Category Archives: Reenacting

The Milliners’ Shop

03 Sunday Aug 2014

Posted by in Clothing, Events, Living History, Reenacting

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One of the Milliners Stands in the Doorway

One of the Milliners Stands in the Doorway

On Saturday last, Sew 18th Century and I set up a milliners’ shop for the Salem Maritime Festival. This was a fun event made even better by the opportunity to set up shop in an actual shop!

We started working on this project in the Spring, and kept working on it almost until it was time to pack for the trip.

Some of our goods, with the delightful Miss A

Some of our goods, with the delightful Miss A

Milliners carried a wide range of goods designed to entice customers into the shop where they might purchase a new trim, ribbon or sash while admiring newer bonnet styles or fresh yard goods. Even in the 18th and 19th century, retailers new the value of repeat customers and impulse purchasing.

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Customers of all kinds came to our shop, some for retail trade, and some for wholesale. Mr JS is a weaver, and has offered plain and check linens by subscription– and I think our shop can do well referring custom to him. He was far more genteel than the sailors who came in– three times they visited, offering us money, but not for our bonnets!

Fresh from a privateer, Mr G and his crew mate stomped up the steps and made several untoward propositions, even daring to shake a bag of coin! Later they tried to entice a studious apprentice to join them, but fortunately he is a dutiful and serious lad with a thought for his future, and he declined their offer. At last Mr S was forced to confront these sailors on the waterfront– I think we shall soon require a committee of safety to patrol our streets and regulate the ruffians.

Mrs B examines some of our trims

Other customers shopped for trims and accessories. Mrs B is always fashionable, and one of our best customers. She sets a standard for refinement and style in our town that few can match.

cropped_Matt

Her husband is an officer in the Navy, and I fear sometimes he is startled by the bills– though he always pays, I think he may be surprised to see how fashionable we have become in Salem.

The bandbox maker, Ms M, set up in our shop as well. I do highly recommend her boxes as the finest made and best decorated that can be had. Bonnets and hats do not come cheap, and you do well to protect them.

In the late morning, I paid a call to Mrs B, and took tea. The coffee jelly was exquisite, molded in the shape of fish– very clever indeed– with marzipan fish and a rice pudding. It was a delight to all the senses, though sadly I had to hurry back to the shop. It is a great responsibility to keep a shop.

Shop window at the West India Goods Store

Shop window at the West India Goods Store

Thank you so much for visiting and for trading with us! Do come back soon, as we are certain to have new goods of interest to delight you.

Stony Point Part the Second

31 Thursday Jul 2014

Posted by in Events, Fail, Food, Reenacting

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No, it’s not my photo of the Young Mr: I didn’t even take a real camera on this trip. These top two photos are thanks to Gary V’s Flickr stream.

Here the kid is eating. I think he spent most of the weekend eating. There are some fine calves in the 10th Mass, aren’t there? Look what a well-fitted pair of overalls can do for you.

10th MA and 2nd RI: Mr S, Mr HC, Mr P, YM, Mr FC, Mr B, Mr  H

We all benefited from hanging around Niel DeMarino’s historic bakery. Broken cookies are just as delicious as whole, if not better, and the ginger cakes were the best I’d ever had. It’s a pity that one can’t really bake in camp…

Mr S thinks I should tell the story of my 90-minute stint in solitary at Stony Point, but I’m not quite prepared for that.

Instead, I shall recount the Hose Water Coffee.

As fans of the 18th century know, orange water and rose water are not uncommon flavors in the receipts found in Hannah Glasse or Amelia Simmons‘ cookbooks.

Hose water is something else again. It is not improved with age.

At Stony Point, there was water at a stone ‘bubbler’ (props to those who used this Rhode Island term for the street furniture known elsewhere as a drinking fountain), which was hard to see in the gathering dusk the night we arrived. There was also a hose, proximate to a saw horse with a sign for Pedestrian Only traffic, and just down the path from our tents.

