It did feel a little like a violation. Here we were, students of dress curation and history, gingerly coaxing a 1740s (or thereabouts) court mantua into place for each scan of her delicate fibres wearing blue latex gloves.

Ivory silk satin, shimmering under bright, industrial lights, the field in which a fantasia of flora invades the senses. You could feel the heat of the sun warming explosions of blossoms glinting and swaying in the breeze somewhere in never-never land.

Cornucopia stitched in gold and silver thread, offering up blousy, heavy bulbs ready to spring into life. Chrysanthemums and anenomes growing out of the same branches, reaching for the sky in bright reds and blues, violets and greens.

As we moved the gown for each scan, we had to pick up the minute pieces of the gold and silver thread as they dropped off, the material and embroidery so fragile with age.

And here we were, using blue latex gloves to touch this beauty? Wrong, all wrong.

BDW