The Gilded Age (2023), Eps. 5-8

I recapped the entire first season of The Gilded Age (2022-), Julian Fellowes’ soap-opera about 1880s New York high society. With season two out on HBO, I’m not as excited but I still watched! I’m giving a light two-part look at the entire season, starting with the first six episodes and wrapping up with the rest of the season now. Take a look at my wrap-up of season one for overall thoughts on the historical costumes in the series, because much of that still applis.

Costume designer Kasia Walicka-Maimone definitely looked to actual historical fashions for what she creates for this show — she’s just amping up things here and there. She explained in Broadway Stages:

“We looked at endless amounts of paintings, and that created very quickly this key to the door of how to approach this period, because the painters naturally heightened the beauty, heightened the contrast, heightened the colors, and we needed that language of heightened reality for our story. We know that we are not making a documentary. We know that we are creating new material, a new story, that has to live within the framework of the period and be very much inspired by the period.”

Some of the costumes — especially those for Bertha Russell — may look wild, but they’re still based in late Victorian styles. So let’s look at the costumes from the end of season two!

This second half continues Ada’s romance with the new rector, Luke Forte, who proposes marriage, and they plan to marry in episode five. Agnes flips out but attends the wedding at the very last minute. Kasia Walicka-Maimone said in Indiewire of Ada’s wardrobe this season: “We’re not changing the character. It’s still Ada. But it’s adding layers of romantic flair.” Noting that white weddings still weren’t a required thing, Walicka-Maimone explained the addition of floral embroidery to Ada’s wedding dress as:

“just to give this softness and femininity and romanticism. I think we all fell in love with the simplicity of that dress, rather than over-decorating it.”

The style of trim is reminiscent of:

Agnes’ wedding-guest costume is another of her dark velvet outfits, but particularly grand.

In her ever-continuing war for social dominance, Bertha plans a Newport dinner party for the Duke of Buckingham. But she doesn’t seems all that fond of buttons. The front closure on this otherwise lovely gown looks like a zipper or something — if it had a row of little buttons (even fake ones), this would look much nicer IMO.

Bertha’s former maid, now wealthy Mrs. Winterton, decides to sabotage the party. At home as she schemes, she wears this outfit that’s right out of a fashion plate (and she does have buttons! overly elaborate period-correct ones too):

See?

For the party, where Mrs. Winterton’s treachery is thwarted in the end, she wears this pink ensemble:

The costume designer shared her sketches for the gown online:

Along with the gown’s inspiration (I wish she’d share this part more often!).

Bertha spends the first part of the episode nitpicking on Gladys, as usual. Yet she doesn’t point out her daughter’s lack of a chemise under her corset!

At the big party, Bertha then throws a disinterested Gladys at the Duke. At least the girl’s wearing the good stuff!

Meanwhile, in the Jim Crow South, Peggy and her editor meet Booker T. Washington, are impressed by his Tuskegee Institute, and get threatened by white assholes. Oh, and they kiss too, even though her boss is married.

I know Peggy’s dress is a two-piece and this fashion plate shows a one-piece princess-line gown, but hey, it’s close, right?

Ada’s marital bliss is short-lived because it turns out her husband has cancer. That seems unnecessarily cruel to give them not even one episode of happy marriage, but then, this is Julian Fellowes who jerked around Anna and Bates’ chains for years. Feh.

Agnes throws her distant cousin at Marian (the guy was introduced at the start of the season for this express purpose). She awkwardly accepts his marriage proposal in front of everyone at a garden party because what the hell else is she going to do. It’s not like she has a spine.

Oscar van Rhijn continues to flirt madly with Maud Beaton, whose wardrobe is flashy and sometimes misses the mark. I personally like this pink outfit but it feels out of step with the other ladies (maybe that’s intentional?).

Peggy gets a lead from her mom on a story about the New York board of education trying to shut down Black schools (a storyline based in historical fact). This will actually connect Peggy and Marian in a way the makes some sense for a change — Marian has been teaching art to rich white girls and reading to poor white folks, so it’s a reasonable jump to helping out with Black schools too.

The collar style and color pops on Peggy’s mom’s outfit remind me of this fashion plate:

Peggy’s collar and pleated bustle petticoat remind me of this one:

Then there’s Marian’s plaid teacher dress, which also becomes her surprise engagement dress.

