Tag Archives: linen

Check’d Bonnets

18 Saturday May 2019

Posted by in Living History, Research

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Here’s a question: what about those linen bonnets? Am I making that up?

As it happens, nope.

Linen bonnets appear in ads from the 1760s to the 1780s, sometimes described as white, and sometimes as check. There’s even a white diaper bonnet! The thing to remember is that so far I haven’t found these in New England, but that’s because I’m using runaway ads, and those are far less common in New England. There’s plenty of check linen fabric in New England– but if there were bonnets, those references may be in inventories I haven’t had a chance to dig into.

Maryland Gazette, (Annapolis)June 4, 1772

Another possibility in the regionalism of linen (checked or white) is climate. A friend and fellow blogger sees the linen bonnets in coastal North Carolina, which makes sense in terms of weather. It’s warmer and even more humid on the North Carolina coast than it is on the Rhode Island coast, and I’ve found linen to be much cooler than silk. This same regionalism may apply to what we see from Philadelphia to Frederick, Maryland.

Maryland Journal, August 21, 1776. I love this one because Rosannah is as tall as I am!

As I tabulate data, trends will emerge; as it happens, I’ve already seen that half the bonnets I’ve entered are linen and half are silk. Those references are from the Mid Atlantic and coastal South, with only one from Rhode lsland (and that a “blue cloth” bonnet), so there’s lots more data entry to come. For the moment, though, it’s safe to say that a checked, white, diaper, or dimity linen bonnet is documentable from 1758 to 1780 from Philadelphia south to Wilmington, North Carolina. The fiber persists, but shapes will change.

Mending: Check

18 Wednesday Apr 2018

Posted by in Clothing, History, Living History, Reenacting

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My poor old apron. It’s almost– but not quite– the firstarticle of historical clothing I made. (The first was a shift. Infrastructure and fundamentals, people.) It acquired some new wear (actual holes!) in New Jersey, and required mending.

First, it needed to be washed. I hadn’t taken a objective look at my apron in a while, but after we got home from Salem, I knew I had to mend it, which meant washing.

Reader, it smelled.

You get used to smells, and even enjoy them: wet wool, gunpowder, wood smoke. And then there’s tallow. I’ve never gotten used to the smell of tallow, and I don’t remember when this apron encountered hard fat, but the odor is unmistakable.

So is the water.

This past weekend, I had a chance to mend this favorite apron while I peddled luxury goods at Fort Dobbs’ War for Empire event.

Although I have a sturdy plain linen apron, I’m fond of checks, and of the hand this apron has achieved after much wearing and some washing.

It will never be really clean again, but for now, the apron is mended and back in rotation.

On & Off the Grid

16 Wednesday Sep 2015

Posted by in 1830s, Clothing, Living History, Making Things

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It’s been a very busy time chez Calash, with many changes underway and to come. It’s hard to keep up with all the writing I’m doing everywhere, but eventually I’ll be back on topics of authenticity, standards, and whimsical Wednesdays.

This week, though, is all about checks. (Most weeks are, in some way, aren’t they?) Not paychecks, silly: linen checks.

We are headed out to Eastfield Village Friday afternoon where Mr Hiwell and the Young Mr will join in the 1833 militia muster, and Mr JS and I will occupy a house as a shop/tailoring business/punch-making and cooking establishment of one kind or another.

Mr Hiwell has been warned to expect a diet unlike his norm, and since his roundabout is white, we will quickly know if he is smuggling Oreos and barbeque sauce.
 For the Young Mr, I have been making trousers. Yes, I do like things to line up. I wasn’t even paying that much attention when I cut these, but apparently that was  was enough.

Yes, even the buttons.


Sigh. It’s a thing.

He’s also got a roundabout in the works, which I must focus on more closely to finish. This is patterned from an original in Henry Cooke’s collection, but… Mr. Cooke and I, on a very sticky Tuesday afternoon, did not have the Young Mr at hand to measure again. The original was too small: that we knew. What we did not know was that the boy had taken on a man’s shape– or, as a friend says, “he’s dude-shaped now!”–and the additions we made were not enough, except (barely) to the sleeves.


Oh, well. There was just enough to make it all work, and after some trials I realized it needed a lining. What kind of lining? A checked lining, of course!

It seems okay, but these collars are strange to  me.


Well, at least he will be clad.

Let you think  I’m sewing only for the lad, I am in fact working on a gown for myself. There’s a hopeful yard or so of another check’d  linen from the stickiest fabric store on 39th Street lurking, but I do not think that apron will happen this week. Perhaps John Brown’s housekeeper will finish it someday.

