For Whom The Dead Dress

By Monica Lowe

“Great Nature Clothes The Soul, Which Is But Thin...”

The way we bury our dead can honor the person they were, comfort the ones left behind or show off the wealth and power they had in life. Bodies have been wrapped in finely woven fabrics as “winding cloths;” covered in funeral palls; adorned in fancy jewelry and embroidered dress and made comfortable with their favorite clothing on. Sometimes no clothing is needed, allowing for the body to more easily slip back into its natural state, decomposing back into the earth. For the most part, humans have covered their dead, regardless of if the body is to be buried or burned. Clothing is intimate, personal, and indicates a connectedness to the person whose body has been left behind. Why have human cultures felt the need to dress our dead, and what has changed or remained the same over time?

“And When These Garments Are Grown Old And Bare...”

From the earliest graves archaeologists have found, bodies have been buried with clothes, goods, and weapons–often giving indicators of the person they were. Some of these sites contained bodies dressed in an item as simple as a braided grass skirt and plain woven tunic, along with adornments and a weapon or tool, such as the Egtved girl in Denmark. These graves were most often singular, found in small villages set apart from larger communities or perhaps when someone died unexpectedly during travel.

In more organized cemetery sites found in or near larger towns, early period bodies were often wrapped in cloth indicative of local weaving practices. These are some of the earliest examples of the use of a winding cloth, or winding clothes— one large sheet of fabric used to completely shroud the body by winding around it, often in many layers. The climate of certain sites, such as dry deserts, has allowed archaeologists glimpses into burial practices of the past.

Most children in Western cultures have learned about Egyptian mummies, whether through the movie monster Mummy or the riches of King Tutankhamun’s tomb. During the period of archaeology when Howard Carter discovered that famous tomb (late 19th/early 20th century), researchers would tear through the linen to get a glimpse of what was wrapped within, and the mummy itself because the plain textiles were not considered as important as the glittering gold potentially held within the strips of cloth. But what of the wrappings? A number of those linens are some of the finest woven clothes ever produced—and all by hand. High-quality wrappings for one mummy of high esteem could take months to make and in some cases, even now, are difficult to replicate with modern machinery, indicating an expertise few know how to do by hand today.

The Egyptians were not the only culture to wrap their dead, however. Across the planet in what is now known as Peru, the Paracas textiles (dated around 300-200 BCE) show an extraordinary amount of cloth used to wrap mummies. Up to 87 feet of cloth have been used, elaborately embroidered in rich colors. This indicates a massive societal effort, as that amount of cloth would have required days, if not months, of work to create by many experienced people (Macbeth 2019, 341).

It would have taken a large community of people working together in what could be assumed a ritualistic manner to produce the textiles needed to wrap the hundreds of mummies found at Paracas. To the north, early Bronze Age Scandinavian burial mounds contained bodies enfolded by such material as cow skins, leather, and basketry. This was true with both bodies and cremated remains (Harris & Douny 2014, 115). What the corpse was buried in also gave societal indication of their place in the community, whether it was as a farmer, a warrior, a religious figure, or another person of importance. Amongst the wrappings, there may be placed religious objects, small indicators of status, like charms and other ornaments or symbols of their occupation, such as a drop spindle buried with the body of a wool spinner or weaver. The reasons for multiple layers, and the sequence of those layers, remains a mystery for archaeologists, but it is argued that the many layers were a “material expression of the transformation of the contents within...representing a reordering of the social world following death” (2014, 116). An unwrapping of a life and wrapping up of the soul, perhaps, or a final closure to a life by laying them to rest them with familiar objects as a final loving gesture.

As human culture advanced into the Iron Age and societies became more stratified, burials became more elaborate and sumptuous for the elite (Harris & Douny 2014, 135). Many ancient cultures believed in dressing the dead as if they would be living in the afterlife as they did in real life – they had to have everything with them they might need, such as food, tools, “servants,” household goods, as well as jewelry and warm clothes. The higher the status of the dead, the more possessions they were buried with, and the finer the dressing of the corpse. Wool and linen were staples in the western European countries. Silk was common in the East for the more well-to-do and has been found even as far away as Scandinavian countries as a symbol of wealth in small amounts. In Oseberg, Norway, one famous burial site included an entire boat, in which were two female bodies. Decorative trim at the bottom of their dresses were embroidered silk, giving archaeologists new insights on how textiles indicated wealth.

