Wednesday, 20 September 2017

Are you a Maker?

Ah, material culture, isn't it wonderful? Look around your chair right now and examine how much material culture really clutters up our lives. I'm currently sitting at my computer in my office, the piles of material culture, books about material culture, samples of material culture, ugh, it overwhelms!
Now, look around yourself and think about how much of that material culture you have made, yourself. Me? There are four knitting samples, that's it. Sitting in my office, facing my computer, I can see just four little knitting samples that I have made myself. Behind me there's more, in the closet, but of ALL the material culture sitting in front of me, my hand has made just four little samples.

Think on that for a bit, go grab a coffee if you need to. Contemplate your coffee mug, where the beans came from to make your coffee.

Ok?

I'm asking you these things because within the profession of Living History, there is an overwhelming feeling that we must make every piece of material culture we use. Every. Last Piece. And in the 'progressive' side of things, for many, we feel that every piece we make must be as perfect as we know how to make.

To this, I say hogwash!

I've been faced with overwhelming feelings of not being good enough of late. For various stupid reasons, I'm sure. I don't think I am alone in these feelings though, as I see random snippets of inadequacy (feelings, not founded in any factual thing) from time to time in my friends feeds on the book of faces. I'm writing this post to remind myself, but also to let you all know that you are not alone.

I have a theory that this 'can do EVERYTHING' attitude comes out of the whole 'homespun' propaganda put out during the American War for Independence, and then the early 19th century. I'm reading a book on the history of Pictou County Nova Scotia at the moment, written in the 19th century. In this book, the author goes on at length about how the Scots who settled there were completely self reliant, making all their own clothes from flax and wool produced on the farm. He informs us that most folk went without shoes, going barefoot in summer months and wearing moccasin-type footwear in winter months. Since the author hasn't cited any sources at all, it is an interesting read, but I have to wonder how much is being made up, 'tradition', if you will? How much of this narrative is actual fact? I have read enough newspaper ads from the period to know that in many small ports and communities in Nova Scotia, many types of goods and material culture were available for purchase, including cloth and shoes.
There are interesting snippets in this book though, worth following up through primary sources. And maybe, people were self reliant in some things. In the meantime though, I'm going to pish-noosh that little devil from my shoulder that's telling me that I have to make every last item of material culture I own, and that those items all need to be absolutely perfect. I'm going to drink my store-bought coffee from the mug that my friend Hugo made, that I paid for by making him a pair of breeches. I look forward to the flame-stitch piece from my friend Laura that I will stitch into a wallet for myself, knowing full well that I absolutely suck at counted work embroidery. I will probably make Laura a pair of stockings in return. I sold a pair of shoes to another friend, which the proceeds were then turned around to buy another pair of shoes from Burnley and Trowbridge. And while I am a weaver, I'm looking forward to buying the linen cloth to make Pierre a new shirt.
Even in the 18th century there was an economy of goods being traded and purchased. To think otherwise is foolhardy and crazy-making.

a snippet to follow up on...
January 1775 at Pictou
population: 23 men, 14 women, 21 boys, 20 girls (78 total)
produce raised: 269 bushels wheat, 13 rye, 56 peas, 36 barley, 100 oats, and 840lbs of flax
livestock: 13 oxen, 13 cows, 15 young neat cattle, 25 sheep, and 1 swine
manufactured: 17,000 feet of boards
Not all of that was to be used within the county, much of that lumber was for export. One wonders what sorts of goods the people of Pictou county imported?

bibliography

"History of the County of Pictou, N.S."; archive.org

Sunday, 30 July 2017

an emersion day

We are planning a trek, from Fort Saint John at Saint-Jean sur Richelieu to Fort Chambly, about 20kms north on the river. We will be wearing our eighteenth-century clothes and packing what a Loyalist would have packed on a trip north to the Canadas.

