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Kitty Calash

~ Confessions of a Known Bonnet-Wearer

Kitty Calash

Tag Archives: Paul Sandby

Gathering Thoughts

25 Saturday Nov 2017

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

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

apron, classes, Paul Sandby, Research, sewing, sewing project

Someone must watch the baggage.

You only live once, as they say, so you might as well enjoy yourself, and have a nice apron while you’re at it.

At last I have finished the one I made to serve as a demonstration model for the apron class I taught for Crossroads of the American Revolution. Plain, unbleached linen (osnaburg), it will be a good, serviceable garment well suited to getting dirty through use. There’s a lot to be said for filth, and my first-ever apron has acquired a fine patina of stains and wear.

Paul Sandby RA, 1731–1809, British, London Cries: A Girl with a Basket on Her Head ("Lights for the Cats, Liver for the Dogs"), ca. 1759, Watercolor, pen and brown ink, and graphite on medium, cream, slightly textured laid paper, Yale Center for British Art, Paul Mellon Collection
Paul Sandby RA, 1731–1809, British, London Cries: A Girl with a Basket on Her Head (“Lights for the Cats, Liver for the Dogs”), ca. 1759, Watercolor, pen and brown ink, and graphite on medium, cream, slightly textured laid paper, Yale Center for British Art, Paul Mellon Collection
Paul Sandby RA, 1731–1809, British, London Cries: "Do You Want any Spoons...", ca. 1759, Watercolor, pen and brown ink and graphite on medium, cream, slightly textured laid paper, Yale Center for British Art, Paul Mellon Collection
Paul Sandby RA, 1731–1809, British, London Cries: “Do You Want any Spoons…”, ca. 1759, Watercolor, pen and brown ink and graphite on medium, cream, slightly textured laid paper, Yale Center for British Art, Paul Mellon Collection

So why make a new one, aside from needing a teaching aid? Especially when you already HAVE a checked apron that’s looking used, and you have others in your wardrobe: why? One reason was the sheer cussedness of making the plainest, dullest, least-pretty item as finely and carefully as I could. Another was that the more I looked for apron data and examples, the more I noticed plain linen aprons. Yes: the preponderance of aprons are check, but looking at Sandby again made me realize that plain was documented, and under-represented in living history.

Sandby shows working women in checked and in blue aprons, but he also seems to depict women in plain, unbleached linen aprons, particularly the women in the street scenes. All the more reason to make up a plain apron, when your preference is portraying the urban underclass.

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It’s also a good chance to hone one’s skills and keep in practice when you’re avoiding sewing the things that need sewing, like new shifts. And a basic project is meditative in a way that a new pattern is not: making stitches small and even is to sewing what scales are to piano playing or singing.

The first supervised apron I ever made is described here, and I’m pleased that my skills have improved since.

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Stroke gathers are worth practicing, since they’re used on shifts and shirts as well as aprons; I’ve even used them on early 19th century garments to evenly distribute fine cotton lawn across the back of a gown. Sharon Burnston explains them here. I don’t know that there’s any one “trick” to them aside from patience and even stitches, but that “trick” will take you far in assembling pretty much every hand-made garment.

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On the Street Corner

10 Wednesday Feb 2016

Posted by kittycalash in History, Living History, Reenacting, Research

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

18th century, cats, common people, Events, history, interpretation, living history, Paul Sandby, Research

Paul Sandby RA, 1731–1809, British, London Cries: "Turn your Copper into Silver Now before Your Eyes" (Title Page Design), 1760, Watercolor, pen and gray and brown ink over graphite on medium, cream, slightly textured laid paper, Yale Center for British Art, Paul Mellon Collection

Paul Sandby RA, 1731–1809, British, London Cries: “Turn your Copper into Silver Now before Your Eyes” (Title Page Design), 1760, Watercolor, pen and gray and brown ink over graphite on medium, cream, slightly textured laid paper, Yale Center for British Art, Paul Mellon Collection

Not everyone who’s standing on the corner is up to no good. Some have legitimate business.