At least there are already gowns and aprons ready-made that can travel with me. Someday soon I’d like to finish my new stays… winter will come soon enough, and more sewing then.

Mad for Plaid and Patches

21 Tuesday Oct 2014

Posted by in Clothing, Museums

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Yesterday, I went to visit another collection, this time at the University of Rhode Island. I don’t have thoughts about replicating coats- they didn’t ask me any hard questions about making coats, they just let me work– but I did see a lot of amazing garments.

I’m focused primarily on men’s clothing at the moment, largely because I’m stumbling towards an exhibit or a paper or maybe a better blog post, and because thus far I have not found any examples of women’s garments made from locallly-woven checks or stripes in local collections.*

What I concentrated on at URI were two very lovely examples of the kinds of clothing worn by everyday people in Rhode Island and Southeastern Connecticut, both collected by a woman who lived in the village of Lafayette on the Victory Highway. Mrs Muriel Buckley was born in Exeter, RI in 1884, and started collecting clothing of all kinds in 1900, when she married; by the mid-1950s, she was known as a “one woman historical society,” according to a Providence Journal article, and hosted parties where she and her guests dressed up in the clothes and cooked colonial recipes in early ironware. **

As my late landlady’s husband used to say, “Cut the cackle, let’s eat some grub.”***

Blue and white striped linen fall-front trousers ca. 1830, URI 1967.13.16

11967.13.16, trousers ca 1830. Gift of Mrs Muriel Buckley, URI Textile Collection.

1967.13.16, trousers ca 1830. Gift of Mrs Muriel Buckley, URI Textile Collection.

These are pretty interesting, with about a dozen patches of various sizes and fabrics. The main fabric is a blue and white stripe linen of 42 threads per inch. The fall-fronts have pockets built into the bearers, with a welt cut on the grain but set on the bias for a snazzy little graphic moment. The button holes appear to be slightly rounded at the ends in a way that siuggests intent and helps confirm the date. The buttons are not all the same design, but are all four-holed bone buttons. The trousers have a 31″ waistband, a 19.5″ rise, and a 26″ inseam.

The other truly fabulous piece I saw was a coat in a blue, white and orange check “Stonington Plaid” ca. 1800, URI 1967.13.17.

This is a double-breasted, self-faced tail coat with self-covered buttons and notch collar lapels, false pocket flaps on coat body and pockets in the tails and left breast. The unlined, folded-back cuffs are tacked to the sleeve and may have been shortened. The overall length at CB is 36″, sleeve length is 25.5″ and the chest is about 34″.

1967.13.17, "Stonington Plaid" linen check coat, 1800-1810. Gift of Mrs Muriel Buckley, URI Textiles Collection.

1967.13.17, “Stonington Plaid” linen check coat, 1800-1810. Gift of Mrs Muriel Buckley, URI Textiles Collection.

When I opened this coat and looked at the seams, I was struck by the construction method, not because it was different, but because it was so typical. (I also peeked inside two wool broadcloth coats in the cupboard: same construction as the woolen coats I’d seen before.) It;’s nice to see conventions in action, and recognize what you’re seeing.

The collar on this coat has some little anomalies suggesting a less-experienced hand, or perhaps a foray into a new type of collar; judging by the pad stitching, I’m more inclined to guess less experienced hand, though not home manufacture. Someday I’ll track down the South County and eastern CT tailor’s books…

1967.13.17, back view of "Stonington Plaid" checked linen coat. Gift of Mrs Muriel Buckley, URI Textiles Collection.

1967.13.17, back view of “Stonington Plaid” checked linen coat. Gift of Mrs Muriel Buckley, URI Textiles Collection.

In the meantime, what amazing clothes and fabulous fabrics! The past looks nothing like what we imagine unless we can look past fashion plate elegance to the riot of stripes and checks and prints that must have existed in almost every village and town in Rhode Island.

*With the exception of a pocket at Mystic Seaport and a gown at the Smithsonian: accessory in the first case and very not local in the second case, making in hard to study in a day trip.

**Having palpitations yet? Your heart will really race if I can track down the photos to prove all this. In other news, I know a couple of gentlemen who are currently “one person historical societies.” The collecting instinct in wired into some folks.

***Jack and Harriet: she survived the 1938 Hurricane, and their overweight black-and-white polydactyl cat, Bonnie, followed them around the corner to church every Sunday.