Tag Archives: Events

Haversack Stashable Lunch Bag

11 Monday Nov 2013

Posted by in Food

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Found in the clearance aisle at Home Goods.

Mr S destroyed his lunch bag (zipper failure) and since I sew in a pre-zipper era, I declined to hunt up a new zipper and set it into the weird amalgamation that is the modern insulated lunch bag. I can’t even remember how old that lunch bag was, but it might have been six years old. So out we went for cat food (which happens a lot) and a lunch bag.

Just don’t get caught with tinfoil and plastic baggies if you’re eating in breeches.

This one seemed like it would be too small, but it does hold his entire lunch. And then I realized it would fit nicely into a haversack if one needed to pack a cold lunch on a hot day. You just have to be stealthy when opening the thing, at least until the velcro gets linty and quieter. This bag is lined with freezable something that serves as the ice pack, which does save space and should be more efficient and safer on a super-hot summer day (I’m looking at you, Cambridge in July.)

And, as ever, if you wrap your meal in tinfoil and baggies, hide it from the public. The best way to use it at an event would be to pull paper- or linen-wrapped period food from its hidden, chilled (shallow) depths. If you are not in the army, it goes in your market wallet, linen bag, or basket, not your haversack. Now, perhaps those cats can help me silence the velcro.

Bust darts from Hell

05 Tuesday Nov 2013

Posted by in Clothing, History, Making Things, Research

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Spencer ca. 1800. MMS 1991.239.2

It all started out so well, in the muslin, but in the wool, not so much. I cut up a remnant, proving that a yard and a quarter of 60” fabric is enough for a Spencer, even for my arm length (but not less, thanks to that arm length and a respect for the grain).

The pattern I’m using has bust darts, which I haven’t sewn in years. They took some tweaking with the steam iron.

In 18th century clothing, one doesn’t see bust darts; there are some above the bust, shaping gowns at the robings, but for the most part they aren’t needed. Think cones, thanks to the stays. And later in the 18th century, a lot of work is done by gathers and drawstrings, as in the white and black  ca. 1800 French spencer at the Met.

Spencer ca. 1818-1819. MMA 1982.132.3

Spencer ca. 1818-1819. MMA 1982.132.3

But if you’ve got an endowment of the non-fiscal kind, and you want your military-inspired garment to fit smoothly over your endowment, what do you do?

In this example, you hide the bust dart under braid and buttons. Check out that diagonal seam—and that the fabric appears to have been cut on the bias.
Brilliant, right? Gain ease by using the stretchy quality of the bias and hide the shaping under decorative elements.

Here’s an extreme detail.

Spencer, 1813. MMA C.I.39.13.48

Spencer, 1813. MMA C.I.39.13.48

In the garment below, of wool, three bust darts of the same length help shape the front. And again, decorative braid hides the shaping. 

It’s only cataloged as “wool,” with no weave given. There is a detail image of the darts and braid as well; I think that might be serge, and not superfine broadcloth. Still, three bust darts help achieve a smooth fit.

The Swedish Spencer at the museum in Lund has but one grainy photo: it’s hard to imagine that it doesn’t have bust darts, but the photo leaves much to the imagination.

Pouting over Putnam

30 Wednesday Oct 2013

Posted by in Events, Fail, Reenacting

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James Malton, 1761-1803, A Military Encampment in Hyde Park, 1785, Watercolor with pen in black ink, with traces of graphite on moderately thick, moderately textured, beige, laid paper, Yale Center for British Art, Paul Mellon Collection

James Malton, 1761-1803, A Military Encampment in Hyde Park, 1785, Watercolor with pen in black ink, with traces of graphite on moderately thick, moderately textured, beige, laid paper, Yale Center for British Art, Paul Mellon Collection

This Saturday is the BAR event at Putnam Park in Redding, CT. This is an event with an early set-up time, one of those “early enough to be worth packing the car Friday night” events, as Mr S will need to depart at the time he usually gets up. I’m pouting not because of the early departure time, but because I won’t be going.

The Young Mr has his first swim meet Sunday, so Saturday he’ll have to get his homework done. That means someone has to stay home, or he’ll sleep till noon and spend the rest of the day eating meat and playing video games, all normal for a 15-year-old, but not helpful when most of Sunday will be spent marinating in chlorine.

I did a strange and awful thing to my back in an altercation with the face plate of an UPS unit for a server, and find that two weeks on, I still have a mis-aligned rib and occasional searing pain when reaching for Amelia Simmons’ cookbook to find something for Mr S to take with him to Putnam Park. At first, it seemed that it would be like Fort Lee, where one does not cook.

However, it seems that a camp kitchen is planned and there could be cooking, if only someone could tend the fire during the tactical, but no. I will not be there to stir meat of any kind, in any way, and the gentlemen, if one can call them that, will have to scrounge in the corners of their haversacks, take pot luck from the Boy Scouts, or find other means of nourishing themselves. I’ve also been told that it might be as well for me not to lace up my stays and push my ribs around, though on the whole, I think I might be better off wearing them more often. No matter what, home I shall I be, and the gentlemen will have to shift for themselves. Having seen them in action, I have no doubt that they will do well for themselves, and I might still bake them a pie.

Found: Limits

15 Tuesday Oct 2013

Posted by in Events, Fail, Living History

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I try to have good sense, but I am sometimes overwhelmed by my intentions. On Saturday, I was supposed to go up to Boston to the Paul Revere House, and I was planning to take the train. It’s an easy trip between the commuter rail and the Orange Line, followed by a short walk. How hard is that?

Too hard, it seems. I’m not sure how it happened, but I missed the commuter train, and made it to Smith and Canal just in time to see the train pulling away from the platform. Regular work day? Forget 11:20, try 11:23. You have a cushion. Weekend? Those trains run right on time, but still about 90 minutes apart, which means missing the train will make you three hours late for a three hour event, and then you are not “really reliable and right on time.” The guys had the car for the day, so it was train or nothing.

I had a period lunch, and planned to take my stool. I had shirts-in-progress packed into a knapsack along with documents about what garments soldiers were issued, the average cost of those garments, as well as a finished blue check shirt typical of those worn by New England men in the last quarter of the 18th century. I’d re-read the The Needles’ Eye, and was prepared to talk about the difference between seamstresses, tailors, mantua makers and milliners.

Take some time to snooze under the sofa– Mr Whiskers

Instead, I went back home and slept most of the afternoon. Mr Whiskers had the right idea, as usual.  You cannot burn the tallow candle at both ends while the farm cat gnaws the middle. I feel bad about missing that train, but I think I’ve learned my limits. At least for this month.

See You in Saratoga

20 Friday Sep 2013

Posted by in Events, History, Living History

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AN00176337_001_lNot quite what our camp will look like, but one can hope.

Baking nearly done, Mr S has gone to draw fresh meat and flour.

We’ll be packing as light as we can except for the kid’s supremely heavy biology textbook, but at least he’s game for a weekend of reenacting mixed with homework. Mr S looks forward to sporting his new coat, and I’m looking forward to camp cooking and meeting people In Real Life.

Fingers crossed for the lightest of traffic and rain…