Tag Archives: fashion

The Colour of Things to Come

28 Monday Jan 2019

Posted by in Clothing, History, Living History, material culture, Reenacting, Research

≈ 4 Comments

Tags

, , , , , , ,

I have a thing for hats– well, for bonnets, really. I know I made stays and a shift before I made anything else for the 18th century, but I might have made a bonnet before I made a proper gown. It’s a condition I inherited from my grandmother, and a great aunt who was a milliner, so there’s little to be done about it– except to dive in deeper.

Miss Theophila Palmer (1757-1848), oil on canvas, attributed to Sir Joshua Reynolds ca 1770. Pretty sure that’s a white “whalebone” or “skeleton” bonnet.

As people do more research and generously share it with me, I’ve come to realize that I need to synthesize what we are seeing. It’s a tricky thing, what with that single (known) extant bonnet at Colonial Williamsburg and only prints and images to go on. What I’ve done to compile a stack of references from newspaper ads (primarily Mid-Atlantic and New England colonies at the moment) and interfiled them with images. This has given me a much better sense of  the change in shapes and construction over time, as well as the range of colours– yes, colours, available and popular.

It’s not just that wool bonnets are a thing– there’s the ““a reddish coloured worsted bonnet” in the April 8, 1776 Pennsylvania Packet an ad for runaway Margaret Collands, and the “black durant” recommended in Instructions for Cutting Out Apparel for the Poor– but close reading shows that the colors are more varied than we’ve accept lately, but they vary by region and time period.

The Misses Waldegrave. Are blue bonnets *only* for children? Maybe.

There’s been a rule that “all bonnets are black silk,” which is too broad a statement. Most bonnets are black, that’s true. But in 1768, in Boston, a place where folks would have you think that black is the only colour bonnet you can ever have, you can have “Black, pink, blue and crimson sattin hatts and bonnets” (Joshua Gardner and Com. ad, Boston News-Letter, November 24, 1768).

Heck, if you shopped at Caleb Blanchard, you could have a green bonnet, too! Blanchard advertised “black, blue, green, white and crimson Sattin bonnets” in the Boston Gazette on December 18, 1769.

What does this mean? My SWAG is that roughly 60-70% of bonnets should be black. After that, blue, white, red and green would make up the balance. In Philadelphia, green bonnets– and green flowered bonnets– last longer in the ads. Philadelphia is also where I see more white bonnets, a brown silk bonnet, a diaper bonnet, a “queen’s grey” bonnet, and, in Trenton, a “lye coloured” bonnet. In Rhode Island, there’s a blue stuff bonnet. So yes, bonnets should mostly be black. But they can also be other colours.

Dresstory: The Green Eyed Lady

05 Wednesday Dec 2018

Posted by in Clothing, Dresstory, personal

≈ 3 Comments

Tags

, , , , , , ,

Almost my dress, thanks to PhotoShop

I didn’t know then that it was called changeable silk; what I knew was that the skirt rustled when I walked, and spread out like a plate when I twirled. Irresistible. Probably homemade, I would have found it in a junk shop on South Broadway in St. Louis, or at the Veterans Village thrift store on Natural Bridge Road, a place white girls like me had to be careful (respectful) about going to.

Square neck, tight waist, full skirt, side zip: at one point, I was skinny enough to pull it over my head without opening the zipper, as long as I wiggled just right. The only time I clearly remember wearing the Green Taffeta Party Dress was to the KWUR Student Radio end-of-year party at the Women’s Building on the Washington University Campus. April or May of 1987, probably, though possibly 1986, before I went to Skowhegan on a summer scholarship.

My date was my on-and-off boyfriend, another sculpture major, working on his master’s if it was 1986, and newly graduated if it was 1987. He had a shambling walk, shuffling, a little hunched over, as if 6 feet were too tall for the spaces he occupied, though the city was large enough. Sneakers, jeans, an Army fatigue jacket, a smile waiting for reactions, waiting to deploy. Patrick was the son of a firefighter and a nurse, and I stole him from his college sweetheart.

Rosemary Clooney in White Christmas. Velvet, but very similar.

The green of my dress was like the green of his car, dark and forest like. We made installations together, layering found objects and drawings in the small gallery in the studio building where we worked. We drifted into a relationship: his girlfriend visited every weekend, driving up from the smaller college town where they’d met. Red haired, pale-skinned, in burgundy beret, Roslyn sat on a stool and watched Patrick work. Across the wide wood shop, I watched her watching him, and smirked. Reader, I was unkind. My friend Jane and I played Raspberry Beret on repeat every time Rosyln visited, hard to do in the pre-CD era, but we managed.