Funerary shrouds began to appear, laid across the body rather than wrapped around it. This suggests a more ritualized use of textiles (Harris & Douny 2014, 136). The type of fiber used and the quality of the textiles gave subtle indications of the importance of the dead. Rather than wrapping an entire body, a smaller amount of more intricate fabric could be used symbolically. It also hid the obvious body shape, lending an air of mystique to the idea of death. This was also displayed in cremation, with the ashes being wrapped and placed in an urn. Demonstrations of these customs can be traced to writings by Homer, describing the burial rituals of Hector and Patroklos as having their bones and ashes wrapped in fine cloth and placed in a chest (Hector) or bowl (Patroklos) and then buried. This Greek custom spread up into Italy and around the Mediterranean, beyond the Iron Age (2014, 138). Today, we see funeral palls laid on top of the caskets of government officials and other people of high esteem around the world, as an indicator of respect.

Once Christianity spread, Christian belief excluded adding anything to the grave beyond what was needed to keep the corpse modest. Viking sites stopped having extras such as swords, jewelry, and the like buried with their dead, although clothing quality was still an indicator of the wealthy. One exception to this was discovered in some early Islamic cemeteries. Burial sites from about 400-600 CE at Matgar and Mostagedda in Egypt demonstrate an unusual practice of not only adding household goods such as pottery, but jewelry added to up to five layers of shrouding. Red and white crisscrossed “lattice” strips were often wrapped around the body or at least the head (Pleşa 2017, 24-25).

Some countries still wrap their dead. Modern Tibet rituals are modeled after Indian customs; after the dead has been washed, the corpse is loosely wrapped in white cotton with nothing exposed. Arms and legs are straightened and bound with cotton, and offerings of wreathes or bunches of flowers are placed on top, and the body left alone for a few days. Older Tibet customs would tie the body up in a crouching position with silk, or wrapped in a wool blanket. This was to prevent a “waking corpse” and also to enable one strong man to carry the corpse to the cremation grounds or sky platform for the vultures (Sangay & Kilty 2011, 52-53).

As various human civilizations grew and spread, handling the dead became more regulated. Among Western cultures, it was understood that the body would be clothed in some fashion. The Industrial Revolution made it easier for people to obtain the clothing to bury their dead, but also made it harder to take the time to process and weave their own coverings for their loved ones. Those skills were relegated to women simply as hobbies to be done in their spare time and not given the importance they had prior. As cities grew, there were more people who died without anyone to care for them, so they would be buried with whatever they were wearing at time of death.

Even something that covered the feet could be a status symbol and ritualized amongst the dead. At St. Mary’s parish church in Ireland, dating from the 1200’s into the 18th century, modern excavations have yielded the remains of three incomplete shoes in situ on the church grounds. At least two show no sign of wear, indicating they were made especially for burial use. This was apparently not uncommon for the time, as they were considered a sign of respect, as well as potent symbols to ward off evil and witchcraft (Nicholl 2020, 29).

“With sickness torn, Death takes them off with care…and lays them safe within an earthly chest” Into the Victorian age, as more and more people moved into big cities to work and life expectancy rose, funeral practices in general were more for show. Early, unexpected deaths meant elaborate shows of sorrow. When Queen Victoria’s husband Alfred died, she spent the rest of her life in mourning clothes, which set off a trend: black clothing and jet beads as adornment. Certain protocols were expected to be followed, and this included what the dead should be buried with. With the upswing of grave robbing, this meant normal clothing; although if a family was poor, the clothing might be rags, and the proper “mourning garb” simply borrowed cheap fabric capes. If the clothing was too elaborate, there was a chance a grave robber would dig it up to sell to the rag-men—people who traded in used clothing (Victorian Mourning & Funerary Practices, n.d.).

Mourners themselves give some indication as to the social standing of the dead and those left behind. Some past cultures would hire “professional mourners” who would purposely tear their clothing and wail behind the deceased as the body traveled to its final resting spot. Most Western countries dress nicely out of respect and in black, to indicate sorrow. Today in New Orleans, mourners may be in black and march sadly to the ceremony, but will hire jazz bands to parade down the street after the funeral with costumes and elaborate get-ups, encouraging others to dance and sing as a tribute to the dead and a celebration of their life.

