Sunday, September 15, 2013

Threaded Bliss

Dutch Cotton Chintz Gown,
circa 1780

Dutch chintz gown, 1780

The pattern: This is from my usual bodice that Ashley draped on me at the gown workshop.  Because I wanted this gown to reflect a 1780 date, which is consistent with the textile I used, however, I raised the waist ever so slightly so that it falls just above the natural waistline.  I also widened and lowered the neckline just a bit.  The sleeves are also a teensy bit tighter than I usually do them, as increasingly became the fashion as the 1770s turned to the 1780s.

Dutch chintz gown with silk taffeta petticoat, 1775-1785

Construction details: Because this is yet another 1770-1785 fitted-back gown (let's face it, we're both living entirely in the Rev War period these days...!), the construction details are identical to those of every other gown we've made from the same period.  The last outline we gave for gown construction was in the pink worsted gown post, so check that one out if you're looking for more details.  Don't worry - we've got some new and exciting - and different! - projects coming up soon!

Dutch chintz gown with silk taffeta petticoat, 1775-1785

Dutch chintz gown with silk taffeta petticoat, 1775-1785

The fabric: A stunning Dutch chintz from Den Haan and Wagenmakers.  It was pricey, but the price reflects the quality and it's just gorgeous stuff.  We've both used their fabrics before for jackets, but that only necessitated buying a single yard at a time.  I held off indulging in a gown length for years...couldn't justify spending that much money at once on a single gown...and then a few months ago, I finally broke down and splurged and I'm so glad I did.  I absolutely love this print and its possibilities!  The silk taffetas used in the petticoats, the breastknot, and on the cap are all from Burnley and Trowbridge.

Dutch chintz gown, 1780

Finishing the look: The best part about this fabric is the sheer number of petticoat possibilities, since there are so many different colors in the print.  What's so much fun is that the fabric looks completely different with each change of petticoat, so it's like having half a dozen potential outfits in one!

The first time I wore this gown was the Friday of UTR in Williamsburg.  Since our regiment didn't attend in an official capacity this year, I took the opportunity to wear something more satisfyingly posh and pretty than my usual dirty camp gowns.  I paired the gown with a yellow silk taffeta petticoat and my new (favorite!) hat trimmed and lined with blue/green changeable silk.  The yellow of the petticoat really pulled out the yellows and blues of the gown.

Dutch chintz gown with silk taffeta petticoat, 1775-1785

Today, for a local historical society event, I chose an "aurora" silk taffeta petticoat (pink/yellow changeable).  This completely changed the way the fabric appeared to the eye, highlighting the pinks and purples in the print instead.  To aid that even further, I added a purple/yellow changeable silk taffeta breastknot and then capped (haahaa, sorry, couldn't help myself!) it all off with a yellow silk bow on my cap.  A sheer striped white cotton gauze apron, my B&T red shoes, and a pearl necklace completed the "best" middling look I was aiming for, in keeping with our historic house location.  I just wish I'd been able to get better pictures than this - these really don't do justice to the brightness of the colors and the way they all played off of each other.  But I really love this outfit!

Dutch chintz gown, 1780
 
I think the next time I wear this gown, I'm going to try it with my blue/ivory changeable silk petticoat.  I also have more of the purple/yellow changeable waiting to be made into a gown with a matching petticoat, so that petticoat would also be a nice complement to this gown as well.  One can never have too many petticoats...;-)

A couple additional photos can be found in this project's flickr set.  Clicking on any of the images here will bring you to their larger flickr format.

Dutch chintz gown with silk taffeta petticoat, 1775-1785

Monday, September 2, 2013

Shop Online at "A Fashionable Frolick" on Etsy!

Are you wondering what you've been missing if you haven't yet joined us on Facebook?

Well...this weekend, you've missed the special announcement of the opening of the Fashionable Frolick Shop on Etsy!

blue/brown changeable silk taffeta muff

After months of preparation, hard work, and diligent sewing, we are pleased to announce the grand opening of our newest venture: an Etsy shop featuring 18th-century accessories and clothing!  We know that there are a number of other places you can find period clothing, but there's always room for one more source, and we'd love to share some of our own designs and creations with you.  Check out the "Shop @ FF" tab in the top menu to see more of our offerings, or visit us on Etsy to see the live listings.

P1070690

We will work hard in our Shop to provide you with the highest quality historical clothing available anywhere today. Each item we produce will be meticulously researched to ensure 100% accuracy in design, materials, and construction techniques. As a business that caters to reenactors, discerning historical costume enthusiasts, historic sites, and museums, we pledge that every stitch will be hand sewn in the period manner with absolutely no modern shortcuts to give you a piece of historical fashion you can be proud to wear or display.

red wool broadcloth short cloak

Over the next several weeks, we'll be adding new items to the Shop, including additional hats and muffs and a number of other essential 18th-century accessories and articles of clothing.  We also have a couple of non-wearable but still historical-fashion-inspired surprises up our sleeves!  Two hours before a new item premieres in the Shop, it will be exclusively featured on our Facebook page to give our friends there a special sneak preview and heads-up.  So if you haven't yet joined us for some Frolicks on Facebook, now is the time so you don't miss any more of the excitement!

winter white silk muff

If there's something specific you'd be interested in seeing in the Shop, do let us know!  We're happy to accept custom orders for variations on any of the items currently featured, and we're always willing to entertain new product ideas as well!  Happy shopping!

