My Late Reticule

I’ve recently joined The Historic Sew Fortnightly, which means I not only have deadlines for school and work, but also my hobby.

And I missed one!

I meant to submit this piece for the challenge that ended last night, but I missed it by half an hour. I would have been really lucky to get it done by then, considering that I hadn’t been a member of the group for long. Like, five days or something.

This project began when I decided to remake my little white reticule because it was a little too little. So I tried the big, pocket-shaped embroidered style popular in the late 1790s and early 1800s.

So here’s my adaptation; 100% hand sewn with linen thread and made with linen and cotton fabric, and a cotton cord for the drawstring. And probably about 2 cups of starch. Again, I used my huge embroidery vocabulary of two different stitches here. Completed, it’s about 14″ deep by 10″ wide, certainly big enough to hide an iProduct in.

For reference, here are some originals from Two Nerdy History Girls here. And some variations on the theme, from the Met, here and here.

I rushed through mine and finished it to the point of being juuust useable … but now, hey, since I missed the deadline, why not keep working on it? I’m thinking I’ll embroider the front pieces more. It could use more fancy.

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I cut two U-shaped pieces of linen, and two of cotton for the lining, and starched the bejeezus out of them because I didn’t have an embroidery hoop. I also tacked the edges together. The embroidery designs are adapted from the originals linked to above.

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I gathered a strip of linen to the edges to make the sides, and used a scrap of cotton for the drawstring casing and ruffle at the top.

 

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Close-up of the embroidery, which I like, but is super basic. And that weird circle thing in the middle of the design could have been executed wayyy better. And what the heck am I going to put inside the circle? A peacock? Maybe a basket of flowers or a cornucopia? Phhh. 

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All gathered up.

 

 


Springy Underthingies

I have been sewing a lot, which means I have other things that I’m procrastinating on.

Like midterms. The surprise one that’s due in four days. And the two papers due five days after that. And registering for Spring classes in five days.

Aaaanyway.

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From my limited research, it appears that steel springs were used in clothing beginning sometime around 1760-1780. They don’t seem to have caught on for much other than garters, which they were used for through the 19th century. The Kyoto Costume Institute has a pair of 1790s transitional stays with springs in them, but they’re the only pair I’ve ever seen.

So late 18th century springy garters are cool. I’ve wanted to make a pair for a long time, and just last weekend was given two lengths of spring suitable for them. Of course they had to happen.

IMG_2136With wire cutters, I cut 6 pieces of 3″ long springs, and made little loops on the ends with pliers.

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I sewed two pieces of cream silk taffeta in little channels, leaving about 1/4″ edges for ruffles.

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I sewed the springs to pieces of cotton tape.

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Put the silk over them,

IMG_2144and sewed smaller pieces of tape to the other ends of the springs.

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Then I cut larger pieces of the same silk and pinned them to the tape at one end, sewing the other end together.

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I flipped these over and embroidered the silk in place on the tape. I used my extensive embroidery repertoire of a backstitch and a satin stitch.

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And here’s where I left them last night: Mostly embroidered up, except for whatever I want to put in the cartouches. Maybe my initials, I don’t know. I’m pretty proud of how the embroidery came out. It’s the best I’ve ever been able to do! I’m excited to get these finished, but midterms are calling.

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An 18th Century Workman’s Apron

Last night my order from Burnley & Trowbridge came in (yayyy!!) so I was able to finish my dad’s new work apron.

My dad and I often wear aprons when we do shows. We sell metalware, which is oiled before it’s packed for a show – and then needs to be wiped down when we set up. So we don’t need heavy work aprons, really, just something to protect our clothes as we’re setting up the table.

Dad had an apron made from heavy canvas in an eye-poppingly wide navy and white stripe. It didn’t fit very well and was so heavy it pulled his waistcoat down. It was also old and pretty dirty – oil doesn’t wash off so well.

His new apron is made from a lighter cotton-linen blend in a white and coffee-brown woven stripe, with thin cotton ties. I hand sewed it with linen thread. It’s a simple design; the top is a triangle and the bottom just extends into a square (but it’s cut in one piece). I hemmed the edges, added a buttonhole and a loop at the top corner, and two ties at the hips.

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There’s no way to make this thing look decent if it’s not on a person.

