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Kitty Calash

~ Confessions of a Known Bonnet-Wearer

Kitty Calash

Category Archives: History

Short Gown Alert! Griselle en négligé du matin

13 Wednesday Mar 2013

Posted by kittycalash in Clothing, History, Living History

≈ 10 Comments

Tags

18th century clothes, Clothing, common dress, fashion plates, Historical Sew Fortnightly, resources

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Griselle en négligé du matin, faisant sa provision au Marché des Quinze-vingts

Griselle en négligé du matin, faisant sa provision au Marché des Quinze-vingts

Very roughly, Griselle, in morning undress, goes to the “Three Hundred” market for provisions.

Said to be on Paris maps of 1760 and 1771, the Quinze-vingts Market was probably razed for the Rue de Rivoli. Interestingly, the major ophthalmic hospital in Paris is the Three Hundred, and there has been a Three Hundred hospital since 1260. (Sorry, Mr S: even in history, there is no escaping hospitals or eyeballs.) The neighborhood takes its name from the hospital, so Griselle is headed to her neighborhood market. You wouldn’t go far from home in négligé du matin.

Let’s look at what she’s wearing: It’s the reenactor’s frenemy, the short gown. Griselle here is post-1789, check the raised waist line and the non-cone bosom shape. Is it 1790, 1792ish? Probably in that range. If you don’t want to wing a version of this based on illustrations and Costume Close Up, you can get a pattern for a similar garment. It was workshop tested; my version is here.

What I like are the basic details: turban scarf, kerchief, simple short gown, striped petticoat, clocked stockings, slippers, just a bundle for the market.

The simplicity is key here, also tiny details. Look at the end of her sleeve: buttons. This is fantastic news for those of us who need to get our enormous hands through slender 18th-century sleeves. It’s taking a lot of will power not to head down to the stash and start on a mock up of this short gown right this minute…

The silhouette matches the pouter-pigeon, full-bust look of more formal wear of ca. 1792, so I don’t think she’s gone stay-less. The striped petticoat could be cotton or linen; Wm Booth had some variegated stripe linen that could work for a version of this. Are we seeing her shift, or another petticoat under the stripes? It’s so similar in length, and her shape so full, that I think it is second petticoat and not shift.

The stockings and what I will call their clocks, but look like decorative gussets, that coordinate with the slippers, are a nice touch. Visible beneath this shorter hem, they provide another bit of color and decorative accent to this plain look.

If I didn’t have those guys to sew for, this is what I would have chosen for Peasants and Pioneers. Not that I don’t love my boys…but menswear is time consuming.

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Dressing and Undressing in Newport

24 Sunday Feb 2013

Posted by kittycalash in Clothing, History

≈ 3 Comments

Tags

18th century clothes, Clothing, common dress, Costume, history, living history, Research

A lady and her maid

The Ladies, Dressed, in Newport

Last Thursday evening, my friend and I went to the Colony House in Newport  for the “Undressing History: What Women Wore in the 18th Century” program presented by the Newport Historical Society.

There were excellent questions from children (I loved, “What would you wear for pajamas?”) and adults, including:

If you were not a wealthy woman, or you were an enslaved woman, what did you wear on laundry day?

At Sandpit Gate, Paul Sandby, 1765. RCIN 914329

At Sandpit Gate, Paul Sandby, 1765. RCIN 914329

The image that sprang into my mind was Paul Sandby’s women at Sandpit Gate, doing laundry work. They’re wearing their shifts, stays, petticoats, neck handkerchiefs, caps and shoes. (I particularly like the woman working at the tub; you can see the angle of her stays diverging from her spine as she bends forward; it’s a fine little detail and very accurate.)

So women wore one of their shifts, their stays, petticoat(s), stockings and shoes.

And that brings us to the question, How many shifts did they have?

Several months ago I had the luxury of doing some research in the manuscript collections at work, and found MSS 957, the Stafford Family Papers. In those papers there is an undated estate inventory, thought to be from ca. 1780-1799. It’s extensive, and while I have a hand-writen transcription of the whole, I’ll quote the most relevant entry:

5 shifts [illegible]

Yes, five shifts. A woman who owned five slaves had five shifts. They were not for her slaves (though that leads to yet another set of questions about people who were property owning property…and where might that be enumerated?). And if she was laid out in a shift, or wearing one when she died, was it counted, too?

With five shifts, this unidentified woman could have worn each for two days and managed a washing every week–or rather, managed for another day or two or three while her slave women washed, dryed, and ironed her clothing.

In The Dress of the People, Styles points out in Chapter 2 that the largest differences between what the rich and poor wore lay in “numbers, quality and value,” (p. 31) and tables in the back lay out the different number of shifts lost by different women in a fire on an afternoon in May, 1789, in Brandon, Suffolk, England. A blacksmith’s wife lost six shifts, the mantua maker lost one. We can’t know if that emphatically means the mantua maker had but two shifts, or if she saved more than the blacksmith’s wife; one servant lost seven shifts! What we can tell is that women had more than one shift.

We can’t take one undated inventory as typical of 18th century clothing inventories in Rhode Island, (more research lies ahead of me) but counting shifts would be an interesting exercise. Based on my own experience, I can verify that one wants more than one shift. I think it likely that inventories will turn up multiple shifts for women, and shirts for men, no matter where we look, and that this will probably hold true even for slaves. Styles reminds us that the differences are not just numbers, but quality and value.

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Three sticks, two kettles, no matches

20 Wednesday Feb 2013

Posted by kittycalash in History, Living History, Reenacting

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

18th century, authenticity, living history, Reenacting, Research, resources, Revolutionary War

Soldiers Cooking, 1798 National Army Museum (UK), 1983-11-63-1

Here’s some visual evidence for why we travel with three sticks, two kettles, and no matches. (We bring the sticks as we suspect the sites where we camp & cook don’t want amateur logging on their grounds.)  I stumbled upon this at the National Army Museum in the UK. Here’s what they say about the image:

Soldiers from an unknown unit attend to their cooking pot on a break from their duties during the Wars of the French Revolution (1793-1802). They are accompanied by their womenfolk. Although only a few men from each unit were officially allowed to marry and have their wives and families accompany them, women would have been found in almost every British military camp. Some worked as cooks, laundry women and sutlers (camp followers who sold provisions), while others were prostitutes.

One of the things one learns when reading about women who followed the armies of the Revolutionary War is that prostitution–at least for those following the American army– was not high on the list of occupations for women.

Why not? Lack of ready cash, folks.

Working for the Army would get you rations, and that literal meal ticket was desirable in a time of shortages and want. If you’d been burned out of your home or farm (I’m looking at you, 54th Reg’t of Foot, Aquidneck Island torchers) what would you eat? What would you do? It depended, of course, but one thing to do would be to follow your husband if he had enlisted.

I know less about the women who followed the British Army, but for a Continental Army start, I recommend the following books:

Belonging to the Army. Mayer, Holly A. USC Press, 1996.

Liberty’s Daughters. Norton, Mary Beth. Cornell, 1980. (My edition, 1996)

Revolutionary Mothers. Berkin, Carol. Vintage Books, 2005.

In Pursuit of Liberty. Werner, Emmy. Potomac Books, 2009.

The last title is about children in the time of the Revolution, not women, but considering who was left home with the children, and in trying to understand what the time might have been like for the Young Mr, I’ve given it a read as well.

As for the camp gear? We keep it at a minimum based on period images. We don’t all sleep in one tent, but we pack as light as we can. It’s nice when authenticity and ease are the same.

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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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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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