de campo que ya se había establecido con anterioridad. La antropofagia deja tras de si un rastro de información que puede ser capturada por los científicos. Así se publico en Science en 1996.
La evisceración, el despiece, la descarnación y la fragmentación que tiene lugar con la depredación de otros congéneres por parte de los homínidos deja unas huellas inconfundibles, que los expertos en tafonomía son capaces de reconocer, dada la singularidad del impacto que se registra en la superficie de los restos anatómicos canibalizados.
Las marcas de corte dejadas sobre los huesos por las herramientas de talla, normalmente lascas de silex o cuarcita, con filos diedros en el yacimiento de la Gran Dolina, como ocurre en otros yacimientos donde se ha practicado el canibalismo, se caracterizan por la forma en uve, mientras que las trazas dejadas por depredadores humanos suelen ser en forma de ú. Examinadas al microscopio electrónico las evidencias fueron del todo confirmadas, pues una gran parte de los restos esqueléticos analizados presentaban marcas que coincidían con la morfología que hemos descrito.
Además, estos impactos tienen lugar en zonas concretas del esqueleto y de manera sistemática. La intencionalidad es, sobretodo, cortar ligamentos, romper articulaciones y tener acceso a lugares anatómicos que directamente con la boca se hace difícil. No tan sólo existen estas marcas debido a la acción de cortar, sino que hay algunas relacionadas con la limpieza de tejido y con el levantamiento del periostio.
Diversas huellas
La percusión con martillos de piedra también se realiza para poder acceder al tuétano, que se encuentra en el interior de los huesos largos, y al interior de la bóveda craneal. El impacto sobre estas superficies deja una serie de esquirlas características de esta acción que también son reconocibles.
Finalmente, la acción de la dentición humana sobre los cadáveres deja una huella singular que no producen otros omnívoros ni carnívoros. De todo ello se puede inferir el comportamiento caníbal practicado por Homo antecessor al final del Pleistoceno inferior.
Todo este espectro de actividad se ha registrado en el estrato Aurora del nivel 6 de la Gran Dolina. Cuando se descubrió, este yacimiento era el de cronología más antigua en la historia de la evolución humana.
Textos de Eudald Carbonell publicado en "El Mundo", Madrid, 6, septiembre, 2010 e 11, julio, 2014. Compilación, adaptación y ilustración de Leopoldo Costa.
THE STORY OF LINGERIE
Lingerie is very directly and strongly linked to a women’s intimacy. For centuries, men have always believed that lingerie was created with the objective of seduction. There is no question that this aim exists. However, by choosing to put on pretty, seductive underwear, all women develop a slightly self-centred, even narcissistic, behaviour and attitude. In fact, lingerie contributes to a woman’s sense of ease with her body and, in this way, she accepts and loves her body better, becoming more confident and showing real assurance. The reason for this is very simple. Surprisingly, even though nobody can see her underwear, it really accentuates a woman’s figure and can sometimes shape her body to satisfaction.
Lingerie has too often been treated as an element of seduction. Men themselves created this phenomenon: a woman clad only in her underwear seems infinitely more sensual and sexual than a woman entirely in the nude. One could associate underwear with high heels. The latter have an effect on how a woman walks, making her more attractive, seductive and provocative. When combined with stockings, high heels have a certain charge, and an undeniable fetishist quality, as much for women as for men.
The perception and appreciation of the female form has undergone many radical changes. We could compare, for example, our early 21st century perception, to the 1960s and 1970s. In the sixties, when a woman got married, and even more so when she became a mother, her body was no longer meant to be seductive. Today this attitude is completely outdated and obsolete. In fact, women feel the need to be attractive at all ages, both before and after marriage, and even during their later years. This can be illustrated by the fact that, these days, a grandmother can be a beautiful woman and wish to dress to her best advantage in alluring underwear which enhances her figure. This revolution in customs concerning underwear is linked directly to innovation and technical considerations in the design of undergarments, and is subject to historical events. The history of lingerie deserves to be studied here. Lingerie, as opposed to the world of fashion, is a state of mind. A woman can love lingerie and wish to enhance her figure from the age of 15 to 75! Ready-to-wear fashion is a completely different universe from that of underwear. Clothes are always aimed at a distinct age group: fashion for a 15 year old girl is different from that of a woman of 30. Underwear, meanwhile, is much more a question of attitude and how a woman feels: a larger woman can be happy with her body, accepting herself as she is, and wish to enhance her figure with beautiful underwear. So lingerie should meet all aspirations and suit every kind of woman. As a designer, my work is focused in this direction. In order to design underwear which satisfies many types of woman, I like to observe those around me: my daughter, my assistants and women whom I encounter in the street. I can also be inspired by behaviour I have noticed in films.
Apart from my entourage, which plays an important role in suggesting new pieces to me, materials also inspire my designs. Textiles are essential. Since lingerie is closest to the female body and in intimate contact, the fabric and lace have to be soft, but this is not the only criterion. Today lingerie has to be comfortable and practical. In fact, although only 30 years ago French women (as opposed to Americans, for example) did not baulk at wearing and hand-washing very fragile undergarments, often lacetrimmed, sometimes needing ironing, today this would no longer be acceptable. Lingerie must be able to withstand machine -washing, be non-iron, and combine comfort (essential) and beauty in each piece. We cannot overlook the development of different textiles in the design and manufacture of underwear. Going beyond materials, colour also plays an important part in lingerie. Black and white are always extremely flattering to the skin. Black (more particularly) can also diminish the defects that we all have. Warm colours (pink, red, raspberry) also help enhance the figure. On the other hand, lingerie in cool colours is harder to work with. Green and blue are beautiful, but are too often reminiscent of swimwear.
Lingerie should be associated with pleasure for a woman. The element of seduction remains, especially with certain undergarments: some of them are fascinating and inevitably inspire attraction. Stockings and suspenders make a woman extremely attractive, even bewitching. Bustiers, waspies and brassieres can be worn under a transparent shirt. The effect of this is bound to be equivocal, ambivalent and extremely fascinating when seen by others, and very flattering for the woman dressed this way.
I can distinguish two types of lingerie. On the one hand, the underwear that one wants to show off (particularly waspies, suspenders and stockings) and on the other hand, underwear just for the woman herself. This last category should be nice to look at but also comfortable. With regard to tights, for example, I particularly like to make attractive, lovely tights so that they can be worn everyday and so that they can maintain, in spite of what they are, an air of seduction when they are removed in the presence of one’s lover.
The essence and attitude of lingerie is all in suggestion. Three terms can be applied to lingerie today: elegance, seduction and comfort. These three ideas have to be combined when designing underwear, and any vulgarity has to be ruled out. To avoid this, underwear has to be humorous and fresh. The world of lingerie affects everybody: women, who are wearing this underwear, as well as men, who believe women were wearing it merely to seduce them. The story of lingerie, as well as its history, deserves some attention.
