10 Friday Jan 2014
Posted in Events, Living History, Making Things
For someone with a sewing pile, the scariest thing for on the home page for the Washington’s Birthday Ball is the countdown to the event.
Better get sewing! But first, off to Boston on the early train for a not-fun errand.
05 Sunday Jan 2014
Posted in Events, History, Living History, Reenacting
Tags
10th Massachusetts, 18th century clothes, authenticity, common people, Events, living history, Major John Butttrick House, masks, Minute Man National Historic Park, Mummers, Twelfth Night
Visards. chipboard, paint and ribbon
On Thursday, Mr S and I got an intriguing invitation from Mr Cooke: would we like to be part of a secret plan to create a disturbance? We are the sort of people who got thrown out of a mattress store just for asking questions, so we said yes. You’re invited to the best riot you know about, you say yes.
This plan involved crashing the Colonial Twelfth Night Party at the Major John Buttrick House in Concord. As mummers. In masks.
‘Mascara’, Givannbi Grevembroch. Venetian, 18th century
This morning, after some very cursory research and reading of the documents we were sent, I made our ‘visards.’ The form is based on the Elizabethan ‘visard’ shown here, and while that object is too early, it seems to be typical of the masks that persist, even into the 18th century.
In the Venetian carnival traditions, this round, black form is known as a moretta, held in place by a button the woman held in her teeth.
We were having none of that– I was supposed to make a ruckus, after all–so I opted for ties, which I sewed on despite the presence of a stapler. The basic form is an oval, 7 inches by 7 inches, but I would recommend cutting the forehead down if you will be wearing this with a hat or bonnet. (I had to trim Mr S’s, and should trim my own.)
Mr S borrowed my blue cloak, we both borrowed sticks for Mr Cooke, who had a very fine, knobby and thorny-looking shillelagh. In the kitchen of the Butterick House, we joined Mr C, Mr JH, and Mr GH to go over the plan one more time, and to try out our lines. Once we were gathered, we put on our masks, hoods, and visards/visages, and felt pretty creepy. Wearing a mask is very disorienting– you don’t look like yourself, but more importantly your vision is altered (especially those who couldn’t wear their glasses under their guides) and significantly limited. I wish I’d practiced a bit more, especially with the mask and bonnet combo’s bucket-on-my head sensation.
Mummer in the house.
We managed not to terrify ourselves but rather to compliment one another on our very fearsome and convincing appearances as rabble-rousing mummers. Mr JH gathered us up, and off we went slinking out the door and to the street, where Mr Cooke and Mr FC began to sing. The two of them together made a fine and convincing racket, which I was only sorry that Mr S and I could not join (much to learn). We barged into the house and into the room where the very proper guests were gathered, and launched in.
Did I mention this was a secret? There were some confederates in the room, but the sedate civilians were caught unawares and were, according to reports, frightened. (Also very entertained, but also shocked.) A scene played out with the mummers begging for money, teasing guests, and generally causing commotion until the constable arrived and read us the act prohibiting such behaviour. We protested each clause, but it was clear we had broken the law. Fortunately, the spirit of Christmas prevailed, and on this night before Twelfth Night, we were allowed food and drink if we would let the company alone. It was a happy conclusion for everyone.
04 Saturday Jan 2014
Posted in Clothing, Living History, Making Things
Tags
18th century clothes, 18th century clothing, cloak, common dress, fashion, living history, Rhode Island, sewing, short cloak, style, winter, wool
January 11, 1777. Providence Gazette
We’ve had a bit of snow and cold, which kept me at home (when there’s a parking ban, most businesses have to close, as most parking is on the street here). We have plans in another century this evening, so I thought a second cloak would be in order. The first cloak I made was based on one in the collection at work as well as on a Rhode Island runaway advertisement.
Long blue cloak, in 2012
Although I’m not displeased with the cloak, the length can be annoying and I knew that the blue cloak for a runaway was not what I wanted to wear with the sacque. So I sacrificed some yardage from the Strategic Fabric Reserve, read up on cloaks, and got out my scissors. A cloak is a fairly simple thing to make, so I don’t know why it took all day, beyond getting distracted, making dinner, shoveling, re-learning high school geometry, and trying to do a very careful job.
Hood, with lining, pinned to the body of the cloak
Because I’m tall and have long arms, I made the new cloak a little longer than I would have for a true short cloak: it is easier to trim than to add, though this is pieced on the fronts and on the hood and on the hood lining.
Pieced across the front.
The front piecing is more noticeable than I really like, but that’s how this came out and how cloaks often work out. I won’t really care, as long as I am warm and able to move my arms. When it’s really cold, as it is today, I can wear both red and the blue cloaks with a wool gown and petticoats and wool kerchief. Or perhaps I should just wear a sheep.
Back pleats. By a third cloak, I might get them really right.
I found the trick to getting the pleats/gathers on the hood to flip correctly was to work from the outside, or right side, once the back seam had been sewn up partway. It took three tries to figure that out, but somehow working the pleats/gathers from the right side worked. I did backstitch the pleats/gathers on the inside to hold them in place.
Inside the hood. with lining in place.