My style icons at the time were Joe Strummer, the Beastie Boys, and Lydia Lunch and when we weren’t taunting Roslyn with Purple Beret, I was inflicting 8 Eyed Spy on my studio mates. Reader, I was a snob. Paddock boots and ankle-zip jeans; white high tops and baggy Marithe et Francois Girbaud trousers; and the occasional 1950s evening gowns comprised my idea of campus-appropriate dress. My wardrobe came from thrift stores, gifts from my mother and grandmother (the Girbaud trousers), and practical work wear I bought with money I earned in the summers (high tops and paddock boots). In winter, I had a ca. 1950 Army trench coat with a button-in lining, which I insisted upon wearing to a Fortnightly dance in Chicago my senior year of high school. It is amazing my mother lived through all this sartorial humiliation, and amazing, too, that I was harassed as little as I was on the streets of Chicago and Saint Louis.

Wash U Women’s Building. KWUR was in the basement.

The KWUR Prom was in May, though I think of that evening as summer, so I would have needed nothing over the dress. I wore it with a gartered corset, black fishnet stockings, and Johnson motorcycle boots styled like paratroopers boots, leather soles slick from walking, and good for dancing. By May of the year I met Patrick, he’d broken up with Roslyn. We started making art together on a dare, and in our rambles collecting window screens, broken chairs, old medicine cabinets and other detritus, we grew closer, stopped being adversarial and became friends, and then lovers, until we were not. I wonder about Roslyn sometimes, and what became of her; I know where Patrick is, though we have not spoken since 1991. I broke his heart, for a time, after he broke mine, and now he lives where I began.

Pink on My Brain

29 Thursday Nov 2018

Posted by in Making Things, material culture, Research

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

, , , , ,

I no longer remember where in the wilds of the interwebs I found this charming servant, but find her I did, three years ago. I probably came across her researching servants, and found her striking (since she is), so saved the image while moving on to Pyne or Krimmel for more geographically appropriate sources. Still, I’d picked up a remnant of brown and pink printed cotton at Genesee, and had a start to this ensemble.

A scrap of that print was in my pocket when my dear friend (formerly m’colleague) and I went took the train down to New York for a fabric spree. We went in late June (Genesee was early that year), trying to use up vacation time so we didn’t lose it before the end of the fiscal year– any year I didn’t have a hip replacement, I tended to lose a week of vacation so we were motivated to take time off.

I remember that my favorite dress demonstrated a peculiar friendliness, and required a safety pin for modesty’s sake. I remember m’colleague being overwhelmed in the crosswalks at Herald Square, and taking her hand to get her through the sea of bodies and cars. (She grew up in a very small town in northern Rhode Island, where apple orchards were within walking distance; I grew up on the north side of Chicago, taking the bus to the Loop.) But at Mood, I found the fabric that I knew would make the petticoat.

Pink tropical weight wool, don’t ask me how much a yard. I don’t remember, but it was certainly more than I’d paid for any fabric before, with the exception of silk dupioni I bought for a wedding dress. Madness, I thought– but beautiful madness. I started on the short gown (see above) with an extant European garment as inspiration (probably found through Sabine’s work); then I started on the petticoat.

And promptly dropped the project while I changed my life completely. The short gown I finished, and wore as a housekeeper for some Wednesday afternoon programs, but I never managed to get that petticoat finished– until this past week. The pink and black bonnet needed an ensemble, and half of it was present, in the form of the Spencer.

But what I wanted to do was to recreate that plate, short gown, cap, and all. I’m still short the black silk apron, and my cap will always be Anglo-American, but I got close enough to be satisfied that I reached the goal I set three years ago. What I did discover in trying to replicate this image was slightly unexpected, and entirely useful. Just as fashion images are exaggerated today, so too were they exaggerated in the past. M’lady in the image at top is elongated– I’m nearly six feet tall, and I cannot achieve her length. Granted, the waist on my short gown is lower than hers, but still: she’s drawn as if she has the proverbial “legs up to here.” What’s useful about this, and about trying to recreate images from the past, is that these exercises reveal some of the foibles and preferences of the past, which help us see past the filter of the present and get closer to understanding the past.

The Material World of Widow Weed: an interpretation

25 Thursday Oct 2018

Posted by in Living History, material culture, Research

≈ 4 Comments

Tags

, , , , , , ,

Pomade, powder, a pad, and a liberal dose of hairspray got me closer to Big Hair than I’ve ever been.

Part four of a series

Widow Elizabeth Weed: what would she wear? What would she own? My first inclination had been to wear the grey tabby wool gown I already had, until I realized how much of George Weed’s estate Elizabeth had received. As detailed in the first post, the strategic fabric reserve (SFR) provided a “just enough” remnant of shiny silk to make a gown. Second mourning seemed right, for six months past the death of her second husband; with Mrs. Mifflin’s 1773 gown style in mind, I decided to make an English gown with robings and stomacher. (To be honest, I’m pretty pleased with how close my cuff came to Mrs. Mifflin’s, considering how badly I can mess up a cuff, and that this was my first finished silk gown in an 18th century style.)