Currently I am preparing my kit for the trip. This was something I had started doing for the possibility of going to Williamsburg this summer, but now with a focus of walking instead of town living. My shoes have been a long standing issue for me. Firstly, I want something that is historically correct. I wore ladies military oxfords for years, mostly because that was all you could get. I then bought Fugawees, and hated them, not for their look, but for the way they made my feet and legs hurt so much. That's the second issue I have been having with shoes, pain. I've now gone through two pair of Fugawee shoes, different styles, and can't say I've liked either pair. I won't be throwing more good money down that drain.

A couple of years ago I bought a pair from Loyalist Arms that have been great shoes. No pain at all really, and they are lovely to look at too. Unfortunately, my feet have spread again, and they've become too tight. Getting older sucks, but the alternative sucks more, so I will deal with the arthritis that comes with aging. It doesn't help much that I wear high heels almost exclusively.

So I'm now again on the hunt for shoes. Yesterday, we met a local shoemaker that could make me a pair of shoes in time for our hike at the end of September. We are going to drive up to his studio in a couple of weeks to meet him again, have him measure my foot, and pick out some leather for new shoes.

I'm excited!

Monday, 24 July 2017

A lot has happened in the past two months

That old adage, when one door closes, turn around and look for another door opening. I did not get to go to Williamsburg this summer, and that was for the best. Shortly after my last post, my mum ended up in hospital where they found her cancer had moved to the brain. She passed away on the 4th of July. I got one good month with her old personality before the cancer really took hold. She slipped away quickly, and I am very glad that I was home with her instead of 12 hours drive away.

I am slowly getting back on track with life, as you do after looking after someone for so long (she was sick for a year and a bit). This past week we have been going through our house in a sort of Spring cleaning, that we didn't get around to doing in the actual springtime.

One of those jobs was re-organizing the pantry.

I may not be an real farm wife, but I come from a long line of them. We live three blocks away from a farm stand that sells vegetables from about a 50kms radius, and the fruits and veg are incredibly inexpensive. At this time of year, I would normally be putting up my preserved foods. I was in hard working mode this time last year, starting with strawberries, then peaches, then the Fall fruits and vegetables. When I am feeling a bit stressed, the thing that will help calm my nerves is putting up groceries for the winter months. The year before, 2015-16, we ran out of a few things mid winter and I resorted to buying industrialized jams and pickled beets. These did not go over well with the family, so I made sure that last year, I put up enough.

My re-organizing of the pantry proved to me that I might have put up too much food last year! Now that there's just Pierre and I, there's a bit too much jam, and three flats of beets left. Since we may have another posting message this year, I will not be putting up and preserves so that what we have gets eaten up before we have to pack the house up again and move. I made a small batch of green tomato chow to use up my tomatoes from the dead plant we returned home to after the week in Nova Scotia, but that has to be it.

I have to be careful to not buy any produce that we won't eat up in a few days.

What I will be doing this year is making Christmas puddings and fruitcake. My recipes come from my grandmother Grant's "Wilman's" cookbook, printed in 1938. I would like one of each for Pierre and I here, but I also send some home to my brother Dane every year. This summer Dane also requested I send home a few more, so that his friend could have some for his table as well. That bit of work will keep me from wanting to preserve everything in sight.

And I have started back to knitting again, something I also haven't touched since my last post here. Life gets on.

