Tag Archives: 10th Massachusetts

Gigot or Gigantic?

08 Wednesday Jul 2015

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

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Carriage and Morning Dress, 1832. LAPL Fashion Plate Collection

Carriage and Morning Dress, 1832. LAPL Fashion Plate Collection

So, about that 1833 thing…

No, it’s not that I’m reconsidering. It is merely that as I consider the options, the fashion plates are a bit overwhelming. On the other hand, I am getting really good at recognizing the look of the 1830s in undated portraits. There’s an upside to everything.

Extant garments are fairly plentiful in the Usual Suspects’ Collections; there’s even a Tumblr. There’s a Tumblr for everything.

Woman's Green, Tan, Yellow and Blue Striped/Plaid Gown. OSV, 26.33.63

Woman’s Green, Tan, Yellow and Blue Striped/Plaid Gown. OSV, 26.33.63

Fortunately, there are some tamer garments out there, with sleeves less likely to result in flight in a high wind. Bonus: not floral, and not silk. Printed wool seems to have been fairly common, but the weight is just impossible to find. I did some looking in New York, but nothing convinced me with print or price.

This is a milita muster, so there will be time outside. I’m toying with a habit or Amazone (hard to resist a garment with that name) though the most I know about horses is that they have four legs. It’s tailoring that attracts me, not use. Also, wool. Mid-September might warrant wool, even if that’s hard to imagine today. (The downside, of course, is that there’s menswear to be made, too, so a simple dress is surely the best option.)

Room, Officers’, for the use of.

30 Thursday Apr 2015

Posted by in Events, Food, Living History

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Sometimes I feel like a third wheel at Rev War events. There is not always a lot for women to do besides chores, and the public often ignore us. Still, there is one maxim I know to be true: if you’re bored, work.

Thus, when I found myself drifting off Saturday, I started dinner. The best part was where I got to make dinner: in a chamber off the main room of the Temple at the New Windsor Cantonment. These two rooms were occupied by the 10th Mass this year. Last year, the unfinished room had been the scene of Dirt Stew.

Cutting vegetables on a table was a major upgrade; last year, I think I used the kettle lid, the floor being too gritty even for me.

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It’s End of Stored Root Vegetable season here, so largish carrots and parsnips went into the pot, along with potatoes, onions, and a cooked chicken disjointed by hand (a task I have experience in).

This year, we brought the only iron we own, a small trivet-like stand to put the big kettle on; the little one went on bricks from the Temple’s other fireplace. Was that slim piece of iron wrong? Probably, but in a place where we can’t dig a kitchen or make a fire outdoors, we compromised in the name of keeping supper unspilled.

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Why no fires outdoors? Red flag warnings, due to high winds and low RH. That all hobbies will be affected by climate change was clear on Saturday, as we discussed invasive species, transporting wood across state lines, and various site rules on using brush to build shelters. It’s not just about digging fire pits or kitchens and archaeology anymore.

Surreal School

29 Wednesday Apr 2015

Posted by in Events, Living History, Reenacting

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On the King's Highway, behind Knox's HQ

On the King’s Highway, behind Knox’s HQ

The School of Instruction is always interesting, and this year was no exception. One of my favorite activities is walking with the troops (well, behind). The experience is usually surreal, and the walk we took behind Knox’s Headquarters met expectations.

Clash of the Time Periods

Clash of the Time Periods

Knox’s Headquarters was a new location for us, with new activities: we played a Jingling Match, which resulted in as much giggling as jingling, and felt like the Walking Dead met the 18th Century.

Jingling without Giggling is the hard part

Jingling without Giggling is the hard part

The game is pretty simple: mark out an area, blindfold as many as are willing to play, and set one without blindfold loose. The object is to touch the person ringing the bell, and it is a hilarious and merry game indeed, though I do agree with Mr McC that playing with a number of men full in their cups, or at certain sites (Stony Point comes to mind) would be too dangerous.
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Still, it’s simple and fun, if a little Kubrickian when you first tie on the blindfold. The person who catches the jingler is the next one to taunt the blindfolded.

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Next stop? Bell research, of course. I definitely want to play this in Newport later this summer.

Battle Road Made a Man 

22 Wednesday Apr 2015

Posted by in Events, Living History, personal, Reenacting

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(with apologies for the child-centered content.)

Well, sort of.  The Young Mr sported a brand-new, all-hand-sewn frock coat and breeches, as well as brand new size 15 shoes (thank you, USPS Priority  Mail and Robert Land’s stock of the rara avis size 15.)  He was spotted in photos that were shared with me later, and there he is, front and center, in his new, blue wool broadcloth suit. (I do like the side eye Mr C is giving as he checks on the second row.)

