For the wealthy young people of Brooklyn in the Gilded Age, nothing was more important than a trip “abroad”, to the capitals and resorts of Europe. Today, it’s still quite a trip, but six to ten hours on an airplane are nothing compared to weeks aboard an ocean liner, and then long train rides to wherever one was going. For the respectable and wealthy, all of this travel also involved lots of clothes, huge amounts of luggage, perhaps even a servant, and if you were a single young lady – a suitable companion and chaperone. These chaperones were often female relatives of a certain age, or other older companions who may have been abroad before, and were there to make sure the young lady’s reputation remained intact, and that no hanky panky took place on one of these trips. In other words; a surrogate parent. To be fair, often a more worldly and travelled older lady could take care of those details that younger people don’t always realize are important, there really were cads and bounders out there looking to take advantage, and it could get lonely an ocean away, and thousands of miles from home.

In the spring of 1889, three Brooklyn ladies were in France, taking in the sights. They were the Misses Fanny Van Nostrand and Nanny Marvin, along with their chaperone, Mrs. A. O. Dorr. Fanny was the daughter of the late John James Van Nostrand, one of Brooklyn’s wealthy old Dutch families. Van Nostrand was the head of the wholesale grocery house, J. and H. Van Nostrand, and his brother was James Van Nostrand, head of the Merchants Bank of New York. Yes, Nostrand Avenue comes from those Van Nostrand’s. Nanny Marvin was Fanny’s cousin, and the daughter of the late Dr. George Marvin, and niece of the late Tasker Marvin, both had been prominent members of the New York Stock Exchange. Their chaperone, Mrs. Dorr, was also from a prominent family, the widow of Horatio Dore, of the Atlantic Fire Insurance Company, and later head of H. & J.V.N. Dorr & Co. a prominent insurance agency. She was also Fanny and Nanny’s aunt. When in Brooklyn, the young cousins lived next door to each other at 441 and 439 Henry Street, in what is now Cobble Hill.

The ladies had sailed from New York on April 10, 1889, with the intention of travelling rapidly through France until they got to Genoa, Italy, where they were going to rest until July, when they would go on to Paris and London. But the best laid plans…..The ladies arrived in Nice, France, on a Tuesday, and decamped at the Cosmopolitan Hotel. Nanny Marvin was in need of a new dress, so they went shopping. Right at the hotel, they found the shop of Mme Gourrien, a well-established dressmaker. The shop did not have anything ready to wear for Miss Marvin, but Mme Gourrien assured them that she could have something whipped together for them in a couple of days, as the party was going to leave Nice that Friday. Nanny ordered two dresses, and Fanny decided to order one dress and a jacket. The items were supposed to be finished that Thursday for a fitting, and would be complete by 10am that Friday.

On Thursday afternoon, the young ladies had a fitting, and it was apparent that the dresses were not going to get done in time. (As a former dressmaker and period costume designer myself, let me just say that Mme Gourrien was overly optimistic, to put it kindly. There was no way her seamstresses could have finished all of that in a couple of days.) According to Mrs. Dorr, when they were told that that dresses couldn’t be finished by 10am, even if the sewers stayed up all night, Fanny Van Nostrand graciously extended the deadline a couple of hours until 3 pm.

At 3pm, a messenger from the dress shop arrived with a box. He insisted that the balance of the bill be paid in full before he would relinquish the box. The bill came to 510 francs, and Fanny Van Nostrand paid it, and asked the messenger to take the box to their rooms. He demurred, saying that the hotel porter could do that, but Fanny was quite insistent, and the man brought the box up to the Van Nostrand suites.

Well, when Fanny opened the box, there was only one skirt inside, not the shirtwaist that should have been paired with the skirt, and not the other garments that they had ordered. She was furious, and repacked the box, and demanded her money back from the messenger. He gave in and returned her money, and was told to take the box back to Mme Gourrien. Five minutes later, the messenger returned with another larger box, which was to have contained the entire order. The ladies had already had their trunks taken to the railroad station, and were scheduled to leave right then, so they refused the box. The messenger followed them to the station, where the party told them that Madame should send the boxes to their bank in Genoa, where the bill would be taken care of, and the dresses would be shipped to them at their next stop on the tour.

The three then took the train to Menton, and decamped at their suites in the Hotel de Menton. While they were eating dinner, someone came to their table and insisted that they come to the police station with him. Once there, the ladies were told to empty their pockets and purses, even their handkerchiefs and gloves, and they were arrested. They called the American Embassy, but they could do nothing that night, and the three were locked in a cell. Mrs. Dorr would say later that, “The cell was a regular dungeon, a grated window height in the wall, a smaller one in the door, along the side a slanting wooden shelf about six feet wide, leaving only standing room on the floor. It was a damp, filthy, and evil smelling place. Our feelings may be well imagined.” The consulate was able to bring pillows and blankets, but that did little to cheer the group up.

The next morning, at 6:30 am, they were taken to the commissary of police, where Mme Gourrien, her husband, and the English speaking sales woman who had taken their order, were waiting. According to Mrs. Dorr, the trio lied about the order and the payment, and the authorities in Nice ordered that Miss Van Nostrand either pay the entire bill in full, plus court and other costs, or be held. Not in the hotel, but in the prison. They paid.

Mrs. Dorr and the girls immediately lodged formal complaints with the American Embassy, where they were advised to sue for false imprisonment, damages, and for the outrages committed against them. Mrs. Dorr further commented that the arrest had taken place in the rain, they weren’t even allowed to use their umbrellas, and they were subjected to the worst treatment, as if they had been common criminals of the lowest kind. One of the police officers blew cigar smoke in their faces as they were made to give up their valuables, and another pushed and manhandled all three ladies. Mrs. Dorr, who was not a young woman, was especially pushed around, to the extent that some of the other men in the police station objected, and the rough treatment stopped.

Back in the States, thanks to telegrams, the Van Nostrand family was notified of the incident. Fanny’s older brother, Gardiner Van Nostrand, immediately contacted the Secretary of State, James G. Blaine. This incident was not going to go away quietly, and the Franco-American War of the Dresses was on.

Next time: the conclusion of our story. Never underestimate the opportunity to spread some dirt.

Photo: Dress salon in 1890. fashion-era.com


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