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Kitty Calash

~ Confessions of a Known Bonnet-Wearer

Kitty Calash

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All that glitters…

13 Wednesday Feb 2013

Posted by kittycalash in History, Living History

≈ 4 Comments

Tags

18th century, cleaning, Hannah Glasse, housework, museum collections, pewter, polishing, silver

An Old Woman Cooking Eggs, Diego Velazquez, 1618. National Gallery of Scotland, NG 2180

An Old Woman Cooking Eggs, Diego Velazquez, 1618. National Gallery of Scotland, NG 2180

…could be pewter. Or do I mean tin? Carolina had excellent points about pewter being, yes, that shiny, though we think it is not. Our perception is probably based in large part upon the extant items in museum collections. And museums don’t polish their pewter–at least we don’t, and I don’t know anyone who does. Is it because we’re so unaccustomed to using pewter daily that we no longer know how to care for it?

Covered chalice, pewter, c. 1756-1780. Philadelphia Museum of Art, 2008-110-1a,b

Covered chalice, pewter, c. 1756-1780. Philadelphia Museum of Art, 2008-110-1a,b

I thought it could be interesting to experiment with polishing pewter (not in the collection) so I turned for advice to that touchstone of housework past, Hannah Glasse.  In The Servants Directory, Part V: The Scullion Mrs Glasse lays out To clean Pewter, Tin, and Copper.

Take a pail of wood-ashes (either from the baker’s dyer’s, or hot-pressers; the latter is the best) half a pail of unslack’d lime, and four pails of soft water; boil them all in a copper together, stirring them; when they have boiled about half an hour, take it all together out of the copper into a tub, and let it stand until cold, then pour off the clear, and bottle for use.

When you clean your pewter, lay a flannel on the dresser; set your dishes one on another by themselves, the plates to likewise; then heat liquor according to the quantity you have to clean, pour some on the uppermost plate and dish, and as you use them pour it on the other. Take a piece of tow to rub them with, then having two little basons of red sand, pour some of the liquor on each; with the first scour your plates well, and rince them in cold water; with the second clean them, rince them into two waters, set them to dry, and they will look like new. Thus you may clean them at any time with very little trouble.

Very little trouble for you, Hannah Glasse! The red sand is definitely something museums won’t do: we have this prejudice about not abrading the collections, or applying chemicals, so the lime/ash/soft water mix probably won’t appear in our workroom either.

Willem Claesz.Heda, Still life with gilt goblet, 1635. Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam

Willem Claesz.Heda, Still life with gilt goblet, 1635. Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam

I also took a look in my books for paintings that showed pewter with sheen, and for objects. I suspect that pewter’s softness will not allow it to achieve the high-gloss shine of tin, but that it can be brought to brightness. I do think the best way to find out is to start polishing, so I’m in the market for some wood-ashes from the hot-pressers, and a good place to lay a fire and boil some chemicals. Who wouldn’t volunteer for open-fire chemical boiling?

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HSF # 3: Under it All: A shift, and a petticoat

11 Monday Feb 2013

Posted by kittycalash in Clothing, Historical Sew Fortnightly, Living History, Making Things

≈ 10 Comments

Tags

18th century clothes, Clothing, Costume, fashion, Making Things, sewing, weather, weekend

Done at last: the shift. Plus bonus bonnet

Remember that shift I couldn’t finish in time for HSF # 2, UFO? I did get it finished for HSF # 3, and a bonus petticoat as well. They don’t go together, but in honor of the excessive amount of snow we got this weekend, they’re both white. The snow is also how they got done: nothing like snow days and travel bans to keep one home and sewing.

How ‘Bout Them Facts?

Fabric:

  • For the shift, lightweight linen, probably this one.
  • For the petticoat, one of a pair of Ikea curtains found on sale one day. The light-weight cotton appealed to me and suggested filmy late 18th century petticoat better than anything I had seen at a fabric store.

The petticoat, over another petticoat. It’s that sheer.

Back view (again with cat bowl)

Pattern:

Shift:

  • Kannik’s Korner Woman’s shift, 1750-1800 with some amendments. If you haven’t already, read Sharon Burnston on shifts before you make another one.
  • Petticoat: None, draped & patterned myself based on the late 18th/early 19th century riding skirt in Janet Arnold.