Colonial breakfast on a rock

Our kitchen, dining table, and parlour

Following Heather’s excellent advice, I planned to make cold coffee overnight so that we could be caffeinated in the morning. Lazily and unwisely, I used the hose to fill the pitcher of doom that first evening.

What is the essence of tire? L’eau latex? That’s what we had: strong coffee with a strong base note and unmistakable top note and bountiful middle notes of hose. Did we drink it? Of course we did: we were up at 5, and coffee was not provided until 8:30, when we all had second breakfast.

Saturday night, I skulked back to the bubbler and filled the pitcher again for Sunday’s coffee. This time, the clear, strong liquid was redolent only of coffee, and was judged better than the hot coffee (which had, in fairness, not been made with hose water, either). I’ll definitely repeat the coffee experiment, though I think I can use a little less coffee to water– not that I measured.

Ceci n’est pas une cruche

29 Tuesday Jul 2014

Posted by in Events, Fail, History, Living History, personal, Reenacting, Snark

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This is not a pitcher

Sometimes a pitcher is not a pitcher. In the same way that Matthiessen‘s Snow Leopard is not about a snow leopard, this was not about me: this was about the woman who approached me as I walked with Cat to the water bubbler with this white ceramic pitcher from Home Goods.

She stopped me to say, “You shouldn’t have a pitcher in camp. You should have a bucket.”

This is true, as far as it goes: but really, I should have a tin kettle (and I do). But the reasoning I was given had to do not so much with the fragility of the pitcher (which I pack in a basket or wrap in our towels and stuff into something in the supply wagon) as it did with the myth of Molly Pitcher. For an explication of the Molly Pitcher myth, I refer you to the Journal of the American Revolution, because, as I said to the woman who approached me, “It’s not my fight.”

So what’s the point? Maybe there are several:

One might be, Everyone has a hobby horse. Some of us are made mad by The Bodice. Some of us cannot abide makeup on “camp followers” who look like stragglers from a high school production of Sweeny Todd. Some of us are material culture and camp equipment fanatics– begone, ironware! Still others twitch at the baggy, off-the-rack cut and fit of some uniforms.

For another, This wasn’t about me– or my pitcher. The woman who approached me had a thing about Molly Pitcher and the myth of the woman on the battlefield with a pitcher, bringing water to the men. My pitcher and I were merely a trigger.

colonial woman with pitcher and kettle

Everybody’s got something to hide ‘cept for me and my…pitcher? or kettle?

And for a third, We all make choices and compromises. I chose not to bring the antique family copper coffee pot into the field, and also chose not to let the coffee and water sit overnight in the tin kettle. I chose, too, to use the white pitcher and a redware one for water that we drank all day long. When it’s hot, I slice lemons or limes into the water to make it easier to drink as much water as we need to in a day spent sweating outdoors, and it prevents scurvy to boot.

Fourth? We can all, always, make better choices. Few among us achieves true 18th century purity– I can assure you that even had I dashed my pitcher to the ground Saturday and dropped to my knees in repentance, I was not 18th century to the skin. There are monthly occurrences that I won’t go old school on, and on this point I shall not be moved.

But back at my ‘rock maple’ table, I could do better. We could/should have but one wooden bowl (mine), and the boys could/should have tin bowls, and we could/should swap out the redware canns with the handles broken off, but they make a nice refugee statement and until they break completely…

And there is a fabulous copper cistern by Goose Bay Workshops that I covet for its copper glory, but since it is not tinned inside, no lemons or limes would be allowed, and it would be hard to argue it for a Light Company. That puts me at another tin kettle, designated for water, and dipping our cups in. I can probably live with that choice.

But then, if I encounter someone who wants to talk about Molly Kettle, I’ll know I’m in real trouble.

Stony Point: The Overview

28 Monday Jul 2014

Posted by in Events, History, Living History, Reenacting

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Stony Point Battle Field

In a word: hilarious.

The Young Mr started the weekend with a 5 Hour Grump (no sugar crash!) that started at home and lasted until he spotted a deer in the woods near West Point at 7:17 PM. The situation improved somewhat when we arrived at Stony Point Battlefield and saw Mr and Mrs P. Perhaps at that point he finally believed me that this was going to be similar to Saratoga or Sturbridge: people he knew, doing the things we normally do, in the usual funny clothes.