(Preface by Chantal Thomass)
UNDERWEAR AND FASHION
Lingerie, corsetry and hosiery
Underwear is varied and prolific, whether it is hidden or displayed, discreet or provocative. There are three usual ways to classify this multitude of garments: lingerie, corsetry and hosiery. Lingerie’s main role is that of hygiene. It is positioned between the body and clothes, and it protects the body from outerwear made of less comfortable textiles while it protects the clothes from bodily secretions. Because of this, it is generally made from healthy materials which have varied according to the times. In this way lingerie is really about feminine intimacy and hygiene. In fact, the first linen that was in contact with the female body was used for menstrual flow and is the precursor of our sanitary towels.1
The term body linen is also used for lingerie. We use this term to talk about certain undergarments such as petticoats, chemises, bloomers, long johns, briefs, vests and slips.
In families of modest means, or in wartime, certain undergarments have been made from worn out household linen, often old sheets. Materials used for body linen are similar to those used for household linen. Comfort is the first thing they have in common, with cotton being the most popular, as it is soft, light and hygienic. Other materials of all types of luxury are used to make lingerie: linen, silk, relatively light synthetic weaving, such as cloth, satin, jersey, lawn, muslin, percale or net. Sometimes these fabrics are embellished with ornamentation and, very often, with provocative decoration. Because lingerie is not limited to a protective role, it is also an elegant part of clothing. We often see lingerie “coming out on top” as it is revealed or is completely displayed for reasons of seduction, fashion or provocation. It also presents frivolous ornamentations such as lace, embroidery and ribbons. Depending on who is wearing it, colours can vary according to the age, social position, taste, or the effect required by fashion of the wearer. But it is rarely completely revealed as it is associated with nudity, as can be seen in Georges Feydeau’s play Mais n’te promène donc pas toute nue! (“You are surely not going out completely naked!”) where Ventroux takes his wife Clarisse to task when their son sees her in her chemise. “We can see through that like tracing paper!” he says but she, in turn replies that wearing one’s daytime chemise is not like being naked.2 This episode shows that a woman feels that lingerie covers her while for a man it draws attention to the nudity beneath.
Because of its contact with the skin and its closeness to the female form, lingerie has always been the object of male fantasy, a fact which is judiciously played upon by woman and their lingerie. Catching a glimpse of petticoat frill in the 18th century, as in the 19th century, had an impact on the observer’s imagination in the same way that detecting panties or a G-string under a girl’s jeans would have today. Lingerie has an erotic charge because it is the closest clothing to the private female form.
Corsetry also plays a part in the world of seduction. This garment is to clothing what a framework is to a building. But this framework is applied to an existing foundation; the female body. The role of corsetry is to shape the body and to impose a fashionable silhouette upon it.
Pieces of corsetry were used to transform the three main parts of the body: the waist, bust and hips. The new silhouette was constructed around these three points. In Les Dessous à travers les âges (“Underwear throughout the ages”), Armand Silvestre describes a “good corset” in the following terms: “the top must be sufficiently widely cut to support the breasts without crushing them, the armholes should be well-formed; the lining of the fabric should be fine, well-inserted and flexible [...] finally, it should follow the lower body and finish on the hips at a firm point of arrival and follow the natural direction of the woman’s side”3. Corsetry enhanced the body’s curves and moulded it into new lines. It made the bust round, uplifted, curvaceous or flattened; the waist could be larger or smaller, non-existent or well-defined; hips could seem slimmer or wider. Corsetry dictated the shapes of fashion and often worked against nature. While lingerie revealed a woman’s private world, corsetry was made to create illusion. Corsetry was what made the woman wearing a certain dress fashionable.
The term ‘corsetry’ includes undergarments such as stays, corsets, girdles, waspies, bustiers, farthingales, panniers and crinolines.
Corsetry was made of internal bones which compress and control the body. These bones were made from sturdy materials such as whalebone, cane, horsehair, steel and elastic fibres. Originally this underwear was meant to be worn over clothes, then over lingerie, so it would be less obvious that it was made out of more sophisticated fabrics than those used for lingerie. Sometimes pieces of corsetry were matched to the clothing or to certain types of lingerie, such as a petticoat.
In this way one can see that corsetry was more fashionable and followed trends because it is visible (in the Middle Ages particularly, corsetry was worn over the dress) and especially because it moulds the figure.
Because of this, corsetry has been criticised to a much greater extent than lingerie. The supporters of corsetry saw in it a symbol of female morality – a woman’s body being maintained and reflecting her upright behaviour. Doctors, hygienists, and later, feminists, have accused designers and manufacturers of wanting to confine the female body inside a structure which is far from natural and that can damage the body. In spite of this criticism, women have accepted and put up with boning since, for them, it was simply a question of fashion: it was a way of disguising figure faults. The female body has long been considered weak, and extra support was considered necessary. 1932 Vogue testified: “Women’s abdominal muscles are notoriously weak and even hard exercise doesn’t keep your figure from spreading if you don’t give it some support”4.
In fact, corsetry is a woman’s major ally (if she can bear a little suffering) as it allows her to hide any bad points and accentuate her good points! This is the case of Caroline, Honoré de Balzac’s Petites Misères de la vie conjugales (“The Small Miseries of Married Life”), who wears her “most deceptive corset”5. Finally, like all lingerie, corsetry carried a significant erotic charge, as it accentuates the most emblematic aspects of the female body.
We would not have covered everything if we failed to mention hosiery here. This third family consists of the manufacture, industry and sale of clothing of knitted fabrics including stockings, socks and certain items of lingerie such as briefs or vests. Hosiery is characterised by the weaving technique which is employed when using materials such as wool, cotton, silk, nylon and today, micro fibre. Hosiery completes the lingerie-corsetry family and has benefited from great technical advances as a result of improvements in trade and the industrialisation of the sector.
Today, the distinction between lingerie, corsetry and hosiery is rarely made as there is often an overlap between the various different domains (underwired bras, support tights, support briefs). The underwear which we wear today is the result of the development of these three families. Their hygienic, supportive and aesthetic qualities interlink in 21st century underwear.
How underwear began to allow the silhouette evolve
Each era develops its own aesthetic idea that replaces the previous one. Underwear plays a fundamental role in creating a fashionable silhouette. Changing shape is based on integral points in clothing: shoulders, waist, bust and hips.
In ancient times, a draped form covered the body and outlined one’s figure. This was the case in Egypt where underwear did not exist and the body was naked under the tunic. Slaves, dancers and musicians were entirely naked, which marked the difference in status between themselves and their masters who wore translucent tunics. Even though an open tradition existed in classical and Hellenistic Greece concerning clothing and draping, the female form was disguised with straps that flattened the bust and hips. The figure was ruled by androgyny6. Hellenistic women appeared completely draped and their femininity disappeared under the panels of their robes. Roman civilisation also fought against curves. In an exclusively male world where women had no role, they were forbidden from showing any specific body characteristics. Certain doctors even proposed treatment to prevent the bust developing too much: Dioscoride7 advised applying powdered Naxos stone to the breasts; Pline8 suggested scissorgrinder’s mud, and Ovid9 recommended a poultice of white bread soaked in milk. There is no evidence that these magic potions were effective, but their existence does show a certain disdain for curves and soft shapes as well as a desire to disguise the female form.