Tuesday, 23 May 2017

Stockings, and an epiphany



A while back I wrote about how we should all be knitting. I have been focusing on knitting stockings mostly, because the stockings that are available commercially are really not great. I have been working on developing a pattern for knitted stockings that more closely resembles what was worn in the eighteenth century so that we can start to have our legs covered in something better than Jas. Townsend’s cotton tube socks with the modern, ribbed tops.  I wrote about the differences between modern stockings and the extant, historical stockings in museums. Two questions have been nagging me though, how do I knit that long, thin, very sexy gusset at the ankle, and how do I knit one in a contrasting colour to the body of the sock? These are two things that pop up in historical stockings, especially fine ones in silk. I have also been looking for a finer wool thread in order to knit a finer, dressier stocking, one that will also fit better in my lady’s shoe. This term, many of my classmates have been asking what I have been up to, what sort of art I have been making? And while I put on a mad rush to create the clothing that I would need if I was able to participate in Colonial Williamsburg summer internship program, my main focus has been knitting stockings. My general response when asked what I’ve been up to, is that I knit a lot of socks. I have gotten to the point that I can knit a pair of men’s work socks without a pattern, remembering where I am in the production just by looking at what I am knitting. So those questions above have been nagging me a bit.
After Christmas, Mum bought me several skeins of new yarn to play with. I Then bought Mathew Gnagy’s stocking pattern for a 16th-17th century stocking (Gnagy 2017). Those of you following along on my Facebook page have read about my trials over how to add a contrasting gusset using Mr. Gnagy’s method of knitting the gusset in a downwards method, adding stitches to increase the width as you knit, and shaping the foot through short rows under the instep. It was not pretty, so I ended up ‘frogging’, or ripping the knitting back and re-knitting the foot several times before I was happy with the stockings. They ended up being a solid colour, with just the clock decoration above the gusset being a different colour. They also ended up being too heavy a weight for my shoes, but not all was lost! I learned from knitting that pattern up, how to work a fancier ‘seam stitch’ up the back of the leg, and thought heavily about how to make that contrasting coloured gusset, knowing that this wasn’t the method. The stockings ended up being gifted to a good friend of ours who will wear them with an appropriate Tudor era outfit, and the red matches his shoes!

In the meantime, I knit up another pair of working stockings for Pierre in my favourite NSCAD yarn that my friend Lexie Arnott dyed for me using marigolds. I later over dyed them with onion skins as they proved to be a bit too 'glow in the dark', and I thought some more.

The third pair of stockings I started this term, I referenced from Sharon Burnston’s stocking pattern in Fitting and Proper (Burnston 2000, 100). The body of the stocking through to the gusset knit up beautifully in the fingerling yarn that mum had bought. I got to the gusset section though, and problems began. I thought that knitting up the heel flap, closing the heel, picking up the stitches for the gusset and then knitting in the round was the way to go. What I ended up with was a seriously misshapen foot and gusset. I put the stocking on, and realized that the leg was also far too large for me. Without a word to Pierre, who was sitting there next to me as we watched TV that evening, I frogged the entire stocking back to ball stage. He simply asked ‘Not happy?’ I nodded, I started over again the next day.

Casting on again the next day, I ended up putting on 135 stitches over 3 needles, 45/needle. I worked six rows of garter band, purling one row, knitting the next. I then knit for about an inch before starting to decrease for the leg. Following my own pattern, I decreased five times for the top of the leg before knitting in pattern again for the meaty part of the calf. I had just started decreasing again for the calf, when I stopped for a bit and knit up a couple of samples to work things out in my brain.


The first sample I knit up in leftover yarn from Pierre’s cammo socks, and it's not pretty, but it wasn't meant to be. I cast on enough stitches to closely resemble an ankle. After knitting in the round for several rows, I began knitting the heel flap. With this sample, I followed Sharon Burnston’s graph, knitting a row, then on the purl row, knitting the first two and last two stitches of the row to form the little ribbing down the edges of the heel flap. At the six inch mark, I began decreasing for the heel, knitting two stitches together on either side, about 10 stitches in from the edge. I finished the heel in a three needle bind off, but I’m not entirely happy with the little ridge this method causes. I may decrease for the heel, but leave the final stitches to be caught up in the gusset knitting.

Once the heel flap was complete, I picked up the stitches along the edges to knit the gusset. This proved problematic, as my edges are usually fairly tight, so picking up a stitch at every row was difficult (I fixed this in the second sample). I began knitting back and forth along the gusset from the top of the heel flap divide, to the other. This is called short row knitting, because you end up not knitting all the way to the end of each row, stopping and turning the work at the five stitch mark, then ten stitches from the end, then fifteen, and so on. My first sample is a bit nasty looking because I messed about with the number of decrease stitches, but also not having a proper edge to pick up stitches from the heel flap at every row.

