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Kitty Calash

~ Confessions of a Known Bonnet-Wearer

Kitty Calash

Category Archives: Fail

Bloody, Bratty, Boning

27 Friday May 2016

Posted by kittycalash in Clothing, Fail, Living History, Making Things

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

18th century clothing, infrastructure, mistakes, sewing, stays, underwear

File_000Sometimes I am a terrible brat, as in this past weekend, when the autocorrect on my phone insisted that the proud four-letter Anglo-Saxon words I was typing were not what I meant to say. Darn tootin’ they were.

This is not my first rodeo with stays, but somehow I’d forgotten about the special stabby hell of boning the beasts. I’m machine sewing the channels for these, mostly because I calculated the time required to completely hand-sew them and realized I would not finish them before I needed them. I’ve rationalized this by acknowledging that I’m not using the hand-woven brown wool sateen I covet, but instead a dark blue wool twill.

A bloody, messy business
A bloody, messy business
all around
all around

I know, I know: there’s a reason staymaking was a man’s trade. My hands are pretty strong, but it took some doing to figure out how to slide the pieces in neatly without jabbing the ends repeatedly into the freshly re-opened split on my thumb.

d'oh! surgical tape made this *much* better later.

d’oh! surgical tape made this *much* better later.

It takes discipline to keep doing this, the way it takes some discipline not to eat ice cream for breakfast just because you can (though I did, just this week). Spencers and dresses are so tempting, but there’s not point to making a new dress of wonder unless I have the stays to wear it over: infrastructure is required.

The stomacher and the two front pieces are boned… six more pieces plus whipping and eyelets and binding, oh, my! It’ll be a race to have them done by June 24th:  Discipline’s the thing.

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Stay Thy Hand

02 Monday May 2016

Posted by kittycalash in Clothing, Fail, Making Things

≈ 7 Comments

Tags

18th century, 18th century clothes, 19th century, 19th century clothing, Costume, dress, fail, sewing, stays

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Stays. They’re infrastructure: absolutely necessary, a major time commitment, and decidedly unsexy. I am in dire need to two new pairs, one for late 18th century use and one for early 19th century, and each with deadlines looming.

I can manage 19th century attire and Genesee with the chopped-and-dropped corded stays I already have, but New Jersey will not happen at all unless new stays are made. It was like a weekend of penance chez Calash, two straight days of stay mocking up and making.

Of course I bled on them. That’s how I know they’re mine.

IMG_6786

And let’s get this out of the way: I thought backstitching the back seam was a little more difficult on this side, but ascribed it to sore fingers. Wrong! I failed to notice that I was stitching through all the layers, and not leaving one free to fold over and finish.

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A glass of cider and an hour later, I’d rectified the error. These are now fully bound along the bottom edge, and ready for the top edge binding. Somewhere there’s coutil for the straps, and then numerous hand-sewn eyelets later, I will have a finished pair of hand-sewn stays.

New stays deserve a new gown, and since I found this lovely image, I know what that new gown should look like (as well as a portfolio).  Happily, there’s a dress in Cassidy’s book that will serve as a reasonable basis for recreating this image. I’m still pondering the portfolio, and what it might be made of: paper or leather covered pasteboard? As the clock ticks down to June, I suspect I will be using a portfolio I already have on hand.

And then there are the the 18th century stays, with their history of woe.

File_000

I’ve gotten this far with the new 18th century pair, and an interesting business it is. I altered the front side pieces and the stomacher, but cannot see the back well enough (even with a camera and a mirror) to adjust it by myself, so further changes will have to wait until I have some assistance.

The tabs aren’t right in the back, and while the advice is to shorten the stays when the tabs flare this way, I found the fronts were still too low, once again riding at nipple-cutting height. Finally it occurred to me that the problem– slippage–might actually be one of waist. I lengthened the fronts half an inch and nipped the waist in, and found the fit more pleasing.  I suspect the back pieces need to be trimmed a bit before they’ll fit (they’re stitched closed in this version, so you know they’re too big).

