Customer Reviews

Beautiful For Ever: Madame Rachel of Bond Street - Cosmetician, Con-Artist and Blackmailer

5 star:		(10)
4 star:		(1)
3 star:		(0)
2 star:		(0)
1 star:		(1)

 

 

Truly nothing is ever new. The premise of all beauty products is the harping on the perennial female anxiety about aging and losing one's looks. Madame Rachel was a past mistress of this art and her saturation advertising and persuasive sales patter cornered the market in Victorian England as she peddled her exotic "Middle-Eastern" beauty products. She advocated a form of detox and face peeling(very modern) and cleanliness but most of all her clientele went to her to achieve the perfect lily-white complexion so desired by high-society women.

So far, so lucrative. But much more was on offer than Madame's Arabian Baths: bored society women could also discreetly avail themselves of the services of a handsome young stable-boy or out-of work footman. Plenty of opportunities for blackmail here.

But then Madame met her nemesis in the form of the widowed Mary Tucker Borradaile who was foolish enough to believe Madame Rachel's claims that at 50 and with a "chin that had fallen in" Lord Ranelagh had fallen passionately in love with her juvenile ringlets and tiny feet. Instead she exhausted all her fortune in pursuit of this fantasy, ended up in debtor's prison and sued Madame Rachel. Rachel's life and business never recovered.

Notorious though she was in her day, indeed the public was sick of the sound of her name, the story of Madame Rachel has long been totally forgotten until Helen Rappaport painstakingly teased out the threads of her story from the news reports and trials of the day( fortunately there was no shortage of the latter as Rachel was a bit of a vexatious litigant).

But there is nothing dry-and-dusty legal about this book - the narrative proceeds at a cracking pace, since there was never a dull moment in the subject's life.

In a final brilliant bit of sleuthing Helen Rappaport reveals the true identity of Madame Rachel- something the Victorians never knew.

This is an absolutely brilliant book and one I have marked to re-read in the not too distant future.

No, I mean really? I can't be THE ONLY person who found this intolerable?

I bought this book largely on the fact that the premise was one that could offer a really good historical read [the seedy world of Victorian cosmetician] and I must admit I was swayed by the beautiful and intriguing cover.
NEVER AGAIN, shall I allow a cover to determine my purchase of a book.

The potentially exciting/interesting subject of the book was rendered boring and lifeless by Rappaport's study. Don't get me wrong it's not like I was expecting a racy period fiction piece [I read historical accounts & biographies regularly] but the author seemed to make a conscious effort to suck as much excitement out of the book as possible.
Very little went into describing the actual beauty treatments, their effects, the clients & the society which drove the consumption of said treatments. Instead it was court case, after court case, after newspaper, after court case. Every so often Rappaport would titillate us with mention of 'Jordan Water' and I was almost shouting "Please offer that as much excruciating attention as you do the endless court cases!" Basically, this is a book about Victorian criminals & law, not the cult of beauty [as I expected, with a name like 'beautiful for ever'].

My last gripe was the thoroughly revisionist and moralist view Rappaport adopts of the period. Yes, Victorian England was very anti-Semitic and misogynist; but it is far more effective to simply document said prejudice objectively and allow the reader to think for themselves: 'goodness how things have changed!' instead of sticking massive moralist sign-posts throughout your booking effectively stating "LOOK HOW HORRIBLE THESE VICTORIANS WERE" "JUST 'CUZ SHE WAS A JEW! HOW UNFAIR IS THAT?" trying to instruct the reader how to feel on the matter. I guess the notion that this writer was trying to dictate my morality had the the inverse effect, as the plight of the people in the book left me cold...though that could be to do with Rappaport's inability to bring them to life and make me care for them in the first place, rather than a reaction to her moralism.

In summary, reading this was an absolute chore, and I had to quit at the penultimate chapter as I couldn't stand wasting another moment on it when I could be reading something much more worthwhile.

Normally, I don't review products I dislike [if you have nothing nice to say, say nothing at all and all that] but when I saw this absolute turkey of a book had nothing but 5* reviews I couldn't withhold my indignation.

