Write With Scandal

What Marie Antoinette's robe en chemise can show us about writing.

Dear reader,

In 1783, Queen Marie Antoinette sat for a portrait, wearing a beautiful, long, white dress that cinched with ties. Usually worn with a wide sash around the waist, the dress had puffy sleeves and a frilly neckline. Behind the canvas, the queen’s favorite painter, Elisabeth Vigée-Lebrun, executed a portrait that would be presented at the Académie du Peintre et Sculpture, where it bred scandal.

The dress would be dubbed as the robe en chemise in fashion magazines of the time. You may know it now as a chemise a la reine. How could an 18^th century lady not call it a chemise? It resembled one with its simplicity and color. For those who may not be familiar with historical fashion, a chemise (or in English, a shift) was the linen undergarment worn beneath a woman’s clothing and against her skin. Yep, you read that right. It was underwear.

I know. Ghastly. Especially during a time where fashion was inspired by the nobility. When the men at the Académie saw the portrait, they had it removed and replaced with a different one—one that depicted the queen in more appropriate attire.

The topic of the robe en chemise is vast, and we could argue its influence for hours. The dress very well could have been inspired by the free women of color living in the Caribbean, which provides the question of how racism could have affected the gown’s dislike. Or perhaps it was that the queen herself had enjoyed simplicity—to the point where she had been accused of damaging the French silk industry with her wardrobe. Or maybe it was simply principle; one should not wear publicly what was meant for privacy. Regardless of what the answer might be, one aspect rings true and has always intrigued me. It’s what I would like to focus on today. How can a person change the tide with a single portrait—a single dress?

Despite the criticism, the dress grew in popularity. By the end of the 1780s, women from Europe and the Unites States were wearing the robe en chemise with confidence.

Scandal turned trend. We see this a lot in fashion, in history, in writing. I think creatives can learn a lot from this example.

Marie Antoinette grew up in Austria, which had far less rules than the French Court of Versailles. It shows when you look at her life; she enjoyed having the freedom of expression. Not only in her clothing, but in her decor and manners. Oh, how it angered the elder generation! The painting was meant to showcase her royalty, and there was nothing queenly about it. This portrait is just one example of how she refused to comply with the rules.

As a creative, I get many book ideas that don’t fit with the trends. After all, historical fiction isn’t something we often hear on BookTok. Everyone seems to be on the Romantasy kick—which is great—but it can be discouraging. Especially in a world where authors market with fast paced content and tropes. What am I to do without a fun, magic system? Or cool, mystical creatures? Or what if I don’t like writing tropes like the chosen one? Or what happens when my book doesn’t revolve around a prophecy?

Nothing against those tropes or the genre! I adore a good fantasy just like anyone else would. Yet with the rise in popularity, and the demand for stories within that similar vein, will my story sell? I’ve heard many authors express the same concerns. After all, who wants to read about a wanna-be doctor choosing to stay behind during a yellow fever epidemic when they could be exploring new worlds and fighting dragons instead? Sure, some will want to because of taste, but will the algorithm show my story to those people when it’s swamped with trendier options? Our frustration with the same, copy-cat books is growing. It almost feels counterintuitive to take the advice of “write what you love”—especially when we don’t see those books succeeding.

But we have to take that advice regardless. We are what shapes the publishing landscape.

Disclaimer, I am not saying Marie Antoinette is someone we should look up to or take too much inspiration from. But this is one thing she understood—the art of influence. When she sat for her portrait, I’m sure she thought of the consequences. I doubt she was surprised when they had it removed. But the dress left an imprint on history, despite the embarrassing scandal. In the end, it helped change culture. It contributed to the freedom of expression.

The freedom of expression; something we all have today, but are too scared to truly grip the reins of.

Today, we may not view an act like this as scandalous. But when stepping out of (or sometimes in to) your comfort zone, it can feel like all eyes are on you. There is always fear of failure, of being mocked, or even regretting it. And though one can never really say, I wonder if Marie Antoinette worried she would regret it, too. But the robe en chemise is now something she is known for. It brings dialogue to her life and story. It brings dialogue to history.

Though we’ll never know if Marie Antoinette ever regretted it, I can promise you one thing: you won’t regret writing your passions.

The act of storytelling is a love letter to not only humanity—but to yourself. It’s a unique expression of your heart and journey, and the world needs it. Your unique voice is something only you can offer. It’s influence only you can have. The world needed Marie Antoinette’s scandalous dress to shape history, and we need your scandalous book to do the same.

Within the current publishing landscape, compliance isn’t the answer. Things are changing rapidly, and sometimes it looks a bit bleak. We can’t stop this change, but we can shape it. I’m not sure what the answer is, but I know we hold the power if we chose to wield it. Especially in today’s day and age, where publishing is more assessable than ever, we can break past the barriers. We can use our voice.

Before I decided to publish my debut, “Unmasked”, which follows a female spy and Continental colonel during the American Revolution, I contemplated writing something else instead. I figured that maybe if I wrote fantasy or dystopian that I would have a more successful career. Maybe I could sprinkle the historical fiction—my true love—between other publications. I’m so, so glad that I decided to stay true to myself. I would have felt so lost.

All this to say… don’t let this changing landscape determine who you are or what you write.

Write without abandon. Write truthfully. Write with scandal.

Nothing is stopping you.

Historically yours,

McKenna