Year:

  • Shift: 1775-1783
  • Petticoat: 1795-1800

Notions: Both: Just thread. And some left over white cotton twill tape.

How historically accurate is it?

The shift is pretty close. The fabric is, well, not the linen they had, but it’s as fine as I could afford. It is entirely hand-sewn, and the sleeves have bands and tie closed.

The petticoat is also hand sewn, and uses a historic garment for a basis. (I also looked at bodiced petticoats at the Met.) However, it is made from a curtain and while I unpicked all the seams, the machine stitching holes remain. It gets the job done that I wanted it to do, though: fluffy white stuff.

Hours to complete:

Shift: Killer. Started it last August and have worked on it off and on since then. It went to so many events in the basket that it smelled like woodsmoke. Intensively completing it probably took 24 -30 hours, so it could be a 40+ hour shift. After a while I stop paying attention.

Petticoat: Like candy. Started it Saturday morning, finished it Sunday afternoon. Best guess, about 10 hours.

First worn:

Shift, probably April 13.

Petticoat? Probably Dress U.

Total cost:

No good way to know…the fabric was bought so long ago! The petticoat curtains, when not on sale, are $20, so $10, because I only used one. For the shift, it’s harder to say. I piece aggressively when cutting out, so I bought less than the pattern recommends. Remnants were used for the petticoat bodice and various linings, including the Curtain-Along robe currently underway.

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Blame the Milk Maid

07 Thursday Feb 2013

Posted by kittycalash in Food, History, Living History

≈ 6 Comments

Tags

18th century, engravings, food, kettles, milk, milk maids, museum collections, pewter, tin, weather

Sandby: A Milkmaid. ca. 1759, YCBA

Sandby: A Milkmaid. ca. 1759, YCBA

Pyne, Milk Woman, 1805, MoL

Pyne: Milk Woman, 1805, MoL

What do pewter and tin have to do with costuming? Well, aside from the many expensive buttons Mr S and the Young Mr wish to sport, I got interested in the milk maids’ pails because of their similarity to the tinned kettles used by RevWar reenactors. The uses converged in December in a conversation I had with a colleague about Carl Giordano’s beautiful kettles. (He made my wash basin, but my kettles came from Missouri because I needed them very quickly; the fur trade & rendezvous reenactors have similar material culture interests and needs, because of time period & culture overlap.)

1793: Milk Below Maids, V&A

Milk Below Maids, 1793, V&A

The milk pails look like tin, don’t they? One from ca. 1759, the other from 1805, and both appear to be carrying shiny, seamed metal buckets with brass details at the base and rim. The captions call them pewter, though. So I went to the V&A and the Museum of London looking for pails, but only found more milk maids.

I began to wonder: if the pails were really made of pewter, wouldn’t they be awfully heavy? And wouldn’t there be extant examples? Pewter is highly collectible. There’s a George II pewter milk pail on Worthpoint, but it looks nothing like the pails in the images. Is pewter ever so…shiny? And I’ve never seen seams in pewter the way they appear in the Pyne illustration.
Here’s something that reminds me of that George II milk pail.  I think I trust the Met more than I trust an online seller. On the right is a “bucket carrier” from the National Trust (UK) Collections.

Mid-18th century dinner pail with cover, MMA

Mid-19th century bucket carrier, NTC (UK)

Mid-19th century bucket carrier, NTC (UK)

Google defines pewter thus:

pew·ter

/ˈpyo͞otər/

Noun
  1. A gray alloy of tin with copper and antimony (formerly, tin and lead).
  2. Utensils made of this.
Synonyms
tin
178, Collet: The Sailor's Present, LWL

178, Collet: The Sailor’s Present, LWL

1785: Spring & Winter, LWL

1785: Spring & Winter, LWL

Synonym: tin? That’s pretty interesting, even though I don’t trust Google with etymology.  But don’t these tin kettles look a great deal like the milk maids’ buckets?

