Art Analysis: Milliners by Rene-Georges Hermann-Paul

Does this painting have goodness, truth, and beauty?

Three respectable women donned in heavy robes walk down a Parisian street, umbrellas in hand. They seem to be engaged in their daily errands, like shopping for wine, as that is what the windows of the shops they pass advertise. The long skirts, hats, and shawls place them around 1890-1905. The woman in front wears a bright orange skirt, which adds to the cheerfulness to the otherwise muted color palette of the scene. Each woman lifts her dress slightly, most likely to prevent it from dragging, as it is reasonable to conclude that it was just raining since all three women held umbrellas. They all look content and fashionable, a portrayal of everyday parisian life of the upper class.

But I’m sorry to say that if such was your interpretation of this painting, you would be completely wrong. While this first impression may convey beauty and goodness, it is far from the truth.

The way these women are dressed can lead to one of two reasonable conclusions:
They are upper class members of the french society, or
They were Modistes, hat and dress makers.

The former option can clearly be eliminated, because their clothing, though neat, is far from luxurious their postures are not leisurely and the environment is not one a wealthy Parisienne of the 1890s would frequent. So it can be concluded that these three women are Modistes.

Modistes earned barely a livable wage, often the equivalent of one pound a day, working 14–16 hours without rest, sometimes living in cramped lodging far from home. Many were teenage girls, not even adults. Their profession was considered respectable, yet it was so poorly paid that their survival depended on a different source of income.

Do you notice the smile of the woman at the front? The subtle flash of skin above her skirt? The sly smirk as she glances backward, not quite at the viewer, but at a presence unseen by one looking at the painting? The bright orange skirt may seem meant to add color to an otherwise monotone work of art but did you notice how it deliberately drew your eyes to that specific part of her body? Their lifted skirts are in no means practical adjustments. The women pull their fabric taut, accentuating the curve of the hips and raising the hem just enough to reveal underskirts and ankles. The woman in the forefront of the painting bows her head slightly. This may be in shame, or fear, or maybe as part of the performance expected of her. In 1890s Paris, modistes were commonly, and sometimes unfairly, associated with prostitution. And now the image looks very different.

Women who were formally registered with the police, given an identification booklet and required to undergo mandatory and brutal medical examinations for sexually transmitted diseases. These women were generally confined to licensed brothels. Modistes on the other hand we’re not registered and often young girls. This status was highly precarious. If caught by the Vice Brigade, she could be forced into registration, leading to mandatory medical exams and loss of their primary job, which was often viewed as a descent into the worst kind of poverty. Because they were unregistered, they could not openly solicit. This is why the visual codes were so important. They had to advertise their availability in a way that was discreet enough to avoid the police, but clear enough to attract the intended wealthy male clientele.

The first impression of this painting stated in the introduction conveys beauty and goodness in the way the artist paints the elegance and style of women strolling through the city of romance. But it lacks truth. In a way, truth is the most important of them all, because beauty and goodness are dependent. Without truth, both become invalid. And here, the truth is that these women’s lives were impoverished and vulnerable. In this light, the painting is less about superficial beauty and more about the stark, often overlooked truths of women's labor and vulnerability.