Other cultures signify mourning with colors such as white, as in many Asian countries. Red is a color of happiness in China, so it is strictly forbidden to wear at funerals; however, if the dead is in South Africa, it’s considered a color of mourning, representing the bloodshed suffered during Apartheid. If you are a widow, it is appropriate to wear purple in Thailand; in Papua New Guinea, widows coat their faces with a grey colored clay after the death of a husband. Ancient Egyptians associated gold with eternal life, and therefore adorned mummified bodies with as much as they could afford (Osiris Software 2019). Still today, it’s a sign of wealth if you’re buried with gold on.

One interesting aspect of the late 1800’s and beyond is the idea of holding on to the dead’s clothing, as a remembrance or a way to contain grief. In an article by Alison David (2016) on the flammability of new synthetic material, she writes about the death of a popular ballerina, Emma Livry, from her tutu catching fire in 1862. She was burned over 40% of her body and died in painful agony eight months later. The ballerina’s dance teacher saved the remains of the clothing in a reliquary of sorts: a neat, black-trimmed box. The author describes this as a “transference of identity from body to clothing” as a common mourning practice. She goes on to say the garment remnants “reunite, inextricably combined, the lost person and the part of the self that had been in contact with her” (2016, 255). At the time, this was looked at as a powerful and emotional reminder, whereas it may not have such importance today

“Then Scours Them Well And Makes Them Sweet And Clean…”

Typical modern Western funerary rituals involve nice clothes, especially if being viewed, and adding in memorial pieces as desired, but not required. In the early 20th century, a letter to the editor of a newspaper regarding caring for the dead explained: “she (the nurse) should bathe and dress the patient in the underwear, nightdress, and stockings which have been selected and brought to her for that purpose” (Care of the Dead 1912). Today, it is not common to bury someone in their pajamas, however, it also depends on individual choices and how the body will be processed. The modern movement for positive death has meant that people can choose for themselves what to wear when they pass on. From costumes to lingerie, what we decide as our final outfit can have significant personal importance. Aretha Franklin wanted four fancy outfits, one for each day she was laid out for viewing – including five-inch Louboutin stilettos. President George H.W. Bush wore socks featuring jets flying in formation as a nod to both his military service and his fondness for whimsical socks.

When I think back to my own experience when my father died, I can remember the nurse who prepared his body asking if we wanted to dress him in anything different. He was wearing a sweatsuit outfit; one of several comfortable clothes my dad took to wearing in his last few years. It seemed a fitting outfit for our needs. He also had “stockings” or socks on. We kept his wedding ring. Since he was to be cremated, I decided not to include anything extra—he wouldn’t need them anyway.

Other contemporary grave goods can include glasses, photographs, notes to the deceased, and so on. Often, the deceased have picked their own clothes they wish to be buried or cremated in. If the deceased will be part of a viewing, the chosen clothing is usually nice—a fancy dress for a woman, or a suit for a man. The dress may be one bought especially for the death, or one that holds past good memories for the deceased or the loved ones left behind. Choices can be an indicator of the personality of the dead. In the article by Sheila Harper (2012), she describes a family talking about their mother’s body being buried in their choice of clothes, plus a special item of hers:

SH: Who decided what she was dressed in?

Ryan: Me dad.

Chris: Me dad picked the clothes, yeah.

SH: Cause it was a skirt, wasn’t it? A skirt and a jacket.

Ryan: That she was comfortable with, yeah.

Chris: And a bright coat. [laughs] A very bright coat. But that was me mum, weren’t it? (p. 48)

Modern “green” burial practices have led to people in Western cultures considering what their dead are buried in for other reasons. Natural burials prohibit the use of formaldehyde and other chemicals, due to the principal concern for the environment and allowing decomposition to occur as it would naturally. Several designers have created lines of clothing for the dead under these considerations, such as Jae Rhim Lee of Boston, Massachusetts, who has melded both art and science in her creation of the Infinity Burial Suit and Mushroom Decompiculture Kit (Michel & Lee 2017, 3). Partnered with biodegradable coffins such as wicker, wool or unfinished wood, these burials are not expected to linger in the ground but instead return back to the earth: “cradle to cradle” instead of “cradle to grave”.

“Fit For The Soul To Wear Those Clothes Again.”

