Tag Archives: shopping

Bag and Baggage

29 Thursday Aug 2019

Posted by in Living History, material culture, Reenacting, Research

≈ 5 Comments

Tags

, , , , , , ,

Shopping with a basket at Fort Fred. (photo by Denise Wolff)

The subject of carrying things at living history events never seems fully resolved. There were the fireworks I like to call Basketgate, and in the four years since, more women have been carrying frails than firm-sided baskets. But here’s the thing: baskets were not used as purses. They were used for shopping, and for babies (thanks, Ruth!), not for toting about one’s personal effects. That’s what pockets were, and remain, for.

Pocket, silk on linen, ca. 1780. Martha Elizabeth Spach (probably). MESDA 2400.

18th century women were not cursed with the tiny pockets of today’s fashionable jeans. No, they had voluminous pockets capable of holding a vast array of items: pocket journals, purses (like our wallets), game tokens, an orange, keys, and almost anything else you can think of. The pocket shown in the image is 15″ long by 11″ wide, which is a fairly typical size, though some were even larger. When I made these, I described them as “large enough for a puppy,” and Facebook wouldn’t let me post them. There is now a full-length book on The Pocket and I look forward to reading it next year, when my ILL will finally request it ($50 being too dear for my budget). In the meantime, the Victoria and Albert Museum will get you started if pockets are new to you.

So, baskets for shopping and pockets for personal things. What else might you use to convey something from one place to another?

Paul Sandby RA, 1731–1809, British, London Cries: A Man with a Bundle, Old Clothes, undated, Watercolor on medium, cream, slightly textured laid paper, Yale Center for British Art, Paul Mellon Collection

A wallet, of the kind reenactors call a “market wallet,” though that was not the period term. You can read about these in an article by Charles LeCount. The man in the watercolor has a very full wallet over his shoulder, demonstrating the larger end of the wallet spectrum.

And to carry your money in? A purse or pocketbook, sometimes in leather, sometimes in flame stitch, and sometimes in silk.

Leather…
flamestitch…
and silk

Which one you choose depends on who you portray, and where. Silk wallets or pocketbooks belong to a particular class and the ones in museum collections are often from France. Flamestitch wallets are reasonably common in North America among people with the time to make them. The really neat thing about these is that the patterns show regional differences, so you can tailor your choice to your place. (I lack the patience, skill, or time to really make headway on mine, but in addition to a wonderful custom pattern, I found kits here.) I have a leather one I love, made by this fellow craftsperson and friend.

Miser’s purse, early 1800s, maker unknown. Purchased 2002. CC BY-NC-ND 4.0. Te Papa (GH009865)

Your coins? A purse. (we call these miser’s purses, though long purse or ring purse might also be used. The forms originates in the 17th century, and although it is most popular in the 19th century, it does appear in the 18th century. It’s just not common, so no, not everyone should have one. A simple bag will do for those with coins they wish to keep wrangled.

Servant Returning from the Market, 1739, Jean-Baptiste-Simeon Chardin. Louvre Museum,
MI 720

A bag, a pillow case, or even a tied cloth, as seen in the painting by Chardin.

There are lots of options for carrying chattel, lumber, and personal items, and most leave your hands free. But for women, the first place to start is tie-on pockets, and for men, the pockets in your coat. After all, the pocket bags in a typical Henry Cooke frock coat will hold a six pack between them. 

If you like this content, please consider supporting me by making a pledge to my Kickstarter.

A Tisket, A Tasket: What Basket?

17 Saturday Sep 2016

Posted by in History, Living History, material culture, Reenacting

≈ Comments Off on A Tisket, A Tasket: What Basket?

Tags

, , , , , , ,

Nancy had a great question: What did middle class ladies use to carry their shopping?

But here’s the thing: they didn’t carry the shopping, because they didn’t do the shopping– not the big shopping, anyway.

La Pourvoyeuse, oil on canvas by Jean-Simeon Chardin, 1739. Louvre Museum.

La Pourvoyeuse, oil on canvas by Jean-Simeon Chardin, 1739. Louvre Museum.

La Pourvoyeuse by Chardin shows a woman returning from market in 1739. No basket. A bundle or bag with a fowl in it, head down. Unwrapped loaves of bread. But clearly a servant.

From waste books, it’s pretty clear that people are sending their “boys” and “girls” (servants or slaves) to fetch liquor. That will come home in bottles, like the ones at the feet of La Pourvoyeuse. And I think it comes home just in their hands, but perhaps- and more likely not– in a basket. A floppy basket, usually for floppy birds.

Balthazar Nebot, active 1730–1762, Spanish, active in Britain (from 1729), Fishmonger's stall, 1737, Oil on copper, Yale Center for British Art, Paul Mellon Collection

Balthazar Nebot, active 1730–1762, Spanish, active in Britain (from 1729), Fishmonger’s stall, 1737, Oil on copper, Yale Center for British Art, Paul Mellon Collection

Baskets have come up before. So this is part of a larger argument. Mostly, we see servants marketing. Middle class ladies certainly shop– what is the class level of this woman (above)?— but so many things can be delivered, or are peddled door-to-door, and servants are so common, that I think we don’t yet fully understand shopping in the 18th century.

After the meteoric rise of consumerism, after department stores, yes: shopping is more like what we do. But in the pre-ice box and pre-packaged era, meat cannot be bought and frozen, and milk will not last all that long. Things were brought home one at a time, or a few at a time, many times a week. And middle class ladies bought small things– ribbons, almanacks, shoes– and bring them home in their pockets, just in their hands, or, I would guess, wrapped in a bundle of paper (a pair of shoes) or in a band box (a bonnet) if the things are not delivered.