Looking closely at the photos included in Burnston’s pattern (Burnston 2000, 101), you can see a nice firm edge to the heel flap as well, something I did not achieve with the first sample. I knit the vamp up to finish the sample to some extent, but I was already thinking of the second sample.



On the second sample, I worked a smaller heel flap, as I was more concerned with the edge between the gusset, heel flap, and front vamp.

The heel flap is knit up thusly,
First row: Slip one stitch knitwise, knit across.
Second row: Slip one stitch purlwise, knit two, purl to last three stitches, knit two, and purl one.
Repeating these two rows, the heel flap should be eight inches total, beginning the decrease for the heel at the six inch mark. I decreased for the heel on the knit rows only, the purl rows were just plain. Knitting the heel flap in this method gives you a stitch along the side of the heel flap to pick up at each row, and provides the nice little hard edge to the gusset that is noticed on the original.

Knit the gusset in short rows back and forth, keeping all the stitches on your needles, do not cast off at any point. Knit the gusset stitches back and forth from the top of the divide to the other. Begin to decrease at five stitch intervals, first row is five, then ten, then fifteen stitches from the edge. When you get to the end of each row, bring the yarn forward, slip the next stitch on to the working needle, bring the yarn back, and slip that stitch back on to the original needle, turn. Purl across, then do the yarn back, slip, yarn forward, slip back method, turn, and then knit. On the last row, I then knit up the side of the heel with the narrower gusset than the other side, so that I could start knitting the vamp.

The vamp is knit much like a heel flap, back and forth. On each knit row, I would pick up a stitch from the gusset on either side, and knit that stitch together with one from the vamp. The process went like this,
First row: slip first gusset stitch on to end of vamp needle, knit two together, knit to other side, slip stitch from other side of gusset on to end of vamp needle, then knitting those last two stitches together.
Second row: Purl one, knit two, purl to last three stitches, knit two, purl one. On this row, no stitches are picked up from the gusset.
The vamp is knit so that you are picking up gusset stitches from the knit rows only. This keeps from ‘gathering’ up the gusset as you knit and makes for a much smoother transition. The vamp is knit in this manner for 5 1/2”, then I went back to knitting in the round for the foot.

It is my belief that this is the method used to knit a contrasting gusset as seen in artwork (Styles 2008, 75) and some extant stockings from the period. In the first sample, I used scrap yarns, not really caring if they matched in weight or type of yarn. The second sample, I used one yarn throughout and knit up a much better sample. I think that if I were to dye a contrasting colour and use the same yarn type throughout the stocking, I will achieve the desired look I am after. I have returned to my stocking now, and will keep you abreast of future experimentation. So far, the stocking is working up nicely, and is looking like it will fit my leg much better than the first attempt.


Bibliography

Burnston, Sharon. 2000. Fitting and Proper, 18th century clothing from the Collection of the Chester County Historical Society. Scurlock Publishing Company.

Gnagy, Mathew. 2017. Seventeenth-Century Stocking with Brocaded Top. pdf, New York: self published.

Styles, John. 2008. Dress of the People: Everyday Fashion in Eighteenth-Century England. New Haven and London: Yale University Press.






Wednesday, 8 March 2017

When the socks from Jas Townsend just won’t do anymore: Learning to knit period stockings




I learned to knit as a child. After about twenty rows of just the knit stitch I was bored, told my mum, “I know how to knit!” and left the unfinished object in a pile at the bottom of her knitting basket. I didn’t ask to learn again until I was an adult. When Mum taught me to crochet as a teenager, she handed me a hook, a ball of yarn, and a book of crochet patterns. She showed me how to get started and then told me to “figure it out”. I made pillows for my grandmothers that year for Christmas from the patterns and the giant ball of cotton yarn.

