Author Archives: kittycalash

Housekeeping!

27 Thursday Sep 2012

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Dana wisely stands back while I pull the cork on 18th century cleaner

Hey, there’s a maid in my parlor, or, tidying up the belated thank-yous.

In chronological order, this blog was nominated for a Super Sweet Blogging award, which is a tricky thing for me, because folks, I am not sweet. I’m not even Truvia. It is not a nice thing to have to decline an award, but I cannot list 13 blogs, and really, I am not sweet, and I don’t eat sweets much, either. More savory…or salty… Vinegar and lavender… But to take the sort of weasel-y, non-sucrose way out, many, many thanks to Thoughts from an American Woman for the generous nomination and for following my blog. I’m always astonished by, and grateful for, the variety of readers and hope people enjoy the ride.

Then I found out about the Liebster Award, from Sabine at Kleidung um 1800. Thank you! 5 blogs with fewer than 200 followers I can manage.

An American Seamstress, sewing costumes and sharing her process

The Pragmatic Costumer, real-life sewing

Tracy Loves History, history I never knew

Kim-ing, sewing from this century and the last

Letters of Note, correspondence that deserves a wider audience

I don’t know if all of these blogs qualify as having fewer than 200 followers, but I do know there’s some interesting writing out there. It’s good to know other people are trying the same things, or different things, taking some risks trying to learn to skills, and sharing their experiences. Thanks to all who read and write.

And now, I’m off to find money for boilers and an event, finish a new shift, send my kid to school on time, and generally hope I muddle through this day with openness and as much joy as I can manage.

Images and Ideas

27 Thursday Sep 2012

Posted by in Clothing, History

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If the museum date is mutable, what to do? How to take non-illustrated Vogue for the Lower Sorts and turn it into an actual plan for a garment? By using period images.

Anne Carrowle runs away in 1774 in “an India red and black and white calicoe long gown,” but what does that mean?

Start with the negatives: It means she is not wearing a short gown or a bed gown or a jacket. She’s probably wearing what we most commonly think of women wearing, an ankle- or near-ankle length dress, open in the front (remember that the petticoat is described!) that pins to a stomacher or is fastened with bands or a band over a handkerchief.  (Excellent info on the topic At the Sign of the Golden Scissors blog.)

 When I start thinking about a gown for 1774, I start looking for earlier images. Not too much earlier, but a range. In this case, Anne left England in 1769, so 1769-1774 seems like a reasonable time frame. I made a Pinterest board for 1765-1774 ideas, which is easier than posting them all here.

To the left is a robe that’s clearly open: it’s hanging open. Laundry-work, women washing at Sandpit Gate, Paul Sandby, 1765; watercolor. Royal Collection.

1765 gets us closer to the time period, and it is before Anne left England, and it’s likely from the class she was born into. But it is early.

The two prints above are both from 1774; on the left, note the maid’s gown, which hangs open and has robings. On the left, the old woman asleep wears a gown laced over a stomacher.

But best of all perhaps is this image, of Thomas Mifflin and his wife, Sarah Morris Mifflin, painted by Copley in 1773. Thomas Mifflin (1744-1800) and his wife, Sarah Morris Mifflin (1747?-1790), were the only Philadelphians painted by John Singleton Copley. Mifflin was an ardent patriot and by the time this portrait was made, had established himself as a successful merchant; later he rose to the rank of major general in the Continental Army, and was elected the first governor of Pennsylvania after the United States achieved independence.

Why does this work for me? Because these are Philadelphians, and my woman ran away from the Philadelphia area. The detail really shows that Mrs. Mifflin is wearing an open robe with robings and stomacher over a quilted petticoat with a filmy white apron. This is multiple tiers above Anne Carrowle, but the style is what I’m aping, not the materials (obviously silk).

Another Copley portrait, of Mr. and Mrs. Isaac Winslow, depicts a woman in a gown with robings and a stomacher. Jemima Winslow is 41 in the painting, putting the style into my ballpark, and better still, the gown is of a patterned fabric.

Below is a detail of the fabric and stomacher. Though it will be a vastly simplified version, I think I have a model for my dress.

