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Presentation delivered at City University of Hong Kong's Fashion in Fiction (2014) conference
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P a g e | 1
Good afternoon all, I am here today to present my paper on Feminism and
Fashion in The Mists of Avalon by Marion Zimmer Bradley.
Arthurian literature often suffers from the gendering of heroism: the
heroes are knights in shining armour, leaving women to be portrayed as damsels
in distress or as evil sorceresses. Since its earliest retellings, the attention is
always on the adventures of the Knights of the Round Table and their acts of
chivalry, leaving the female characters on the sidelines. Women often do not
exist as independent beings in the Arthurian myth, because unlike men, they do
not occupy a definite role and space in the social order and subsequently exist
more as symbols than individuals. Even powerful female characters such as
Morgan le Fay and Vivienne, the Lady of the Lake, serve as plot devices with
little attention paid to their motives despite their importance within the story.
Herein lies the importance of the overtly feminist The Mists of Avalon within
the Arthurian canon, as Bradley tells the story solely from the point of view of
the female characters. The events of the novel take place in either Britain or the
Isle of Avalon, and these represent the two different zones occupied by women
in Arthurian society, illustrating the difference with which fashion, as a means
by which women construct their identities, or have their identities constructed
for them, is treated in a patriarchal society (in the case of Britain) and a
matriarchal society (in the case of Avalon).
P a g e | 2
The Isle of Avalon is a feminist utopia dedicated to the service of the
Goddess, a place where women are educated in topics ranging from medicine to
religion, and most importantly, they learn to use clairvoyant magic, which
Bradley refers to as the Sight. The women of Avalon wear “dark-dyed dresses
with overtunics of deerskin” (132) – comfortable clothes that can be flung on, as
Vivienne’s attendant does upon waking. Moreover, on Avalon, the status quo
that dictates the behaviour of women in Britain does not exist, for when
Lancelet and Morgaine climb a hill together, he worries if she can scale it in her
long skirts. She shrugs off his concern and tells him that if they get in her way,
she would not hesitate to tuck them up above her knees. Her answer surprises
him, and he tells her that “most women I know would think themselves too
modest to show their bare legs” (149). Morgaine’s retort is a reminder of the
restrictions women face outside Avalon, for she says: “I have never thought
modesty had much to do with bared legs for climbing – surely men know that
women have legs like their own. It cannot be so much of an offense of modesty
to see what they must be able to imagine” (149). Her words call attention to the
feminist notion that the identity of a woman is constructed through regulated
practices, which involves defining a woman by what she should not do, no
matter how impractical or insensible such practices are.
P a g e | 3
Later, after they hunt waterfowl, Morgaine’s clothes are soaked, and she
pulls off her deerskin tunic and skirt to dry, “standing unselfconsciously in her
undershift of unbleached linen” (155). However, her ease and comfort in her
appearance is soon undermined when she meets Gwenhwyfar for the first time,
then a lost child who strayed into Avalon. In The Mists of Avalon, Gwenhwyfar
is the pinnacle of beauty, “dazzlingly pretty… all white and gold, her skin pale
as ivory just stained with coral, her eyes palest sky-blue, her hair… like living
gold” (157). When the two meet, the child Gwenhwyfar delivers an artless
comment to Morgaine that will haunt her throughout the novel: “you are little
and ugly like one of the fairy people” (158). Instantly, Morgaine’s perception of
herself changes from self-confident to self-conscious, for she sees herself
“as she must look to Lancelet and to the strange golden maiden – small, dark, with the barbarian blue sign on her forehead, her shift muddy to her knees, her arms immodestly bare and her feet filthy, her hair coming down… She felt a surge of self-hatred, of loathing…” (158)
Despite existing on the fringes of society, Avalon is not exempt from patriarchy
and its standards of beauty, which women are extremely aware of and measure
their value by. Even Vivienne admits that as a young woman, she would have
gladly exchanged her soul and all her power for the tawny and russet beauty her
sister, Igraine, had.