Another weekend of work awaits– with focus, those early 19th century stays may be done by then, if there are no more finger injuries.

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Peddling a Myth

23 Tuesday Feb 2016

Posted by kittycalash in Events, Fail, History, Living History, Reenacting, Research

≈ 13 Comments

Tags

18th century, Boston, common people, Events, fail, interpretation, Research, Revolutionary War

Paul Sandby RA, 1731–1809, British, London Cries: Last Dying Speech and Confession, ca. 1759, Watercolor over graphite on medium, cream, slightly textured wove paper, Yale Center for British Art, Paul Mellon Collection

Paul Sandby RA, 1731–1809, British, London Cries: Last Dying Speech and Confession, ca. 1759, Watercolor over graphite on medium, cream, slightly textured wove paper, Yale Center for British Art, Paul Mellon Collection

Every now and then, I reach the dammit! point of my research, where I am forced to realize that Everything I Assumed Was Wrong. I try to make those moments a cause for celebration, even though they’re often deeply frustrating. Do not pass GO, Do not collect $200, Go directly to the Library.

What now?

Well… Boston ain’t London. And the North American colonies ain’t Great Britain. The business structure, the size of the cities, is different. Distribution of goods is different, thanks to tariffs and non-import/export laws. Which means?

Peddling. It’s not a thing. Or it’s a very difficult thing to document.
Which means that all the things I’d thought about doing for the Massacre (day or night) are probably wrong. (Remember, this is when we celebrate!)

Hey, I’m not the only one rethinking my approach.

But there it is: I’ve looked in the Boston Selectmen’s Minutes for 1768-1771, and while there is plenty of small pox (yay!) and many lemons being imported (yay! punch!) and there are licenses being granted for selling strong drink in inns and houses, there are no peddlers licenses. There are no licenses for street vendors of any kind. Hmmmm….

I’ve also read the Dublin Seminar publications Itinerancy in New England and New York (1984) and Life on the Streets and Commons, 1600 to the Present (2005). Not looking good here for street vendors and hawkers pre-1800.

While I never particularly trust early 20th century monographs and articles without footnotes, the somewhat entertaining Hawkers & walkers in early America : strolling peddlers, preachers, lawyers, doctors, players, and others, from the beginning to the Civil War informed me that street vending was not common in North American British Colonies, and in fact, was not commonly seen until after 1800.

What the ever-loving heckers?

I found peddlers’ licenses in Philadelphia for 1770: all men. But so far, nothing in Providence, Boston, or Newport (or Connecticut). The theory is that itinerant sales people didn’t pay taxes the way merchants did, and that merchants therefore lobbied against them. In Providence, the earliest mention I’ve found thus far is a lobster and fish man at the Great Bridge in 1818.

Just as the watch of Boston differed from the watch in London, so too, it seems, did the petty retailers. I still can’t quite believe there were no street peddlers and hawkers in colonial cities, but I’ll need a new way to approach this question.

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Mr Hiwell Chased by a Chihuahua, and Other Minor Disasters

15 Tuesday Dec 2015

Posted by kittycalash in Fail, Living History, personal, Reenacting

≈ 4 Comments

Tags

18th century, domestic adventures, preparations, Rhode Island, silliness, walking, weekend

Of course we can read maps. GPS has not spoilt us at all.

Of course we can read maps. GPS has not spoilt us at all.

Bored over the Thanksgiving holiday weekend and possibly jealous of images we might have seen on social media, Mr HiWell, Low Spark, and I concocted a plan. Or perhaps I made a suggestion that seemed like a good idea at the time. Screen caps of message threads indicate that I probably was the root of the evil of getting up early Saturday morning to put on historical clothing and take a multi-mile walk.

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We know it was at least seven miles, and may have been nine…we went off the trail in a couple of places. But the lads are going to Trenton, and need to get in some walking time, and now that it’s shotgun deer season, the number of places we can safely hike are fewer. There’s no blaze orange in broadcloth– yet.

And this wasn't the squeeziest photo op.