Carl Giordano Tinsmith: Kettles

Carl Giordano Tinsmith: Kettles

The Giordano tin kettles can be made with brass ears (that’s the part the bail, or handle, goes through). Look at the ears in the photo, and at this detail from “Spring and Winter:”

Detail, Spring & Winter, 1785, LWL

Detail, Spring & Winter, 1785, LWL

The ears may be the best lead to follow. There are plenty of ears (handle attachments) if you search the Met for bucket or pail and limit the search the metalwork… but they’re bronze, and Roman. The National Trust (UK) doesn’t turn up much, or the Museum of London (yet).

ca. 1750: Silver cream pail, MFA

There’s a silver cream pail at the MFA, and it sort of looks like its handle attaches with ears, but not in the riveted-on kind of way, but in a purposeful and elegant way. This is just about where I start to ask myself why I care, but then a number of other questions present themselves, like:

  • Where are the milk pails? Are there really no milk pails in museum collections? (Yes, this could be true)
  • Was this pewter milk pail with attached measures specific to London, as my colleague thinks?
  • How does milk taste when it spends quality time in pewter (or tin)?
  • How heavy would a pewter milk bucket be?

Things to ponder as we prepare for heavy snow… In this state, that means dashing out for “French toast supplies.” I’m not originally from here, and I solemnly swear we are legitimately out of bread, eggs, and milk.

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Shameful and Shifty: HSF #2,UFO

06 Wednesday Feb 2013

Posted by kittycalash in Historical Sew Fortnightly, Making Things

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

Clothing, Costume, Historical Sew Fortnightly, sewing, work

Chaos on deck, assistant elsewhere

Chaos on deck, assistant elsewhere

It’s not done, it’s as simple as that. I had a shift in hand for HSF #2: UFO. Along the way, I made significant progress: side seams sewn up, sleeve seams sewn up, and all of them flat-felled, until, at last: One sleeve band and a hem stood between me and completion. Whatever week that was, on that Sunday evening, reader, I slept. Work does that to me.

Dining/sewing/library room with "assistant"

Assistant has been howling more of late

Luckily, I can kick it forward to HSF#3, Under it All, because that petticoat isn’t cutting itself out. It’s not its fault: there’s homework piled on top of the table, a bill from the dentist, and other assorted bonnet-related chaos. All day long the linen and cotton listen to my howling assistant, then the Young Mr comes home and coughs, and what’s yardage to do? Drape over a chair, flat-out, folded, and exhausted.

It’s not history until it hurts, and I can assure you that from how my colleagues and I feel, our Library is chock-full of history goodness (along with 18,240 moved books and a great deal of newly assembled Ikea furniture).

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Petticoat Burns

05 Tuesday Feb 2013

Posted by kittycalash in History, Living History, Reenacting

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

18th century, Clothing, common dress, cooking, food, hearth cooking, historical myths, history, living history, myths, The Public

Per Hillstrom, Kitchen Scene

You know this site, right? History Myths Debunked examines the stories about the past many like to think are true, and Death By Petticoat is one of the favorites. Here it is on an English site catering to reenactors. There’s a variation I’d never heard, about wetting petticoat hems to keep them from engulfing the wearer in flames. (OK, mild exaggeration: to keep the petticoat from igniting fully, thus… hat tip to Back Country Maiden for pointing this out.)

As someone who just finished mending a petticoat, you’d think I’d leap at the chance to drench my hem in water to prevent future mending episodes, but not so. For one thing, in the house or in the camp, that’s water I had to haul or cause to have hauled, and I’m not wasting it. Wet the hems and what’s next? Caked lumps of ash, mud, and.or other filth. No thanks.

High-tech historical cooking

High-tech historical cooking

The burns I got in my dress were acquired at the end of the day when we were hearth cooking and were practically in the fireplace ourselves. That is where you must be if you wish to stir the sauce until it thickens, and there was the hoisting of roast in its pan a couple of times, and general playing with fire in pursuit of food. My ca. 1799 dress is longer than my 1770s petticoats and gowns, and the extra inch or two probably contributed to the burns. But I wasn’t engulfed by flames, because the damn thing is wool. Self-extinguishing wool, worn with linen and wool petticoats and a linen apron. not going to go up in flames. Also not going to get dipped in water–and wouldn’t that result in steam and hence scalded shins?

I don’t know where these rumours start, but they could have started with a cynical curator joking with house tour guides who failed to get the joke. Not that I know anything about a story of about Providence kitten named Georgie in honor of George Washington’s visit to a large brick house on a hill .

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