P a g e | 4
Although Avalon may be fading into the mists and its priestesses appear
to be visitors from the otherworld, the Lady of the Lake is still involved in the
fate of Britain, for Vivienne is the kingmaker who sets Uther, Arthur’s father,
on the High King’s throne. When Vivienne sees a young Arthur lying
motionless through the Sight, she immediately rides for Uther’s court, dressed
in men’s breeches, preferring functionality over fashion – a reminder of the
freedom the women of Avalon possess. Upon entering the masculine social
order of Britain, even Vivienne conforms to the expectations of its social order,
for on her way to the sickbed of the injured child Arthur in her travelling
clothes, she regrets being unable to present herself in an outfit befitting her
position as the Lady of Avalon. Before she speaks to Uther about his children,
she dresses to impress, changing into a gown in a shade of green finer than
anything available in Britain. Vivienne is the only woman who can speak as an
equal to men, setting terms and giving advice that even the High King has little
choice but to obey, when she insists that Arthur should be fostered elsewhere
and that Morgaine should come with her to Avalon to become a priestess. Uther
emphasises the unique sphere the Ladies of Avalon occupy when he tells her:
“You are wise… I wish you were a foolish woman I could despise, damn you!”
(129)
P a g e | 5
After Vivienne, Morgaine should be the next Lady of the Lake, but after
she realises that Vivienne had orchestrated the Great Marriage such that
Morgaine ended up sleeping with her half-brother Arthur in order to continue
the line of Avalon and protect the Goddess, she flees the island. Once she leaves
Avalon, Morgaine’s autonomy becomes limited and she has to conform to the
status quo of Britain. Within Britain, the symbols that shape a woman’s destiny
are the clothes she wears, for these reflect the circumstances of her birth and
subsequently, her marriageability. Through this, Bradley illustrates the feminist
notion of the woman as a construct, with her primary value lying in her physical
being, within the male-dominated social order of Arthurian society and its
ruling aristocracy of Romanized British lords. These men have a highly
sexualized view of a woman’s body, tying her value to her physical being: her
duty is to bear her husband’s sons, and to be a trophy, reflecting his wealth and
status. As Judith Butler points out in Gender Trouble, “as wives, women not
only secure the reproduction of the name… but effect a symbolic intercourse
between clans of men” (39). This symbolic intercourse is the reason why many
of the men within the novel insist on controlling their wives, viewing them as
property instead of individuals.
P a g e | 6
Igraine, mother to Arthur and Morgaine, has her first husband, the Duke
of Cornwall, Gorlois (Gorl-wah), governing her life. He gives her “jewels and
beautiful things, trophies of war, had surrounded her with ladies to wait upon
her, and treated her always as his equal, except in councils of war” (4).
However, as Igraine draws closer to Uther, the only man who looks beyond her
gender and discusses state matters with her, Gorlois (Gorl-wah) becomes
jealous. From his point of view, she does not have an identity outside of his, and
he turns abusive. However, because Igraine is married off by her sister and was
raised on the matriarchal Isle of Avalon, when her husband hits her, she stands
up to him, telling him: “Touch me at your peril, Gorlois, or I shall teach you
that a daughter of the Holy Isle is no man’s slave nor servant!” (48) Their
argument over Uther ends with her rejecting the costumes of her gender given
to her by Gorlois – a silver mirror, an amber necklace, and a new gown – as she
throws them at his head. Igraine then prepares to leave, taking only the gowns
she had woven with her own hands and the moonstone necklace given by her
sister. Gorlois holds on to her and declares war on Uther not because he loves
her, but because she is a symbol of his pride and masculinity.
Gwenhwyfar enters a similar loveless marriage with Arthur, the new
High King of Britain, in which she is the object of exchange, facilitating trade
and consolidating the internal bonds of the parties involved.