In the London of the past, just as in, say, the Manhattan of today, street vendors hawked a variety of goods. Having gone through multiple versions of Cries of London, I’ve come up with a basic list of the items sold on the street.

Love songs
Stationery
Oranges
Boot laces
Reeds for chair mending
Saloop See also salop.
Gingerbread
Muffins
Hot cross buns
Doormats
Cats’ and dogs’ meat
Coal
Lavender
Ribbons

Paul Sandby RA, 1731–1809, British, London Cries: A Girl with a Basket on Her Head ("Lights for the Cats, Liver for the Dogs"), ca. 1759, Watercolor, pen and brown ink, and graphite on medium, cream, slightly textured laid paper, Yale Center for British Art, Paul Mellon Collection

Paul Sandby RA, 1731–1809, British, London Cries: A Girl with a Basket on Her Head (“Lights for the Cats, Liver for the Dogs”), ca. 1759, Watercolor, pen and brown ink, and graphite on medium, cream, slightly textured laid paper, Yale Center for British Art, Paul Mellon Collection

Boot black
Brushes
Flounders
Rhubarb
Walnuts to pickle
Cucumbers
Bandboxes
Baskets
Brooms
Rabbits
Pins
Mops
Wash balls (soap)
Strawberries
New peas
Rosemary and bay
Strings of onions
Turnips and carrots

There’s seasonality to this, of course. Strawberries and cucumbers are not being hawked on the streets of London, Boston, Newport or New York in February. I’ll tell you: being a Cat’s-meat-[wo]Man is practically a childhood dream, since I knew I could never really learn to speak to the animals, and as it happens, Sandby depicts one. It seems there was gender equity in supplying food for pets and stinking of meat.

Paul Sandby RA, 1731–1809, British, London Cries: A Milkmaid, ca. 1759, Watercolor, pen and brown ink with graphite on medium, cream, slightly textured wove paper, Yale Center for British Art, Paul Mellon Collection

Paul Sandby RA, 1731–1809, British, London Cries: A Milkmaid, ca. 1759, Watercolor, pen and brown ink with graphite on medium, cream, slightly textured wove paper, Yale Center for British Art, Paul Mellon Collection

I’ve long been fond of the milkmaid, probably because she’s relatively clean, has a cloak for warmth, and I can understand what she does. As much as I love “Turn your copper into silver,” I lack real skill at charlatanry. And gambling. I don’t play poker: my face is too easy to read. Still, if you’re doing this right, there’s a lot to invest in being a milkmaid: kettles (likely pewter), measuring cups (tin? or possibly pewter), and a yoke. It’s a commitment. Cat’s meat– if you’re good with stank and have the right basket*, you’re pretty okay.

If not stank or drank, then gaming. It looks like the object of the game is to knock down the three balls at left in the background by hitting another ball, or perhaps a stone, with the stick. Ha’penny a throw? Maybe you just throw the stick.

Paul Sandby RA, 1731–1809, British, London Cries: Throws for a Ha'penny Have You a Ha'penny, undated, Brown wash, gray wash, graphite, and black chalk on medium, cream, slightly textured laid paper, Yale Center for British Art, Paul Mellon Collection

Paul Sandby RA, 1731–1809, British, London Cries: Throws for a Ha’penny Have You a Ha’penny, undated, Brown wash, gray wash, graphite, and black chalk on medium, cream, slightly textured laid paper, Yale Center for British Art, Paul Mellon Collection

This is another instance wherein I am faced with historical things I don’t know nearly enough about: gambling and street games, pet care and keeping. Cat boxes: when we were they invented? We know cat litter is a 1947 invention, and that sand or ashes were used in cat boxes when cats were kept inside, but for the most part, they went in and out, and mostly out, until cat boxes and neutering became common, though an 1895 manual recommended that “the cat in civilization must be fed, looked after, and guarded in its moments of freedom.“**

cat care

Yes, I went there. I looked it up.

It’s more than 100 years after the time I’m investigating, but I don’t want to fall too far down this cat’s meat rabbit hole– but this does tell me that the historical images of indoor cats come with oat or straw filled baskets in sunny corners, and recommendations for galvanized pans filled with sand, clean earth, or sawdust, which may be ideal, as it can be burned.