Last year I read this author's book Magnificent Obsession and have it five stars. Before that I had read her book on Ekaterinburg, also garnering five stars, and now I am reading something completely different. The story of Madame Rachel, a con woman and a fraudster who set herself up as a cosmetician and perfumier and acquired a long client list of wealthy women in Victorian society who were eager to find the promise of eternal beauty.

'Madame Rachel' was a poor fish fryer, by name Sarah Levison, who lived in poverty and squalor in Victorian London. By a combination of determination and slippery dealings she ended up with a shop on New Bond Street where she advertised such wares as Magnetic Rock Dew Water for Removing Wrinkles; Circassian Golden Hair wash; Royal Arabian Face Cream and Honey of Mount Hymettus Soap and a whole range of oils, gums, scents and perfumes and herbs. Her main treatment on offer was 'The Royal Arabian Toilet of Beauty as Arranged by Madame Rachel for the Sultana of Turkey'. This could cost anything from 100 to 1,000 guineas and this at a time when most working class families had to get by on about £1.12s a week and when housemaids were paid about £11 a year.

The first thing that struck me when reading this was how on earth could these stupid women believe these claims? It beggars belief, but then it does not take a minute or two to remember the status of women in society at that time; their status depended on a husband, a home and remaining desirable Rapfor their men, those men who had all their money once they were married and became another piece of matrimonial property. Many of Madame Rachel's clients had to visit her in secret knowing their husbands would violently disapprove; they were easy prey for Rachel who extended credit, took their money and then when they had spent it all and were unable to pay their debts, they gave her their jewellery. She was totally unscrupulous, safe in the knowledge that the wives would not dare reveal where the diamonds and pearls and sapphires had gone. One of her clients, the Countess Dudley, even invented a robbery to cover their disappearance, the fact that her maid was blamed for their loss not bothering her one whit.

The question was asked why it was necessary that all these wonderful magical cosmetics came from Circassia, Arabia, Albania and Armenia. 'Why should there not be a Putney Bloom, a Turnham Green Preservative Balm or even a Camden Town preparation for the Chin?'

There is nothing new under the sun. There have been numerous surveys of modern creams, perfumes and lotions in recent years and it has been proved beyond question that there is precious little difference between a cheap pot of face cream and that at the top of the range. What we, the consumers, pay for is the cost of the packaging, the hard sell and the Name. A pot of Helena Rubinstein Night Repair seen on your dressing table will bring more kudos that Boots Face Cream, which is what you would see on mine. The search for beauty and the belief that the more you spend, the better it will be for your face and skin, remains the same today as it did then and we are as gullible as Madame Rachel's clients.

Madame Rachel and her family were a contentious lot - they were never out of courts, suing and being sued, brass faced and certain that they would get away with it. In the end Rachel went too far, milking a gullible widow of her money and jewellery and was eventually put on trial after rthe intervention of the lady's family. It became a cause celebre, the court packed every day and Rachel was put away for five years. This was not the end of her, however, or her family and one has to admire her chutzpah and sheer bloody mindedness as she continued to extort and milk her clients without seeming to suffer a pang of conscience.

Beautiful for Ever is a simply fascinating story, I would say a Rattling Good Yarn except that it is true. Just published by Vintage in paperback I urge you to go and buy, put aside an afternoon and just sit and enjoy. Helen Rappaport's research is impeccable and there is an integrity about her writing which I find admirable, her style is impeccable and she takes the reader along on a journey with her, fascinated and interested until we reach the end.

A very enjoyable book, once started I couldn't put it down, and would thoroughly recommend it.
Although it may be classified as a historical book, it is certainly NOT a dusty old tome. It makes one realise that life is indeed a circle, nothing is new. There are women today who are just as gullible, who go to extreme lengths to be "beautiful forever" just as in the Victorian era.
The book is extremly well researched, interesting illustrations and well packaged - the cover is colourful and draws you to look.
All in all a great read!