P a g e | 7
Her father asks Arthur to marry her in return for horses, and he accepts for the
good of his kingdom. Gwenhwyfar is aware of her position as a symbol, for she
tells Igraine: “I don’t think Arthur cares for beauty… he did not even send to
inquire if I were cross-eyed or one-legged or had a squint or a harelip” (269). In
spite of this, she still finds solace in the idea that her life is dictated by men, for
when she hears of Arthur’s nervousness, she thinks: “Poor Arthur… this
marriage is more of an ordeal for him than for me – at least I have nothing to do
but obey the will of my father and king!” (279). As the High Queen,
Gwenhwyfar is the symbol of womanhood and also of her husband. Later in the
novel, Morgaine’s stepdaughter-in-law asks for news of the court, such as “Has
the Queen yet shown any signs of bearing him an heir?” (574) and more
tellingly, “What of the Queen? What did she wear when she sat at court?” (575).
Even the clothes Gwenhwyfar wears is a symbol unto themselves, charged with
political significance, for the dress she wore at court was “something of white,
with pearls – the Marhaus, the great Irish knight, brought them to her from the
Irish king” (575). Indeed, Gwenhwyfar looks the part on the day she marries
Arthur and becomes the High Queen, for Igraine notes that “(the) young woman
looked like an angel when she was clothed; her fine hair floated like spun gold
in the sunlight, almost dimming the radiance of the golden garland she had put
on. Her dress was of a white woven stuff, as fine as spiderweb… and was more
costly than gold” (276).
P a g e | 8
Gwenhwyfar’s appearance moves the Merlin to comment to Igraine: “How
beautiful she is! Arthur has found himself a treasure. I have heard that she is
clever, too, and learned, and also that she is pious, which will please the bishop”
(278).
Yet Gwenhwyfar’s piety, once perceived as an advantage to placate the
Church, is revealed to be fanatical. Her barrenness leaves her upset and she
turns to religion in hope of a successful delivery. However, it is suggested that
Gwenhwyfar’s miscarriages are her own fault, as she insists on staying in the
fortified Caerleon instead of moving to Camelot with the other ladies because of
her reluctance to travel. As a result, she is cooped up in a small room with her
serving women, without fresh air, fresh food, nor exercise, resulting in her
miscarriage. Although she recognises that these were the reasons, Gwenhwyfar
prefers to believe the house priest when he asks her: “Is there any unconfessed
sin on your conscience?” (391). As a result, she pushes Arthur to give up the
Pendragon banner, symbol of the Tribes and Avalon, in favour of the standard
of the Virgin, by telling him that God took away their son because Arthur
“(had) not yet resolved to make this a Christian land” (393). Although a banner
may not be an article of clothing, it is woven, sewn, and embroidered, just like a
gown. It is also the fruits of Gwenwhyfar’s labour during her boring months in
Caerleon and is as representative of Gwenhwyfar as the white and gold colours
that characterise her, for she prayed as she wove it to completion.
P a g e | 9
Ironically, despite the banner being the standard of the Virgin and sewn by a
woman, Arthur’s choice to replace the Pendragon flag with it represents the
triumph of the patriarchy – perpetrated by a woman.
Gwenhwyfar’s relationship with Morgaine is complicated, for as the
latter’s fosterling, Nimue (Ni-mew), muses “If Gwenhwyfar were not so
fanatically, mindlessly Christian, she would have loved Morgaine well” (788).
Gwenhwyfar respects Morgaine for her independence, but at the same time,
Morgaine’s independence angers her: “Why should Morgaine please herself?
No other woman was allowed to do her own will” (375). Indeed, as a priestess
of Avalon and the King’s sister, Morgaine has more freedom than the rest of her
counterparts. But again, once she enters Britain, even Morgaine has to conform
to the social norms. The blue crescent tattooed between her brows is testament
to her faith on Avalon, but in Britain, it marks her as a barbarian or a sorceress –
an outsider to the Christian social order. When she attends Arthur’s crowning,
Vivienne advises her to replace the blue robes and deerskin overtunic of an
Avalon priestess with “a simple dress of black wool, with linen underdress in
white, and a white veil over her braided hair” (208). Since Morgaine’s
childhood, she is characterised by her choice of dark and plain robes which lend
her an air of severity and seriousness – in contrast to the British young maidens
that “went with their unbound and wore dresses dyed in bright colours” (208).
