Tag Archives: fashion

Floral Arrangements

28 Friday Jun 2013

Posted by in Clothing, Living History, Making Things

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By popular request, flowers.

The pieced lining. Click for larger versions.

I debated with myself about whether or not it was OK to piece the lining, and then I figured that it was what I had, so I would make do. It was a hot mess, all freehand, and I was convinced of total failure until I started stitching the lining down just over the millinery wire. Then the shape began to pull tightly and behave better. If I were to do this again, and if I were to make recommendations to another hat fiend, here’s are two changes I’d suggest:

1. Make an actual tidy pattern of your hat circle on a large piece of paper (newspaper, wrapping paper, whatever).

2. Trim and tidy edges so you are piecing straight, radial lines and not curves or tangents; better yet, buy a new remnant and don’t piece. I was too afraid of ‘wasting’ my scraps, so I pieced on the tangent. It’s OK, but I could have made this a bit easier for myself.

Happy birthday, Mr S!

Beyond those minor points, this is easy; piecing and fitting on the fly got a little wonky. Also, though your mileage may vary, 4:00 AM may not be the best time to start new projects. Wait till 5:00, when your coffee has kicked in.

We had real, not printed fabric, flowers in the house on Tuesday, which was Mr S’s birthday. I chose peonies because they looked so Dutch, though you cannot see the little variegated petals here.

Kitty wishes to know if you are getting all your leafy greens, because he is.

Flowers for dessert.

Monmouth Millinery

25 Tuesday Jun 2013

Posted by in 1763 Project, Clothing, Making Things, Reenacting, Research

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New hat!

New hat!

As Eloise or her Nanny might say, It is rawther warmer than I care for. Lucky for me, I have a new hat. It’s a black straw hat of a kind you might see called a bergère, along with 4 yards of silk ribbon, purchased at Burnley & Trowbridge’s tent at Monmouth. Jim and Angela and their assistants were very helpful, and this was rawther a splurge for me, as I mostly buy my ribbon from Wm Booth’s remnants, when they are available. (We are tenant farmers. Mostly.)

Coromandel Coast lined hat, from an auction.

Coromandel Coast lined hat, from an auction.

But in this instance, I wanted a lady’s hat, so I pleated up about two yards of green silk ribbon, and added a bow. To get the multi-vector bending effect, I stitched millinery wire from Abraham’s Lady around the brim. The inside of the brim is lined with pieced scraps of the purple “Fleurs d’Inde” I used for a jacket (also made from a Wm Booth remnant). It ties on with yet another yard or more of ribbon. This is really a frivolous hat, for me. There are extant examples of straw hats lined with chintz, as you can see.

As luck would have it, I got to wear it right off, the very day I made it. How often do you get the chance to do without panic and pain? We attended the Saturday version of the Rochambeau Tea on Joy Homestead, an event which has its dedicated fans.

First hat outing

First hat outing

I wore this same gown last year, and to Nathan Hale; to my delight, I am enjoying it more each time I wear it. I think this petticoat is the right one; madder was too close and black too contrasty. Since the Rochambeau Tea “year” is 1780, this dress passes (ahem) muster; for many of the events I attend, it is too fashion forward.

London Cries: the Fishmonger. Paul Sandby ca. 1759. YCBA B1975.3.210

This hat will, I think, also work for the 1763 event, as the woman in yellow here is wearing a similarly dual-plane twist hat. I’ll never have a yellow gown though: I look pretty horrid in yellow.

What’s behind that green suit?

04 Tuesday Jun 2013

Posted by in 1763 Project, Clothing, Events, Reenacting, Research

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The American School, by Matthew Pratt, 1765. MMA 97.29.3

The American School, by Matthew Pratt, 1765. MMA 97.29.3

Mr S. has a green linen suit in the making; that is, he has breeches which mostly fit, and a frock coat in need of serious alteration. Since I will need to alter this coat eventually (that is, take it apart, re-cut and re-assemble it) I have started looking for images of green suits.

Portrait of a Boy, probably of the Crossfield family. William Williams, MMA 65.34

Portrait of a Boy, probably of the Crossfield family. William Williams, 1770-75, MMA 65.34

The green linen the suit was made from is no longer available, so there will be no matching waistcoat. If I can get the thing tweaked to an approximation of ca. 1763, we should be set for the August event (if that happens) and for Battle Road next year, though I know he might want wool. The taunts of “bet you wish you had the rest of that coat” from this year linger in my mind, at least.

The jacket is, admittedly, too short. I begin to wonder if I need to cut it down even more, like a workman’s short coat; the Massachusetts line “Bounty Coats” are cut shorter, and similar to a coat at the Connecticut Historical Society (1981.110.0, search by number here, the links are not stable).