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A buttonhole that behaved and went together well! I’m always thankful for that. I added a waxed linen loop at the top, for hanging and just in case the buttonhole didn’t let the apron fall correctly. It’s probably superfluous but whatever. 


Jumps 2.0

I had nothing going on this past weekend, so I cranked out my new jumps.

I machine-sewed them, which went against my new habit of hand sewing everything … but I wanted to spend more time fitting and experimenting with a new pattern then putzing with hand sewing. I’m reacting against my last stays experience: I spent a looong time hand sewing those and they came out very well made, but don’t fit so well.

I saved the pattern for these, so I’ll make a second, hand-sewn pair later. I want to make the second pair in white cotton and embroider them, like the original. Mine are made from about 1.5 yards of bulky cotton/linen canvas in a drab tan/olive color. I used steel boning and some nice waxed cotton cord for the stay lace.

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The plan, based on a pair of 1780s-90s jumps at Colonial Williamsburg, probably worn by Ann Van Rensselaer in New York. These jumps aren’t on the CW website anymore (!?!?!) but they’re in What Clothes Reveal, by Linda Baumgarten, page 211. 

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“cut here”

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The front part boned, and the back part chalked out.

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Ironing the ends over to sew the back pieces in.

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Handmade eyelets in between ugly machine-sewn channels. 

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On my desk, almost finished!

So right now they’re pretty much finished. They went together very quickly, and the design is flattering and doesn’t use up a huge amount of materials. I’ll see if I can get some nicer pictures of them soon.

 


The Metropolitan Museum of Art: Death Becomes Her & Kimono: A Modern History

Thanks to The Met, there’s tons of awesome clothes to check out for the next few months!

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1870-1872 ensemble, Brooklyn Museum Costume Collection at The Metropolitan Museum of Art.

Death Becomes Her: A Century of Mourning Attire is open until February 1st in the fancy new-ish Anna Wintour Costume Center’s Carl and Iris Barrel Apfel Gallery, which can be reached by winding through 4,000 years of Egyptian art. It’s worth asking three or four security guards the way; don’t give up. And if you have the chance, go soon, it’s perfect for Halloween!

It’s fully handicapped accessible, but if you have the option, go down the stairs. They’re wide and have a few landings, so they’re not too strenuous. The walls along the stairs are painted with folk-art style, life-size black weeping willows – it sets the mood, especially as you walk down into the dark gallery with 1890s requiems playing in the background. Yeah!

Inside, there are about 30 ensembles from the early 19th to early 20th centuries. All are on nice mannequins with historic hairstyles in white wigs, and many have coordinating hats or veils. There are two men’s outfits, and one child’s dress, but mostly there are women’s clothes, hats, and accessories. Contemporary quotes are projected on the walls, and fashion plates are hung in one gallery.

While every piece in there is fascinating, some really stand out. One is a mourning gown worn by Queen Victoria, and two gowns worn by a princess (I forget who, sorry) in mourning for Queen Victoria. These two gowns are incredible – all glitter and spangles. There’s a bright purple ensemble from about 1895, and a late 1860s wedding gown made in partial mourning in respect for those lost in the Civil War.

So go see it! It’s great – very Gothic and Victorian and super interesting. The only truly bad thing about it is there’s no catalog!

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Over Robe (Uchikake) with Shell-Matching Game Boxes, mid-19th century. Lent by Museum of Fine Arts, Boston. William Sturgis Bigelow Collection.

Kimono: A Modern History is also super good. This exhibit is up in the Arts of Japan galleries on the second floor until January 19th. The gallery begins with scraps of silk from before the 18th century. After that, some absolutely gorgeous Edo period kimono are displayed: think like-new metal and silk embroidery, eye popping colors and incredibly intricate work. Most of these pieces are displayed on racks, not mannequins, which shows the artwork much better since it’s flat.

The exhibit shows some working kimonos, especially those for firemen, some export garments and things made from exported silk in vaguely Asian-inspired designs, and then, a really interesting little collection of 1920s-1940s wartime and propaganda kimono. Who’d have thought?

(A tip for those who visit: ask a security guard to show you the staircase to the 3rd floor Chinese gallery nearby. There’s a single room up there filled with Chinese clothing from about the same period (18th century & up). It’s worth checking out!)

Kimono: A Modern History has a catalog which looks really good, too – I haven’t bought it yet but I think sometime soon I’ll pick one up.