When I started working for historic sites, there were knitted projects that I wanted to do. I was not content to farm out the much needed items to knitters and risk being seen by my bosses as not working hard enough. So mum once again showed me how to cast on, how to purl, how to knit, and then left me to figure things out. That winter I started with the Victorian working woman’s shawl, the Sontag. I made five that year. Since then I have moved on to other projects, figuring things out as I go along. I have found that I learn better this way.

Since beginning this degree I have been knitting stockings. I started thinking things through a couple of years before this in my desire to have a better, more historically accurate stocking than what is currently available commercially. Especially for Pierre, since people see his socks more than mine, being hidden by petticoats. I started with a sock pattern from the 1940s to learn how to knit in the round, how much to cast on, and how to shape the sock. I frogged that sock a few times before I figured out how to do a proper eighteenth-century garter band instead of the ribbed top to modern socks. A modern sock top has a knit one, purl one stitch for ten or twelve rows to give an elastic top to the sock, an eighteenth-century sock top has alternating rows, usually about six, of knit and purl to form a non-elastic top that acts as a ridge to hold the sock garter from slipping off the top of the stocking. I knew the heel pattern was modern, but at that point, I was happy with the outcome. Pierre received two pair of white worsted stockings that year, he saved them for wearing with his historical midshipman’s uniform.

With mum’s diagnoses I have been pumping out stockings as fast as the needles will allow. I have developed that sock pattern to give me a stocking that I like the look of and that I can basically knit in my sleep. I have also changed the heel flap for a plain stocking-knit heel instead of the 1940s double knit. Pierre now has enough stockings to do about a week, and I have begun knitting socks for the other men in my extended re-enacting family. I have just recently found finer yarn and am attempting to knit finer socks for myself, finally. My pattern is good, but I am still not entirely happy with it. They are still far better than what is available at Jas Townsend or other commercial retailers. The heel on my pattern is still modern, in that I ‘turn’ it back and forth to knit the little pouch for the heel to sit in, and historical stockings don’t have those ‘turning’ stitches. The instep gusset is also different on historical stockings. A friend in New York has been working through seventeenth-century clothing in much the same way I have been working through the eighteenth-century. He has developed a stocking pattern that has the correct heel and instep gusset, albeit much more fancy than what I would need. So, a few weeks ago, I bought the pattern from him. I finished off the new pair of stockings I had on the needles for Pierre and pulled out some lovely merino stocking yarn mum had bought me for Christmas. I am not following Mathew Gnagy’s pattern perfectly. I used his casting on numbers, but have been knitting my own pattern up until the ankle point. His garter band was a brocaded band, whereas mine is plain. His back seam stitches are also far fancier than mine. At the last decrease, I returned to Mathew’s pattern.

At the same time, I have been reading about stockings, the materials used, colours, fashionable vs. plebeian stockings. John Styles Dress of the People (Styles 2008) is a lot to digest! On page 75 is a painting that I have looked at for years, John Collet’s Modern Love – The Elopement (Styles 2008, 75). I love the old woman’s ragged and patched petticoat, but Styles would have us also look at the ‘old hag’s stockings, grey with red clocks and gussets! O. M. G! In recent weeks friends have been discussing stockings, most especially their colours. A valued peer of mine is of the opinion that all stockings should be white, and while I agree that the majority of stockings I have seen are white, they are also made of ‘thread’, which could be linen or cotton. The stockings that I am reconstructing are in wool, and throughout Styles book he mentions that worsted stockings were also knit in colours, grey, brown, and other earth tones predominantly. Styles is also talking about common people, who scholars refer to as ‘plebeian’. My peer also lives in what was considered a big city in the eighteenth century, a fashion capitol so to speak. My theory is that stockings would have been predominantly white, but that other colours would have been seen on working men and women of the period. And then we have these fancy, two coloured stockings on a very common woman in the Elopement painting.