A long winded way to say, I don’t know: but I’m pretty sure middle class ladies sent their servants out frequently so the ladies didn’t carry baskets and the servants used bags, aprons, and their hands.

Of Chamber Pots and Train Seats

26 Tuesday Apr 2016

Posted by in Events, History, Living History, personal

≈ Comments Off on Of Chamber Pots and Train Seats

Tags

, , , , , , ,

DSC_0361

Why yes: I was able to carry all my loot.

The Northeast Regional: Bane and delight of my existence, for while the night train at least allows you to sleep through the agony of an eight hour trip, and although the quiet car allows some solid time to for reading and writing, one’s seat mate can be unpredictable.

I am not a good seatmate. My legs are long, and I have a marked tendency to cry through several station stops (or states) when leaving someone I love. But the foolproof way to maintain seat independence is writing: reading over someone’s shoulder is rude enough that I feel little guilt in writing all the things I write about. On train 86, it was chamber pots.

DSC_0367

How fantastic will that look with blue?

Part of my southward trip was to the Market Fair at Fort Fred, where I was pleased to visit old and make new acquaintances in addition to shopping. Handkerchiefs: can you ever have enough? I think not, and was delighted to find one pretty much guaranteed to clash with any blue gown.

You can never have too much to read.

You can never have too much to read.

Thread is always useful, and I find it easier to purchase in the flesh, when I can get a better sense of gauge and color. I’d had a request for a period-appropriate notebook and a replacement pocket knife, and was delighted indeed to find one (I bought two) that will hurt less to lose.

But, reader, best of all was the pottery. I possess enough self restraint to know I cannot venture near the mocha ware, for I might take leave of all common sense and purchase more than I can carry on the train, fit in my already full cupboard, or reasonably afford. Still, there was a custom punch bowl to see, kindly ordered for me some months ago, and, by the same potter’s hand? A chamber pot.

DSC_0363

Because I can, that’s why.

Not for me the lighthouse coffee pot (though of course I covet one). No, sir: the blue floral decorated chamber pot caught my eye, and have it I must. So I do.

I realize I have a bit of an obsession, and that one might consider this an unholy interest, but the utility of the device is not lost upon me, having had occasion to use one. Whilst staying in a 1787 house that remains unplumbed, I woke one Sunday at 2:00AM to pouring rain outside, and the urgent call of nature inside. Privies don’t faze me, but I lacked adequate rain protection and a fireproof light source. Happily, I had discovered a chamber pot in the house when I poked around it, and was able to find it by candlelight.

Two hip replacements make some activities more challenging than others, hence my tip: put it on a chair. Your floor will thank you.

Drapers, Sutlers and Other Sources

10 Saturday Jan 2015

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

≈ 11 Comments

Tags

, , , , , ,

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.

Fabric Selection Resources: Printed & Online

09 Friday Jan 2015

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

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

, , , , ,

Jackie asked about fabrics: how do you choose?

I’m going to start with prints, cottons, linens and silks; the second part will cover wools and sutlers.

There’s no substitute for feeling up the real thing, or samples, and while I do not have the book, I’m told by a very reliable source that it is worth buying Swatches from Wm Booth or from Hallie. I also order Burnley & Trowbridges swatch sets, which are often  more extensive than what’s on their website. Those samples help me gauge fabrics online– comparing the actual square with a thumbnail online is helpful.

Barbara Johnson: a typical page

Barbara Johnson: a typical page, this from 1803

Where else can you look for guidance? One of the best books that spans a wide range of living history time periods is the Barbara Johnson book of swatches. Owned and published by the Victoria and Albert Museum, A Lady of Fashion is out of print, but the pages have been scanned and are available online. The print version is better– it’s big!– but you can download the images and get a better sense of the scale of the samples.

What is particularly useful is that Barbara Johnson dated the samples, and wrote down how they were used. You can’t get better than that!

Susan Greene’s Wearable Prints is neither small nor cheap, but it is extensive, covering 1760 to 1860. This is a very hand book to have to help sort out typical looks for different time periods, and the likely range of colors.

Textile Sample Book, 1771. Metropolitan Museum of Art. 156.4 T31

Textile Sample Book, 1771. Metropolitan Museum of Art. 156.4 T31

Other museums have digitized sample books: the Met, for example, has multiple images of woven fabrics from a 1771 sample book online.

What you need to remember here is fibre: those homespuns at JoAnn will not behave the way linens behave, even if they look the same. Hand and drape are everything, and cotton, or cotton-poly will not do want linen does. Buy the linen, it’ll look, feel, and wear better.

There are many more sample books, but you have to be careful: some are dated only “19th century.” Great. That’s where Susan Greene and Barbara Johnson can help you sort out which *part* of the 19th century you’re looking at.

Swatch book, 1763-1764. Victoria and Albert Museum, T.373-1972

Swatch book, 1763-1764. Victoria and Albert Museum, T.373-1972

For silks, you can see a very specific and detailed range of silks in Selling Silks, which reproduces another sample book at the Victoria and Albert. Not all samples are 1763-1764; you will need to read the descriptions, but this can be helpful in figuring out how to use fabrics. I have come into some red silk damask that I can make into a gown; it’s vintage silk from France, probably pre-World War II. The pattern is large, replicating a 1740s fabric, but when I make up my gown, I think it can be 1760s, but not a lot later.

Part of looking and buying is understanding how textiles might be bought, saved, made up, reused and repurposed over time.