Page 72 of Barging In
Jasper gave her a curious look, but then his face softened, He seemed comforted by the idea that Victoria was confiding in someone.
“Sorry about that,” Victoria said, returning to them. Her gaze swept over Jasper’s bright orange waistcoat and tie, her eyes narrowing ever so slightly.
Clem clocked it immediately. Was the colour really that offensive to her?
“Shall we begin?” Jasper asked, grinning as he strode ahead and held the museum door open.
“Why do I get the feeling I’m at an interview for a job I haven’t applied for?” Clem whispered to Victoria.
She placed a hand gently on Clem’s shoulder. “I said no pressure, and I meant it.”
As they entered the museum, a bright, open space welcomed Clem. Light poured in through the large dual-aspect windows. In front of her stretched a long timeline, charting the evolution of the corset from the 1500s to the twenty-first century. Beside it, a silent video played on loop, showing rows of women seated at factory machines, sewing corsets with swift, practised hands.
Jasper led the way as Victoria pressed a hand to Clem’s back, urging her to walk in front. All it did was send a shiver up Clem’s spine and confuse her legs. She wondered why Victoria had joined them; surely, she knew the museum inside and out? Not that she was complaining. Any extra time with her was a welcome treat.
“The corset is one of the most controversial garments in fashion history,” Jasper began, “pulled between power and restraint, elegance and repression, empowerment and victimisation over centuries. A coercive apparatus through which patriarchal society controlled women and exploited their sexuality but also an emblem of beauty, youth, and social status.”
He led them through various sections, each themed by historical period. He spoke of the Elizabethans and their stiff stomachers, the Georgians with their panniers and bum rolls, and the Rococo era, when fashion was at itsmost theatrical, particularly for aristocrats like Marie Antoinette.
Reaching the Victorian section, Jasper continued with his commentary.
“The modern corset, as we know it — a heavily boned, waist-shaping garment — didn’t become widespread until the Victorian era,” Jasper explained. “It was designed to discipline the unruly female body and reshape it into something more palatable for the male gaze. It wasn’t only a reflection of rank, elegance, and chastity; it was a means of control. Women struggled to put them on alone, and it took time, reinforcing dependency and curbing spontaneity. The corset became a metaphor for the broader constraints of womanhood, limiting not only the body but also women’s roles, rights, and freedoms.”
Clem grimaced at an X-ray showing how tightly laced corsets had compressed the ribs and shifted internal organs. A shiver ran through her.
Jasper leaned in. “Don’t worry, tight lacing was only a fad.”
He led them on to a display of mannequins modelling corsets beside a full-length mirror. From a table, he picked up a corset.
“Here, Clem, try one on.”
She reached out, but Jasper redirected the garment towards Victoria instead. “You’ll need help.”
Victoria took it, glancing at Clem with eyebrows raised in silent question.
She shrugged and nodded, having always wondered what it felt like to wear one. Turning to the mirror, she raised her arms as Victoria stepped in front of her, reaching around to place the busk over Clem’s tightly fitted V-neck T-shirt. Her fingers worked deftly at the front, adjustingthe corset around Clem’s bust. Starting at the bottom, she fastened each hook in turn, working her way up until her fingers accidentally brushed the curve of Clem’s breast.
Clem’s breath hitched. Victoria froze, then stepped back. Their eyes met, locking in a moment that felt electric.
“Sorry,” Victoria murmured.
“It’s fine,” Clem mouthed, offering a small, reassuring smile, acutely aware of Jasper’s presence nearby.
Clem finished fastening the front, letting her breasts settle prominently atop the corset. Behind her, Victoria was pushing and pulling at the laces, gradually tightening the corset. Clem caught her reflection in the mirror as the corset cinched tighter around her already slender waist. The sensation was strange and unfamiliar. Did it make her feel powerful or confined? She settled on both.
Once Victoria had finished, Clem watched her gaze shift to the mirror. A smile twitched at the corners of Victoria’s lips as her eyes narrowed, roving appreciatively over Clem’s body. It was enough to send butterflies fluttering in Clem’s stomach. It had been a long time since someone had looked at her like that, and she wasn’t imagining it — Victoria’s eyes were unmistakably all over her.
Jasper coughed, drawing their attention back to him.
“As you can feel, women were severely restricted by a corset,” he began as Clem attempted to move about in the garment, “which was fine for those who weren’t required to move or breathe much during the day, but for working women, it was a problem. The more physical activity required, the more mobility took priority. Women in rural communities and the very poor would often forego corsets altogether or wear looser bodices or laced stays. Those who did wear corsets were often trying to emulate the elite, creating tension between aspiration and reality.”
“I wouldn’t want to wear one for more than a few minutes,” Clem said, feeling a sudden panic pooling in her chest. With a nod to Victoria, she began untying it.
Her eyes caught something suspended from a steel beam. It was an old-fashioned bicycle.
“What’s a bike got to do with corsets?”
“Ah, everything!” Jasper chuckled. “Have you ever heard of the Rational Dress Society?”
