PRUDISH VICTORIAN
BATHING MACHINES
G'day folks,
If you were a beachgoer in Georgian or Victorian times, more specifically, a female beachgoer, your day at the seaside would’ve likely had all the fun sucked out of it by a little invention known as the bathing machine.
At its peak of
popularity, the purpose of the bathing machine was all about those crazy
rules of bathing etiquette that they upheld in the 18th and 19th century, which
kept women and their beach bodies out of sight (while the men frollicked freely
on the beach, of course). The wooden carts with two doors on either sides
allowed bathers to change out of their clothes and into their bathing suits
without having to be seen by the opposite sex walking across the beach in
‘improper clothing’, which in those days, on the gender-segregated beaches of
Europe, would have been the modern-day equivalent of the walk of shame.
The
four-wheeled box would be rolled out to sea, usually by horse or sometimes
human power and hauled back in when the beachgoer signalled to the driver by
raising a small flag attached to the roof. Some machines were
equipped with a canvas tent lowered from the seaside door, capable of being
lowered to the water, giving the bather greater privacy.
Once deep enough in the surf, our bather would then exit
the cart using the door facing away from prying eyes on the beach and proceed
to paddle. For inexperienced swimmers (which would have been most Victorian
women in their billowing swimwear), some beach resorts offered the service of a
“dipper”, a strong person of the same sex who would escort the bather out to
sea in the cart and essentially push them into the water and yank them out when
they were done. As long you as you didn’t drown, for the average Victorian,
this sobering experience could be considered a successful day at the beach.
At their most popular, bathing machines lined the beaches of Britain and parts of the British Empire, as well as France, Germany, the United States and Mexico.
When legal segregation of bathing areas in Britain
ended in 1901 and it finally became acceptable for both genders to bathe
together, it was the beginning of the end for the bathing machine. By the the
1920s, they were almost entirely extinct, only finding use catering to an
elderly clientele.
The interior is all done in snow-white enamel
paint, and one-half of the floor is pierced with many holes, to allow of free
drainage form wet flannels. The other half of the little room is covered with a
pretty green Japanese rug. In one corner is a big-mouthed green silk bag lined
with rubber. Into this the wet bathing-togs are tossed out of the way. There
are large bevel-edged mirrors let into either side of the room, and below one
juts out a toilet shelf, on which is every appliance. There are pegs for towels
and the bathrobe, and fixed in one corner is a little square seat that when
turned up reveals a locker where clean towels, soap, perfumery, etc. are
stowed. Ruffles of white muslin trimmed with lace and narrow green ribbons
decorate every available space.
In an era of
Brazilian bikinis and topless beaches, you wouldn’t think to find any trace of
the bygone bathing machines, but think twice the next time you go to the
seaside and use the services of changing cabin. Some of the bathing machines
have indeed survived to this day as beach huts. Those adorably photogenic
and colourful little beach houses? They’re direct successors of the Georgian
bathing machine! When they were no longer needed for being carted out to sea,
many were simply stripped of their wheels and plonked permanently back on the
beach– a little-known reminder of eccentric seaside history.
Clancy's comment: Ah, how times have changed, eh?
I'm ...
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