Regency on a stoestring, but also the historical stash busting challenge...

The last week or so, I have been working on Pierre's clothes for the dance at Red Hook in February. From the stash, I pulled out a piece of navy wool twill that the tag said I paid 5.65$/metre for. I remember buying it, humming over it, thinking I didn't need any more fabric, but my friend Jenny telling me I couldn't go wrong with having a good navy wool in my stash...most men like wearing navy.
At that price too...

So I cut new high waisted trousers for Pierre and got those made up. (I still have a good chunk of it left)

The only construction shot I seem to have taken...

Then I went to the tickle trunk of old garb pieces and pulled out a regency era waistcoat that Garth left for me to do something with. I have always been in love with the cloth, it is a fabulous rust coloured wool with a blue pinstripe. The waistcoat construction left quite a bit to be desired though. The person who stitched it didn't do a bad job, per se, but didn't understand the fine points of historical sewing or tailoring. So, I set to it with a seam ripper and carefully unpicked every last bit of it.
And yes, I should have probably taken a before shot, but I've been bad at that...

The collar was easy, remove the iron on interfacing, re-block the wool with the iron, find a piece of linen from the scrap box big enough for a collar, find a piece of canvas from same scrap box to cut same, re-build collar properly. The guts literally came from the scrap box, not from new cloth.

Next up, I tackled the pockets. The original pocket bag was put in more like a facing around an opening and would never lay flat, the welt itself was top stitched in place by machine. Thankfully the pocket opening wasn't cut too big for the welt though, so once everything was unpicked and re-blocked, the pocket went back together quite easily using the correct method. The welt itself is a bit wonky, but I'm looking at it now as having more heritage. The new pocket bags also came from the scrap box, still no new cloth cut.

Once the pockets were re-built, I interlined the waistcoats fronts with a small leftover piece of red cotton broadcloth as my canvas. I didn't need the qualities of hair canvas for this, since I wouldn't be rolling a lapel or anything, I just needed a good bit of cloth to support the wool. Since I rarely prewash my fabrics, the broadcloth still has its sizing, so was nice and crisp. And there was 'just enough' for a couple of waistcoat fronts.

The lining and backs came from new cut cloth, my dwindling stock of lining linen. Plain, unbleached, and unwashed, so nice and crisp. This waistcoat will never see a laundry tub, so there's absolutely no need to launder any of the fabrics for shrinkage. Tailored garments should never be washed...brushed, hung to air, if absolutely need be, a trip to the dry cleaner, but only as last resort. 

Once the waistcoat was back to waistcoat form, I needed buttons. This was the only piece left to create self covered buttons with, and I did not want to order metal buttons...cloth covered may be a pain in the hands, but honestly, they were the common dog of buttons in the era, so I suck it up and cover buttons.

This is the little circles cut for button covering, the button molds are bone gaiter buttons from my stash (yes, I have a metric tonne of gaiter buttons, my grandfather kept all the dead buttons, just in case), and ALL THAT'S LEFT OF THE WOOL! Seriously, that's really all the remains of the old waistcoat. I had to cut the buttonhole placket off as the original buttonholes were put in vertical instead of horizontal. The wool for the buttons came from what remained of that off-cut piece. 

Since I didn't even want to run to the fabric store for thread this week, I used another trick from the bag and blended two thread colours to give me a 'close enough' colour for the new buttonholes.

The buttonhole was whipped around closely with a brown sewing thread. Then, I worked the buttonhole stitch in a dark red twist. The two colours together work fairly well on the rust coloured wool.

Last weekend, while on a drop off to the second hand shop, I had the thought of going in and seeing what sort of hat I could find to re-work into something for this suit. I came out with a gnarly old porkpie that was destined for the tip, for sure, due to it being in such rough shape. When we got home, I threw it in a hot wash with some soap, not really minding if it would felt up any...because seriously, it was in bad shape, and I paid so little for it. Once washed, it was pulled on to a hat block I made years ago from Styrofoam and left to dry. Once dry, it got a couple sprays of shellac and set to dry again before finishing.

It was finished with a length of green twill tape, likely from my days at the Citadel, like close to 20 years ago, and a small mother of pearl buckle from the stash, possibly from the 1940s, but a great colour. The nappy spot on the side of the hat are actual holes. Pierre wants to keep them, even though I could needle felt some more wool in to repair them. The lining came from the scrap bin again, and is pieced...

