The best dressmakers were Nancy for Greek, and Mme. Raimbaut for Roman costumes. A Parisian lady required 365 head-dresses, the same number of pairs of shoes, 600 gowns, and twelve chemises. Among the ephemeral fashions of the Directory one was to dress the hair “à la victime.” This entailed the loss of the victim’s tresses, which were cut off quite close to the head. Ladies who adopted the coiffure “à la Titus” were absolutely compelled to wear a red shawl and a red necklace, that the whole costume might be in harmony. Many ladies always dressed their hair “à la sacrifiée.” They were also partial to wigs, blond at first, and afterwards black, though this “anti-revolutionary” style met with great opposition both on the stage and in print. Twelve blond wigs were included in Mdlle. Lepelletier de St. Fargeau’s wedding trousseau. Mme. Tallien possessed thirty; each cost five and twenty louis. At a party at the Hôtel Thélusson, great admiration was excited by a lady whose hair was dressed in the Greek style,—a band of cameos representing Roman emperors encircled her head. Her gown was of crape, embroidered in steel. Between 1799 and 1801, the fashions, it must be conceded, were not particularly graceful. A caricature that has almost become an historical document, appeared under the Consulate. It represents a gentleman and lady both dressed in the extreme of fashion, in 1789, 1796, and 1801. Beneath the picture the author asks the question, “Which is the most ridiculous?” But women cared little for what might be said of them; they laughed at comments, epigrams, and caricatures alike. Not only did Mme. Tallien create a furore of admiration at the Frascati balls, in an Athenian gown, wearing two circlets of gold as garters, and with rings on her bare and sandalled feet, but there were other heroines of fashion, if I may so express myself, who dressed “à la sauvage,” or threw over their shoulders a blood-red shawl (sang de bœuf), squeezed their waist into stays “à l’humanité,” and wore on their heads either a hat “à la justice” or a cap “à la folle.” The following epigram was composed on the caps “à la folle:”— “De ces vilains bonnets, maman, quel est le prix? —Dix francs.—Le nom?—Des bonnets à la folle. Ah! c’est bien singulier, interrompit Nicolle: Toutes nos dames en ont pris.”[52] Fine ladies carried an embroidered bag or reticule, vulgarly called “ridicule.”[53] In 1803 a certain great lady wore a tunic of netted beads, with pearls in her hair, which was dressed diadem fashion. At the King of Etruria’s fête, her hair was arranged like the quills of a porcupine; a long gold chain and enormous locket hung round her neck. Another lady adopted a cap exactly like her grandfather’s night-cap, a veil falling below her waist, and a tunic with which her puce silk spencer made a startling contrast. Others, again, adhered to the transparent costume, with shoes sandalled high up on the leg.