When he was dressed on Saturday, the Young Mr had a real presence. There is something about a suit that changes a man– well, in this case, a boy into a man. On the ride home, he told his father, “Now that I’m growing up, it feels weird to call you mom and dad. I think I should call you by your first names.” (I’ll wait here while you finish laughing. Yes, it is funny. No, we did not laugh at him.)

It’s a curious idea to us now, marking transitions with clothes. For some, coming of age is marked with a car or at least a driver’s license. For others, it may be a first job, or apartment. But once, stages were marked in clothing, as boys moved from gowns to breeches, and later from dresses to short pants to long pants.

 Our clothing is so much less formal, that we are less accustomed in most cases to seeing men in suits. Even as young as I was in those last “Mad Men” years, I remember more formal times, and shopping with my parents, seeing coats marked up in chalk and thread for my father, and the ranks of shirts and heavy-hangered trousers and coats at Brooks Brothers downtown in Chicago.  (I went there once as a teenager with a friend to buy a present for her father; we were not warmly welcomed in our punk clothes, but the glass cases were unforgettable.)

For the Young Mr, that kind of formality is lost. There’s not much point in buying him a modern suit: he’s all t-shirts and hoodies and hand-me-downs from a friend at work he’s rapidly growing past. He’d never wear a suit, except as he steps into the past, and his fittings happen in private homes or workshops, and not in front of a three-panel mirror.

The Young Mr steps into the past to step into adulthood, and comes back to a present where he has many more years and rites of passage before he will truly be an adult.

In Tents Tuesday*

06 Tuesday Jan 2015

Posted by in History, Living History, Making Things, Reenacting, Research

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You know The Tent Article, don’t know? You do, if you’re camping 18th century private soldier style in your hand-sewn coat.

Scene of the Camp on Hampton Green, 1781

Scene of the Camp on Hampton Green, 1781

The Tent Article (hereafter The Document) pulls together documentation and research assembled by a team of living history enthusiasts dedicated to replicating the 18th century enlisted army experience in an accurate manner. Though the PowerPoint format affects the overall length, be warned: we are talking 300+ pages here.

No strangers to the pursuit of the accurate and never ones to shy away from an arduous task involving pointy objects and string, the 10th Mass assembled on Saturday afternoon for a round of tent sewing.

I first read The Tent Article in 2012, and was promptly ashamed of our hand-me-down tent which had everything to recommend it in terms of price, but wanted in terms of accuracy. In response, I began making 1/8″ scale models of tents to figure out how much linen I would need to buy in order to make a truly correct tent. Finally, all that edumacation in art and architecture had utility! Alas: distractions arose, cost overwhelmed, our then-primary regiment scoffed, and I abandoned hand-sewn tent plans.

Fast forward to Tyler Putnam’s blogging on The First Oval Office project, and I was once again intrigued. I began calculating how much vacation time I might need to complete a tent by hand in our living room. Well, thank goodness for finding fellow travelers, because lo and behold! The 10th Mass had tents in want of sewing, so I could learn a great deal without filling our home with excessive yardage.

“Sails.”

Progress was made last August in Newport, where the tents masqueraded as sails, but the canvas languished unsewn until last Saturday, when we duly assembled in Hopkinton and unfurled the vast expanse of linen. It was suggested that I might know some people with access to sail lofts (!), but in about 4 hours, a number of us managed to finish the final foot of backstitching and to flat-fell a little more than 60 feet of tent seams.

It's a vast expanse of linen.

It’s a vast expanse of linen.

The Document was consulted to make sure we were proceeding correctly, though the iPad misbehaved and forwarded us many pages to grommets. (I’m looking forward to those, as I enjoy sewing eyelets– and have just earned myself the dubious honor of sewing at least half of them, I’m sure.) We checked the images, threaded our needles, and off we went.

A few inches (feet) of felling had to be unstitched and resewn, but heavy linen is wily and some stitchers were newer to the process than others. But by the close of day, all seams were felled, needles packed, and tentage folded.

Next up, per The Document, are mud flaps. This should get interesting, as math in front of an audience usually is.

 

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I promised a pun, so here’s the worst. Somehow we got on to unfortunate reenactorisms, which collided with Star Wars, and brought us to the realization that what we needed were light sabres… ’cause it’s the 10th Massachusetts Regiment Light Infantry Company. We were punished for this hilarity by having to drive home on untreated roads into snow that looked like we were trying to take the Millenium Falcon to hyperspeed.

 

*It really happened on Saturday.