Right, I need to focus and not entertain myself with children’s books about Old Dame Trot and her cat…dressed up. In 1810.

My point is, there’s a lot to sell on the streets of any town, images to support the material culture and reference books from which we can derive contextual clues to the impression of something as random as a cat’s meat man or woman. I don’t know that I’m leaping to be a Cat’s-meat-Woman, but it leads to a lot of interesting interpretive points about domestic life, pets, and families that visitors can relate to much more easily than street sales. Of course, if you choose to be the Cats-meat-Man, I won’t stop you from calling yourself Mr Friskies.

*See that flat do-da? I have a similar basket. It does appear one could hawk oysters from a basket like the one I have. Mmmm good.

**Huidekoper, Rush Shippen, 1854-1901. The cat, a guide to the classification and varieties of cats and a short treaties upon their care, diseases, and treatment. 1895: New York, D. Appleton and company

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Mountebanks, Watchmen, and Questionable Women

09 Tuesday Feb 2016

Posted by kittycalash in History, Living History, Research

≈ 6 Comments

Tags

18th century clothing, common dress, common people, interpretation, living history, Paul Sandby, Research, resources

Mountebanks at night. watercolor by Paul Sandby, 1758 Royal Collection Trust/© Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II 2014

Mountebanks at night. watercolor by Paul Sandby, 1758 Royal Collection Trust/© Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II 2014

Sometimes I think I’ll forgo the dressing up and going out in public, and just do the research; the world that exists in my mind is pretty satisfactory, and within it, Boston doesn’t have the GPS-killing skyscrapers of the financial district or the motor-powered vehicles that seem bent on killing pedestrians. Instead, it has horse-drawn vehicles, equally ready to run you down.

But: in thinking about the people on the margins, the people in the backgrounds of images, the people casually mentioned– “so hard to find a cook when you need one”–in letters, I’ve been looking at even more images. Here, a mountebank, illuminated by a torch, performs on a washtub outside a tavern (Good eating every Day) for a crowd of men, women, and children. Much texture here, and many people one could aspire to be.*

Mountebanks at night. watercolor by Paul Sandby, 1758 Royal Collection Trust/© Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II 2014

Mountebanks at night. watercolor by Paul Sandby, 1758 Royal Collection Trust/© Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II 2014

Let’s get the watchman out of the way.

Is that a snarl or he is just happy to see the mountebank he can bash over the head with his prodigious stick? He’s carrying the obligatory lantern, here apparently made of tin with horn, glass, or mica windows. It looks like he’s slung it over the stick, where it is caught by by the knob to keep it from sliding.

It’s a Great Coat, really: the button-embellished flap (pocket slit?), the deep sleeve cuffs, the taped buttonholes all serve to make this coat impressive and intimidating.

On his head, a rakishly angled black wool hat worn over…a cap? Help me out here, gents. It looks like a linen cap that covers the very crest of his ear. Is that possible? Or he is tonsured? If so, you’d think he’d want a cap for the cold…

Mountebanks at night. watercolor by Paul Sandby, 1758 Royal Collection Trust/© Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II 2014

Mountebanks at night. watercolor by Paul Sandby, 1758 Royal Collection Trust/© Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II 2014

Next up: the girl with a basket. She raises a lot of questions for me when I zoom in close. Yes, Virginia, she really is wearing a cast-off regimental under a short red cloak. I’ve never understood how women came to possess these coats, but look closely and you’ll see the blue cuffs and plackets on the sleeves, the pocket flap sticking up just below her basket, and the long skirt of the red coat. (That’s a dog, not a killer shrew, between her feet.)

Her hair is a mess, too; we can speculate on reasons for that, but let’s go with a long, busy  day as a servant, and not freelance corner-based activities.

What’s in the basket? A bottle? A decanter? A funnel? Hard to tell. Is she someone’s serving girl, sent out to the liquor dealer? If she is, why that coat? Is the man in red next to her grasping her elbow? Possibly…(and doesn’t he have a nice red double-breasted coat?)…and if that’s a uniform he’s wearing, is that her connection to the coat she is wearing? So many questions.