There’s a rhythm to these that is predictable and therefore comforting: Mr and Mrs P arrive first, then we show up with our traveling circus, and once we are set up and in bed, we stay awake because Mr HC will arrive after dark, and we keep the mallet out to help him, even though he doesn’t really need our help.

I made new IRL friends with people I’d seen on the interwebs, which is always nice, and made solid progress on that 1812 coat, which also passed a fit inspection (thank goodness! I can be taught!).

Cat and Kitty at Stony Point

But the Young Mr really stole the show on Saturday.

Mr FC arrived on Friday morning with his Young Master W in tow, and they were welcome additions, especially when the Young Mr loitered in his tent after nooning, shirking a fatigue. Mr FC and Mr HC each grabbed one of those enormously long legs, and pulled the giggling private from his tent, the sergeant yelling at him all the while. When the kid got on his feet, his slick leather soles betrayed him and he went ass over teakettle in a classic 360 degree Stan Laurel or Harold Lloyd slapstick maneuver that left him unscathed and back upright with surprising rapidity…and all the while, the sergeant yelled at him, “Hurry up! Get dressed and into line! Don’t tell me you still don’t know how to put on your equipment!” which only makes the kid laugh harder, but fortunately also makes him work harder.

I skipped the battle, though I’m told there were some very satisfying deaths at a cedar tree on a small rise; Mr S went down, and the Young Mr tried to revive him with water, but succeeded only in soaking his hunting frock.

The Usual View of the Usual Suspects

Afterwards the battle and a great deal of water, there were not the usual cooking and fire minding chores, since the site provided dinner. Mr FC’s Young Master W had charge of his mother’s camera for the weekend, and since his brother had declined to come, Master W thought it would be a fine thing to take photos of the frequent trains to torment his train-loving brother with.

So Mr FC, Young Master W, Mr S, the Young Mr and I all trooped down the hill to the train tracks, accompanied by Lambchop, who was, in fairness, only wearing a wig and a round hat and not Lambchop itself, and should therefore be known here as Mr M.

So yes: four Continental soldiers and their laundress trooped down the hill with a boy to watch a freight train go by, and to say, Wow! and Oooh! as it sped past hauling containers, some stacked double height, and barely missing the railroad bridge, or so it seemed to us.

Can’t Type: Sewing!

23 Wednesday Jul 2014

Posted by in Clothing, Events, Living History, Making Things, Reenacting

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What has kept me so busy I can’t blog? Mostly preparing for the millinery shop in Salem, which I am really looking forward to!

Cassandra attempts a Regency Wedgie

In just about a week, I managed a gown, now needing only a hem.  This based on the roller-printed serpentine stripe gown at Genessee Country Village and Museum, documented nicely at the 19th US site.

This was an easy gown to build up from a shoulder and back piece, once I did the math to scale it up to my size, and with the generous help of Sew 18th Century, who gave me the sleeve pattern I started from. This isn’t a drawstring sleeve, so the gown is not an exact copy of the GCV&M gown. I’m OK with that, since–as far as I can tell– it fits. It may be a little large, but that’s what an apron or sash is for. No, I don’t know when I’ll get the apron made.

Mr S saves time by modeling *both* coat and new bonnet

There should also be a coat, and many bonnets.

Mr S’s coat seems to be working, and is now faced on the right side, leaving the left, the sleeves, and just a few buttons. He was excited about helping with button manufactory until he realized that the largest tool required was patience. But what are facings and buttons and buttons holes, among friends?

Bonnet Number I Forget

Another bonnet is in the works- can you ever have too many? I think not. It is in the prickly phase, while I work this evening on taking apart a waistcoat that must be altered for the Young Mister for this weekend at Stony Point. Bouncing between 1779 New York and 1812 Salem, when one is also considering 1765 and preparing for 1800 can make telling time a little challenging!