A Mild Christmas and Damnable Corsets: A Hundred Years Ago in Yorkshire

A sunny Roseberry loiters under a moody grey cloud, creating a scene that could make even the most indifferent observer take out their iPhone. Light and shadow play their parts, flaunting a contrast that seems to suggest nature itself has a flair for the dramatic.

But exactly one hundred years ago, the 9th of December fell on a Tuesday and the weather had been unseasonably mild—an offence the Yorkshire Post and Leeds Intelligencer took great care to chronicle. With Christmas looming a mere fortnight away, the mismatch between cheerful shop displays and the balmy weather left the public in a state of apparent apathy. Heaven forbid anyone shop without the proper frost.

Yet the festive supplies were plentiful. Dried fruits for puddings and mince pies were both affordable and abundant. Hardly cause for celebration though, by now, the trade was all but over, since most sensible people had already boiled their puddings ages ago.

Fresh fruits—those quintessential apples and oranges—were equally bountiful, adding colour and fragrance to households. Nuts, too, were plentiful, ensuring no one would be deprived of something to crack open awkwardly by the fire.

Christmas cards, on the other hand, were a source of contention. Some claimed their popularity had waned since the onset of the Great War, while others insisted they were more in demand than ever. Traditional winter scenes were falling out of favour, with the public apparently favouring summer landscapes or personalised cards—because nothing captures the yuletide spirit quite like pretending it is July.

In Leeds city centre, festive decorations and shopfronts strained to summon seasonal cheer, but the mild weather refused to cooperate. Imported poultry was on hand to supplement domestic stock, offering hope for lavish Christmas feasts. Yet, all eyes were on the impending arrival of Irish poultry, which, like a tardy guest, would decide the final prices in a dramatic flourish on Christmas Eve.

Meanwhile, amidst these culinary concerns, theYorkshire Post and Leeds Intelligencer found space to report on Sir Bruce Bruce-Porter, a “well-known physician” with strong opinions about women’s fashion—specifically, the rise of rubber corsets. He launched a tirade against the trend with all the vigour of a man used to telling women what to do with their bodies:

“It is unusual for women to have a figure which is described as ‘boyish,’” he declared. “To get that figure, belts have been put on the market which can only be called damnable. I warn parents not to let their young daughters wear them. These appalling belts prevent the growth of important muscles and are becoming a national danger—a danger to the mothers of the future.”

A stirring oration, no doubt, but whether it stopped a single woman from donning a corset remains an open question. After all, we are all here. One suspects the ladies of the day, much like modern readers, may have taken this unsolicited lecture with a grain of salt, if not a hearty laugh.