She wears a lot of boring outfits, suiting her boring character. But here’s a silly one, proving that it’s not just Bertha who gets the goofy waist ruffles.

There’s a historically fugly precedent!

Episode seven tries to bring the drama by killing off Ada’s husband and showing that Oscar has been swindled by Maud and lost all of his mom’s money. Somehow these big events are played as equal or even less important than the social machinations of Mrs. Astor trying to win the supposed opera war by finally offering Bertha a box at the Academy. Bertha fires a shot against the old guard by declining, publicly, at a charity meeting at Aurora Fane’s house. Big whoop.

I do appreciate seeing how the design team used multiple historical sources to come up with Bertha’s blue and green gown.

The real big deal in this episode is New York City celebrating the opening of the Brooklyn Bridge. The Russells and other rich folks are at a party with President Chester A. Arthur. According to costume designer Kasia Walicka-Maimone, Bertha’s red and blue gown is supposed to reference the American flag colors and the flower appliqués are an allusion to fireworks. She said in an Emmys.com interview: “This was actually a version of a dress that existed from the period.” I couldn’t find an exact reference unfortunately.

Gladys’ satin and floral-trimmed gown is similar to many of the period, like this:

Larry Russell gives a speech and credits Emily Warren Roebling as the engineer of the Brooklyn Bridge, taking over from her invalid husband for the past 10 years. It’s a bit of real history the show sneaks in, also showing her wearing a repro of the gown she wore to be presented at Queen Victoria’s court in 1896 and was also painted in.

The actual gown:

As she was painted:

Closer to the Bridge, the Black folks get a better view from their rooftop party, and finally we see Peggy and her family in fancy evening wear! Though Peggy’s own gown is a little clunky — the butterflies look too big and literal, IMO.

I imagine it’s inspired by this House of Worth gown where the butterflies are softer and more subtle.

One of her friends is wearing an excellent repro of another Worth gown, just briefly glimpsed:

Compare:

Peggy’s mom is in a light blue gown with tons of sparkle.

Lookin’ good! The ladies have souvenir paper fans printed with an image of the Brooklyn Bridge, nice touch.

 

Finally, episode eight, where the big dumb opera war is settled and many tables are turned. I won’t say it’s surprising and dramatic because you can see every plot point coming from miles and miles away. But there are some satisfying moments, especially the final scene.

It starts with Agnes and Ada in mourning, and of course Ada will be in mourning for, well, at least a year if not her whole life. Not like she’s going to marry again! Good pix are incredibly hard to get of her black outfits, but trust that she’s loaded up with jet beading.

Marian calls off her pointless engagement. Bertha and Mrs. Astor engage in more pre-opera scheming, that’s just as tedious as it has been all season. The only costume I want to note is this daytime outfit on Mrs. Fish. She got more scenes in season two although her role is far less important. In S1, she at least hosted several parties, but this time she just shows up here and there to make nosey or slightly snarky remarks.

Agnes goes to the Academy to hang out with the Old Money folks on the opera’s opening night. While she’s on the losing side (in more ways than one), at least she gets a nice repro of a Worth gown:

This show’s costume designer loves the House of Worth! The clothes work well for most any of the characters because they’re exquisite and were worn by the wealthiest women for the last few decades of the 19th century.

The main event, however, is going to be at the Metropolitan Opera. First, Mrs. Winterton gets dissed. I’d like to think it’s because she’s wearing this hideous thing:

As expected, Bertha Russell reigns supreme at the end of the season, and she does so in this green version of a Worth gown from 10 years in the future:

With a matching cape, that I don’t love from the front:

But I admit is very dramatic from the back:

Bertha’s green dress is a version of this famous Worth gown:

Which was also made in a greenish tint:

And in pink!

In the Broadway Stages article, costume designer Kasia Walicka-Maimone said of designing for Bertha Russell:

“Her persona is so different than the old guard. For the old guard I chose those classic jewel colors, the deep maroons, deep, deep navies, the jewel tones, and for Bertha, it was the colors of newness and the colors of freshness.”

That green-on-green is a definite New Money color, harkening back to the peacock ensemble Bertha wore for her big entrance at the charity bazaar in episode two of the first season. She’s making an even grander entrance here. Also, the green color really stands out against the red and gold of the opera house, making all eyes focus on her.

Check out Walicka-Maimone’s Instagram for a behind-the-scenes look into making this dress:

 

 

What did you think of The Gilded Age‘s season two?