Beautiful For Ever is a well-researched, well-narrated historical account by the eminent historian Helen Rappaport. The malicious yet undeniably ingenious Madame Rachel is a fascinating figure of Victorian London and the story of her life illustrates the vanities and insecurities of women in those times. In fact, it serves to illuminate the age-old tendency of women to obsess about their looks and their beauty, which goes back to the dawn of history and has by no means depleted today.

This book will appeal to those interested in the story of Madame Rachel on a historical level, but also for those interested in cosmetics and beauty in general. Unquestionable parallels can be drawn between the cosmetics industry in the Victorian era and its equivalent in the 21st century. It appears that, even after over 100 years have passed, the concerns of women in a society obsessed with good looks remain the same. Above all else, Rappaport's book is an exciting, well-told story and a full and brilliant historical biography.

Fans of Victorian sensation fiction will recognise Madame Rachel as Maria Oldershaw, foster mother and business partner of the delicious Lydia Gwilt in Wilkie Collins' 'Armadale'. She and her beauty products were also referred to in Mary Elizabeth Braddon's 'Lady Audley's Secret'. In this excellent biography, Helen Rappaport tells the true story of the woman behind the infamous creation of "Madame Rachel", purveyor of dubious unguents which promised to make women "beautiful for ever".

Madame Rachel, aka Sarah Rachel Levison, cleverly exploited women's perennial obsession with youthfulness. The wealth of background material includes descriptions of actresses nightly wrapping their hands and faces with slices of raw meat in order to preserve their complexions (presumably, it also worked to ward off any unwelcome sexual attention). There was a range of less repellant, but largely inffectual remedies on the market from such well-known names as Rimmel. Cosmetics companies vied to claim responsibility for Queen Victoria's youthful appearance when she came to the throne, which was entirely explicable on account of her being only eighteen. Figaro in London commented that the queen "must have had decayed teeth, grey hair, a a head nearly bald, scurf, superfluous hair, a tanned skin, rough and sallow complexion, pimples, spots, redness and cutaneous erruptions" in order to require so many products whose daily use was imputed to her. Madame Rachel was no less modest in her claims when she started advertising her Arabian preparations and enamelling technique in 1859, which were designed for the "restoration and preservation of female loveliness", and had obtained the "patronage of royalty".

The exact figures are unknown, but Madame Rachel seems to have made hundreds of thousands of pounds a year from this "ridiculous and culpable practice", based at her New Bond Street premises. Gullible patrons were taken in by her risible claims that she and her daughters were many decades older than they appeared and had in fact witnessed the guillotining of Marie Antoinette. Her clients became addicted to the treatments, often running up ruinous bills which they were then unable to pay. She ended up in court after one Mrs Carnegie (and her bewildered husband) refused to settle a bill for £938 5s 0d (nearly £65,000 in today's money). This legal case was the start of a downward trajectory for Madame Rachel, resulting in ruin for her and her family.

Helen Rappaport has skilfully brought together a variety of resources detailing Madame Rachel's extraordinary career, and has also unearthed hitherto unknown biographical material on her origins. The story is told compellingly, with clear but unobtrusive historical context. I am delighted to have had the opportunity to find out more about this curious character who pervades Victorian literature. While reading the book, I came across a reference to her catchphrase - `beautiful for ever' - in a novel published in 1896, 16 years after Madame Rachel's death. I've since found at least a dozen other references in novels by Trollope, Florence Marryat, and Mary Elizabeth Braddon. Henceforth, I shall be on the look out for her everywhere.