In the Middle Ages the figure was slim although the waist was beginning to be defined. During the 14th and 15th centuries it was important to be slender. This was helped by adjusted underwear and, in particular, a surcoat which flattened the breasts, accentuated the curve of the hip and showed off the belly. The end of the Middle Ages was marked by the great Plague epidemics and a round belly and visible belly button were appreciated as a mark of fertility and a sign of promise for a depopulated Europe. The English poet John Gower (1325-1403) mentions this taste for women with a prominent belly in these terms: “Hee seeth hir shape forthwith all / Hir body round, hir middle small.10”
The strict confinement obtained with interior boning which compresses and rules the body is in opposition to these supple clothes of olden times is.
European 16th century clothing is marked by a certain uprightness influenced by Spain. The farthingale was a garment which was designed to make skirts more voluminous. It was adopted in England in 1550 and it became all the rage in 1590. In Spain, it did not disappear until 1625. The farthingale gave volume to the hips, accentuated the belly and demarcated the curve of the body. Underneath, women wore bloomers which were sometimes “deceptive” (padded) that shaped thighs and buttocks and increased the volume of skirts. The bust was shaped like a funnel, held rigidly by the basque which compressed the waist and opened up towards the shoulders.
In the 17th century, the female bust regained its round shape and was accentuated by stays up to the top of the torso tightly laced to the waist. Around 1670, the bust lengthened as the stays reached further up the front and the back of the waist. In the 18th century stays were worn very early by young girls and they reached even higher up the back. At the end of the 18th century certain women cheated by reverting to false breasts hidden in their stays.
The 18th century saw a definitive end to the farthingale when the fashion for flowing dresses arrived. Panniers shaped the skirts, following rapidly evolving trends. The panniers of 1718 were quite rounded, and became oval around 1725, remaining this way until 1730. Later, they took on a multitude of forms including the elbow pannier which stretched out a long way to the sides. After 1740, each side of the skirt had a pair of small panniers which gave it a flattened shape from the front and back but a very wide aspect from the front. At the end of the 18th century, panniers were replaced by the bustle worn behind and which improved or enhanced existing curves. From 1770 onwards, there was some contemporary criticism of stays, including from Jean-Jacques Rousseau who advocated a return to simplicity and nature. Other critics, such as Bonnaud in the 1770s La Dégradation de l’espèce humaine par l’usage du corps à baleine (“The Degradation of the Human Race by the Use of Stays”), launched real medical and educational “crusades”. Nothing could be done: a small waist, large skirt and generous bust remained the flavour of the day. Nevertheless, fashion evolved towards a return of the slim figure, and the pannier gave way to the bustle which, in turn, gradually disappeared. The result of this revolution was a new slender fashion. It started in France, introduced by the “Merveilleuses” (“The Marvels”) like Mme Récamier and Mme Tallien. This long, straight silhouette conquered England following the emigration of Rose Bertin after the French Revolution. With the return of the Greek tunic, the first fashion revival in history was recorded. The silhouette was long and straight with a high bust. But this did not mean that underwear disappeared for those who were not built like fashion plates. In 1800 the corset was still necessary to disguise too ample curves: the best-known corset makers were Lacroix and Furet. During the first Empire, the fashion for widely spaced breasts was launched by Louis Hippolyte Leroy and made corset-wearing indispensable. The “Ninon” was padded to give opulence to the body and reached to the waist. It marked a return to the voluptuous and fertile womanhood desired by Empire politics. The “divorce corset”, which separated the breasts, appeared in 1816 and followed the trend for wide-apart breasts. The waist returned to its natural place. A romantic woman would have her waist defined by a laced corset; she would wear a flared skirt in a wide bell shape which was supported by a crinoline, and she would have boned, bouffant sleeves. Drop shoulders accentuated by low inserted armholes were popular. The crinoline was really a large bell shape, rounded at the bottom and slightly curved at the back. After 1860 the back became much longer and gave the impression of a large corolla. But after 1868, as a reaction to these excesses, the crinoline was reduced to a simple cone which only appeared behind the costume. Around 1865-1870, silhouettes became less voluminous: the “Parisian bustle” accentuated the curve of the body and allowed the folds of the skirt to be trained behind. The front was very flat due to high corsets restraining the bust. These cramped the waist and gave the figure an hourglass shape. This gave birth to great debates concerning the benefits and disadvantages of corsets11 which in turn led to a far-reaching debate on the injustice of the female condition. Some protagonists, such as Amalia Bloomer (an American journalist), attempted to introduce practical clothing made up of a short tunic worn over trousers, but it was judged to be ridiculous. Female clothing continued to accentuate curves. In the 1880s the front of the silhouette became more and more visible due to corsets with long metallic stiffeners that flattened the belly and an “S”-shaped figure. Her chest was pushed out in front while hips and buttocks were pushed out behind. The bust was low, full and with no division between the breasts which made them very obvious, an effect sometimes accentuated by false breasts made of chamois leather, quilted satin or rubber. The Parisian bustle lifted the buttocks and accentuated the curve of the hip. This new curvy silhouette is reflected in Art Nouveau lines.
In the face of this new, sinuous silhouette, new forms of corsets revealing the thorax made their appearance, like those designed by Doctor Franz Glénard and Mme Gaches-Sarraute (a corset-maker with a medical background). They supported the abdomen without compressing it and let the chest and diaphragm breathe. This idea was continued by the appearance of Anglo-Saxon anti-corset leagues that aimed at making clothing more practical. Eventually, the authorities in several countries opposed the use of the corset.12 This fight against the corset (restricting women’s bodies had long been associated with maintaining tradition) was echoed in the English Suffragette movement that campaigned to give women more rights.
The “S” line was less popular after 1907 and simpler silhouettes took over. Figures took on a more Empire shape with high waists, flattened busts and narrow hips, making a woman look like a tube. This new fashion marked the end of lacing in order to reduce the waist, but it needed the hips and buttocks to be flattened and thus necessitated wearing a corset low on the hips with a flat, rigid front. The bust was shaped due to the invention of the brassiere (bra)13. Slenderness was still all the rage, as confirmed by Vogue in 1922: “the pursuit of slimness is one of the chief labours of the modern woman” 14. This liberty of the body was encouraged in shows in which the artists’ bodies performed freely on stage. These shows were very popular and included the Russian Ballet which performed at the Châtelet Theatre in Paris in 1909 and the performances of the dancer Isadora Duncan. The fashion designers Paul Poiret, Madeleine Vionnet and Nicole Groult were aware of these developments and helped suppress sinuous figure shapes. These innovations were taking place at the same time as the new craze for Latin-American dances (such as the Tango and the Charleston) that required freedom of body movement. In addition, the emergence of the middle class with its demand for more functional dress for the purpose of work contributed to simpler shapes. The First World War simplified these shapes even more and ruled out volume.
Nevertheless, only the intrepid and the slimmest abandoned the corset: as for the others, their use of the garment was reduced and indiscernible. Women wore dresses which reached to the knee and did not accentuate bust or waist. In the 1920s, there was no question of having a full bust. Like the Romans, women wore bodices or long bras with no relief which flattened the breasts.
