Tag Archives: fashion

Frocks Coats in Providence

21 Wednesday Jan 2015

Posted by in Clothing, History, History Space, Living History, Making Things, Museums, Reenacting

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Saturday last saw the launch of History Space, the collaborative project of the Rhode Island Historical Society and the Newport Historical Society designed to help living history practitioners and reenactors acquire the clothing and skills needed to bring the past to life.

Many parts to a frock coat.

Scheduling being what it is, we plunged right in to hands-on work with Easy Grace and Comfort, a two-day man’s frock coat workshop with Henry Cooke. We saved enormous amounts of time in the workshop by having Mr Cooke cut coat kits for participants, and I know it was well worth every penny.

There is much less on-body fitting when Mr Cooke cuts a coat for the kid than when I do. (I think the Young Mr grows while I am trying to figure it out, but Henry cuts fast enough to head him off.)

Buckram and button stands

Buckram and button stands

The most painful part of the whole thing (if fitting is largely done) is stitching on the buckram interfacing and the button stand. The zig-zag stitch as demonstrated by Henry was fairly easy to get the hang of when you caught the rhythm, but the tightness of the Red Edge stand tested my needle and even my fingertips.

There were some complaints at one table, largely voiced by the Fifer Formerly Known as Lambchop, who awaits his 10th Mass name.

Sleevils!

We made it all the way to sleeves, which is impressive, considering that some of the gentleman had not made more than a haversack or knapsack before. But if you can backstitch, and have some help with your fitting, you can make a coat.

I happen to like sleeves, myself, stitching them up and setting them in the garment. I think it’s the three-dimensionality of them that appeals to me– and I like a good challenge.

And here we are: sleevil one.

It’s critical to pay attention, though, so you make one left and one right sleeve, and to keep track of them as you set them to the garment body. I sometimes mark mine with chalk, and have even pinned notes to the pieces when feeling especially daft.

I’ve made it to an assembled coat body and sleeves, with one sleeve basted on. Before Saturday, I plan to baste on the second sleeve and test fit sleeve set on the boy. I’ll also try to get pocket flaps made. Since I have a talk to write and a bedgown to finish as well, I’m probably dreamin’ big.

When this suit is done, the Young Mr will have a very nice blue ensemble that includes breeches (join in the fun here) and a waistcoat. I think he’ll look rather nice, and better than he has previously. I still want to make lower-class* clothes for him, but first he does need a nice suit.

*I said urchin, but Mr Cooke said urchins can’t be over 6 feet tall. Basking sharks are big, but in this blue-grey suit, perhaps the Young Mr will finally be a grey reef shark.

[Not Quite] Good Enough Coat

15 Thursday Jan 2015

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

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When not working on the Unified Theory of Living History,* I’ve been sewing for the February program in Newport. You know about the skritchy brown gown, and then there was the Great Coat Obsession. Well, here it is, in unpressed previews.

The photographer and I had barely achieved emotional détente by the time these were taken after a foray out of doors in the late afternoon, but we survived on willpower and the promise of strong beer and here you are. Two and three quarters yards were not quite enough at this length, though perhaps the coat does not have the close in the skirt. For $13, I think I’m still okay with where this is headed, though buttons will be the very devil.

My finger tips are so calloused that working touch screens is getting hard, and silk thread practically shreds when I try to make deaths head buttons. It’s still too early to give in and buy buttons, but there will be swearing ahead.

Back to the coat: there is enough wool for a cape or two, if one is pieced or false. It’s hard to tell how warm this will be, until the buttons are on and the body lined. Wearing it outdoors on Sunday did make me think about the wool flannel shift in a collection near me, and how nicely cozy that would be for winter.

 

*Stewing about recreating the past

Drapers, Sutlers and Other Sources

10 Saturday Jan 2015

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

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Shopping with swatches: it’s what I do.

The biggest difference between sewers is location: I have access to resources here that people in the Midwest don’t, but friends in New York have the garment district, which is just a little too far for me.  For a lot of my projects, I’m buying from the reputable sources we all know about: Burnley & Trowbridge and Wm Booth Draper. They’re supplying people who want accurate fabrics, they do their research, and the goods are well described. But how to choose among the offerings? And where else can you go?

