It used to be that a woman would auction off her wardrobe if, and only if, creditors demanded it.

Take Marchesa Luisa Casati, who became Italy’s wealthiest heiress in 1896. The legendary muse spent money on everything from lavish balls to mechanized taxidermy with a reckless flamboyance that makes today’s hip hop moguls look like medieval serfs. It was destined to end in drama, as it did on December 17, 1932, when her wardrobe was confiscated by French authorities at her Paris residence, Le Palais Rose, and auctioned off on site along with her furniture, bibelots, and vast collection of portraits.

It’s hard to picture the Marchesa Casati willfully consigning her wardrobe and accessories to auction at, say, the Drouot auction house in Paris, even anonymously; auctioning off property that involved the body simply wasn’t done. Seller’s shame aside, there would be a shortage of buyers, for only members of the poorer classes purchased previously owned clothing then, and most certainly not the couture that a woman like Casati might forcibly consign.

But since 1965, when Christie’s London began its costume department with the consignment of the trousseau of Princess von Wied of the Netherlands, it has become increasingly acceptable for women of a certain social class to con sign the contents of their wardrobes. The Marquesa de San Damian, for example, last Tuesday auctioned off her collection of designer duds at Doyle’s semiannual New York “Couture, Textiles and Accessories” sale, including couture by Balenciaga, Chanel, and St. Laurent dating from the early 1960s. She wasn’t alone.

Clothing from the estates of Margaret Preston Draper and Princess Boncompagni, as well as items from the estate of Frances Carroll Brown and five New York based women, were also for sale. The vast majority of the 490 lots, however, were consigned by those wishing to remain anonymous. Gowns, dresses, day suits, fur coats and hats, silk bed linens, fashion illustrations, Chanel and Hermes handbags, vintage Goyard and Vuitton luggage, scarves, shawls, sales receipts, and books were the broad categories of goods up at auction.

“We did our first couture sale in the mid-1980s and by the end of the decade they included textiles and accessories,” said Clair Watson, director of Couture, Textiles and Accessories at Doyle. “There has been an increase in interest recently. The last few preview exhibitions were visited by a great deal of people, as though it was the Met. I think it might have something to do with vintage clothing on the Internet.” Indeed, couture sales present tremendous opportunity for vestamaniacs, that odd and ever-growing association of collectors, curators, fashion editors, dealers, socialites, and costume historians who seek out the rare and the beautiful.

“Passion for Fashion” sales began six years ago at Sotheby’s London and feature “street fashion” from the 1960s and punk era – Mary Quant, Biba, Ossie Clark, Vivienne Westwood – as well as clothing from the 17th through 20th centuries, with special emphasis on the Victorian period. The response has been huge, according to Kerry Taylor, director of Fashion and Textiles for Sotheby’s London. The next sale is scheduled for December 15 and 16, at Sotheby’s London. So you know where to find that lace tea dress you’ve always wanted, or those Fortuny wall hangings for the living room. For the designer there are 18th-century fabric swatch books. 544 1329 679 1341Auction houses such as Drouot in Paris, Doyle in New York, and Sotheby’s and Christie’s in London hold at least two clothing and accessories auctions a year, usually late September through mid-December and again in March. (Sotheby’s and Christie’s in New York have ceased selling couture, apart from celebrity memorabilia, due mainly to the low profit margins that clothing offers when compared to paintings or jewels.) Catalogs can be viewed online in most cases, and early bids can be submitted via fax or during auction time by phone, bypassing the potentially intimidating ordeal of raising your hand in a bidding war or spending too much on a Steven Sprouse graffiti dress.

The lots are surprisingly affordable when compared to your average department or vintage store – even by eBay standards. Look over Doyle’s November 16 sale record and catalog online at www.doylenewyork.com and see for yourself. Lot # 3412, described as a “Black Sequin and Beaded Flapper Dress, French, 1920s in very good condition, minor sequin loss,” sold for $425. A “Group of Schiaparelli Nightwear, French, 1950s, excellent condition, unworn,” comprising a white nylon nightgown with pale blue velvet straps, an embroidered nightgown, and a peignoir set with pink pastel bodice and skirt, sold for $125, little more than the price of a flimsy Cosabella thong. Lot, #3448, a black wool boucle dress suit, also by Schiaparelli, sold for just $275. But as one expects of auctions, there was no shortage of extravagant bidding going on. Everyone knew the star of last Tuesday’s auction would be the “Avant Garde Vivid Voided Velvet Evening Gown” by Lady Duff Gordon, the couturiere known as Lucile. Unseen since 1913, the dress had been stored in a trunk containing the clothing of Montana copper heiress and mother of Frances Carroll Brown, Margaret Daly Brown, and only recently discovered. It sold for $35,850 to a man who, I was told by a Doyle employee, buys regularly for a cluster of Europe’s most elite ladies. I slipped him a note asking if the coveted gown was museum-bound or Oscar-bound. “Private use,” he replied. The dress will be included at the Fashion Institute of Technology’s February exhibition on Lucile, where you can catch a glimpse of the gown before it ends up in the closet of Marie Chantal of Greece, say, or on Renee Zellweger, whose Oscar-night canary yellow Jean Desse gown was the hottest lot at Doyle a few years before she obtained it from a stylist.

Vogue’s editor at large, Hamish Bowles, bought my personal favorite, another Daly-owned masterpiece: “Raspbery Sorbet Gold Brocade Gown, French, circa 1910” (lot #3392). The dress was the creation of the Scottish sister design team known as Farquharson and Wheelock, long forgotten couturieres who dressed East Coast society throughout the first decades of the 1900s from their salon at 3 East 47th Street, as the label indicates. “One can include an interesting piece with no label from the past and sometimes it will sell and sometimes it will not sell,” said Ms. Watson. “It’s more of a gamble if it doesn’t have a label because the world of fashion is ephemeral and it’s safer to buy label for investment and collection,” she continued, adding, “the fashion crowd is an insecure crowd, and label status is evident in both the secondary and primary markets,” referring to the retail term for “previously owned” and “new.”

Even though the gown was an under-recognized label, its selling price of $2,390 was far beyond my budget. But the temptation to raise my paddle was almost insurmountable. If I had an occasion to wear it I probably would have fought Mr. Bowles tooth and nail. A dress like that would sell for thousands more in a shop or through a dealer. There’s always the next auction, though, when another lady’s trunk will be unveiled, and, with or without her permission, vestamaniacs may bid on her rare and beautiful belongings.