At the end of the decade, curves began to return: the bust was defined and accentuated and had to be supported by boning. Kestos, for example, launched the new idea of the bra as a non-restrictive control garment, because any corsetry that was still worn had to be less restrictive. The human anatomy was beginning to be understood better and corsetry started to follow the natural lines of the body. In Australia, the house of Berlei ordered the first anthropometrical study which was carried out by two Sydney University professors and which defined five types of women showing differing morphology.
Warner made innovations in cup measurements with the sizes A, B, C and D. The “Garçonne” (“Tomboy”) became fashionable at the beginning of the 1930s. Manufacturers tried to respect the diversity of figures by offering a large choice of sizes. The pre-Second World War high bust appeared in 1939 supported by bras and corsets with round and pointed cups. After 1935, padded cups were introduced to enhance small busts and three years later the underwired bra gave the bust more curves. The small waist also made a comeback assisted by the girdle. The woman of 1940 was thin but with rounded hips and a pointed, curvy bust. She had help from a new type of bra with overstitched cups and often reinforced cones. During the 1940s the bust rose with the fashion of the pullover which clung to the torso. In order to have a small waist and flat belly, the waspie was introduced by Marcel Rochas.
This was the “New Look” - a silhouette created by Christian Dior in 1947, with full skirts, wasp-waist and a full bust. At the beginning of the 1950s, the figure lengthened, the breasts were high up, the bust was smaller and a flat stomach was accentuated. Corsetry and padding were necessary. Journalists wrote about the benefits of a healthy diet and exercise as well as good corsetry. In 1950 the bust was oversized following the fashion for “zeppelin” or very full breasts and was obtained by wearing an overstitched bra. The image was popularised by actresses such as Anita Ekberg, Gina Lollobrigida, Sophia Loren, Jane Mansfield, Marilyn Monroe and Jane Russell. Manufacturers such as Marcel Carlier, Carles Krafft, Jessos, Scandale and Star designed underwired corsetry to enhance the “flower woman”.
In the 1960s the female form followed the changes of the day by being liberated. The fashion was for gamine breasts, narrow hips and extreme slenderness. This glorification of youth was only generalised after 1965 when André Courrèges’ collection showed androgynous shapes and modern woman at ease with her body. Underwear, particularly briefs, followed the line of the body. As a result of the liberation movements of 1968 and Women’s Libbers who burnt their bras, at the end of the 1960s, breasts were emancipated under form-hugging sweaters and Indian tunics: complex underwear sets gave way to almost nothing. The fashion was for leggy, small-breasted women like Jane Birkin or the model Twiggy. After the hippie trend, fashion became more sophisticated and feminine again. There was an obsession with slimming and body-toning to enhance firmness. Gym and aerobics were in vogue. 1980s women exchanged briefs, girdles and corsets for weight-training and hunger. Support came from the inside: women created their own corsets. At the same time breasts became ample and firm. This fashion for a small waist, toned buttocks and ample bust gave a feminine shape that called for underwired bras for those “under endowed by nature”. At the end of the 20th century an ambiguous silhouette began to appear. It was extremely tall and slim, with narrow hips but a generous bust. It can be summed up as a woman who is simultaneously gamine and sensual, an effect which is hard to reproduce and which implies measures from draconian diets to padded bras, if not cosmetic surgery.
From Ancient Greece to modern woman: what have they been wearing under their clothes?
Since the ancient Greek and Roman empires, women have been clad in piles of underwear under their clothes. Many garments were used to shape the body as well as to ward off amorous approaches. So let us undress them!
Hellenistic Greek women (1st century BC) were hardly naked under their robes. Once a woman’s robe was removed, her body was still draped in a linen tunic. Under this tunic she was wrapped in straps to control her shape: apodesme to support and control the bust, mastodeton which was a narrow red ribbon which encircled the bust for young girls and zona which pulled in and flattened the belly.
Roman women, in turn, were drowned in their underwear. The first undergarment was the cingulum which held back, a dress panel. Once the dress was held back a garter was displayed above the knee. It was completely useless as Roman women did not wear stockings. Nevertheless it was pretty and this garter, which was sometimes decorated with a jewel, was purely for seductive purposes. Under the dress, women wore a knee-length tunic. Under this tunic the woman’s body was enveloped in the cestus
bodice from below the breasts to the groin. Her hips were bound with zona and thus obliterated. Her chest was held in with bands: taenia or facsia for young girls and for women with fuller figures the leather breast-flattening bra was used. The most common garment, however, was the strophium, a scarf which covered the breasts and supported them without crushing them. Some women wore the sublicatum, which was originally designed for acrobats and actresses and which consisted of a sarong with one panel knotted around the waist and the other between the thighs.
We know there were types of underwear which resembled our present-day briefs and bras, as they are depicted in frescoes and mosaics on Roman villas. The best-known of these is the Sicilian mosaic of the Piazza Armerina (3rd and 4th century). It seems that these pieces of fabric were destined for sports. Nevertheless, these surprising undergarments and the sublicatum marked the end of open clothing. In Rome, the growing popularity of underwear contributed to the removal of shape. At the same time women were removed from the political arena.
European women in the 15th century
In 15th century Europe, corsetry was worn outside clothing: the surcoat was a waistcoat laced over the dress, which flattened the breasts and enhanced the belly. Under the dress, mediaeval woman wore a band which pulled the waist in. Her bust was confined in the fustian, a bodice laced behind or on the side. The fustian also included another short bodice, a doublet, made of bands which squeezed the chest, and there was also sometimes an under-bodice made of stiffened linen.
In the Cluny and Galliera Museums in Paris, one can observe 15th century iron corsets, but they appear to have been designed for women suffering from deformities. All these garments were worn over the “chainse”, the “linen dress” which was the forerunner of the chemise. The chainse was voluminous and wide-sleeved and made out of linen or cotton. Chausses were the forerunner of stockings and were held up by garters which gave them an erotic quality. In the 15th century women were still naked under this underwear. The closed system of underwear began to be generalised in the 16th century.
Renaissance women
Renaissance women wore the farthingale under their dresses which were made of heavy, precious fabrics from Italy and Spain. The farthingale was made of a system of strips, whalebone, wire and sometimes wood or wicker. It rested on the waist and held out the skirt. The alternative to the farthingale was a tube of hardened materials which was placed around the waist under the skirt.
When there was no corselet integral to the dress, a basque was worn. This was a corselet stiffened with whalebones and made of linen or wool reaching as far as the ruff and held in place by a lace. The
basque was reinforced by bone, wood or iron busks so it was more rigid. It was worn over a linen or cotton chemise, the hem of which was tucked into the bloomers.
It is said that Catherine de Médicis initiated the wearing of bloomers by women. They were also called “buttock straps” and covered one’s legs from waist to knees and enclosed the female body. Garters attached it to stockings. Rabelais refers to this in his description of the outfits of the nuns of Theleme Abbey. He says that garters were regarded as jewellery: “Les jaretières estoient de la couleur de leurs bracelets, et comprenoient le genoul au dessus et au dessoubz.15” (“The garters were the colour of their bracelets and were above and below the knee”).
Underwear became more confining during the Renaissance. It is possible that bloomers were adopted for reasons of prudishness and hygiene: so bloomers, which ladies chose in luxury fabrics, were designed to be displayed during horse riding or when using the stairs. They were more than a protective garment, becoming a titillating item which enhanced the thighs.
