Before the advent of Burger King this is how women dined after 7pm ...
The train is the protruding chiffon bit in this case, but other materials were available.

WOW! Absolutely unthinkable!

But then, the "in more than one sense" part becomes a disturbingly rude remark: if the chiffon has been torn, what else has? My mediterranean blood leads me inmediately to the bosom of the lady just below, but what a joke then! "Milady: your chiffon is fripé…".

On second thoughts I tend to believe that "put her foot through Clarissa’s train" doesn't mean the duchess has walked on it… that would mean a rather disgusting alcoholic crawling of some sort…, but that she introduced it through, in between her precious twin sisters, as an act of uninhibited pleasantry. Then it might be considered "torn" in the proper sense (that is froissé) and in the figured one of… reprehensible?

I am still guessing…

Perhaps it is that the "train" is not always a sewed attirail of a dress, it might be movable, or very long, down to the floor, so that someone can put his/her foot through it.

Then "torn" would mean "in a state of uncertainty between two conflicting options or parties" (Oxford Dictionary), which is exactly the state of mind Churchill has at that moment, torn between his desire of staying as PM and the pressures that compel him to resign.

This time I think I've got it right.

Sorry for my erratic suppositions…

And thanks for your help.

"That's torn it" is a common expression used to express dismay when something unfortunate happens. Hence the "in more than one sense" because by accidentally stepping on the train as it trailed on floor, it probably did get torn/ripped.

I see. So "That's torn it" would be something like the French "Quelle maladresse!", isn't it? —or the rudder "We have screwed it up".

That explains it all…

Gosh, what a sentence…

Thanks Meles meles

ComicMonster wrote:

I see. So "That's torn it" would be something like the French "Quelle maladresse!", 

Exactement.

"That's torn it!" is a euphemism for when something has disrupted or destroyed an otherwise smooth and anticipated procedure, which in turn leads to an outcome other than that which had been planned or expected. This is especially true when the new outcome is the exact opposite to the one planned, like for example when a group assembles socially consisting of people with diametrically opposed views but who, for politeness own sake, avoid discussion or reference to that which divides them. If, accidentally or intentionally, one person then passes a remark which triggers vocal disagreement about the subject everyone had been avoiding and all hell breaks loose, then any disinterested observer or participant could quite legitimately comment on this turn in events "well, that's torn it!". Even better if they get to pass the remark immediately after the social faux-pas and just before the whole polite facade disintegrates - it's a comment with most impact if it predicts the mayhem just before that mayhem ensues.

In the case you cite from the book therefore the remark is actually quite funny as it is apposite in the above sense, but also it literally describes the faux-pas that occurred - someone treading on another's train and causing it be torn. A train, by definition, trails along the floor. Fashion as a concept concerning clothes has always defeated me and I do not pretend to understand it, but for many years women seem to have regarded being involuntary floor sweepers as an expensive and eminently "haute" expression of "couture" when it comes to their clothing - brides on their wedding day even still subscribe to the notion that the church in which they sign away their freedom should also have its floor cleaned at great personal expense to themselves. Note Diana Spencer's two huge mistakes below from the early 1980s, one extremely visible with regard to trains ...



So, back in 1955, Phil the Greek was actually being very funny when he correctly remarked that someone accidentally causing damage to one of these monstrosities by stepping on it (an incredibly easy faux-pas to execute, given that one generally does not expect elements of a person to be still in transit five minutes after the principal body has already traversed one's space) has, quite literally, "torn it" in both obvious interpretations of the expression.

EDIT: I see the conversation has moved on while I was composing this - but I'll post it anyway as I find the late Diana Spencer as a slug a very humorous image, on so many levels that it hurts.

Hi nordmann!
Again, I find your posts great! Absolutely.
I find delicious the anecdote of the faux pas in the wedding. It explains and entertains…

Thanks a lot.

Talking of slugs ... this biography of Churchill that you're translating, CM, it's not the one by Alexander Boris de Pfeffel Johnson - government chief clown and possibly soon to be Her Majesty's Prime Minister -  is it?

Nop. It's the one by Andrew Roberts, Churchill. Walking with Destiny, in 1151 full pages.

Ha, Boris only managed 432 pages, and Roberts' book does seem to have received much better reviews.

Yes. When it was proposed to me as a translation, the publishing house sold it as "the" biography of Winston Churchill.
It's indeed an extremely detailed book. I have the impression of Winston being almost a member of the family, having seen him fight, cry, love and rule.
I wish you could read it Spanish, just for the fancy.

When I read the title of this thread I did think of a child's toy train set (there's no reason why girls shouldn't have them as well as boys).  The 'train' as in an appendage to a posh dress does seem the most likely explanation here though, I think people are right.  In my (rudimentary) learning of British Sign Language 'train' was a word which came up - in that there was 'train' like the locomotive pulling carriages or trucks, the 'train' of material on the ground behind a posh frock and of course 'train' meaning to impart or acquire a skill set or subjects; "I went to X---- College to train to be a secretary" - "Mrs Y used to train me in shorthand".  Though of course the third meaning of 'train' is obviously not in play in the example ComicMonster used.

A train is not necessarily solely an item of female dress. The full regalia of many University Chancellors, Lord Chief Justices, the Lord Chancellor, the Lord Mayor of London etc, also includes a train attached to their 'over-mantle' gown. Similarly the cappa magna (great cape) is part of the ceremonial attire of cardinals and bishops.

Here, for example he's John Bercow, the House of Commons Speaker, in full ceremonial garb with his train carried by a page/usher who I think would be one of the Associate Sergeants reporting to the Commons' Sergeant-at-Arms; himself in full court dress, with lace collar and cuffs, white gloves, knee-breeches, silk stockings, buckled court-shoes and armed with a sword:



And MPs wonder why they get accused of being out of touch with ordinary people ....