My new stockings are grey, I have a bucket of yarn downstairs, surely there is a good red in it somewhere. This week, not only am I learning a new style of heel and instep gusset, I am also learning how to knit with two colours, carrying threads, working a clock, and setting the second colour into the instep gusset ‘just right’. Figuring things out. This has been a stressful couple of weeks. Preparing for a trip to Colonial Williamsburg for the summer, the birth of a new grandchild almost a month early, Pierre travelling to Newfoundland to visit our daughter and me staying at home to hold down the fort, alongside my usual routine of reading all of the things and looking after mum. I knit to help deal with the stress. The challenge I have set out for my brain allows me to focus more. By the end of this experiment, not only will I have a new pair of stockings, I also hope to have a new pattern written up for historically accurate, plebeian stockings, maybe even with contrasting clocks and gussets.



My reading this week

Baumgarten, Linda. 1999. Costume Close Up: Clothing Construction and Pattern, 1750-1790. Colonial Williamsburg Foundation.

Burnston, Sharon. 2000. Fitting and Proper. Scurlock Publishing Company.

Gnagy, Mathew. 2017. Seventeenth-Century Stocking with Brocaded Top. New York, February 15.

Styles, John. 2008. Dress of the People: Everyday Fashion in Eighteenth-Century England. Yale University Press.


Tuesday, 28 February 2017

Images of the new gowns

 My 'old brown sacque', still looking fabulous after several years of use.

 The new pink gown that was in pieces and managed to stay together through the move to Montreal.

 Side view of the new pink gown, under construction at this point.

 Finished new pink gown.

 The back of the brand new grey striped gown.

 Full view of the grey striped gown, still under construction.

 A beautiful floral print, that I may someday be able to afford for a gown, sunday best.

Your ‘reading’ week was my ‘stitching’ week


Many students look at reading week as a week to get caught up on sleep, go on vacation with friends or family, or, if they are smart, get caught up on their reading for the term, maybe start the paper that’s due at the end of term. My reading week was spent making art. An important part of my academic process, for sure, but also a required part of my future plans. As I mentioned in my last post, I had planned on reading the theory this term, and then spending my spring creating the garments that I will need for my summer internship program. The ‘pre-approval’ requirement of each and every item I plan on taking to use and wear at Williamsburg put the kibosh to that plan. I cannot send photographs of folded yardage of cloth and tell them what I plan to do with the piece. I need to send them images of the garments, even if they are still under construction, firstly so they know that I am serious, but also, so they know that I know what I am doing.

Keeping this in mind, I began what will become the research binder on the first weekend of reading week. At the same time, I also cleaned up my studio, unpacking and repacking the boxes to go into storage. My studio is now finally a spare room, all my equipment is in storage. Anything that I will be making in the near future will be entirely hand sewn, so I don’t need a space for machines, and, we need the spare bedroom more. I managed to find all the bits that are part of my existing wardrobe, and all the pieces of a new gown that I started two years ago, but with the move to Montreal, didn’t finish. This is a feat, as the packers who moved our belongings to Montreal made a real mess of things, using my fabric as packing material. I thought that gown was a pipedream. Fortunately, I had folded all the bits together into a bundle, and they were all still together.

I began by sorting my clothing into piles. First, the pile of items that are good to wear as-is, those items went into one of my two camp baskets. In a second basket, I put the items that required mending or alteration to make them wearable. In this second basket, I also packed the bits of my newly found gown, under construction, a yardage of cotton, extra bits of linen lining, and a new yardage I picked up at the fabric store the weekend before. My plan was to finish all the mending and alterations, finish the half completed gown and possibly get the last gown started. My goal is to have three gowns and all the required underthings and accessories required to live week by week in Virginia with only having to do laundry once a week. A friend would be joining me for much of reading week, as she too needed a new gown. Lynn has sewn modern clothing for herself, but was intimidated by the process of sewing a historical gown by herself. Sewing together was good for both of us, as I had to keep us on track every day so that we would get the most amount of work accomplished, but also because I had to articulate to her, how to do each step of the process. We have different brain processes, so I was forced to show as well as explain to her what I was doing. I also needed to allow her to do the majority of the work on her own gown so that she would feel accomplished and understand what she was doing for the next time. By having Lynn work with me, we were able to work regular business hours, and managed to get most of the three gowns finished before she had to head back to work in Ottawa. My half-finished gown is now completely finished, my new gown is one full day’s work away from completion, and Lynn’s is about two days away from competition (at her work pace). Monday 27th February, I went back to my reading.