Women in the 18th century no longer wore bloomers and were thus nude once more under their multiple petticoats which they revealed, along with their chemise.
Petticoats were worn under the dress in the French fashion and over the panniers. The uppermost petticoat was always visible and had the function of a skirt. The petticoats underneath were made out of more modest fabrics and were placed under the pannier. The further one “rummages” through these layers, the more intimate the names of these layers become: “modest” is followed by “cheeky” and finally “secret”. The pannier was the successor of the farthingale and had been used in England since 1711, appearing in France in 1718. At first it reserved for rich women, but by 1730, it reached the entire population. The pannier was composed of three circles of wood or wicker hung from the waist by vertical spills or ribbons. Around 1725 the pannier took the form of a waxed canvas petticoat reinforced with five to eight circles of cane, braided steel or whalebones which shaped it into a dome.
For young, elegant women the stays were de rigueur and were laced in the front and/or back. The lining was roughly made of linen, but the outside was covered in luxurious fabric. For town, the stays had straps which outlined a square neck-line, whereas the formal court corset had an oval neckline; stays gave a stylised bust and an upright carriage and symbolised the superiority of aristocratic women over women of the general populace. A woman of modest means had no underwear, and wore a skirt and chemise with a laced corset which pulled in the waist and supported the breasts.
In the 18th century, the chemise became a slightly flared, knee-length tunic, with mid-length sleeves sewn on with straight stitching, and a gusset. There were draw-strings to puff up the sleeves and to vary the width of the neckline, which were particularly helpful when putting it on. It was made of thick fabric to stand up to friction from the stays. Lace edging was added or sewn onto the chemise, the sleeves and the collar and these were visible under the costume. In this way the undergarments were displayed as part of the outerwear.
Once undressed, 18th century women put on a nightgown to go to bed. Nightgowns were getting more complicated: laces, ribbons and lace were added, as well as a little shawl which was thrown over the shoulders when one received visitors, this last because it was usual to receive in one’s bed chamber and the chemise was worn later and later into the morning. The only time when one slept naked was on the wedding night, as described by Molière’s character Cathos, and not without humour, in Les Précieuses ridicules: “[...] le mariage [est] une chose tout à fait choquante. Comment est-ce qu’on peut souffrir la pensée de coucher contre un homme vraiment nu”16. (“Marriage is a totally shocking thing. How can one endure the thought of sleeping with a completely naked man?”). As a result, there were visible flounces in petticoats and chemises which rendered them more seductive and the garters holding up stockings were sometimes decorated with ribald inscriptions.
Romantic women had many undergarments. Under their costumes, they wore a high corset with cups to hold the breasts that was long enough to flare over the hips. At shoulder level the corset had large shoulder pads and there was a rigid busk at the waist. For the first time, the waist was pulled in using metallic eyelets through which it was laced17 , and this new lacing system meant that a woman could take off her corset unaided.
Under her corset, the woman of 1815-1840 wore a knee-length chemise which had long sleeves in England, but in France, the sleeves were short and puffed. Around 1835 these sleeves became reduced until they were small and flat. The neckline was wide and gathered and followed the shape of the dress. After 1825 skirts became bigger and bigger and needed to be supported by an ever-increasing number of petticoats, sometimes up to six or seven petticoats in increasing sizes. The one underneath was flannel whereas the ones on top were cotton and gathered or embroidered. Moreover, the more petticoats a woman wore, the higher her social status. Fewer petticoats became necessary as a result of the introduction of a petticoat made out of a stiff fabric and edged with horse hair, a precursor of the crinoline.
Bloomers had made their reappearance around 1810 and were worn under the skirt. They were very long, split between the legs, gathered at each leg and decorated with lace frills. They were knotted around the waist and the long chemise could be tucked in which puffed out and gave more volume to the skirt. Bloomers became common for the working classes and shocked prudish Victorian England even more. In France, under Louis-Philippe, they were heavily embroidered and were longer than the dress, so they could be seen when the woman moved. They were sometimes held by stirrups decorated with golden buttons. They became more and more popular in the towns, worn by the working class, and only country-dwellers remained unaware of this new trend. Underneath, stockings were held up with garters or, for the first time, with garters attached to the corset, if it was long enough.
Romantic women’s costumes were completely closed, and they were hidden under layers of lingerie.
Women in “1900”
At the dawn of the 20th century women were known as “femmes-sirènes” (“mermaids”), and under their dresses they wore a surcoat first, which became popular at the end of the 19th century. This surcoat was modified in 1900 to shape the waist. Around 1908, the over-corset could be worn with bloomers or a petticoat to make either a bloomer set or full-length petticoat.
Underneath there was a long corset with reinforcements to accentuate the curve of the body. It was so tight that it was difficult for women to bend over. Besides the corset’s suspenders, there were extra garters worn below the knee. Under the corset there was a long, full chemise which was pulled tight to support the bust. Although bras were exhibited at the Universal exhibition of 1900, they were only effective when worn with a corset, and they were not yet widely-used.
The excess material of the chemise floated around in the bloomers, which in turn were knee-length: they were laced at the waist and split at the crotch. This split was smaller in the ruling classes but remained completely open when worn in the provinces, by the working class or by prostitutes, as mentioned by Emile Zola in L’Assommoir, when describing the fight between Gervaise and Virginie: “With renewed vigour, she grabbed Virginie by the waist, bent her over and pushed her face into the cobbles with her rear in the air; and despite their continual movement, managed to lift up her skirts substantially. Underneath she wore bloomers. She reached in through the gap, tore them apart and displayed everything – naked thighs and naked buttocks18”.
In the 1880s, the system worn on the lower back to give volume behind the dress was, at first, a demi-crinoline known as a “fish tail”. It later became a long canvas bag held out by hoops. Eventually this was reduced to a small pouch of horse-hair at the small of the back and still later a mere pile of stiffened folds of fabric. After 1890 the bell-shaped skirt only required a small padded cushion at the small of the back which was sewn into the dress lining to enhance the curve of the body. After 1890 the skirt was supported by petticoats, but there were more and more of them: highly flounced petticoats puffed out the back, and the woman’s form was tightly encased by narrow skirts.
By the Art Nouveau period, women were tightly bound by their costume and by their numerous undergarments.
It has often been said that women of the 1920s benefited from a new freedom, but this was only in appearance. It is true that under the “flapper’s” short dress there was no corset-cover, but there was still a short corset to pull in the waist. It was worn low on the hips, and it held in the top of the thighs. Some women wore a “garter-belt”, even next to the skin. In addition, the bust was diminished with correctors or flatteners which usually came from the United States. The so-called “stylish” dresses were tubular, flared over the hips and needed to be supported by circular boning inspired by that of 18th century panniers.
Under their corsets women wore a new type of combination underwear composed of a bra joined to a narrow petticoat or to short bloomers, which could be split or not.
Eventually, as dresses grew shorter, black, white and flesh-coloured silk stockings became popular, sometimes embroidered with patterns. If a woman felt the cold, she could wear woollen flesh-coloured stockings under the silk ones, but this widened the leg and so was quickly abandoned.