Support Your Local Museum

26 Wednesday Sep 2012

Posted by in Museums

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I have the sense of two groundswells about to converge: one about museums, libraries and archives limiting access by closing or charging fees, and one about museums spending money on things they shouldn’t. There has been a lively conversation among fellow former-employees about a midwestern museum’s purchase of a piece of real estate. It is a tawdry tale, and seems a grand waste of money and goodwill.

Then there are the libraries that have closed, and the state archive that is closing to the public. And the small historical organization that charges per hour for research visits. And the place that charges a daily research fee for non-member, out-of-state residents.

ETA: New York Times coverage today of the upcoming closing in Georgia.

Folks, when you hear the word culture, you need to take out your checkbooks.

If you can “do a google,”  you can figure out who I am. But what do you think I do all day? Do you think I pattern dresses, or catalog muskets, or research painters, or study the stylistic changes in mahogany tea tables over a 30-year span?

I wish.

Do you think I wet-vac basements, change HOBO or PEM batteries, monitor and adjust air handling unit fan speeds, read boiler specs and warranty info, or keep on eye on carpenters?

Each day, I do some of those things, and some of the content-related things.

But mostly I think about money. If I don’t think about money at work, it wakes me up at night. What if I don’t get that green buildings grant? Where will I get that $78,000 for well drilling? How much does it actually cost to page each item requested in the Library? Will we ever be able to microfilm newspapers again? What do we do when the money for boxes runs out–there isn’t any more grant money after we spend this. Is there another grant I can write? How much of that $100,000 budget cut has to come out of my budgets? What will we have to stop doing?

I wake up every day at about 4:00AM, and get up by 5:00; vertical is less panicky than horizontal.

The answer to most of this is money. There’s another groundswell out there to kill the NEH, and what the heck, if places can’t make it on what they can raise, let ’em die.

Really? This is what our history has come to?

Do you know how you can help? The single most important thing you can do to make sure your history is accessible, your favorite museum stays open, your favorite objects are up online?

Join. JOIN your favorite museum. It’s probably pretty cheap. You can join mine for $40. This is such a deal. You get free admission, a magazine, a newsletter, email updates, and the knowledge that you’re helping us, we know, and we appreciate it. Want better catalog records? Become a member, and donate to an annual campaign. Write a check for a museum to buy a better camera. To buy an external hard drive for image back up. Write a check to support archival supplies. Or insurance. Or a new carpet for a gallery. Or to replace a battered book.

Every dollar counts. So does every member.

If you want to know how your museum spends its money ETA: and where it gets its money, in the US you can look them up on Guidestar. There you’ll find the 990s for most 501(c)3’s in the states. This is how I know which place in my state has a budget ten times as large as my museum’s, and which place has one 10% the size of mine. Guess which one I joined.

What time is that dress in the museum?

21 Friday Sep 2012

Posted by in Clothing, History, Museums

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Guess what: they might not know for sure. Many garments donated to museums are given without clear dates, especially older garments donated in the 20th and 21st century. That means that dating the garments is, well, tricky.

You can find many dated to 1776 by donors. Everybody wanted to be associated with such an important event…especially around 1876, and 1976. Where I work, a dress like the one to the left was given to us with the firm statement that the fabric had been brought from England to RI (how did that work with Newport blockaded?), and that the dress was from 1776. Clearly, it is not.

To the right is Deborah Sampson’s dress, possibly her wedding dress: Don’t know who she was? Read here.

Deborah Sampson’s is a closed-front round gown. Look at the catalog record, and you’ll also note the date: 1760-1790, a thirty-year spread. Why is this? Fabric gets remade, for one thing. Deborah Sampson Gannett’s dates are 1760-1827, so if this is her dress, we know she didn’t wear it in this size or style in 1760. But fabric can easily pre-date a garment. The V&A sometimes had three dates for their Spitalfields silk gowns: the date of the fabric, the date it was first made into a garment, and the date it was altered into a new style.