In the center background, there’s a young woman escorting a male child; she may be an older sister, but I think it’s also likely she’s a nursemaid. In the background at the left, two ladies are seen from the back, clearly wearing neat caps and jaunty hats. They’re moving away from the mountebank and the crowd, probably on their way home, respectability leaving the dangerous streets.

It’s as much a mix of people as you might find outside the Pret a Manger on State Street today. Somewhere in that crowd, there is someone to be.

*In a nod to riots recent, let us note there are 5 or 6 women shown here, 14 men, 5 children, 2 dogs and 1 monkey. That’s a 40:60 ratio of women to men. Children are, in general, grossly underrepresented in living history. Let’s talk about that someday.

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Illuminating Lampshades

08 Monday Feb 2016

Posted by kittycalash in Clothing, History, Living History, Reenacting, Research

≈ 7 Comments

Tags

18th century, 18th century clothing, authenticity, bonnets, common dress, common people, Costume, fashion, Paul Sandby, style

The more you look, the harder things get. That’s usually cause for celebration, but I’m starting to feel the pressure of more ideas and commitments than time. Here’s a question: in these undated Sandby watercolors, are the women wearing the bonnet colloquially called lampshade? What does lampshade look like from the side? My guess is that it looks a great deal like the headwear of the woman sitting on the wall. (Click the images to go to the Royal Collection site where you can enlarge them.)

Somerset House Gardens. Watercolor by Paul Sandby, 1750-1760. Royal Collection Trust/© Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II 2014

Somerset House Gardens. Watercolor by Paul Sandby, 1750-1760. Royal Collection Trust/© Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II 2014

So much good stuff in this image: the woman sitting on the wall, swinging her foot (take that, decorum); the black silk mantles; sleeve ruffles; gloves; pointy shoes; big skirts.

About those pointy shoes and big skirts….much as I would love for this image to be really relevant to my quest, we are looking at the 1750s. At least lampshade comes in to greater focus, both in date and in construction. Ooh, look! More lampshade.

The Ladies Waldegrave, 1760-1770. Watercolor by Paul Sandby Royal Collection Trust/© Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II 2014

The Ladies Waldegrave, 1760-1770. Watercolor by Paul Sandby Royal Collection Trust/© Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II 2014

The eldest of these young ladies was born in 1760 and the youngest in 1762, so we’re really close to 1770 here. They’re not only incredibly adorable (I know a quite darling and very young lady for whom I want to make one of these pretty much immediately), but they’re in the right time period. Most of the bonnet images in the Royal Collection seemed to be of young women or girls, until I happened upon this image, from 1768.

A carriage, with man and lady 1768. Watercolor by Paul Sandby. Royal Collection Trust/© Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II 2014

A carriage, with man and lady 1768. Watercolor by Paul Sandby. Royal Collection Trust/© Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II 2014

Well, “lady” might be pushing it where I’m concerned, but that image feels like the best solid evidence of bonnetness close to 1770.

The ascent to the Round Tower c.1770. Paul Sandby. Royal Collection Trust/© Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II 2014
The ascent to the Round Tower c.1770. Paul Sandby. Royal Collection Trust/© Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II 2014
Detail, The ascent to the Round Tower c.1770. Paul Sandby, Royal Collection Trust/© Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II 2014
Detail, The ascent to the Round Tower c.1770. Paul Sandby, Royal Collection Trust/© Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II 2014

Here’s another ca. 1770 image. Way in the back, there’s a bonnet.

Can’t get enough of that black taffety? Have another.

A young girl, standing 1760-1780. Paul Sandby, Royal Collection Trust/© Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II 2014

A young girl, standing 1760-1780. Paul Sandby, Royal Collection Trust/© Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II 2014

Wonder what that might look like from the back? Voila.

A girl in a sunhat, seen from behind, 1760-1770. Paul Sandby, Royal Collection Trust/© Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II 2014

A girl in a sunhat, seen from behind, 1760-1770. Paul Sandby, Royal Collection Trust/© Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II 2014

This is by no means an exhaustive search, but thanks to a Facebook commenter, I’ve rediscovered the Royal Collection, and found later images of the peculiarly lamp-shade like headwear, and one image with a firm date of 1768.

