Tag Archives: fashion

Hand-woven Linens by Subscription

06 Wednesday Aug 2014

Posted by in Clothing, Living History, Making Things

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In the few short years I have been doing costumed interpretation and living history, I have made three shifts and four shirts and am making up a fifth shirt, with a possible sixth needing to be made, as well as four aprons. I’m not crazy, I just sew that way…for three people (one still growing) who dress for the decades between 1763 and 1812.

linen sample

Hand-woven linen: the top edge is the selvedge

There are several annoying factors when sewing historic clothing with modern materials– mostly that the modern materials aren’t quite right, and can be quite wrong. As Sharon Burnston explains on her website, much of this has to do with selvedges— which are not hard, and rarely tucked, now. The other trouble is width: many fabrics now come 54 to 60 inches wide, which means that you have to cut them down when making shift.

There is a solution: hand-woven, period-correct linen, available now by subscription from Justin Squizzero [email to order: justin(dot)levi(at)ymail(dot) com].

Mr Squizzero will weave both plain and check to the width you want: 3/4 (27″), 7/8 (31.5″) and yard (36″) widths, perfectly correct for period clothing.

Hand-woven checked linen

Hand-woven checked linen

The prices are $130/yard for plain bleached, $160/yard for checks– and what checks! Indigo dyed blue and white check in a pattern documented to New England at the turn of the 19th century? Oh, yes, please: I must save my allowance and sew only from my stash.

Although we debated fabric weights this past weekend, here’s what I think, and have found through wearing: shirts for soldiers and artisans– but not the elite–can certainly be made of the white and the check; I would made a shift from the white, but I prefer how my heavier shift body feels and behaves under stays. The check would be ideal, too, for an apron, which would require only one yard.

If you’re wearing a coat made from $120/yard wool dyed with documented colors, shouldn’t you wear the most correct shirt possible underneath? Entirely hand-woven (and hand-dyed in the case of the checks), you’re buying art– but isn’t that what you’re making and creating when you hand-sew your clothes and step into the past?

Disappearing Act

05 Tuesday Aug 2014

Posted by in Events, Living History, Museums

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Being_A_Sandby

As you can see in this Sandby-like image, we went, briefly, to Sturbridge for Redcoats & Rebels, so that Mr S could wear the Andes Candies Coat and the Ugly Dog Coat in the Military Fashion Show and so that I could see Sew 18th Century again. (Thanks to her for the photo!). We didn’t realize how tired we were until we sat down.

It was then that I began to process the exclamation about Fort Plain and “We’ll make a bunch of the Ugly Dog coats,” which spun quickly to the research that needed to be done on the shape and type of lace and the regiment the coats were initially meant for.

Mr S says Mr HC rolled this out in the safest place possible: The Great Meeting House, in front of the public, where no harm could come to the one who suggested all that detailed sewing for Mr S and the Young Mr.

Afterwards, as we walked through the camps, I was glad we had not camped or spent more time: tired, I have even less patience for candelabra and spinning wheels in camp.

Instead, we enjoyed walking in the village. Just before the photo above was taken, Mr FC (at left) had been stopped by a family, who had many questions for him. My favorite moment was the little girl, perhaps 4 or 5, who held out her hand to him and said, “We found a cricket skin!” There are few men better suited to rolling with that that Mr FC, who took it all in stride.

After our stroll, yes, we exited through the gift shop. But I had a goal, a half-pint tin measure. Half of that is a gill, and multiplying up takes me to pints and even quarts, which means I get a little more sophisticated in camp cooking. Porridge, boiled flour puddings, dried pea soup will all be easier to get less wrong in a kettle with a basic measuring device. Yes, gills are the measure for rum, but I don’t recommend mixing it with hose water.

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.

Fashionable Friday: Floral Embroidery Galore

27 Friday Jun 2014

Posted by in Clothing, Frivolous Friday, History, Museums, Research

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Colonial Wedding dress altered 1830

Elizabeth Bull Price’s Wedding Dress. Bostonian Society, 1910.50.35

On Tuesday evening, sensibility won over sense as my friend and I boarded the T for Boston to make a long day longer. The trip was worth it, though, for the One Night Only engagement of Elizabeth Bull’s wedding dress at the Bostonian Society. In truth, I bought the tickets for the event before I was even back at work and navigating our Fair City on my own– and who wouldn’t? That dress is amazing! (Tons more images of the embroidery are in the catalog record.)

