Mother's darling: the fauntleroy suit

During their heyday, sailor outfits found favor with both adults and children. Another juvenile style introduced in the late nine­teenth century, though admired by parents, was detested by nearly all the little boys who were forced into it. This, of course, was the Fauntleroy suit, popularized (but not invented) by Frances Hodgson Burnett and pictured by Reginald Birch in the early editions other Little Lord Fauntleroy (1886). In its original form, it consisted of a black or sapphire-blue velvet jacket and knickers worn over a white blouse with a large lace Vandyke collar. It was completed by a colored silk sash, silk stockings buckled pumps, an oversize velvet beret and long curls. The original inspiration of the costume seems to have been Gains­borough's portrait of Master Jonathan Buttall, known familiarly as The Blue Boy; its meaning for fond parents was romantic and aristocratic, recalling pictures of Charles II as a child and Dumas's Three Musketeers. It is perhaps no coincidence that this costume appeared at a time when the dress-up clothes of adult men were uniformly drab, formal and solemn.

Cedric, the eponymous hero of Little Lord Fauntleroy, is by no means a "mollycoddle" - the contemporary phrase for a boy too well coddled by mollies, or women. He can hold his own or better against other boys his age, and excels at sports. His outfit, however, soon became the quintessential sign of the sissy. Gen­erations of boys in both England and America grew up with awful memories of having been forced to wear it, and authors of children's books used it as a sign that a character was at best a weak nincompoop and at worst a sniveling sneak.

The ill repute of the Fauntleroy suit may in part have been due to its resemblance to contemporary aesthetic dress for men. This costume, which differed from Cedric's by including a flowing tie, was adopted most prominently by Oscar Wilde. In 1882, he toured America in black velvet knickerbockers and curls, speaking about poetry to large and adoring audiences - and possibly influencing Mrs. Burnett's choice of outfit both for her own two sons and for Cedric. Wilde's subsequent trial and imprisonment cast a shadow not only over the role of the aesthete, but also over the costume he had worn, which was henceforth obscurely contaminated. Among the final results of his disgrace, therefore, we should perhaps count not only a generation of tiresomely manly and aesthetically timid writers, but also the release of thousands of little boys from their scratchy lace collars and tight velvet suits.

Shorts and knickers

Even after they had escaped from the Fauntleroy costume boys continued for many years to wear short pants, both for everyday and for special occasions. Until about the age of seven or eight they would probably be dressed in shorts; later they were more apt to wear knickerbockers much like those their fathers put on for golf or bicycling. This is an early example of the rule still in force today that the sports clothes of the adult are the everyday clothes of the child. This principle has now been extended to spectator sports, and kids of both sexes (especially boys) go to school in tiny imitation football jerseys, baseball shirts and track shoes, often emblazoned with the insignia of their favorite team.

In America long trousers for small boys began to be available in the 1920s, but they were uncommon. Gradually the age at which one assumed one's first long pants was lowered, until by 1940 even three- and four-year-olds might wear them, especially for play. Today in America short pants are strictly warm-weather wear, and knickers are unknown.

In Britain the change from short to long pants was more grad­ual. Even now, many school uniforms are short-legged. On dark, cold winter days, elementary playgrounds are spotted with knobby, raw, scarred red knees that glow painfully between the gray or navy shorts and the long gray socks. Common sense would suggest that they be covered; but common sense counts for little in the history of dress. Besides, historically, bare knees have always suggested manly toughness: they are associated with the warlike costumes of the ancient Britons, the ancient and modern kilted Scots, empire-building explorers and heroic footballers. To cover them would be a sign of national weakness.