In Book of Ages, Jill Lepore quotes a February 27, 1766 letter from Jane Franklin Mecom in Boston to Deborah Read Franklin in Philadelphia, regarding the clothing her brother Benjamin had shipped to her. “For ‘Each of us a Printed coten Gownd a quilted coat a bonnet.’ She continues about her bonnet, “is very suteable for me to were now being black and a Purple coten.” (Lepore, Book of Ages, p. 144)

What do you suppose that 1766 bonnet looks like? Do you think it looks more like lampshade, or these transitional forms? Probably lampshade, but the materials are intriguing: Purple cotton. Is that the brim lining? Jane Mecom is in mourning, so I’d expect the main body (brim and caul) of the bonnet to be black, and most likely taffeta, which turns up as a descriptor in the runaway ads.

Wide-brimmed, black taffeta bonnet, possibly lined in cotton, 1766-1768. But how long did bonnets last?*  What went into them– Buckram? Pasteboard? Coated pasteboard? Baleen? A combination of pasteboard and baleen?

I’ve got some ideas, and if the next winter storm doesn’t delay the mail too long, I might have experiments to conduct this weekend.

*Or any clothing? But that’s a post for another day.

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Pinner Aprons

23 Thursday Jan 2014

Posted by kittycalash in Clothing, History, Laundry, Making Things, Reenacting, Research

≈ 3 Comments

Tags

18th century clothes, apron, Clothing, common dress, Costume, fashion, laundry, Paul Sandby, pinner apron, style, watercolors

Mr & Mrs Thomas Sandby. Watercolor by Paul Sandby. RCIN 917875, Royal Collection Trust.

Mr & Mrs Thomas Sandby. Watercolor by Paul Sandby. RCIN 917875, Royal Collection Trust.

On Saturday, Sew 18th Century and I went out for lunch and fabric shopping. Along the way, I brought up pinner aprons, and that I’d seen them in British prints. She said, “You should blog about that!” and I went back to check my sources. Fail! There was an English print after a French original, and that doesn’t count!

So I shelved that idea, and went about looking for more Paul Sandby images of soldiers and maids and tents, and found instead Mr and Mrs Thomas Sandby. Ahem. Pinner apron alert.

Fluke, right? Well, no, not exactly.

Lady Chambers and child. Watercolor by Paul Sandby, RCIN 914409. Royal Collection Trust.

Lady Chambers and child. Watercolor by Paul Sandby, RCIN 914409. Royal Collection Trust.

Because here is Lady Chambers and child, with Lady Chambers in a pinner apron.

The thing to note, though, is that “apron” here is a decorative, almost ceremonial garment made of black silk, while the maid engaged in Domestick Employment is wearing a working garment of [probably white] linen.

Domestick employment, washing. Mezzotint by Richard Houston after Phillipe Mercier, 1736-1775. British Museum 1876,0708.23

Domestick employment, washing. Mezzotint by Richard Houston after Phillipe Mercier, 1736-1775. British Museum 1876,0708.23

Well, can I wear a pinner apron as a Continental army laundress or not? Probably not, though I will be going back through all the images of laundering I can find. It would be so useful and protective a garment!

No, instead, it looks as if the black silk pinner apron was a fashion adopted by the British upper class probably in imitation of the aprons worn by young girls. These fleeting, black silk accessories were probably adapted to some other use when the fashion had fallen from favor. (You could make a lot of mitts out of one of those.) Sadly, I don’t care enough about the elite to go chasing inventories and more images, but someone else can. I think I have seen a few other examples of this style, but cannot immediately place them. My sense is that these are not common.

I’m much more interested in laundresses and maids. Doesn’t she look sassy? We could call her Bridget. 

A country girl, full-length, facing front, leaning against a fence & a tree. Watercolor by Paul Sandby. RCIN 914438. Royal Collection Trust

A country girl, full-length, facing front, leaning against a fence & a tree. Watercolor by Paul Sandby. RCIN 914438. Royal Collection Trust

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