Wools
The creme de la creme are Kochan and Philips wools. I have some bottle green I haven’t cut yet, which I got from Roy Najecki because he’s local, he’s got the stuff, and he has other stuff my household uses (like cartridge box clasps and quarter-inch mohair braid).

Wm Booth and B&T’s wools are also good, and you can get samples. What you buy will be dictated by what you are making. Broadcloth for suits and cloaks, stuff (worsteds) for gowns and waistcoats. Buy the best you can afford: this is an investment. Divide the cost of the fabric by the number of times you’ll wear a garment, and look at the per-wear cost, the way you might look at a suit for work. (I have no regrets about that Saratoga coat, which has now been worn on at least 5 separate occasions, making the per-wear cost $25 after 18 months, and I know it will be worn again.)

Once you’ve felt and seen good-quality, period-correct wools, shopping locally is easier. Take a swatch with you and compare to what’s in the stores and you’re likely to find yourself shopping online. You’ll want 100% wool, and that’s expensive pretty much everywhere. Here in Rhode Island, I do have access to mill stores and remnant tables that make a difference in my costs and allow me to be a little more frivolous in my sewing. Sewfisticated in Framingham and Somerville and Lorraine Fabrics in Pawtucket both have remnant tables with reasonably priced goods with pretty accurate fibre labels. They’ve been the source for many a garment, but have no online sales. I don’t recommend JoAnn’s wools: they’re not as tightly woven and they’re over-priced. Wm Booth and Burnley and Trowbridge are a better value.

Silks
Here again, it’s unfortunate, but my local sources come into play. Artee, Sewfisticated and Lorraine all have both discounted taffetas and tantalizing remnant tables, but Wm Booth and Burnley & Trowbridge have fabrics the local shops do not carry. I don’t have a local source for what Booth calls “persian,” but taffeta can be found– though color choices can be limited.

The trick with silks is slub. Much of what is sold today is silk dupioni. It is not universally bad for all historical applications, as by the 19th century, silks were being sold in several grades. If it’s right for your impression (i.e. not upper class), and you can find a pretty fine dupioni, you can use it. But the really slubby (bumpy) stuff should remain in this century.

Crisp taffetas from the bridal department can be your friend, though home decorating can also yield good results. Some higher-end home dec departments do stock wool, linen and silk fabrics, as the best designers and manufacturers use them. You’ll pay for it, but again: it’s an investment you’ll enjoy over time. Online, there’s Hyena Silks, too, which has supplied some friends. But my silks are pretty much locally bought, at $9/yard.

Cottons
Here’s the biggest trouble spot for a lot of people. The mantra is that today’s quilting cottons are nothing like the cottons of the past, and while that is true in part, it is not the whole, or nuanced, truth. Quilting cottons are stiff and crisp, and generally do not drape as well as apparel fabrics. But what’s more correct is to say that the range and hand of cottons available today in historically correct or acceptable prints do not come close enough to the cottons of the past. Still, you can find good analogues for late 18th and early 19th century cottons (1750-1825) if you’re careful.

Aside from Wm Booth and Burnley & Trowbridge, I buy from Reproductionfabrics.com. She has been a good source for Indian print cottons. Time Travel Textiles no longer has a functioning web store, but the articles are still there, and useful.
Regency Revisited sells via phone and Facebook now, and has an interesting range of prints, though I have not bought from them…yet…as I am trying hard to sew down the strategic fabric reserve.

But again, I buy locally from the bargain loft at the mill store where I can feel the goods. It’s worth ordering some swatches from Burnley & Trowbridge just to get a sense of the hand of different goods. That, along with printed resources, can serve you well in an actual store (presuming they still exist near you).

Linens
Again, much of my trade is with the main two sutlers, but I buy linen in quantity from Fabrics-store.com. It’s not the best of the best (see the main two) but it gets the basic job done.

For really nice and perfectly correct linen, in every sense, Justin Squizzero’s hand-woven linens are the way to go. I’ll get a hand-woven neckerchief one of these days– actually, I want one for February– but have yet to make the leap to buying hand woven linen shirts and shifts.

Good Enough Coat

05 Monday Jan 2015

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

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The great coat is nice, but how ’bout them gaiters?

