Manolo says, from the Best Newspaper in the World, comes the remarkable series of photographs, taken by Edward Linley Sambourne, the turn of the last century photographer who seems to have pioneered street fashion photography.

Street blogging may be considered to be a modern phenomenon, but a series of images unearthed by Kensington and Chelsea Libraries prove that the practice may date as far back as the early 1900’s.

The Library service has published several wonderful images by the late amateur photographer Edward Linley Sambourne, who was also the chief cartoonist for Punch, which give an amazing insight into the street style of the woman of London and Paris over a century ago.

Sambourne’s beautiful street photography captures the casual side of Edwardian fashion in a manner which is rarely seen

As the Manolo says, the photographs, taken in London and Paris in the first decade of the 20th Century are remarkable in their unstudied candor and casualness.

Look, she has the bicycle, just like in the Sartorialist!

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Manolo says, At the Manolo’s Pinterest, he has been pinning many pictures of the historical shoes, and so now he wishes to share with you some of the things that have caught his fancy, in this case, the shoes of the Seymour Troy, one of the first famous America fashion shoe designers, famous starting in the 1920s and continuing on through the early 1960s.

The first shoe, above, is this dramatic Seymour Troy button-strap suede pump, dated to the circa 1929. To the Manolo, this shoe looks totally wearable in the present day, and is probably more comfortable than you would imagine.

Here is the Seymour Troy rhinestone pump from 1933, ayyyy! Super fantastic!

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N.B. Unfortunately, the interwebs at the Casa Manolo were not working for much the morning, and thus your humble shoeblogger got the late start on the day, and so, by way of entertainment, here is something good from his archives, originally posted on the January 7, 2011. Be certain to visit the original post and read the spirited discussion in the comments.

The Female Guard on the Metropolitan Railway in 1916

Manolo says, the Manolo loves these boots on the English railway guard lady, so feminine and flattering, indeed, the entire costume is most super fantastic!

From the site of London Transport Museum

During the First World War, the Metropolitan Railway, like other services serving the City, was effectively taken over by the government. Its trains were extensively used to transport troops from London to the Channel ports. To replace its employees who left to fight, the Met began employing women for the first time in positions such as porters, ticket inspectors, and guards.

Here is another picture of these boots and uniform on the different woman…

Female Guard on the Metropolitan Railway

Those boots!

And now, the modern comparison….

The Hello Kitty bag tells us that this is the lady.

And here is where the century of progress has left us: women who are doing the jobs perceived as masculine are forced to cross dress in the masculine costumes, as if one cannot be both womanly and the railway conductor at the same time.

Manolo says, the Manolo, who has just this past week joined the Pinterest, has been thoroughly enjoying himself, acting like the curious, acquisitive crow, gathering up various things that catch his eye, and nothing has been more catching of the eye, than the photos of the historical clothing.

Here, then, are five photos of Regency gowns (all dating from 1810 to 1820, and in various museums and collections around the world) that the Manolo has gathered together and now wishes to show you.

Such marvelous fun!

The yellow gowns went in and out of fashion throughout the period, and the Manolo remembers the passage from Susan Edmonstone Ferrier’s 1818 novel, Marriage, in which one of the most wonderfully awful characters, Mrs May Gawffaw, wears the yellow silk gown.

Mrs Gawffaw was the daughter of a trader in some manufacturing town, who had lived in opulence and died insolvent. During his life, his daughter had eloped with Bob Gawffaw, then a gay lieutenant in a marching regiment, who had been briefly esteemed a very lucky fellow in getting the pretty Miss Croaker, with the prospect of ten thousand pounds. None thought more highly of her husband’s good fortune than the lady herself; and though her fortune never was realised, she gave herself all the airs of having been the making of his. At this time, Mr Gawffaw was a reduced lieutenant, living upon a small paternal property, which he pretended to farm; but the habits of military life, joined to a naturally social disposition, were rather inimical to the pursuits of agriculture, and most of his time was spent in loitering about the village of G____, where he generally contrived to either pick up a guest or procure a dinner.

Mrs Gawffaw despised her husband–had weak nerves and headaches–was above managing her house–read novels–dyed ribands–and altered her gowns according to every pattern she could see or hear of.

Such were Mr and Mrs Gawffaw; one of many ill-assorted couples in this world–joined, not matched. A sensible man would have curbed her folly and peevishness: a good-tempered woman would have made his home comfortable, and rendered him more domestic.

[…]

May’s reply consisted in putting her hands to her head, with an air of inexpressible vexation; and finding all her endeavours to be elegant frustrated by the overpowering vulgarity of her husband, she remained silent during the remainder of the repast; solacing herself with complacent glances at her yellow silk gown, and adjusting the gold chains and necklaces that adorned her bosom.

Such brilliant writing! The Manolo had almost forgotten about the very funny and perceptive Susan Ferrier, the writer whose world will thankfully never be invaded by zombies and sea-monsters.