Pocket Pickery
by Hella Cliques
June 18, 2026
The eternal battle for functional women's pockets isn't a modern phenomenon—but back in the 17th and 18th centuries, women didn't just have pockets; they had entire, cavernous luggage systems hidden under their skirts.
Before pockets were sewn into clothing seams, women wore detachable pockets. These were massive, pear-shaped pouches tied around the waist with a string, hidden safely beneath petticoats and voluminous gowns.
Because gowns had high-clearance slits in the sides specifically designed to let a woman reach through her outer layers, these independent pouches could hold an astonishing amount of gear.
Court records from the era show that women were walking around with a small warehouse under their skirts, regularly carrying:
Entire books and writing desks (inkwells, quills, and paper)
Full bottles of gin or wine
Snuffboxes, spectacles, and complex sewing kits
An array of snacks, combs, and bundles of cash
The Strange Law of "Pocket Pickery"
Because these pockets were technically separate accessories tied onto the body rather than integrated pieces of clothing, they created a bizarre legal loophole in British law.Under the strict legal codes of the time, cutting a pocket off a woman's waist string or reaching under her skirt to steal it was treated differently than snatching a purse. If a thief stole a pocket while it was attached to a person, it was a capital offense—meaning they could face execution or penal transportation to Australia. However, if a woman unslung her massive pocket and laid it on a chair next to her at an inn, it legally became "loose property," and stealing it carried a much lighter sentence.
How They Vanished
Women didn't lose their giant pockets because fashion designers forgot how to make them; they lost them because the architecture of silhouettes completely shifted.When the skin-tight, sheer, high-waisted Empire silhouette arrived in the late 1790s (think Regency-era Jane Austen characters), bulging, gin-bottle-sized pouches beneath the fabric suddenly became an aesthetic disaster. The giant tie-on pockets were forcefully replaced by the reticule—a tiny, dainty hand-held purse that could barely hold a coin and a handkerchief, cementing the modern struggle for functional storage space.