Mr S last June, in the unfinished 36-hour-frock coat

The problem with that plan, at least for 1763, is that the cuffs are clearly larger and coats longer, in 1763, than they are in 1775, at least for gentleman. I realize that this means I am better off starting over completely for the 1763 coat from a muslin up (which against all instinct and principles, I did not do for the 36-hour-frock coat). So I’m waffling here, as Mr S doesn’t always want to portray the day laborer/tenant farmer, but would like some pretensions to artisan and property owner. That means more fabric, and that means starting over completely is in order–breeches, waistcoat, frock coat and all. But wait, there’s more!

The events in the queue before the August 10th event for 1763 include Monmouth on June 15-16 (for which overalls and hunting frock are in production), Washington’s Arrival in Cambridge on July 14, which requires militia clothing, and Old Sturbridge Village the first weekend in August, for which a regimental coat is requested. Somewhere along the line, I’d like to make myself something…but it looks more and more like a summer of menswear. Perhaps cutting down that green coat and altering the breeches for July 14 is the most sensible plan…though where that will leave 1763, or the regimental coat, I do not know.

Frivolity

29 Wednesday May 2013

Posted by in Clothing, Making Things

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chintz jacket

Detail, back neck and neckhandkerchief

Well, not all that frivolous, but pretty frivolous for someone who has been doubled down on a uniform production and class prep.

The remnant of chintz has turned into a nearly finished jacket, which is good. All that remains to do is the hem, and once the lining has been trimmed that shouldn’t be too hard. The pattern is an adaptation of the JP Ryan jacket pattern, with sleeve and length adjustments. It’s plain enough to pass, and with a striped “lincey” petticoat, will answer for New York-New Jersey servant wear. I have my eye on Monmouth.

checked linen bagAlso for Monmouth, the first of two checked linen bags. Small enough for toothbrush, comb, and other toiletries necessary in this century but out of place in 1778, these bags should help make camp packing lighter weight and more authentic. Hope so anyway, or what’s that backstitching and overcasting for, fun?

JoAnn Cotton fabric.

I watched it for six months.

And, finally, on a whimsical trip to Jo-Ann for plastic drawers, the remnant table was half off. The fabric I’ve been watching since it was $7/yard was $1.50 a yard. I got all 8 yards for $12. I see a dress of some kind in this fabric, though it will require caution to wear. 100% cotton, this will burn. Which century or decade? Not sure yet. But I like it, and that’s enough to start with, when you’re feeling frivolous. (And yes, I did read that article in the Times about hoarding, but this is Strategic Fabric Reserve purchasing, not hoarding.)

Impressionism, Fashion, and Modernity

21 Tuesday May 2013

Posted by in Art Rant, Museums

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The authentic matters, the real matters. It is different. Great art leaps from the surface of the paper and lives. Photographs may burn into the paper, but in that depth, they, too, live and glow.

Gallery 2: En Plein Air

Gallery 2: En Plein Air

The Met’s installation of Impressionism, Fashion, and Modernity is worth seeing for the coalescence of so many real things in such a [relatively] small space. The monumental paintings, especially Monet’s Luncheon on the Grass in Gallery 2, En Plein Air, need to be seen for real, in the actual matter, to really be appreciated. The brushstrokes, the color, the enormity, all need to be in front of you to be appreciated—to be experienced. It doesn’t work any other way. (Click here for better views of the paintings and costumes; photography was not permitted.)

Gallery 5: The Dictates of Style

Gallery 5: The Dictates of Style

By way of an intimate contrast, consider the portrait of the gown and the gown itself in Gallery 5, The Dictates of Style. Here’s a lesson in the power of art, of paint, and an artist’s vision—and it’s Bartholomé, not Monet or some other genius, though a solid painter all the same.

Behold the cotton dress in conservator-approved lighting and yawn. Well designed, beautifully made, and real, right down to the stain on the upper bodice or collar, a pleat slightly misaligned at the hem. But yawn all the same. Now, the Bartholomé: bam! It’s not about the dress: it’s about light. This contrast is beyond a doubt one of the best lessons I have ever seen on the real nature of painting, and of impressionism: Light.

And if the authentic, the real is important, going to see the real thing is also important.

Here’s the Met’s catalog shot and record for a Degas drawing:

Degas

MMA, 29.100.185

And my iPad photo of the same drawing:

MMA, 29.100.185.

I’m not a wild fan of Degas; I’m more a Joseph Beuys/Caravaggio kind of art lover, but seen in person, this sketch was amazing.

This is an unfair comparison, and I had expected the catalog shot to be in color, because color is so important to this piece. In black and white, you miss the pop of the color contrast between the medium and the paper; you miss the bleed of the oil spot, more subtle in the black and white. You miss the way that image is fast and messy, the simmering tension between the artist and the sitter. Incredible as it seems, there is nothing like the real thing.