Queen sparked 'public backlash' with extravagance as others had to 'make do'

Murmurings of unrest could be heard among the rank and file with talk of extravagance dogging bride-to-be , as she prepared her trousseau.

While most women’s silhouette was dictated by their ration book, there were strong opinions that even royal ladies should be no exception. Fashion for most people in was governed by austerity.

And many felt that the should be no different. In a brilliantly observed new book, Making Do Britons and the Refashioning of the Postwar World - published 80 years after the war ended - University of Warwick professor Susan L. Carruthers explains how, as we moved from wartime to peace, post war lives were “made over, but not always mended,” and how clothes reflected that changing identity.

For was not the only thing rationed - fabric was, too, until 1949. And, after years of being restricted to attire, men and women alike found themselves adopting new uniforms back in civvy street, as fashion flair was restricted by rations and cost.

Take the demob suit - it was the starter kit for civvy life - the original off-the-peg suit that marked out men who had served their country during the

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Smart, but as uniform as the clothes they had worn in the forces, the government-issued “demob” suit came with a new shirt, two collars, a raincoat, hat and shoes.

Nicknamed “the full Monty’ after one of the main suppliers, Sir Montague Burton, an astonishing four million demob suits were made, as a show of gratitude by the government to men who had risked their lives for their country.

As the people of Great Britain entered a new era of post-war austerity, the suits were designed not only to help men impress in job interviews and office positions, but also to ward off resentment. For the jubilant celebrations of D-Day and VE-Day became distant memories, as scrimping and saving to survive became a way of peacetime life.

Prof. Carruthers writes: “Over the course of the thirteen months that separated Germany’s defeat from this last hurrah, many Britons ceased thinking of victory as a euphoric moment, seeing it instead as the start of an unfolding era whose dispiriting character was becoming ever clearer. Clothing was pivotal to each stage of this progression from anticipation to anticlimax.”

And the price of clothes was so disproportionate to the average wage that frugality won over style for all but the rich or those who were extremely creative.

Prof. Carruthers writes: “In 1945, average weekly earnings for men aged over twenty-one stood at £6 4s 4d; for women over eighteen, £3 4s 3d. (Male and female workers in the textile and clothing industries typically earned about one-third less than the national average.) That same year, with prices capped by the government, a woman’s coat cost £20; a woollen dress, £15 15s; a blouse or jumper, £6.

“In 2023, the average price of a new garment bought in Britain was just £16.70, barely more (and some items less) than apparel cost eighty years earlier.”

The extortionate cost of clothes made every item in a man and woman’s wardrobe a luxury. So, while women did not wear demob suits, their choices were limited by their extremely restricting incomes. Making do and mending was even given a leg up by the Board of Trade, with the invention of a cartoon character called Mrs Sew-and-Sew, who gave handy tips.

Prof Carruthers quotes a Make Do and Mend booklet that advises: “Now that rubber is so scarce your corset is one of your most precious possessions. The greatest enemies of rubber are sunlight and grease. Never let your girdle get really dirty.”

But, in the middle of this nationwide conservatism, resulting from the harsh times, came a massive influx of flamboyance that changed the fashion landscape forever.

People arrived from the Caribbean, looking completely different to the toned-down British islanders. The women’s flamboyant dresses were branded “gaudy,” while the men’s zoot suits were condemned for being unpatriotic, as the trousers were made using generous amounts of material.

In contrast, there were also migrant workers who were so underdressed, with threadbare clothes, that whispers started, speculating over whether they could afford to wear underwear. Clothing in all walks of life became a political statement. It also led to scathing criticism of any form of conspicuous extravagance.

Princess Elizabeth’s trousseau for her marriage to Phillip Mountbatten in 1947 came under fire. Prof Carruthers writes: “Austerity sharpened awareness of inequity. Was it fair, some Britons wondered, that Princess Elizabeth received 100 extra clothing coupons for her bridal gown when she married Philip Mountbatten in 1947 while other brides got none?”

An ivory silk gown, bedecked with seed pearls and crystals, with a 13 foot train, was something most brides could only dream about. While Royalists wanted the princess to look fabulous, in a spectacular dress, to inspire optimism about the future, critics said it was unacceptable for the royal family to spend so much. After all, everyone was meant to be “in it together.”

Harold Wilson was then president of the board of trade and granted the princess 100 extra coupons - although it is generally perceived that she received closer to the 800 requested originally by the palace!

Norman Hartnell, who designed Princess Elizabeth’s dress, even reassured the nation that the silkworms used to produce the fabric for her bridal gown were Chinese, after rumours that they came from Japan - a country which had been our wartime enemy.

While what not to wear to keep the nation happy was high on the royal agenda, Sunday best dresses, rather than fairytale white frocks, had been the staple for ordinary brides during the war.

And with a further reduction of clothing coupons again in 1946 the trend continued long after. Some fantasy fashion flare was offered by designer Christian Dior in 1947, with the unveiling of the New Look, which showcased a full circular shin-length skirt, to be worn over stiff petticoats.

It was radically different to the shorter, fitted skirts of wartime, made with as little fabric as was decent. But which silhouette would the princess wear for her going away outfit? Again, critics were chomping at the bit to throw the first stone, if she showed any form of opulence.

Thankfully, her brilliant designer Norman Hartnell combined his design skills with diplomacy, creating a blue velour dress and matching coat, with a hemline 14in above the ground. It was a fabulously clever mix of wartime austerity - with a nod to the New Look.

While women loved swathing themselves in fabric, as the finally took a turn for the better, many men looked back at the more figure hugging wartime silhouette, with the higher hemlines offering more of a glimpse of a shapely leg, with nostalgia.

But it would be free love, rather than economics that would herald the next radical change in hemlines - with the Swinging Sixties, bringing Mary Quant, Twiggy and the unforgettable mini.

• Making Do Britons and the Refashioning of the Postwar World by Professor Susan L. Carruthers is published by Cambridge University Press, price £25.