A Year in the Life of Downton Abbey: Seasonal Celebrations, Traditions, and Recipes by Jessica Fellowes
Authors: Jessica Fellowes
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could look groomed rather than wanton’, explains the social historian Lucinda Gosling in her book
Debutantes and the London Season.
Rose might, however, have splashed on a bit of scent. Expert Lizzie Ostrom says she would have ‘made a beeline for the ultimate flapper fragrance purveyors, Caron, whose 1922 release Nuit de Noël came in a black flask-shaped bottle with a band round the rim designed to look like the headgear of a Bright Young Thing. It had a mossy, heady scent, garlanded with deep roses.’
There were just three or four court presentations in the year, with one specially devoted to ladies connected to the diplomatic service. Under Queen Victoria, the presentations took place from three o’clock in the afternoon and lasted several hours, with no refreshments available for the wilting debs, nor even a loo – just a chamber pot behind a screen. King Edward VII – always a man who liked a good party – moved the presentations to the evening, where they stayed.
The number of requests, there could be hundreds, meant there would be an enormous and slow queue building up outside the palace. Debs were eager to be one of the first in the room, as it was not unheard of for the monarch to tire of the event and pass the baton to one of their less glamorous relatives. It was also far more fun to hang around in the throne room after being presented to watch the other girls – there was bound to be at least one misjudged curtsey to provide amusement.
Lady Rose MacClare
Before the women and their sponsors even got to Buckingham Palace, they would spend a few hours sitting in a long line of cars down the Mall – that marvellous route laid out for processions between Admiralty Arch (leading to Trafalgar Square) and the enormous black iron gates of the palace. Crowds would gather to watch the debs, with newsreel crews and press photographers among them. In 1927
Bystander
reported that some from the throng even stood on the footboards of the cars to get a better view: ‘More venturesome souls, apparently thinking this waiting is for their especial benefit, actually open the doors.’
Once the debs and their sponsors had assembled in the presence chamber, an ante-room to the throne room, they would nervously wait their turn. At the signal to go in, the girl would enter with her sponsor and hand her presentation card to the Lord Chamberlain. As former deb Loelia Ponsonby recalls, it was ‘… over in a flash. One reached the head of the queue, handed one’s invitation to a splendid official, he shouted aloud one’s name and tossed the card into a rather common-looking little wastepaper basket, one advanced along the red carpet, stopped and made two curtsies to the King and Queen who were sitting on a low dais surrounded by numerous relations and then walked on.’
Loelia was presented to King George V and Queen Mary, as was Rose. The Queen was a popular figure in her day, having led by example in encouraging much of the women’s war effort by being seen to visit the wounded and dying soldiers and leading a drive to send parcels to those at the front – all conducted with a perfectly stiff-upper-lip manner, even as tragedy raged all around.
King George V and Queen Mary with the Prince of Wales and the Princess Royal standing beside them.
The day after a presentation, all the names of those who had been presented were published in
The Times,
so there was absolute clarity for all as to who was ‘out’ and who was not. There then followed a round of balls, dances, luncheons and suppers in tandem with the London Season (explained in more detail in the next chapter ), with each girl throwing an event of her own, whether a full-blown ball in her family’s London palace, as the Crawleys did for Rose, or a small tea party for the less ambitious or rich. These weren’t always, perhaps, as much fun as they sound. Margaret Haig Thomas, the Viscountess Rhondda, described her coming out: ‘For three months I went,
Debutantes and the London Season.
Rose might, however, have splashed on a bit of scent. Expert Lizzie Ostrom says she would have ‘made a beeline for the ultimate flapper fragrance purveyors, Caron, whose 1922 release Nuit de Noël came in a black flask-shaped bottle with a band round the rim designed to look like the headgear of a Bright Young Thing. It had a mossy, heady scent, garlanded with deep roses.’
There were just three or four court presentations in the year, with one specially devoted to ladies connected to the diplomatic service. Under Queen Victoria, the presentations took place from three o’clock in the afternoon and lasted several hours, with no refreshments available for the wilting debs, nor even a loo – just a chamber pot behind a screen. King Edward VII – always a man who liked a good party – moved the presentations to the evening, where they stayed.
The number of requests, there could be hundreds, meant there would be an enormous and slow queue building up outside the palace. Debs were eager to be one of the first in the room, as it was not unheard of for the monarch to tire of the event and pass the baton to one of their less glamorous relatives. It was also far more fun to hang around in the throne room after being presented to watch the other girls – there was bound to be at least one misjudged curtsey to provide amusement.
Lady Rose MacClare
Before the women and their sponsors even got to Buckingham Palace, they would spend a few hours sitting in a long line of cars down the Mall – that marvellous route laid out for processions between Admiralty Arch (leading to Trafalgar Square) and the enormous black iron gates of the palace. Crowds would gather to watch the debs, with newsreel crews and press photographers among them. In 1927
Bystander
reported that some from the throng even stood on the footboards of the cars to get a better view: ‘More venturesome souls, apparently thinking this waiting is for their especial benefit, actually open the doors.’
Once the debs and their sponsors had assembled in the presence chamber, an ante-room to the throne room, they would nervously wait their turn. At the signal to go in, the girl would enter with her sponsor and hand her presentation card to the Lord Chamberlain. As former deb Loelia Ponsonby recalls, it was ‘… over in a flash. One reached the head of the queue, handed one’s invitation to a splendid official, he shouted aloud one’s name and tossed the card into a rather common-looking little wastepaper basket, one advanced along the red carpet, stopped and made two curtsies to the King and Queen who were sitting on a low dais surrounded by numerous relations and then walked on.’
Loelia was presented to King George V and Queen Mary, as was Rose. The Queen was a popular figure in her day, having led by example in encouraging much of the women’s war effort by being seen to visit the wounded and dying soldiers and leading a drive to send parcels to those at the front – all conducted with a perfectly stiff-upper-lip manner, even as tragedy raged all around.
King George V and Queen Mary with the Prince of Wales and the Princess Royal standing beside them.
The day after a presentation, all the names of those who had been presented were published in
The Times,
so there was absolute clarity for all as to who was ‘out’ and who was not. There then followed a round of balls, dances, luncheons and suppers in tandem with the London Season (explained in more detail in the next chapter ), with each girl throwing an event of her own, whether a full-blown ball in her family’s London palace, as the Crawleys did for Rose, or a small tea party for the less ambitious or rich. These weren’t always, perhaps, as much fun as they sound. Margaret Haig Thomas, the Viscountess Rhondda, described her coming out: ‘For three months I went,
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