So there’s my overview-in-a-nutshell! Enjoy!


Tomorrow = 20 days

I didn’t expect to be so busy with school this month, so writing a blog post had to be delayed. But I’ve been sewing for short amounts of time every so often, and I’ve gotten a lot more done!

1) The bodiced/un-bodiced petticoat hasn’t been altered yet; I guess I got bored,

2) My printed blue cotton dress is now finished; I added hooks & eyes to the back (not my original plan, and not how the original closed, but now it’s wearable),

3) I made a nice white linen chemisette with cotton lace trim,

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I eyeballed this from the earliest, simplest, documented chemisette I could find. It’s probably most accurate for 1800-1815. The collar doesn’t really fall the way the original did. I really wanted a dorset button for the closure under the collar, but I couldn’t find my button stash at the time. If I find it I’ll upgrade from this mismatched hook & eye.

4) I’ve gotten about halfway done with that 1760s waistcoat I began a little while back,

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It’s wrinkly and saggy on my tiny hanger, but look at that wool. It’s black with a white diaper pattern woven in, and it’s gorgeous. The rest of the waistcoat is made from some of the nicest linen I’ve ever found. I’m really excited for how it’s turning out!

5) because I wanted a cool hat, I made a small, green linen calash,

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I dyed linen green, and I chucked a spool of linen thread in the dye too – but of course it didn’t take color so well, so I had to Sharpie the thread darker later. And I didn’t take enough photos of the process, but the body of the calash is basically a rectangle with a number of metal bones running through it, and the ends of that are gathered to a binding. The back is a teardrop shape, boned, and the calash body is gathered to that.

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Finished! It’s not perfect but it’s cool. It turned out a little too small; the ridges touch the top of my head. I also made it too long, so I had to add thread stops inside to keep it from extending fully. Right now it has icky polyester ribbons, but I want to get some nice silk ones for it soon.

6) and because I don’t know when to stop, I decided that I need a nice comfy pair of half-boned 1780s stays. They’d be better for the events I do, which involve setting up displays and then sitting for hours on end – something my fully boned 1740s/60s stays aren’t so nice for. I haven’t taken scissors to cloth yet, though, I’m still thinking about how to do those. Later.

 

And finally, a tiny life hack. I needed to shape and pad out this mannequin a lot to photograph my 1880s bodice, and my epiphany was to use old shoulder pads. I pinned them to the mannequin making sure the pin heads were flush. They really helped puff out the tails. I’m thinking of making some ‘for real’, with nice cotton and fiberfill.

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Finished and … not so finished

It’s done! The un-bodiced, bodiced petticoat. Could use a good ironing.

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But as I look at it, I see a mistake. I should have concentrated the gathers further to the back. Right now I think they’re going to be under my arms, which will make the dress over them wrinkle and bulge.

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Sigh. So I’ll try it on tomorrow and see if I can make it work. If not, I’ll rip the sides of the waistband out and re-sew it. Yayyy.


Sewing, sewing, sewy sewing

My hands hurt.

In the past few days, I’ve hand-sewn half a silk regency gown, half a bodiced regency petticoat, finished repairing a quilt for a friend (by hand), begun a c. 1760-70 linen and figured wool waistcoat for my dad, and made a hand-embroidered reticule.

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It’s kind of saggy-looking without anything in it. Linen with linen embroidery, cardboard base, and a silk bow. Eventually I’ll add some nice silk handles/drawstrings.

I’ve shelved the cote idea until next year’s Renn Faires. I don’t have the time to sew a new cote this year. Meh.

I’ve been putting more time into is my 1790-1810s clothing. I’m realizing that I’m really lumping a lot of variances into one outfit. I’d love to specify the outfit to a smaller, earlier year span, but that’s going to have to wait, too.

So today I’m (writing my paper for school) assembling a bodiced petticoat, which is  confusing me. Not over the construction, that’s fairly straightforward, but over its actual existence. The bodiced petticoats I see seem to actually be bodiced skirts, meant to be seen, and worn with a short jacket over them.

I’m having trouble finding attributed 1790s-1810s petticoats. Usually I would interpret that as meaning this garment wasn’t so popular.

But women had to wear petticoats, right? From what I can tell from prints and paintings, women’s skirts are too full in general to be just a dress skirt worn over a chemise. Maybe the petticoats of that era were often remade into other garments, and just didn’t survive very well. Or maybe I’m missing something!