A gown is one thing, but what about the rest of the ensemble? The Widow Costard print provided some guidance, despite being some years later than 1777. The black hood and cloak or mantelet over a white cap appears in other widows’ portraits, although the black silk cloak is not an uncommon accessory. I had been toying with making one already, and had patterned one from the original in Costume Close Up; extant examples aren’t thick on the ground, but there are enough to demonstrate some consistencies.

Cloak, figured cerise silk satin with a lace trim, 1760-1770. Victoria and Albert Museum, T.61-1934

1760s example at the Victoria and Albert has a shape similar to that in the Williamsburg Collection, while another at the Met (dated, without a reason cited, to 1820-1829; perhaps the reason is in the selvage or the lace), provides some clues to construction and materials. So, with another remnant from the SFR in hand, I worked from my muslin to a paper pattern, using the neck cutout from my red wool short cloak as an additional guide. It went together in fairly short order, since it is mostly hemming, with just two seams and some pleating. While I wore it untrimmed due to time constraints, self trim or lace or would be ideal additions.

Portrait of a Woman called Lady Fawkener ca. 1760. Jean-Etienne Liotard.

Additional clues to Elizabeth Weed’s status as a six-months widow are found in the black silk ribbon of her cap; black and white hats are common enough that the hat alone does not signal “widow.” I chose to make mine from a black figured silk taffeta lined with white, based on an ad in a Philadelphia paper. On October 15, 1776, John Brown advertised in the Pennsylvania Evening Post for a runaway Irish servant girl, Judith Kennedy, wearing, among other items, a “black spotted silk bonnet lined with white.” Obviously, this might well mean “bonnet” in the form we are most familiar with, and I have taken liberties by extrapolating the spotted silk to my hat cover. Nonetheless, black and white hats are a thing, and I was looking to upgrade from my tatty and faded black chip hat.

Gathering white linen evenly is a challenge: literal thread counting.

Gown, hat, cloak, updated caps: so far, so good. I had a black wool petticoat already, suitable for mid-Atlantic autumn (there was no way a black silk quilted petticoat was happening in the time allotted), and black worsted (woven) mitts. What else would Mrs. Weed need? Upgraded shoes are tempting but beyond my budget, so the last article of clothing was an apron.

The majority of my aprons are check linen, with one clean unbleached linen apron and one stained white linen apron (coffee is my weakness). Fortunately, I found 30 yards of vintage white linen on a trip to New England, and thus had apron fabric handy. After making five aprons, this one went together in less than a day.

The final piece was jewelry. A few years ago I found a “Georgian” cut steel and glass locket suitable for hair that I wore as a widowed housekeeper; on a fresh black silk ribbon, that would be a cornerstone. I added a three-strand necklace of black glass beads to contrast with the locket (thanks to the local hobby store and a stash of findings). Earrings also came from the stash, made up quickly from modified buttons and black faceted drops.

Accessories. I finally have them.

I added a white silk neck-handkerchief for warmth, and bought a black one just in case. Based on images, I thought white most appropriate, but somehow, with the grey gown, the image of “Pilgrim” was hard for some visitors to overcome, so on Sunday, I switched to black. Sometimes you have to choose accessories to lower the hurdles for your audience. Explaining that I was not a Pilgrim, but in mourning–while providing an opportunity for interpretation–was not my primary objective, so the easy color switch seemed well worth making.

The remedies (as promised) were another, slightly strickier matter. While making them according to the receipts I found was relatively simple– this is long before big pharma– carrying them was another challenge. I opted to make a box, and fill some bottles, as will become plain in the next installment.

Fave Friday: Full-On Federal

04 Friday Aug 2017

Posted by in Clothing, History, Research

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

, , , , , ,


Favorite Era? Easy-peasy! Federal, of course. Whether furniture or fashion, the early Republic is my thing. I spend a fair amount of time in the 18th century, since there are so many events in that time period, and while I loved the story of the American Revolution as a child, the early Federal* period intrigues me more. Furniture, porcelain, wallpaper, and clothing from 1790-1820 all appeal to me, as well as the notion that women’s roles were in flux in the earliest decades of the United States.

“American Women and French Fashion,” from The Age of Napoleon

I love the idea of women in mercantile businesses and trade, and the way that milliners provided access to fashion (and you can read more about that in The Age of Napoleon).

Merrymaking at a Wayside Inn, watercolor on paper by John Lewis Krimmel. 1811-1813. Metropolitan Museum of Art, 42.95.12

I also love the way that American women (and men) translated European high style into a vernacular, as seen in John Lewis Krimmel’s watercolors of Philadelphia and surrounding areas.

This is a time period I’m comfortable in (yes, the stays are part of that comfort) but aside from comfort and aesthetics, I think it’s also because for a brief time, women had slightly more freedom than they had previously.

It was short-lived, and Republican motherhood was confining in its own way before the “cult of womanhood” blossomed fully. But ideals of freedom and fashion very briefly aligned, and for that, I love the Federal– and vain creature that I am, I think it suits me.

*pre-Andy Jackson, amirite?