My plan now is to continue reading, finish the last bits of work I need to finish for my wardrobe on the weekends, and then have a copy of the research binder for both Williamsburg and to turn in to my fibres and materiality professor for a final term project. Questions that the Costume Approval Committee ask range from giving a brief description of the item and its intended use, primary source documentation, adaptations I have made from the original extant garments and why, and listing the textiles, notions, colours and construction techniques used (Foundation 2003). It will be a substantial piece of work when I am finished.

There are things that I have had to consider before and alongside simply creating clothing to wear. The main thought/question I have is how do I know what I know about the period I am recreating? In a recent facebook group discussion on clothing re-creation, I warned against copying fellow living historians (Gordon 2017). I told the new person that sometimes folks who have been doing this a while will make ‘something pretty’ because they want something pretty to wear. It is not based on primary source documentation, more that what they are doing comes from a more emotional side of things. It may, to the untrained eye, look like a perfect recreation of the period, but those who are in the know, will know, that the item is not ‘from the period’, but more a modern ‘fashion’ of the current era, inspired by the period. Confusing, right? So how do I know what I know, and how do I know if what I am doing is historically correct? This project is good for me, in that it will force me to document each and every decision I have made. There will be no ‘reverse documenting’, hoping that I can find sources for the decisions.  I will have to do the research and back up every choice before I begin the construction process.

My ‘old brown sacque’ is the first gown that I made entirely by hand for the 18th century. I used a brown linen twill that has a remarkable resemblance to a fine summer weight wool. A burn test was how I determined that it was not actually wool. I made the gown using a draped pattern of my body wearing stays, based on an extant sacque backed gown. I also looked at numerous paintings to see if a sacque would be worn by a common woman, or if it was a fashion reserved for those women who wear silk all day long. I took an educated guess to say yes, and went ahead and made the gown. I have been exceptionally pleased with how it turned out, and how it is wearing. For the past several years, it is the only gown I have worn, wearing it for days at a time at events, changing just my body linens daily. It is aired out on the line following the event and then hung back up until the next time it is needed. No, I have yet to wash the gown, and don’t plan to. As it is entirely constructed from natural fibres, it really doesn’t smell. When I began the ‘half finished’ gown, I wanted something a bit more ‘fashionable’ than a sacque, and so chose to construct an English backed gown, also known as en fourreau. The progression of the back of gowns transitions from the sacque, with the pleats hanging from the shoulders, to the en fourreau where those pleats are stitched down to just below the waistline, and spring out from the hips in a continuous piece from shoulder to hem. In my eye, being an older woman, this seemed to be a natural progression to something more fashionable. In the third quarter of the 18th century, younger women are wearing this more fitted back with a full front, pinned at centre front, and with a fully circular skirt, called a round gown. The transitional gown is fitted in the back, but open in the front and worn over a stomacher and matching or contrasting petticoat. The stomacher is a triangular stiffened piece that is pinned to the bodice front, over which the gown is pinned. This style of gown offers more flexibility in fit if your weight fluctuates, as mine does. The round gown is as it fits, so if you lose weight, you have overlap, which is not pretty, or the fronts don’t meet if you’ve gained weight, which is also not pretty. I am quite happy being a little old fashioned if it means the lines of my gown look nice. For me it is all about the cut, never about the decoration. And so, my second gown is cut en fourreau, more fashionable than the sacque, but still a bit old fashioned for 1780. I chose to make the gown from a striped pink and grey, cotton/linen blend. It will be a nice, serviceable gown. I will wear it with a matching stomacher, over a contrasting, solid grey linen petticoat.