I found one from The Met: linen, from America, and dating from the early 19th century – and the only photo of it is super cropped.

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Bodiced petticoat, from The Metropolitan Museum of Art

You can still tell that it’s got little straps over the shoulders, a surprisingly low waist, and a drawstring neckline that ties near the left armpit. It’s almost a modern slip, rather than a petticoat.

I’ve also seen a few unattributed photos of empire/regency bodiced petticoats floating around the interwebs – some have bodices, and some just have little suspenders. I think I’ll go with the suspender model; while I can’t find much to back up this style, it makes sense to me, and will eliminate some bulk, since I’ll be probably wearing it in warm weather and inside heated buildings.

So my petticoat is made of a nice, fine 100% linen, and all hand sewn with linen thread.

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I left the selvage at the hemline and added a pleat. I’m hoping this adds a little more body to the skirt, especially at the back.

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The waistband, halfway pinned on.

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… and now halfway sewn on …

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… and finished, with the gathers concentrated at the back. I was lazy and didn’t want to go buy tape for the ties, so I just cut the selvage off some linen. It’ll work for a few wearings. The ties are sewn into the waistband a few inches in, so they serve as a partial drawstring.

So now all that’s left is to add the suspender-things and try it on …


Saint Savina’s Cote

I want to make an easy-to-wear, late Medieval/early Renaissance dress to wear to Renaissance fairs, and since I’m at The Met a few times a month, I decided to go check out their Medieval & Renaissance art.

So here’s a depiction of Saint Savina, 1510-1520, France. It seems that artists of that time didn’t worry too much about the saints & Holy Family wearing historically accurate clothing, but would put them in medieval fashions, adding picturesque drapery. These medieval artists created a sartorial look for Christian icons, and it has become so accepted that nowadays, most nativity scenes have the Holy Family wearing some form of medieval clothing plus drapery.

The label for this statue reads that in Troyes, Saint Savina was depicted as a ‘youthful pilgrim’, with a characteristic staff, hat and bag. Maybe her appearance was based off of other pilgrims, or a stereotypical image of a pilgrim at the time. She’s also a saint, so she holds a gospel and a palm frond that symbolizes her martyrdom.

The long drapery is probably artistic license, but I think the bodice of the gown underneath is fairly contemporary. I’m assuming it’s a variation on the cote or cotte (sometimes called a cotehardie), a tightly-fitted gown worn underneath the looser robe, and over a chemise. It’s tightly fitted at the torso and has fairly narrow sleeves. The skirt is long with a decorated hem.

There’s some paint left on this statue, mostly red and a great blue-teal kind of color, which the cote was painted with.

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This cote has

1) a square, decorated neckline bound with a separate pice of cloth

2) no waist seam; the skirt flares from bodice pieces

3) either it’s lined with the lining turned over the outer edge, or the edges are bound

4) and the bodice is closed with about seven pins!

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That hat …

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A pretty utilitarian-looking shoe surrounded by reasonably impractical drapery.

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That great bag.

Now about those pins. The entire outfit seems, to me, to be a mix of practical clothing suitable for walking (a simple gown, plain shoes, a staff and a bag) and possibly exaggerated, possibly classically-inspired drapery. Which category do the pins fall into? I’m assuming they’re listed under the more practical heading.

I’m reminded of a good reenacting saying, though – be the common person, not the exception to the rule. If I have to go out of my way to try to explain this cote’s different front, is it really what most women wore, or is it an exception to the rule? I think lacing is probably the way to go for my own cote.


Wandering the Metropolitan Museum

When the guard says photos are okay, I’m in heaven.

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The Triumph of Fame from The Triumphs, Brussels, 1502-1504, wool and silk. The plaque says that this tapestry, or one very similar to it, was purchased by Isabella, queen of Castile and Aragon in 1504. It shows Fame conquering Death and the Fates with Christian imagery and long wavy hair.

Check these details out.

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Don’t they look like sunglasses?

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Proving that men have been doing that super unfortunate sandals-over-socks thing for a long time now.

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Supposedly these women are the Fates, all getting trampled by goodliness and virtue. The one in the front is wearing a dress that I LOVE – but the thing that’s really getting to me is her hair.

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I think I remember wearing this when I was 5.