Winter is firmly here, with the snow, fog and ice that marks the season in the Ocean State. It’s not fun weather for living in the past, though there’s not a lot of that happening right now. Even so, there’s a February program on the horizon and what better excuse for fastening on a garment and making it?

Even if I’ll likely spend the day in a kitchen interpreting life below stairs in 1820 (while the light infantry occupies my living room and denudes my kitchen), an early 19th century event on a winter weekend seemed a worthwhile excuse for making a greatcoat, and, eventually, gaiters.

IMG_2733

With no pattern, and only 2 and 3/4 yards of thick, soft, grey double faced wool*,  I’m adapting my standard Spencer pattern. I didn’t upsize this too much, because women didn’t have frock coats and waistcoats to wear under their greatcoats or Carrick [carriage?] coats or Reding cotes. (I’m too engrossed with sewing to parse garment names.) The skirts will be attached at the waist, with a belt to hide the seam. At my height, cutting a back in one piece takes yardage I do not possess. Happily, the Taylor’s Instructor describes Redingcoats or Habits for women with attached skirts.

It’s a new collar shape.

The collar shape diverges from my usual 1790s collar, and is based on another fashion plate, this time from 1815. The program I’ll be doing with Sew 18th Century is set in 1820. As a maid, I think an 1815 coat is pushing it a bit, since red wool cloaks hold up well, but I’ll take any excuse for some tailoring, I suppose.

1815, with a round collar that can stand up.

I plan to use this button arrangement, too, stylish as it is in not-quite-double breasted. Bring on the button-making– we all have to go death’s head sometime, and this wool is too thick for covered buttons without much heartbreak.

The lower front pins are there from the moment when I realized the front was hanging strangely — because I had neither marked nor sewn the bust darts. That oversight, and the pain in my ear, do suggest that the delightful cold I’ve had for weeks may be affecting me more than I think– but that’s just another argument in favor of a cozy wool coat.

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The sleeve pattern (again, not upsized) is once again the old standby two-piece sleeve from Henry Cooke’s 1770s unlined man’s frock coat, so of course it fits well.

I’m hoping to stitch up the sleeves this evening, and set them later this week. I’m still pondering lining materials– there’s just enough silk “persian” to do the body and sleeves–but I have some twilled wool that would increase the warmth and still provide some ‘slip’ in the sleeves.

And those blue gaiters? They’ll come in time, from the scraps of blue wool a friend is making his first ditto suit from. I’ll spot him some remnant table chintz for a summer waistcoat, and expect greater sartorial splendor will grace the spitting stamp inspector in Newport this August in exchange for my blue wool ankles.

*Holy burned hair smell, Batman! Mr Cooke’s right when he says this almost feels like foam, but put a flame to it, and you might as well be smoking sheep.

One Coat Two Coat Red Coat Green Coat

15 Saturday Nov 2014

Posted by in Clothing, Making Things, personal

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1813 Bonnet of untrimmed velvet, Redingote of Merino
1817 Velvet bonnet and broadcloth coat

I cannot manage to find the button I need to sew onto my real-world everyday winter coat, but I’m pondering and plotting how much broadcloth a Redingote (Redingcoat or Redingcote) would require, and internally debating the merits of red versus green.

Greatcoats have their attractions, and while Mr S would undoubtedly enjoy the warmth of a greatcoat, with a February 14 program in the offing, I am pondering a greatcoat of my own.

I can rationalize [almost] anything, but a Redingcote is a stretch even for me, despite that February program (indoors). I suppose the real appeal of one of these coats, aside from the pleasure of handling delicious green or red wool, is the challenge of making one. I have even found a front view to aid in the patterning.

1813 Hat of velvet and broadcloth coat

What stops me? Some unfinished projects, and a certain feeling of unease about buying quantities of expensive wool. I have two yards of dark green broadcloth, but I’m pretty certain that I will need three to make even the shorter red coat. Without making a firm resolution, I had determined that I wanted to sew down my stash–and I suppose the answer is to sew it down, or put it on Etsy. Or to buy the wool, make the coat, and wear it in the winter. It would be a spur to winter program ideas, after all.

Now, if only I could find the missing button from my winter coat…