Now let us have a look at the “flapper’s” night attire. In the evening their outfit became more masculine with pajamas becoming popular after the First World War. In fact, pajamas were actually first worn as at-home outfits, as described in Vogue in 1924: “Pajamas are now by far the smartest form of negligee. 19” The new use fitted in with the current taste for Eastern-influenced fashion. Nevertheless, the nightdress was not abandoned, it just became narrower.
If we look for the liberation of women’s clothing in the period between the wars, it is to be found in skirt lengths and the way that legs were consequently revealed.
Elegant women of the 1950s wore waspies to pull in their waists under their Jacques Fath suits or their Christian Dior designer cocktail dresses. Attached to the former was a boned half-cup bra: this was the most popular combination for evening wear. A woman could also choose a bra, a garment which was becoming more widely available. A model with or without straps could be chosen, depending on the occasion.
The chemise had disappeared. In its place, a slip with straps was worn over the pieces of corsetry, and the corsetry was worn right next to the skin.
The waspie was worn with a long, full petticoat in nylon fibre which fluffed out the New Look skirts. Under this petticoat the bloomers gave way to form-fitting briefs.
In this way woman’s underwear finally arrived at a point where it was completely closed, and in sets composed of girdle, bra, briefs and petticoat, which were sometimes matching. Under the petticoat, nylon stockings were worn, held up by garters.
Once she divested herself of her daytime underwear, the New Look fashion plate preferred nightdresses. They could be very long or knee-length. As for pajamas, they were less in vogue.
After the Second World War and during the 1950s, the number of undergarments was reduced and the dichotomy between lingerie and corsetry began to ease off.
“Miss Swinging Sixties” was lightly clad: she wore a great deal less underwear than her mother did, but her body was completely enveloped. Under her A-line dress, young women (this new fashion was aimed at the young: the older generation kept their girdles) wore matching bras and panties, the latter flattening the belly. On certain models, garters were fixed inside the panties.
Other women chose briefs and bras worn with panty-hose.
Underwear was becoming a second skin. This was the idea behind panty-hose or the all-in-one Dim body, for example. In 1958, Mitoufle was the first brand of panty-hose in France, and it was only in 1962 that Dimanche (it became Dim in 1965) invented seamless stockings and, due to the prices they charged, panty-hose became accessible to all.
The 1960s saw the start of the bra and brief combinations that are still worn today and which, despite the limited number of garments, enclose the female body… until the G-string made its appearance in the 1980s.
In 1891 the Aertex Company began to design women’s underwear. In the same year the Viyella brand appeared, produced by William Hollin & Co, with the slogan “Viyella does not shrink”22. These innovations made healthier underwear which was more pleasant to wear. Cotton went hand in hand with the growing trend for natural living. It became a symbol of fresh, pure lingerie and was the favourite underwear material in the 1970s. It is still widely used today combined with Lycra.
Animal materials are used less for underwear these days because they are fragile and difficult to maintain. Since the 16th century solid materials such as horn, ivory or whalebone have been called upon for use in corsetry. They were used for the busks inside basques and for stays. Whalebone was the only material that was flexible enough and which predated steel and elastic. Whales were hunted from the 12th century in the Bay of Biscay (on the Spanish coast), and then, in the 17th century, the whale industry moved to Greenland. In the 18th and 19th centuries leather and suede began to be used for certain corsets for rigidity and decoration. These animal materials made way in the 20th century for steel. The Warner Company launched their “Waterproof Corsets”, which were stainless steel corsets that overcame the shortfalls of this metal.
Silk culture came to France relatively late. It was already common in China and India when it arrived in France in the 14th century, at the time when the Papal court moved to Avignon. Silk weavers set up in Avignon to meet the demands of the popes. When the popes returned to Rome, some silk mills stayed in the Uzès region, then opened in Lyon. François Ist primarily encouraged the silk mills in Lyon, then Henri IV continued his work with Olivier de Serre and Laffemas who planted their grounds with mulberry trees, as the mulberry bombyx, more commonly known as the “silkworm” feeds on mulberry leaves. It also secretes a very fine and remarkably supple thread.
Silk insulates very well, is extremely soft to the touch, and is perfect for lingerie. The principal silk fabrics are made in cloth, muslin, taffeta, pongee or crêpe weave. Others are satin, jersey and twill for girdles and corsets. Silk is difficult to wash, however. It is fragile and expensive which means it is not of interest to clients of modest means. Nevertheless, its softness and shine give an immense power of seduction. The French silk mills expanded rapidly in the 17th and 18th centuries and provided France a monopoly in terms of fashion. The silk mills in Lyon manufactured all types of undergarments, petticoats, luxurious stockings for ceremonial wear in European courts and brocade exterior of stays.
In the 19th century, the silk mills of Lyon were still appreciated in the same way. It was only when synthetic fibres, which could imitate the shine of silk, were invented that silk was used less for underwear and was limited to luxury lingerie. Until the Second World War, petticoats were made out of silk; corsets were covered in silk satin, and nightclothes were made out of satin, velvet, cretonne, or silk crêpe. Today, silk is still important for designers when they create luxury underwear, and for sexy nightwear such as baby-doll nightdresses.
Wool has always been used, in the countryside especially, for stockings, corsets and petticoats because it is warm. It became popular for underwear again in the 19th century, and was appreciated because it was hard-wearing, supple and especially because of its thermal qualities. For underwear, the main wool fabrics are cloth, serge, jersey and flannel. This last was said to protect against cholera. Bloomers and petticoats were made out of flannel and corsets which were particularly recommended for cycling. As people’s interest in health grew, wool became the hygienists’ favourite material. One of them, Doctor Gustave Jaeger, professor of zoology and physiology at the University of Stuttgart, wrote an essay on health and wool “cures”. It was published in 1878, and he began to manufacture 100% wool clothes in 1884. The “Sanitary woollen corset” was made entirely of wool and was supposed to cure digestive problems and help if one were overweight. One of the merits of wool for Doctor Jaeger was the fact that it was porous. Of course, this idea was refuted by the creators of Aertex and Viyella. A large woollen underwear industry was developing over the whole of Europe. Doctor Jaeger’s innovations were promoted in England by Mr Tomalin, the manager of a London department store, while in France, in 1877, Doctor Rasurel introduced a wool and cotton mix which claimed to be more effective. This type of underwear was very successful at first although later wool was passed over in favour of more aerated fabrics. Nevertheless, in 1953, Damart introduced “Thermolactyl” and designed woollen underwear which allowed the skin to breathe. 20th century woman could justifiably claim: “Cold? Me? Never!”
At the beginning of the 20th century chemical fibres began to eclipse natural fibres. Viscose is the name given to cellulose threads and textile fibres which are produced by the viscose process (the material, in a viscous state, is poured onto a drawplate which is then immersed in a tank which coagulates the fibres as soon as they emerge). For continuous thread the name given is rayon-viscose, and for broken thread, bonded fibre viscose. The first rayon thread was invented in 1884 by the Frenchman Hilaire Bernigaud, the Count of Chardonnet23 who presented his first rayon articles at the Universal Exhibition in 1889. Other chemists were doing the same type of research, particularly in England where Cross, Bevan and Beadle patented their discoveries in 1892. Rayon was manufactured in England from 1905 and in the United States of America in 1911 due to the support of Courtauld. Rayon was actually only used for clothing after the 1920s, and the most popular rayon fabrics were crêpe, organdie, twill and jersey. Petticoats, slips, bloomers and nightclothes were made out of it. The shine of rayon was appreciated and earned it the name of “artificial silk”. Now all women could afford luxurious-looking underwear at a lower price.