The third gown, still under construction, is even more of a transition piece. It is based on an extant round gown in the Philadelphia Museum of Art, accession number 1959-113-1. I have made some considered changes to my own inspired gown in both fabric and in a slight style difference. The original gown is in a grey striped cotton. My gown is in a grey striped, 100% linen fabric, the stripes being slightly smaller in scale. The original is a round gown, in that the centre fronts meet edge to edge, but the original gown also has the robings found on older, open, stomacher front gowns. The original’s construction makes it look like a stomacher gown with the full skirt of a round gown. As I mentioned above, my weight fluctuates, and will, living in Virginia summer heat, and so I have made my gown as a stomacher front, round gown.

I have chosen linen or linen blends for all of my gowns as linen is the most comfortable fibre to wear in the heat. Also, as all of these gowns are meant to be working gowns, I need something that will be hard wearing and simple. I could have chosen a floral cotton print as one of my gown materials, but I still feel that florals are more for special occasions, suited for my social class, but more in keeping for the Sunday best dress. I am also trying to keep my wardrobe within a tight budget. Linens and cotton/linen blends can be found at my local fabric store for under $20/metre, buying a cotton floral in an appropriate print could run upwards of $40/yard before duty and shipping to Canada. I can afford a $100 dress, not a $300 dress, and certainly will feel more comfortable if ‘heritage’ happens and I spill something on them or tear them through wearing.

My wardrobe will be rounded out with enough white linen shifts (the body linen layer) to do me a week, twill linen, half boned stays, a striped linen petticoat, a mustard linen petticoat, a brown stuff (to match my sacque) petticoat, a grey linen twill petticoat with a frill at the hem, edged in goose-turd green cotton tape, stomachers to match each gown, dainty linen caps, a straw flat bonnet, a black silk bonnet, stockings, pockets, neck handkerchiefs, sewing huswife, spectacles, and a bargello worked wallet. Also black leather shoes, and if there is enough time, a linen bedgown to wear as a ‘coat’ over my gowns if it rains, or as an upper body garment, worn with petticoats if I am going to be doing dirty work and want to keep my gowns clean. I will also have with me a couple of market wallets, one to fit my clothing in, and another to carry my accessories. I am also trying to decide whether to bring my very French coffee mug made of red clay dipped in green glaze, or buy a Virginian white clay mug while I’m there and try to blend in a bit more with the people around me. Trying to blend in with society was a big thing in this period.

My current reading list:

Cox, Abby. 2016. "Musings from the Millinery: Revealing the Truth About 18th-Century Women's Necklines." Colonial Williamsburg Historic Trades Blog - Making History Now. January 29. Accessed October 20, 2016. http://makinghistorynow.com/2016/01/musings-from-the-millinery-revealing-the-truth-about-18th-century-womens-necklines/.

Eacott, Jonathan P. 2012. "Making an Imperial Compromise: The Calico Acts, the Atlantic Colonies, and the Structure of the British Empire." The William and Mary Quarterly 731-762.

Foundation, Colonial Williamsburg. 2003. Costume Approval Form. proceedural and approval forms, Williamsburg Virginia: Colonial Williamsburg Foundation.

Gordon, Tracy. 2017. "18th c sewing." Facebook. February 23. Accessed February 23, 2017. https://www.facebook.com/groups/618389418346204/permalink/618611394990673/.

Hagist, Don. N. 2016. Wives, Slaves, and Servant Girls: Advertisements for Female Runaways in American Newspapers 1770-1780. Yardley, Pennsylvania: Westholme Publishing.

Styles, John. 2007. The Dress of the People: Everyday Fashion in Eighteenth-Century England. New Haven and London: Yale University Press.