But why do we care what someone goes to their grave in? Why do we even feel the need to cover the body now that the spirit is gone? The best quote I found to explain this was in an article by Swedish textile artist Birgitta Nordstrom (2016):

Wrapping is an alternative form of embrace. When a human being is born into life, he or she is born into textile material; welcomed into the world, they are received, dried clean, and a small piece of cloth is wrapped around the body to keep the child warm. We leave the same life, perhaps a long time later, in the embrace of another sort of textile. Washed, dried and wrapped. Here, the gesture is not about separation, it is rather inclusive, and is a reminder of the life that has been as a human being.” (p. 154-155)

I like this idea, that the wrapping or clothing we use on our dead is a form of comfort, of touch, of connecting to the ones we have lost. Nordstrom goes on to say that she believes that textiles often function as bearers of memory, and that the act of clothing or wrapping a dead body helps to handle the loss of a loved one (p. 146).

Other authors I have read describe the textiles we buried our dead in as a way to stay attached to that person, or to envelope them; enclose them. Such as we wrap a present to show care, respect and protect it, so we wrap our dead. Harris (2016) carries this idea further, theorizing that the subtle use of color, texture, materials, helps convey a feeling and meaning, and provide cultural meaning (p. 117). Like a present, the wrapping is designed to signify the importance of what’s inside.

Harper (2012) delves even deeper into our personal reasons for dressing our dead. She writes that the personal possessions we bury our dead with are infused with emotion. Even objects with little or no economic value, are invested with importance through memories shared; abstract values held only among the loved ones. Objects left with the dead keep a connection to them, through the memories held in that expired ID stuck in the deceased’s coat pocket, or the trinket placed in the mother’s hand. Even the objects left behind, such as a wedding ring that can be passed on to future generations, carry with them the stories and memories of the ones who have left. They are infused with the self-identity of the owner (p. 44-45).

In my own experience, when I decided on the clothes I sent my father off to be cremated in, I chose them because I knew they felt good to him in life. They were soft, easy to clean and easy to put on; aspects that brought him peace. My initial thought—and the one I went with—was to leave him be. Also, I did not want to disturb him by having a stranger undress and dress him. What he would wear in death was not something we had discussed, but we did decide on cremation, and both my dad and I are the types who preferred to be comfy if we did not need to dress for an occasion, so it made sense to me. I chose to hold on to the quilt I made him – instead, that quilt will be passed on to my children and hopefully passed on again. My father’s memory and stories about him will be remembered through that quilt, and it leaves me with an additional connection to him, even though his body is gone. What my family does may not suit everyone; however, it is our personal choice. Just like our ancestors, what we chose to bury our dead with or keep as a remembrance of them helps us deal with that loss.

The Soul’s Garment by Margaret Lucas Cavendish (1623 - 1673)

Great Nature clothes the soul, which is but thin,

With fleshly garments, which the Fates do spin,

And when these garments are grown old and bare,

With sickness torn, Death takes them off with care,

And folds them up in peace and quiet rest,

And lays them safe within an earthly chest:

Then scours them well and makes them sweet and clean,

Fit for the soul to wear those clothes again.

Works Cited

Care of the Dead. (1912). The American Journal of Nursing.,12(5), 427.

David, Alison M. (2016) Blazing Ballet Girls and Flannelette Shrouds: Fabric, Fire and Fear in the Long Nineteenth Century, TEXTILE, 14:2, 244-267

Harper, Sheila. (2012). ‘I’m glad she has her glasses on. That really makes the difference’: Grave goods in English and American death rituals. Journal of Material Culture,17(1), 43- 59.

Harris, S., & Douny, Laurence. (2014). Wrapping and unwrapping material culture : Archaeological and anthropological perspectives (Publications of the Institute of Archaeology, University College London ; 64). Walnut Creek, California: Left Coast Press.

Macbeth, Penny. (2019). A Matter of Life and Death. Textile: The Journal of Cloth and Culture, 17(4), 340-346.

Michel, Gwendolyn M, & Lee, Young-A. (2017). Cloth(ing) for the dead: Case study of three (Late Fourth-Early Ninth Centuries CE). Ars Orientalis, 47(20191029), 18-42

Sangay, Thupten & Kilty, Gavin. (2011). Tibetan Ritual for the Dead. The Tibet Journal, 36(3), 49-59.

Osiris Software. (2019, December 23) Understanding the different colors of mourning. https://osirissoftware. com/2019/12/23/understanding-the-differentcolors-of-mourning/

Victorian Mourning & Funerary Practices. (n.d.) Victorian Monsters [blog post] Retrieved from: https://victorianmonsters.wordpress. com/victorian-funerary-practices/