And this wasn’t the squeeziest photo op.

The walk began harmlessly enough, through corn fields and brush. We forded a stream the easy way (I suggested fording a la the 40th but the lads opted for the bridge.) The Sakonnet Greenway Trail maintained by the Aquidneck Land Trust is pretty mellow. Flat (unusual here), relatively free of traffic noises, and used by dogwalkers, it seemed safe. Then we met the golfers as the trail skirts the edge of the Newport National Golf Course. We were too nice and said yes, they could have photos with us. Of course, they had clubs and we didn’t.

File_002(2)

We could have ridden in style.

When we went off trail to loop up to East Main Road, we encountered many homeowners and many barking dogs. When we told one woman we were off to a Paul Revere and the Raiders tribute band concert, she noted that “the kicks get harder to come by.” Further on up the road, two boxers charged the fence that enclosed their yard, startling us– but the real danger came from the chihuahua that charged up the road after us, barking madly. The children’s rhyme about “the beggars have come to town” seemed all to relevant.

The Kitty Who Walked Alone

The Kitty Who Walked Alone

By the end of the walk, there were many references to Captain Sobel and Currrahee, though I thought more of Rudyard Kipling’s The Cat That Walked By Himself.

But when he has done that, and between times, and when the moon gets up and night comes, he is the Cat that walks by himself, and all places are alike to him. Then he goes out to the Wet Wild Woods or up the Wet Wild Trees or on the Wet Wild Roofs, waving his wild tail and walking by his wild lone.

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Lysistrata on the Lake (and elsewhere)

07 Monday Dec 2015

Posted by kittycalash in Fail, History, Living History, Philosophy, Reenacting

≈ 7 Comments

Tags

authenticity, feminism, history, interpretation, living history, progressive reenacting, women's history, women's work

Let me be clear: Fort Ti was amazing. It was everything I’d hoped for. Far away, made of stone, populated with people I like, with an event cleared of all the crap that makes me crazy.

File_000 copy

The issues that enrage me are both societal and hobby-specific.

While boys were boys and women were women this past weekend, I found myself tired out by biologically deterministic behaviour. For the love of Christ, you can listen to a woman, not talk over her or interrupt her even if:

a) she is not your boss or mother
and/or
b) you do not want or expect to sleep with her.

Gentlemen: we are human beings as smart as- if not smarter– than you. If we are smarter, society has taught us to manage that for you, so you won’t feel <ahem> small. I know that what men fear most is humiliation (the bravest ones will admit it) and what women fear most is violence (it’s true).

But a woman’s interest in history, or even military history, should be as joyous to you as your male friend’s interest.

So why the shouty?
Why the taking over of the conversation?
Why the relegation of women to a separate bench?
Why am I pointing this out?

Well… because even some of the best progressive reenactors have trouble getting past uber-traditional gender roles.

I get it, really, I do. I am accustomed to being a woman in a (hyper manly) man’s world.

I studied sculpture in college in the Dark Ages and I know from male-dominated fields. I ran a foundry in grad school, and a bunch of mostly-male work study students. I’m an owner’s rep for construction projects, and work with a lot of different contractors and construction workers.

But that doesn’t mean I have to like it or tolerate it, as any of my history, art, or construction associates will tell you. My younger counterparts have even less tolerance than I do, so I advise you to listen up, think about gender roles, gun shows, assault/predation and interpretation or consider Lysistrata the future you have earned.

It’s really simple.

You like living history?
We like living history.

Francis Wheatley, 1747-1801, British, Soldier with Country Women Selling Ribbons, near a Military Camp, 1788, Oil on canvas, Yale Center for British Art, Paul Mellon Collection

Francis Wheatley, 1747-1801, British, Soldier with Country Women Selling Ribbons, near a Military Camp, 1788, Oil on canvas, Yale Center for British Art, Paul Mellon Collection

Let’s play together better to more accurately represent the past without replicating crappy gender relations. If you start listening and stop interrupting, we’ll stop laughing at you.

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