In all, this took less than a yard of yellow silk Persian, about half a yard of red wool twill tape, and two yards of crimson broadcloth, all from Wm Booth, and all but the Persian purchased as remnants. There’s a fair amount of broadcloth left, so a yard and a half with aggressive piecing might work, especially if you want a shorter cloak, and are not as tall as I am.
12 Thursday Dec 2013
Posted in Clothing, Historical Sew Fortnightly, Living History, Making Things, Thanks
The Andes Candies coat at Saratoga
I didn’t get nearly as many things made for the 2013 Historical Sew Fortnightly as I wanted to. Some of the challenges didn’t appeal to me, but mostly I just couldn’t keep up! Reenacting ate a lot of my life, especially in the late summer and fall. The Andes Candies coat and the What Cheer Day sewing, while totally gratifying, happened when I was thinking about the “Green” color challenge. But, on the positive side, because I’ve waited and played with Spencers, I have a much better pattern plus what I hope will be an entry for HSF #25, the One-Metre Challenge.
Looking ahead to 2014, I can see that July and August are going to be tough. We expect to have a lot going on at work, and the reenacting season will be in full, heavy swing. (Starting July 19th, there are five weeks in a row of events and work. We won’t be able to do everything, so there will be some figuring out to do. Also, our house will be a mess.)
The 2014 Challenges Announced Thus Far:
Last year’s mending. This year: more lost buttons.
Challenge #1, Make Do and Mend, will be a chance to fix things I know are awry. There’s a petticoat hem come undone, some binding that needs reattaching, buttons popped off waistcoats, and haversack straps to be shortened. That’s all without even looking: Imagine what I’ll find if I look (or maybe not, it could get ugly). I think this challenge will help me tidy up after last season, and prepare for the next. There was mending last year, too.
Challenge #2, Innovation, is a little more worrying. I’ve got a major dress project underway, and will have to adapt that to this challenge. Fortunately, I think compere fronts on sacques might count as an innovation, so that will help keep me on track.
Mrs. Elijah Boardman and her Son, William Whiting Boardman. The Huntington Library, 83.8.15
Challenge #3, Pink! Will probably not be mine. None of the things I plan to make are even remotely pink. I thought I had some pink silk and was about to ditch the sacque for a pink Ralph Earl, but it turns out that silk is more lavender than pink. I looked at some pink silk, but then Sew 18th Century helped convince me to buy the cross-barred silk instead. And, like yellow, pink can be unfortunate on me, unless it is coral. Of course, pink can mean red if you’re making traditional hunting clothes…so this could still get interesting. And I know of a receipt for 5/8 of a yard of pink satin…which sounds to me like a waistcoat.
Challenge #4, Under it All, will probably have to be pocket hoops or other skirt supports for the sacque. I have been working on a faux quilted petticoat, with limited success (it may qualify for make do and mend…), but would need hip pads to round out the silhouette properly. Have you noticed this is a bit out of order? Yes, I need the skirt supports first, but six weeks in advance is plenty of time! Well, from this vantage point, anyway. It’ll look like madness on the other side of New Year’s.
I know I’ll miss deadlines and fall behind, I know I’ll get distracted in the summer and stop reading about all the great things people have made, but thanks to the HSF, I’ve kept more on track and become a better seamstress, than I was a year ago. Many thanks and kudos to the Dreamstress and everyone else around the world who joined in, and will join in, on this international sew-along.
06 Friday Dec 2013
Posted in Laundry, Living History, Reenacting, Research
Tags
18th century, 18th century clothes, common dress, common people, Costume, drawings, laundry, Paul Sandby, Research
Paul Sandy, The Laundress, 1780. British Museum, 1904,0819.624
This print makes me think of Gertrude Stein, “Irons on the grass alas” because I think I would be pretty alas if I were ironing on grass. Still, I’m glad to know that ironing in camp is plausible, because it’s one more thing I can do, though also one more heavy item to pack.
I continue to chase laundry in my spare time, with a Pinterest board of collected images, which will give you a sense of the timeless drudgery of washing clothes. There will be stooping.
A Washerwoman, by John Varley (1778-1842). Tate Britain, T08695
In this sketch by John Varley, he has helpfully given notes to supplement the lines.
“neckhandkf
spots Drab stays
blue check apron”
The symbol in front of ‘spots’ suggests the neckhandkerchief’s pattern, a dot in a square, much like the ones you can today from Burnley & Trowbridge. “Drab stays” suggests a very utilitarian pair of wool stays, and that the washerwoman has stripped off her gown or bodice, and is working in shift, stays, and petticoat(s). This seems to be the same woman is in the “Woman with Wash-Tubs” drawing, and I’d guess her hat is straw.
A Scotch Washerwoman. Crayon drawing by Pauil Sandby after 1745. British Museum, Nn,6.61
There’s a remarkable consistency in the English drawings, though Varney and Sandby are about two decades apart. The tubs, the tools, the stooping: laundry is hard and unglamorous work, Sandby’s Scottish laundress aside. I can guarantee you that the 10th Massachusetts would have to outsource laundry in that style. (In any case, Scotland typified poverty and backwardness for late-eighteenth century Englishmen, so Sandby’s drawing, in addition to being titillating, is perpetuating English stereotypes of Scottish dress and practices and is, thankfully, not a reliable source.)
Kitty Calash 