Sampson marries in 1785. That seems like a plausible date for this dress, given its style. That’s where the 1790 comes in; yes, it could be that late, it’s conservative in New England and makes a nice ending to a “circa” date. So how else might this dress be dated? 1785-1790? 1780-1790, fabric possibly earlier? Given the database I know HNE uses, the date field is a little tricky (we use the same one). If I were to catalog the dress, I think I’d use 1783-1788. Why 1783? Because we know Deborah Sampson was probably not wearing dresses in 1783: she was in the Army roughly 1778-1783. I’d add 5 years to that because it encompasses the date of her marriage, 1785, and indicates that I’m not convinced or have no firm documentation that this was in fact her wedding dress. That’s just how I would approach this if the dress was in my museum and is not intended as a criticism of HNE’s cataloging. And it’s not to suggest that my own catalog records don’t need work, because they do.

What does this mean for researchers and costumers? When I do research, because I know how the process can work, it means I’m often skeptical, or wish that the reasoning behind the date was explained—especially behind a 20 or 30 year range. It also means you have to fact check yourself, with independent verification. For that, I use period images, which I’ll explore in another post.

Runaway! Ambitions

20 Thursday Sep 2012

Posted by in Clothing, Making Things

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The Met, ca. 1774

Regular readers know I have a tendency to make things, especially clothing, especially for events. So another event–actually two: What Cheer Day! and Nathan Hale–approaches, and the question, as ever, is what to wear?

I like to start with the runaway ads for inspiration and documentation. The ads for Rhode Island runaway women can be limited, so I look in Boston and New London as well, and sometimes Philadelphia. My mother lives outside Philadelphia, and I know that trade connected Providence and Philadelphia in the 18th century, in particular through the mercantile house of Brown and Francis.

Of course, I do also have a fabric problem not unlike my bonnet problem. I buy fabric, and stash it. Most sewers do, and after regretting a pair of very-marked-down red leather Andrea Pfister pumps I did not buy at Marshall Field’s one winter, if I like something, I buy it. It is often red, viz:

I know what merchants were selling in Rhode Island, and as early as 1768, Samuel Young in Providence at the Sign of the Black Boy, is selling “Chints, calicoes, and patches of all figures and prices.”

When I found the ad for the runaway wearing the red and black chintz gown, I knew I wanted to make that gown.

“Run away, on the 30th of last March, from the subscriber in Fourth street, near the Post office, an apprentice girl, named Anne Carrowle came from London with Captain William Keais, in the year 1769, she has a fresh complexion, brown hair, near sighted, left handed, round shouldered, and about 16 years of age; had on, when she went away, a green silk bonnet, an India red and black and white calicoe long gown, a blue halfthicks, and striped lincey petticoat, a white apron, and new leather shoes; she has been seen trolling on the Lancaster and Gulf roads, on pretence of going to service at Esquire Moor, and the Bull Tavern, and then at Carlisle….” [Pennsylvania Gazette, 27 April, 1774]

To add to the fun, I know Lancaster and Gulph, and this could be close to where my mother lives now. Too bad I am so far from 16.

Moving on…Here’s the dilemma: front closing or not? Open robe or round gown? The last one seems easier, as the petticoat is described, and thus probably showing, so an open robe. But the bodice, what about that? Stomacher front or closed?

There is a gown in the National Trust dated ca. 1770 with a closed front. And there is a gown with a missing stomacher in the National Trust dated ca. 1770. There are many gowns in the Snowshill Collection with closed fronts, but what is documented to New England? Before 1773, it seems, only stomacher front en fourreau gowns.

PMA, ca. 1775-1780s

I think the answer is that the runaway in 1774 is not wearing the height of fashion–though at 16, she will trend as new as possible, and could be wearing a closed front gown. For me, as a middling to lower sort, I think the best choices will be a stomacher front gown with robings. I have a bodice block for a front-closing gown, know the fit works, and have a back a like and a sleeve I can live with. So on to a muslin for the stomacher front, I think. The center front closings of the striped cotton gown in Philadelphia are probably too modern for what I’m doing, and for my age.

Really, it should be brown linen. Sober. Mature. Not running away. But what are costuming and living history, if not a kind of running away?