I know you will remember Mrs Warren, whose cap I’ve called A Bowl of Whipped Cream and a Jellyfish. She appeared two Friday nights ago at the Arcade after the woman temporarily inhabiting her skin installed a window display. (Mr Hiwell appeared in the guise of Dr E. F. Throckmorton, Cryonogenics Specialist who, through the miracle of a lab accident, brought the Warrens back to Providence.)
The cap proved more challenging than initially anticipated, in that I miscalculated the size of the floofy inserts and made them too small; another hitch is that my whip gathering skills on tiny things lag my desires. Monster cap with inserts will have to wait. So, instead, I made up a long (130 inches or so) ruffle. When attached to the cap brim, this did an excellent job of framing my face and filling in the bonnet frame.
For an event of just a few hours designed as a lark, this didn’t turn out too badly. Last year’s Meat Shoot Gown worked out well enough, and the bonnet has its charms. The lace collar/fichu business is antique, as is the crescent-shaped mourning brooch (Lydia Warren’s sister died in 1817; Lydia then married her late sister’s husband, Russell. Let us pretend that Lydia wore a brooch of Sarah’s hair.)
It’s a time period that needs more refinement on my part, but until I’m spending more than a couple of hours in the late 1820s, I probably won’t address the details. Mrs Pabodie awaits, after all.
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