The Language of Fans

Hand fans are not only visually dramatic, they also bring the drama through a secret language known as ‘fanology’. Two dozen slight gestures communicate statements of flirtation and rejection, delivering plot twists, heart break and happy endings with the flick of a wrist.

This extension of body language empowered women to take the lead and communicate bold statements in a modest way. Through ‘fanology’ they could relay secret messages without straying from etiquette. All signals are focused around romantic notions, so women could take control while interacting with admirers.

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“Fanology or the Ladies Conversation Fan” designed by Charles Francis Badini, printed in 1797.

 

Joseph Addison’s satirical piece in the Spectator on 27 June 1711 jibed that ‘women are armed with fans, as men are with swords’. However, by the 1790s this statement was more accurate as Robert Rowe and Charles Francis Badini Rowe had created ‘Communication Fans’ which expanded handfans potential to deliver messages. Rowe’s “The Ladies Telegraph, for Conversing at a Distance” and Badini’s “Fanology or the Ladies Conversation Fan”, armed women with hand-fans that had complex instructions for extensive communication inscribed on them. This led to an evolution of ‘Fanology’ which attached significance to each movement of the fan.

The meaning of these signals was circulated in 1827 by Jean-Pierre Duvelleroy, a Parisian fan maker who sought to uncover the mystery of this language and bring fans back into the hands of 19th century French women. He translated the list of gestures from a Spanish man named Fonella who originally deciphered the meanings. The promotional pamphlet proved a huge success, causing him to gain Queen Victoria as a client. His business, House of Duvellroy, still stands today, fulfilling his dream to keep fan culture alive in the contemporary world.

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Although the 18th century world of courting is a far cry from tinder etiquette; these fan gestures are the closest thing to dropping a thirsty emoji to your chirps. Suggestive signals, such as flipping your fan open wide to tell an admirer “wait for me”, were meant to entice. Similarly, placing the handle of the fan to your lips meant “kiss me” and carrying it in front of the left hand of the face meant “follow me”. Such motions allow women to pursue rather than simply wait to courted.

There are also sassy rejections in Duvelleroy’s pamphlet. A personal favourite being carrying the fan in the right hand, which meant “you are too willing”. Other iconic put downs include placing the fan to your left ear, “I wish to get rid of you” and drawing it through your hand, “I hate you”. Gestures I know would still come in handy on a night out today.

‘Fanology’ weaponised an accessory, arming women in their romantic endeavours. It is unclear whether these gestures were truly practiced at this time, or merely a clever marketing ploy. Either way the records of a secret language brings drama and mystique to the history of fan culture. I love the image of an army of 18th century French women swiping left or right with their fans, selecting the men that tickle their fancy. Maybe the hand fan isn’t so different from the tinder app after all?

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