There is a television show called "Naked and Afraid," which I have not seen, and won't see, but have gathered from its advertisements that it features individuals risking deadly wilderness situations - leapfrogging over scorpions, gulping slugs for sustenance, etc. - to which they are made all the more vulnerable because they are completely nude.
Now I guess that's scary and all, but know what's Really scary? Getting poisoned to death by your socks and underwear when you're just trying to get respectably enough dressed and put in a routine day's work.
"Fashion Victims," aka "Clothed and Afraid," recounts all the different possible ways that undergarments and outergarments have heinously murdered both their wearers and especially their makers, particularly in North America and Western Europe between the early 1800s to the 1930s. These garments were able to kill a bunch of folks because we basically had no idea what kinds of crazy potential destruction we were unleashing in their various manufacturing processes, but we wanted - then as now - to look as fabulous as possible, and to make as much cheddar as possible. And so, we quickly invented, made (or compelled others to make), advertised, sold, and wore all kinds of stuff that we then, later, eventually, figured out was completely deadly in utterly grotesque and torturous ways. And then this same basic process repeated itself infinitely over the nearly 1.5 centuries covered by the book.
This book kind of reveals about clothing what a book like Upton Sinclair's "The Jungle" (or, today, "Fast Food Nation" or the film "Super-Size Me") reveals about food processing and eating. It is also reminiscent of how, for example, we've been playing and watching football for ages with reckless abandon and are only just now starting to seriously discuss the great risk and problem of concussions and traumatic head injury.
The case studies in this book were about as gruesome and macabre as those in Edward Gorey's "The Gashleycrumb Tinies," in which a variety of naive moppets fall to their demise in horrendous manner: trampled flat by a brawl; sank in a mire; choked on a peach; took lye by mistake; sucked dry by a leech, etc. (These are all surprisingly more adorable than you'd think, rendered in Gorey's eerie fashion.) In stark contrast, the mass sartorial death described in "Fashion Victims," though equally varied and creative, is decidedly NOT cute in the least. Rather, it all gave me nightmares and rendered me into a complete hypochondriacal state in which I became convinced that I was feeling suspiciously unwell and it was surely because I'd been poisoned from sitting around on my ass in green sweatpants. (Green is NOT good in this book, with sincere apologies to "the most toxic of colors"). Even Early Stephen King, ultimate purveyor of "innocent good thing turned evil on you" plot - your dog, your cool car, your daughter, the fog - could not have competed with the horrific scenarios recounted in this book. Think that's a comb ya just stuck in your hair? Nah - it's basically a lit stick of dynamite.
All that being said, there's way more value to this book than mere shock value. First of all - it's an absolutely beautiful book (published by Bloomsbury), as gorgeous as the stories within it are awful. And in its beauty, the form of the book matches its function, because all the color plates and illustrations help to show why these deadly clothes and accessories were so seductive, and how advertisers and the marketplace were able to sell them to consumers; forestall and evade growing warnings from medicine, science, journalists, and reformers; and compel underpaid, overworked workers to craft them until the workers literally dropped.
The book is beautifully researched and written as well. Matthews David is clearly a great historian and scholar of fashion who is passionate about her subject and her desire to create for us a "usable history." I have to say that although I've read lots of straightforward contemporary nonfiction making reasonable theoretical arguments about how we probably are killing ourselves, others, and nature through our fashion, beauty, and other consumerist habits - it was almost more powerful to read a ton of specific and proven and grotesque past examples of how we definitely did this, absolutely ALL the time, ALL over the Western world, for over one hundred years! that were not that long ago at all! Did we just so happen to figure out, say around 1935-ish, All The Science needed to identify All the Effects and definitively ensure the long-term health and safety of worker, wearer, and nature forevermore? After reading through all the extensive, sound, sample disasters that this author has unearthed - it just seems very unlikely to me that we fucked up so hard for so long but relax! - today we've got it allllll under control....
...And even if you don't quite buy into my pessimistic brand of inferential reasoning in which all historical roads lead to We're Definitely Still Doomed, the author is also careful (especially in her introductory and concluding chapters) to more explicitly connect the history she recounts to our own, present-day, ongoing health, environmental, and social justice concerns related to the manufacture and use of fashion worldwide today.
Though disturbing, this is a very worthwhile read for those interested in social, cultural, and material history, fashion history, the history of health and medicine, and feminism and gender.
Chapters:
Introduction: Death by Fashion in Fact and Fiction
1. Diseased Dress: Germ Warfare
2. Toxic Techniques: Mercurial Hats
3. Poisonous Pigments: Arsenical Greens
4. Dangerous Dyes: A Pretty, Deadly Rainbow
5. Entangled and Strangled: Caught in the Machine
6. Inflammatory Fabrics: Flaming Tutus and Combustible Crinolines
7. Explosive Fakes: Plastic Combs and Artificial Silk
Conclusion: The Afterlife of Fashion Victims