Traditional Welsh Lady Costumes

In the 19th century, a group of genteel ladies set about collecting aspects of Welsh culture and embedding them as national symbols.

Amongst them was Lady Augusta Hall, aka Baroness Llandover, who wanted to create a traditional outfit for Welsh state occasions. She took her lead from the popularity of kilts and plaid in Scotland, but she found her inspiration in the ordinary women around her.

The national dress of Wales might look quaintly colorful now, but in the early 19th century, it was commonplace.

After the Cardiff Eisteddfod of 1834, Lady Hall commissioned artists to travel across Wales creating watercolors of the fashions of the time. They focused on the lower class women. After receiving thirteen of these portraits, she designed an outfit, which she considered represented them all.

This is still the basis for Welsh traditional costume today. It is still occasionally seen out in the wild, but usually only on ladies in the tourism industry.

Lady Augusta Hall might have designed the Welsh national dress, but her husband is famously linked with another British institution. Big Ben, the large bell in St Stephen's Tower, London, is named after Sir Benjamin Hall. He oversaw its construction in 1855.

I was once in Fishguard, on the west coast of Wales, reading a pub wall - as you do, while waiting for your pint. Framed on a pillar was a faded yellow parchment, telling the story of how traditional Welsh costume thwarted the last invasion of Britain.

Apparently (and the regulars around me were adamant that it happened), on February 22nd 1797, a fleet of French ships arrived on the orders of Napoleon Bonaparte.

Their mission was to storm Britain through Cardigan Bay, raising the Welsh in rebellion against the English along the way. It was all to be part of the French Empire.

As soon as they were sighted, a cannon fired from Fishguard. Out at sea, the erstwhile invaders assumed it was pre-emptive aggression from British troops. They must have been tipped off that the French were coming.

Within minutes the whole land horizon was filled with the distinctive Redcoats with their black helmets. Or so the French sailors thought.

Their commander, Colonel Tate, later reported that there were thousands of them, so he ordered the retreat.

But the reality was that there were no British soldiers in the area. The cannon had been a warning from a look-out, raising the alarm for the townspeople. The witnesses were the Welsh women, resplendent in their national dress, come to see what was going on.

I guess that, from a distance, the colors did look very similar between them and the uniform of the British army. Either way, that was the end of the invasion; a surrender with no shots fired!  Go the Welsh women of Fishguard!