From Loretta
As I mentioned last Saturday, I have a book rapidly approaching deadline (it’s four weeks--that’s rapid to me). This means my limited powers of brilliance need to be focused on the book. So coming up with an actual idea (and please don’t ask me where I get them) and then turning it into deathless prose is out of the question.
You asked questions. The Wenches will answer, in no apparent order...
Susannac asked a bunch I thought would be fun to answer. I’d love to do all of them, and maybe will get to a few more in the course of the day or one of these days. But I’m starting with hairy women.
3) Did women in the early 1800s shave their legs, and if not, why are they always smooth when the heroes are exploring their bodies in the throes of passion? Did they shave under their arms or use some kind of deodorant (baking soda?)?
First, let’s remember that the safety razor is a fairly recent invention, as was stainless steel. Let’s remember that a nick from shaving could lead to an infection which could lead to death.
Not that the risk of death really matters when it comes to beauty. Are not some of us today injecting a deadly toxin into our faces?
Second, historical data is tricky territory. All the Wenches have, at one time or another, come across information that contradicts other information.
That said...
So far as I can discover, European women did not shave their legs or underarms. This seems to be a relatively recent (e.g., 20th C) fashion development. In fact, in many countries today, women still don’t shave--or, if they do, they are Women of Ill Repute. However, in some cultures, hairlessness was expected, and women did wax. The ancient Egyptians, IIRC. So it’s possible that some woman somewhere in England waxed parts of her body. But hairless legs and underarms were not the norm, to my knowledge.
However, it would be good to remember that hairy isn’t necessarily disagreeable to the touch. Women who’ve never shaved their legs will have softer hair than those who have. Same goes for women who wax. There’s none of that scratchy stubble. In Northern Europe, we’re going to encounter a great many of those fair-haired, fair-skinned women, like one of my friends, whose hair is very fine and very light. Too, our heroes would be focused on the femininity--a woman’s hairy leg is often silkier and softer than a man’s--and it would not trouble him, since hairless legs and underarms are not the norm for his culture.
All the same, I don’t refer to the hairy legs and underarms, and most especially not when the hero is exploring the heroine’s body in the throes of passion. Why not? Because my readers live in the modern world, and have modern sensibilities, and this is a romantic fantasy, not reality. I don’t want to jolt readers out of the fantasy.
For the same reason, I don’t raise issues of venereal disease among those rakes we find so romantic. I doubt real people would have had sweet breath all the time, either, and I have to wonder about the state of their teeth. Though our Regency era people probably smelled a little cleaner than their predecessors, this is not a given. Some may have used lemons or powder under their arms. Many but not all members of the upper classes would have washed the prime odor zones at least once a day. Not everyone bathed daily, however, as Beau Brummell did. The daily bath or shower, again, appears to be a recent development, at least among the European cultures I’ve studied. Baths, even in most great houses (there are always exceptions--and I have one in LORD OF SCOUNDRELS), involved servants hauling pails and pitchers of water in to fill a tub. Public baths were not common--as they were in Arab/Muslim countries, like Egypt. So, unlike the ancient Romans who built those marvelous baths at Bath, the Englishmen and women of the early 1800s didn’t live in a culture of frequent/daily bathing, and for the most part, only the rich could afford the luxury.
So I’m taking artistic liberties--for the sake of the romantic fantasy--when I keep all my English heroes and heroines clean and fresh-smelling. Um, except in MR. IMPOSSIBLE--all that sand, heat, and getting stuck in hot little tunnels. And except for the new book, NOT QUITE A LADY, where sweat is an important plot point.
And Susannac, to answer one of your other questions, this is the kind of question I’d much rather answer than the ones about where I get my ideas or what my process is. Thank you!