Nylon also brought about great changes. Dupont de Nemours Inc began research into the first synthetic thread in 1927. This research was lead by Doctor Wallace H. Carroters and his team. The first nylon stockings were presented at the New York World Fair in 1937 and they went on sale in 1939 in the United States of America. Nylon arrived in Great Britain in 1940, distributed by British Nylon Spinners Ltd, and became widespread in Europe by 1947 for all types of women’s underwear.
During the Second World War, nylon was strictly reserved for parachutes, and clothing in Europe was rationed. So underwear had to be made out of household linen (this was already the case for modest pre-war families) and women dyed their legs to give the illusion of stockings. After 1949, nylon became very popular and allowed lingerie to be accessible to everyone. It shone like silk, was easy to maintain and was affordable.
At the end of the 20th century laboratories began to create more synthetic fibres, first to make sports underwear which held firm and aerated the body. Sports bras were made of polyamide, elastane or a mix of these fibres. This underwear was made from micro fibres composed of microfilaments and was very light, seamless and often with controlling properties such as Dim control. In addition to synthetic materials, underwear needed elastic materials made from latex or rubber, for example. Once again, this new material was introduced through sportswear. The first corset reinforced with rubber was presented in 1851 at the Universal Exhibition in London, but the first elastic corset (in latex) was only sold in 1911: it was a sports corset. The development of elastic fabrics made of latex posed a major problem, as latex coagulates. It has to be mixed with ammonia to maintain its liquid state. Threads are made out of it and it is then woven (Dunlop improved this process). Elastic progressively replaced boning, steel and lacing. In addition to this, circular knitting machines were being designed to develop girdles which were entirely made of rubber. Latex was knitted into a sort of fabric. It was used by all brands, some of them perfected its usage such as Kestos and Warner who introduced two-way elasticity.
At the end of the 1950s, researchers developed a more versatile fibre: Lycra, which was patented in 1959 by Dupont de Nemours. It had all the properties of rubber without its disadvantages. It was up to four times more resistant, three time lighter, and resistant to abrasion, perspiration and damage from detergents and lotions. Lycra was first used for sportswear such as bathing costumes and bodies, and then was introduced for underwear. It was used in combination with other textiles, usually at a rate of 15 to 40%. It was elastic and followed the shape of the body, as described by Vogue in 1968: “Drive, jump, ride, stretch, accelerate into spring with briefer simpler foundations, that you can put on and forget...they look like you, move like you, feel like you.24” Playtex opened in France as a result of its “Cross your heart” model (1969) and also due to the “18-hour girdle” (1971) which had such light elastic fibre that one did not feel one was wearing it.
Finally, lingerie would not have as much charm if it was not decorated.
Lace made its appearance in the 16th century. Venetian lace was made on needle-point and Flanders lace on a spindle. The lace was made with white linen threads and was used to trim chemises and bloomers. Flanders and Italy supplied the whole of Europe with lace. To avoid this mass importation, Colbert divested himself of foreign lace makers and set up Crown factories in France: Valenciennes, Chantilly and Alençon were famous for their lace which decorated numerous undergarments. In 1817 the first machine-made lace appeared, developed by the Englishman Mr Heathcoat. It was less hard-wearing but the price was lower and the machine-made lace could imitate that of Valenciennes, Alençon and Puy. It was perfected in 1840 due to a jacquard technique adapted in France to the English production process. It remained popular throughout the 19th century.
After the Second World War, latex and elastane were added to give elasticity. Cadolle underwear in the 1940s was made of “Dentellastex”, elastic lace developed by Tiburce Lebas from Calais. Finally the New Look prioritised machine-made lace which was now woven with nylon threads. Today it is made with ribbons and beaded embroidery to decorate bras, briefs and G-strings.
Ornamental embroidery is done with thread: it can be cut-out (broderie anglaise), flat or in relief and it allows all sorts of ideas and decoration. In the 18th century, the outside of stays and the hems of petticoats were embroidered, and today the front of briefs. For a more luxurious effect, embroidery can be in metallic thread, gold, silver or sequins, which make women’s underwear, resemble jewellery. At the beginning of the 21st century, underwear is designed to be more and more like jewellery: bras with chain or bead straps, curaços with a sequinned or diamante neckline or G-strings made of a triangle of fabric held up with a string like a necklace. Is lingerie becoming jewellery?
Colours
For a long time women’s underwear was white, a symbol of chastity, purity and morality. Bright colours were associated with prostitutes, apart from stockings in soft colours like pink, and blue, and patriotic colours which were worn during the French Revolution. In the 19th century elegant women wore grey or black stockings. In Autre étude de femme (“Another Study of a Woman”), this is how Honoré de Balzac describes a “respectable woman”: “She does not wear bright colours, nor apparent stockings, nor a too-ornate belt-buckle, nor bloomers with embroidered hems which flap around her ankle. You should notice her feet or her shoes [...] and extremely fine cotton stockings or one-colour silk stockings in grey, or laced boots of exquisite simplicity.25” Bright colours and decoration were the reserve of shows and courtesans. Also, the black stockings worn by the French Cancan dancers in Henri de Toulouse Lautrec’s paintings carried a certain eroticism and were only sported by cabaret dancers, prostitutes and certain elegant ladies. The falsely prudish society of the 19th century preferred white for lingerie, particularly in England during the Victorian era. Apart from chemises, petticoats and bloomers, it was considered good form to have black or white corsetry but never colours which were considered excessively luxurious by the Baroness of Staff in Cabinet de toilette26.
Nevertheless, in the second half of the 19th century, women sometimes dared to wear petticoats and bloomers in yellow or red as worn by Scarlett in Gone with the Wind27. Colour was not used in women’s underwear until the beginning of the 20th century. Fabrics, decoration and their colours now changed from one season to another. Between 1910 and 1920, pink or sky-blue underwear began to be worn. In 1917, Vogue showed corsets in blue satin. The first Petit Bateau briefs were in silky white, pink and occasionally blue cotton. Colours were still pale and soft, evoking ideas of virginity and purity. Blue was the colour associated with the Virgin Mary.
In the 1920s and 1930s, the palette diversified with more pink, yellow, purple and jade green, sometimes decorated with cream-coloured ribbons. For evening, women dared to wear transparent black. Elegant women particularly liked black Milan silk decorated with cream or beige ribbons. In the 1930s pastel colours became popular: flesh, ivory, pale blue or green for underwear and also for nightwear. Dark colours such as red, burgundy or black became popular later in the decade.
In the 1950s black and white were once more the colours of choice, in particular for girdles made of black or white lace and lined in pastel netting. But whiter than white was back, trimmed abundantly with lace, embroidery and ribbons. Nevertheless, new colours were being introduced, such as coffee, turquoise, tea-rose, coral, peach and also delicate prints of flowers and stripes.