I read this book recently, at the time when there was uproar in the press about a young girl being burnt on a sun bed and how celebrities are setting a bad example by being perma-tanned all year round. How horribly ironic, I thought, that just over 100 years ago women were going to the same dangerous and ridiculous extents to achieve the exact opposite ends. As I went out to indulge in yet another £30 pot of moisturiser, £15 bottle of "natural tan", and £20 touche éclat highlighter, I was struck by how little things have really changed (although if it doesn't make me younger and more beautiful, at least it won't bring me out in a rash or strip away a layer of my face!!)
Helen Rappaport's book about the extraordinary and unstoppable Madame Rachel, her daughters, and their ingenious (albeit immoral) business aptitude is a brilliant and fascinating read. They pedalled beauty treatments, 90% of which were a farce, to naive, vain and wealthy women. Madame Rachel it seems had sales skills that would surpass any I have come across today and used a mixture of flattery, persuasion and intimidation to secure vast amounts of money and jewellery from her rich clients. I was appalled by the brazen, merciless greed of Sarah Leverson, and yet there is something bizarrely compelling about her story and her rise from poverty to ultimate fame and notoriety. She saw a niche in the market and she had the intelligence, ability and strength of character to exploit it. Unlike many historical biographies which can often be overdone and dry, Rappaport's portrait of the infamous beautician of Bond Street reads like a fiction and has all the intrigue of a Victorian sensation novel.
This book is a must read and has appeal across the generations and sexes; for those who love history, literature, biography or fiction. The often pathetic and sadly insecure society ladies who turn to Madame Rachel to improve or prolong their looks parting with unthinkable sums of money strikes a chord today. The concern with appearances and the drastic lengths many women will go to achieve them is a truth both then and now and a concern that will probably never go away. Women will continue to be sucked in to buying lotions and potions advertising "pentapeptides" and "face-lift technology" (brr!) but in reality they (we I should say) are merely throwing money into a vast empire of vanity built on the insecurities of women over the centuries.

A chilling Victorian true life story of an audacious conwoman who ransacked fortunes and ruined lives without a shred of conscience and all in the name of eternal beauty.

Startling parallels between those times and ours - the products have little more effect now than they did then (if a little less lead-laden) and we are peddled just as many lies about eternal beauty, albeit by multinationals rather than a single conwoman.

Whether your interest is historical, beauty-orientated or you just want a rattling good read - this is the book for you!

This is the first of Helen Rappaport's books I've read, and the first book I've read dedicated to the intriguing Madame Rachel, whom I came across many years previously in Elizabeth Jenkins' "Six Criminal Women". Sarah Russell's extraordinary rise from Victorian London's poorest slums to a successful career as the self-invented beautician "Madame Rachel" (supplier of wildly overpriced cosmetic treatments to a wealthy and aristocratic Mayfair clientele) makes an engrossing study. The rise and fall of this dynamic, ruthless woman and her daughters, reveals a great deal about the double standards, prejudices and mores of the time. Miss Rappaport's book is clearly based on extensive research of mid-Victorian life - through newspapers, journals, legal, prison, theatrical and other records, including some unusual illustrations and photographs of key characters in the story. And what a cast she presents! Here are men about town, streetwalkers, lawyers, pawnbrokers, society beauties, opera singers, impresarios, music hall artists, brothel-keepers, cabbies, maid-servants, second-hand clothes dealers - the whole gamut of 19th century society from the grandest aristocrats to the humblest East End hucksters.

Against this background, the author presents her subject with perception and sympathy. Despite the relentless self-publicity, ruthless opportunism and greedy exploitation of her willing victims' weakness and folly, Madame Rachel emerges as a feisty innovator and survivor, who battled against poverty and prejudice, to make a future for herself and her children. That she and her daughters ultimately failed, shows how far the odds were stacked against them. The story touches so many interesting aspects of Victorian society: the Married Women's Property Act, the Siege of Paris, the status of Jews, the absurd deference to privilege and high social rank, the unbridled press comment on lawsuits, the dubious or criminal behavior of many society figures, the workings of the justice system, the world of opera singers, music hall and theatrical impresarios, etc.

This well-researched account of an extraordinary woman's notorious and highly-publicised career makes a thoroughly readable study of mid-Victorian social history. Fascinating.

This book was very difficult to trace from various sources but finally Amazon came up trumps and it was well worth the wait. A fascinating account of trading off women's illusions and delusions of shady cosmetics.