I marked the circle piece with his name in black ink, just 'cause.

Pierre's coat will come soon, made from cloth from the stash again, but in yet another wool...so no pieces will match at all. He will be a tecnicolour man of the lower sorts. We are likely to be in the kitchen, and would be of the lower sort anyway. I will take photos of the finished outfit when it's all said and done...

But first, our dance master needs clothes, so I am on to that.

a long, drawn out exercise in costume design research

This degree boils down to me wondering how we can make a better effort in how we look at living history events in Nova Scotia. Since clothing is always the first impression a person gives to the world, it's doubly important to get that correct when doing living history. The visitor to your site may never enter into conversation with an interpreter, they may simply come to see, to watch. So what can we do when preparing for the next event? Make sure we have the details of our clothing and accoutrements as correct as we can get them.

This means constantly researching, constantly striving to improve.

If you have been following me for any length of time, you'll know I am taking this opportunity to completely overhaul our kit. This was mainly begun due to the simple fact that neither Pierre nor I had a whole lot of clothing and personal material culture to begin with. Up until now, it has been my job to dress other people, so if we went to an event, we were the last dressed, often badly, with me usually still sewing the night before. Now, I have the opportunity to sit down and take the time to do what I have long wanted to do, really think about how we should look. I have been wanting to build a new suit of clothes for Pierre for a while. I thought about our ancestor, Peter Grant, the man who received the original land grant in Pine Tree. What would he have looked like? He may have worn a kilt during the war as part of his uniform, but afterwards, several of my research nerd friends and I figured breeches were still the common nether-garment of choice.

 The project started with a piece of fabric pulled from the scrap bin at NSCAD that was big enough for waistcoat fronts. They were cut, and tucked into a big Ziploc bag for later, along with the scraps. Then I started collecting the other fabrics I would need, and thought about how I would like him to look. The left-over bits of a suit I made for myself last Fall provided the fabric for his new frock coat/jacket. Then my brother and I going through a box of family heritage revealed a MacKay tartan kilt of my dad's that could be cut up and made into something else, since it was seriously moth eaten, and useless now as a kilt.

Neil Gow, by William Say (1773-1857), after Sir Henry Raeburn. Published by T. MacDonald, 1815, 213/4 x 15 7/8inches

I had been thinking of this painting of Neil Gow for a while. His jacket and waistcoat are of an earlier fashion, more 1770s than 18-teens, but also the tartan breeches and cut cloth hose (a challenge!). I had all the fabrics now to complete this suit for Pierre. And I had the time, between contracts and dissertation edits.

The almost finished suit! I have some minor tweaks to tidy up, I cut his breeches waistband far too big, and those bubbles in the sleeve head need to be steamed out, but otherwise, this suit is finished. His waistcoat is a classic 1770s cut, lined and backed in natural linen, buttons are self fabric covered, working pockets. The coat is based on one in the Glasgow Museum and a Continental jacket pattern developed by Fort Ticonderoga. I wanted a working mariner's cuff, and so used the Glasgow museum jacket for that reference, and the cut of the jacket, pocket placement, and collar came from the Ticonderoga pattern. The breeches are a standard fall front style, but I didn't use fall plackets, choosing to have a clean line of sett across the front. The breeches are completely lined in linen to provide stability to the wool, but also to hide any small moth holes in the cloth. The hose are single layer of bias cut tartan.

Once I have made the final tweaks to the suit, Pierre can have it to wear, break in and gain some heritage. Then it will truly become his, as his body warmth will allow the wool to stretch to mold to his body. Then, the pulling at the front button won't happen. I can't make the man not stand at attention-at ease though, he is after-all, a military man. His clothes will become more his though, through wearing.

No new fabrics were used in this suit, all came from repurposed or leftover cabbage from other projects, including linings. Even his hat was re-shaped from a slouch felt he wore after SCA tournements, and was in seriously rough shape. In fact, the only new piece of clothing in this image is a new neckerchief, which is mine, a gift from a friend. Though I do like that pop of red.

What might Peter Grant have looked like? I think he might have looked like this...though perhaps with red hair.