In the 1960s colour took over undergarments. “Young” fashion also meant colourful underwear. Unified pastels were displaced by bright, even garish, psychedelic colours and overall prints. Panties were flowered, polka-dotted or striped in fuchsia, orange, turquoise and apple green. On the other hand, in the 1970s, prints were no longer fashionable for underwear but were used in daywear or nightwear. There were numerous striped pajamas or floral nightdresses. Bras, briefs and tights were popular in single, daring colours such as apricot, olive green, coffee, fuchsia and turquoise. Gradually, flesh colour and its derivatives became more widespread in underwear. This development was linked to the new concept of underwear being a second skin and the desire for it to be as discreet as possible.
In the 1920s and 1930s, the palette diversified with more pink, yellow, purple and jade green, sometimes decorated with cream-coloured ribbons. For evening, women dared to wear transparent black. Elegant women particularly liked black Milan silk decorated with cream or beige ribbons. In the 1930s pastel colours became popular: flesh, ivory, pale blue or green for underwear and also for nightwear. Dark colours such as red, burgundy or black became popular later in the decade. In the 1950s black and white were once more the colours of choice, in particular for girdles made of black or white lace and lined in pastel netting. But whiter than white was back, trimmed abundantly with lace, embroidery and ribbons. Nevertheless, new colours were being introduced, such as coffee, turquoise, tea-rose, coral, peach and also delicate prints of flowers and stripes. In the 1960s colour took over undergarments. “Young” fashion also meant colourful underwear. Unified pastels were displaced by bright, even garish, psychedelic colours and overall prints. Panties were flowered, polka-dotted or striped in fuchsia, orange, turquoise and apple green. On the other hand, in the 1970s, prints were no longer fashionable for underwear but were used in daywear or nightwear. There were numerous striped pajamas or floral nightdresses. Bras, briefs and tights were popular in single, daring colours such as apricot, olive green, coffee, fuchsia and turquoise. Gradually, flesh colour and its derivatives became more widespread in underwear. This development was linked to the new concept of underwear being a second skin and the desire for it to be as discreet as possible.
The first stockings and bathing costumes in flesh tones appeared at the dawn of the 19th century, during the Directoire period, because of its extremely transparent dresses. But this change was brief, and white came back in force. Flesh, pink and peach colours became common for stockings around 1925: again, these colours suggested that bare legs were being revealed. Flesh was extremely popular in the 1960s and 1970s, a period when the body was admired and simplicity was the order of the day. Lou’s model “filet” (“net”) was available in white, but also in chestnut or caramel.
Later, some brands such as Princesse Tam-Tam (1985) introduced decorative patterns like tartan, fruit prints and flowers embroidered with little bows. Some pieces fitted in with the “cocooning” movement, where day and night underwear is so comfortable that it is nice to wear it to stay at home. These patterns were fresh and had a child-woman image. Eventually, in the 1980s, lingerie became more sophisticated and adopted the bright colours normally reserved for prostitutes: red, black and purple lace. Underwear took the upper hand and was eccentric and arrogant. Many women’s undergarments became real clothes designed in fashionable colours. Nightdresses were worn as summer dresses, vests took the place of t-shirts and corsets were worn for evening. Celebrities in show business often wore visible, brightly-coloured underwear. They include Annie Lennox (the singer from The Eurythmics), Gwen Stefani and Mylène Farmer. Madonna sang in a green corset edged with black lace and Britney Spears wore a bubble-gum pink G-string over her pants. To sum up, colour is vital in underwear and wants to make a statement. The colourful underwear of today’s woman is the underwear of the prostitute of previous generations. It is true that underwear illustrates liberal society, but it is a society which often verges on the vulgar.
Notes
1 See chapter 2.1.
2 Georges Feydeau, Mais n’te promène donc pas toute nue !, (“You are surely not going out completely naked!”) a one-act comedy, scene II, 1911.
3 Armand Silvestre, Les Dessous à travers les âges, (“Underwear through the ages”) a work from 1914 which was one of thz first studies of women’s underwear of the beginning of the 20th century. This, and all these other works, were written by men.
4 Women’s abdominal muscles are notoriously weak and even intense exercise does not stop them slackening if they are not supported. 5 Honoré de Balzac, Petites misères de la vie conjugale, (“The small miseries of married life”), 1846. All these terms are explained in the glossary.
6 Cécil de Saint Laurent, Histoire imprévue des dessous féminins, (“An improvised history of women’s underwear”), 1986.
7 1st century Greek doctor and botanist.
8 Pline the old (23-79), Roman, naturalist.
9 Latin poet (43-17).
10 Il vit tout de suite sa silhouette / Son corps rond, sa taille fine : (“He immediately saw her figure/her round body and small waist”).
11 “The corset controversy” chapter 9 of Valérie Steele’s, Fashion and Eroticism, New York, 1985.
12 In the U.S.A., Miss Annie Miller increased the number of organisations which wanted more reasonable dress. In 1904, Arabella Kennedy corseted monkies to show the harmful effect of corsets. In 1898 the Russian Public Education Minister, Mr Bogoljewov, forbade young girls to come to school in corsets. In 1902 the Roumanian Public Education Minister, Haret, And in 1904, Bulgaria forbade corsets in state schools in the Chimanov leaflet.
13 The origins of the bra are much discussed, see glossary and Corsets et soutiens-gorge, (“Corsets and bras”) by Béatrice Fontanel, Paris, 1992.
14 The quest for a slim body is one of modern woman’s main preoccupations.
15 Rabelais, Gargantua (book I chapter VI.)
16 Molière, Les Précieuses ridicules, (“Precious Ridicule”) a one-act play, scene 5.
17 In 1823, the firm Rogers London made the first metal hooks and eyes in London, but the modern version of this innovation was produced in Paris by Daudé and was put into common use in 1828.
18 Emile Zola, L’Assommoir, chapter I, 1877.
19 Today pyjamas are far from being elegant at home wear.
20 In 1712, the French Oriental Indiana Company lost its privileges and they were teken over in 1719 by the India Company founded by Law.
21 Madapolam is a rough, heavy cotton cloth.
22 Viyella does not shrink. The company overcame a serious crisis in 1911 when laundries became commonplace, proving that the slogan was vulnerable.
23 Hilaire Bernigaud, the Count of Chardonnet (1839-1924), chemist and industrialist.
24 Jump, leap, run, stretch, reach for Spring with underwear that is so short and easy that you can put it on and forget about it... straight away... it is made for you, moves like you and is like you.
25 Honoré de Balzac, Autre Etude de femme in La Comédie humaine, (“Another study of woman from The Human Comedy”) 1842.
26 Baronne de Staff, Le cabinet de toilette, 1891.
27 Margaret Mitchell, Autant en emporte le vent, (“Gone with the Wind”) 1936.
By Muriel Barbier and Shazia Boucher in "The Story of Lingerie", Parkstone International, USA, excerpts pp.7-87. Adapted and illustrated do be posted by Leopoldo Costa.