Perhaps even more wonderful than the 14-year-old ElizabethBull’s needle skills is that the dress remains with us today. Kimberley Alexander and Tricia Gilrein reminded us on Tuesday of the many ways this dress, and other remnants of Bull’s wardrobe (oh, the petticoat, and the wonderful kerchief) connect us to the past in surprising ways. Elizabeth Bull was wealthy, married to Roger Bull, a Church of England official 22 years her senior: though they lived in Boston, they were British. (They were married in the 1730s, and Elizabeth died in 1780 at about 67.)

It’s a little hard to see past the 1830s alterations, but the embroidery of the gown helps chart that course, as well as the petticoat. As important to remember is that this wedding gown was not white: it has faded from a celadon green to its current off-white color. Wedding dresses weren’t white in the 18th century, or even long into the 19th, and it’s helpful to remember that as we look at what remains and reconstruct this in our mind’s eye.

It’s easy to forget we were British first here in the United States, and that the American War for Independence did not have a foregone conclusion. We forget, too, that churchmen and their wives were socialites as much as they were people of the cloth. Put Mr Collins out of your mind, and remember (my favorite minister & fashion maven) Reverend Enos Hitchcock and his pink satin waistcoat and suits of black silk.

Photograph of the altered gown. Bostonian Society, 1910.0050.057

Photograph of the altered gown. Bostonian Society, 1910.0050.057

Like many 18th century gowns, this one was remodeled in the 19th century, its shape altered to reflect the current fashion. We are lucky to have so much preserved, not just in the gown but also in the petticoat. Paths to understanding of women’s education, the customs and habits of Boston’s colonial elite, and the persistence of past can all be found within this object.

 

Coat Tales

23 Monday Jun 2014

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

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Coat pattern version 3

Coat pattern version 3

As the Salem Maritime Festival approaches, my anxiety increases.

Whatever will those ‘gentlemen’ wear? Coats and waistcoats, and thank goodness I finished the Young Mr’s shirt and his farm trousers still fit. He has promised to be a very annoying runaway apprentice, and I have promised to chase him from the miilliners’ shop with a broom, but before any of that can happen, ‘gentlemen’ will need new waistcoats and coats.

I got out Fitting and Proper, and took a look at that coatee pattern. It’s a little earlier than I want, so I also looked at The Cut of Men’s Clothes. In truth, I did not draft up a pattern from scratch. I had a commercially available pattern that I’d purchased when it first came out, one that purported to be historically correct, researched, and came from a reputable company.

Toile number 3. One more fitting to go...

Toile number 3. One more fitting to go…

Well…so I guess the issue with the pattern is that the gentlemen in my household are not of the typically boxy build one may see streaming past tourist sites in Boston, or even lumbering across a field in historical uniforms. My gentlemen are built for the Light Infantry, so when I finished the first muslin (or toile) of the coat and fitted it to Mr S, I removed inches–yes, inches–of material along the side and center back.

I suspected this would be necessary when I first traced the pattern pieces, but went ahead because you really have to mark up a toile on the body in question to get the fit correct. Maybe it’s just this many toiles because I’m inexperienced.

Center back pattern, version 3

Center back pattern, version 3

In any case, the armscye and upper shoulder seam were re-drafted, the drape and sweep of the tails, the width of both side and center tails, the side seam of the body, and both seams on the center back piece, which originally had a flat center back seam (I ask you!), a shorter shoulder seam, and a different side seam.

I’ve left the tail length short and after toile number 4, will mark the final tail length for both gentlemen (luckily we are at a sweet spot where this fits Mr S well and the Young Mr passably, so that with minor adjustments for the lad, a second coat could be made at some time).

I still don’t believe the tail pleats entirely, but lack the time this week to draw them from an original. They still seem too wide, though I have taken an inch or more off every tail edge.

The last thing to really wrangle, after bringing the under arm seam back up, is the sleeve; the upper arm is too long, reflecting the fact that the basis for this sleeve is my Spencer sleeve, which traces its origin to Mr Cooke’s linen suit coat pattern. Both Mr S and the Young Mr have shorter humeri and femora, which put the elbow crook on their forearms which looked rather silly and uncomfortable.

In the end, the pattern I had proved useful only in saving me from the math of enlarging a pattern from a book– it got me full-scale immediately, so that I could proceed to fitting–but this project will, when it finished, reflect multiple fittings and four pattern drafts.

If there is a moral to this story, it is this: Almost nothing will fit straight out of the book or the envelope, so leave plenty of time for catching your subject and fitting muslins.

Another moral may be, “Buy muslin in bulk,” which I did thanks to a clearance sale. I’ve already used 2 yards off the bolt I bought Saturday afternoon.