P a g e | 10
She is often harsh on other women, seeing them as fools, claiming they make
her feel “idle, stagnant, (and) useless” (281). Morgaine’s self-induced state of
exclusion results in loneliness and suffering, because as her aunt Morgause tells
her, “Whatever she is thought by men, a woman must depend on the goodwill of
other women” (708). However, women like Morgaine, Morgause, and Vivienne
are all rendered outsiders because of their refusal to conform to the expected
subservient role of a woman in Arthurian society. Despite their outsider status,
their self-awareness resonates with feminist thought where the woman is the
construct of a patriarchal society because there is no universal category of
women to which the signifier “Woman” refers (Homer 102), as these women
are kingmakers and rulers of their lands.
The lesson came too late, for Morgaine, in spite of knowing of the love
affair between Lancelet and Gwenhwyfar, tricks the former into marrying
Elaine in an attempt to stop the gossip at court. Gwenhwyfar’s revenge takes the
form of convincing Arthur to marry Morgaine off to King Uriens, an old man.
Arthur, unknowingly, gifts his sister with fine and costly jewellery so that she
can please Uriens by being “finely dressed as befitted a queen” although
Morgaine feels more like a “child’s doll” (566).
P a g e | 11
Morgaine considers herself an equal to men , for she sees herself as a prisoner
rather than a queen, thinking: “Some kings kill their prisoners of state, or
enslave them in their mines; if it pleases the King of North Wales to hang his
with jewels and parade her forth at his side and call her queen, why not?” (570).
Instead of resigning herself to marriage with an old man she does not love,
Morgaine decides that she will not let herself be used for Arthur’s politics.
Upon committing herself to the decision to protect the Goddess from the
onslaught of Christianity, she renews her vow to the Goddess. Morgaine does
not repaint the crescent on her brow, hidden under her housewifely coif – not so
much because her husband may question it, but because she feels that she is not
yet worthy to bear it (589). What Morgaine does instead is to ornament herself
with the little sickle knife she took from Vivienne’s murdered body,
symbolising her acceptance of the work that Vivienne let fall. Yet in spite of the
Ladies of Avalon’s attempts to save the Goddess from oblivion, their best plans
all end in tragedy.
Throughout the novel, there is only one woman who does whatever she
deems to be in her best interest – the lady Morgause, the youngest of Vivienne’s
sisters. She marries King Lot of Lothian and rules by his side as his equal. After
her husband’s death, Morgause rules Lothian by herself, taking men she finds
attractive to her bed while her sons serve Arthur as knights.
P a g e | 12
Her self-assurance is reflected in the clothes that she wears, for instead of being
dressed up like a doll in expensive gowns and jewellery, Morgause wears these
extravagant clothes and jewels with natural ease, even painting her face to hide
her age. She does so not to please her consort, nor because it is her duty, but
because she enjoys the power that her good looks give her over men.
Ultimately, Morgause’s position as the ruler of Lothian allows her to escape the
restrictive sphere that constitutes the life of an average woman in Arthur’s
court, as she can distance herself from her gender and assume the masculine
universal “I” for she tells Gwenhwyfar at a banquet “I am happy to sit for once
among ladies and gossip about who is married and who has taken a paramour
and all the new fashions in gowns and ribbons! I am kept so busy in Lothian
with the ruling of the land that I have small time for women’s matters” (606).
At the end of the novel, despite Bradley’s attempt to reassure the reader
that the Goddess still exists and that Christian convents have assumed the place
of the priestesses of Avalon in caring for the Goddess, now presented as Saint
Brigid, the patriarchal social order has triumphed. Avalon fades into the mists,
the end of a feminist utopia where comfort is prized above fashion, and
education involves more than spinning and weaving.
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