P1070698
 

Sunday, September 1, 2013

Threaded Bliss

A Pair of 18th-Century Cotton Dimity Pockets

white cotton dimity pocket
A pair of cotton dimity pockets.

How many of you reenactors and costumers have found yourselves discussing the layers of your 18th-century clothing with inquisitive visitors, only to reach the subject of your pockets and feel your face flush with embarrassment as you're obliged to pull out that ONE ITEM of ugly-fabric machine-made clothing on your body?  You try to conceal the offending article as much as you can whilst still demonstrating its function to your audience, but all the while you're mentally kicking yourself for not having spent the extra time to make a hand-stitched accurate example.

Yes, that's me.  After finding myself in this awkward position no less than three times at
the OSV reenactment a couple of weeks ago, I have finally reached my breaking point and decided that my old, icky cotton drill pockets are no longer acceptable.  They represent one of the first pieces of 18th-century clothing I ever made years and years ago, and I did them quickly on the machine to try to save time, assuming, of course, that "no one will ever see them, so who knows they're machine-made but me?"  What worked for me then simply doesn't cut it any more!  Yes, they have served their function well over the years, but YES, it is high time they're replaced!  If I can completely hand-sew my stays and even make my own shoes, for heaven's sake, there's just no excuse not to have hand-sewn pockets that I can demonstrate at programs with confidence!

So motivated by the three-times-too-many experience at OSV and inspired by Samantha's own recent pocket reincarnation, here's my brand new set of pockets, now perfectly prepared to be exposed to public inquiry!

white cotton dimity pocket
Extant pockets appear both singly and as pairs.

The pattern: The shape of 18th century pockets is pretty consistent across most extant examples and images.  Basically, it's just a long vertical rectangle with corners rounded at the bottom and then shaped to narrow slightly towards the top to minimize bulk around the waist.  It's such a simple, geometric shape that I just drew it free-hand right onto the fabric, using measurements from museum examples as my height and width guides.

Inspirations: Many surviving pockets are beautifully and heavily embroidered; indeed, this is probably the reason they were treasured and preserved through the centuries.  There are, however, a handful of utilitarian examples in museum collections, and these are a lovely testament to the fact that the every-day working woman did not always have the time to devote significant effort to embellishing a functional piece of clothing that no one but she would ever see.  These plainer extant pieces are, arguably, more representative of 18th-century pockets than their more pretty embroidered sisters.

In her own post about her new pockets, Samantha highlighted three excellent examples of these plain pockets, and these likewise served as primary sources for my own reproductions here.  One is a white cotton-linen dimity pocket, dated 1785-1810, in the collection of Colonial Williamsburg (acc. no. 1964-411).  This particular pocket uses different fabrics for the front and back and is lined with a third fabric.  It is bound around the edges with white linen tape.  The top appears to have a casing through which to insert a tape to suspend it around the waist.

Cotton-linen dimity pocket, 1785-1810 (CW acc. no. 1964-411).
Image linked from the Colonial Williamsburg E-Museum.

Samantha's excellent sleuthing also unearthed another white dimity example, this one presumably a full cotton.  It is dated to the late 18th century and is similar in shape to the CW example.  Its edges are also bound with linen tape, but instead of having a channel to insert a tape tie, this pocket is finished with a tape binding across the top and seems to have tape ties tacked to either side of the top.

Cotton dimity pocket, late 18th century (MFA acc. no. 48.356).
Image linked from the MFA online listings.

My third inspiration source, which Samantha also provided a link to in her post, is another white dimity pocket, this one owned by Abigail Adams.  What specifically interested me with this particular source, however, is a citation the author listed in the description of a letter written by Abigail Adams to Thomas Jefferson on 10 July 1787.  Adams writes asking for reimbursement for "diaper for pockets."  This reference is what dictated my choice in fabric.

Check out the 18th Century Notebook page on pockets for a multitude of additional varied examples.

Construction details: Based on the several extant examples I've read specifics on both in books and online, there seems to have been a couple of different ways to construct a pocket.  Not knowing exactly how the CW and the MFA examples were constructed, I took the details I had on other pockets and combined them when putting together mine.

To ensure maximum strength (I keep all sorts of period and non-period stuff in my pockets at events, from a cup-and-ball game for the kids to money (period and plastic) to my camera and cell phone!), I did a reinforced seam around the edges and then top-stitched the tape over this to finish the edges.  The top is finished with a tape binding that is the same as the waistband tape.  This means that the pockets are not adjustable (I can't slide them along the tape to change where they sit on my hips), but I'm okay with that.  Based on my research, it was pretty evenly divided between single pockets with tape channels, single pockets with tacked-on tapes, and a set of pockets tacked to the same tape waistband.

white cotton dimity pocket
Detail of the access slit.

Because my fabric is a medium weight and can very easily support the weight of the pocket contents on its own, I didn't feel it was necessary to line my pair.  Many of the lined examples are only lined in front anyway to help protect the back side of the embroidery from being chafed by items in the pocket.  Since that wasn't an issue here, I just did mine with a single layer.

white cotton dimity pocket
The tape-edge of the pocket.

The fabric: A white diaper-weave cotton dimity from Burnley and Trowbridge.  They are unlined and the edges are bound with white cotton tape.

white cotton dimity pocket

Finishing the look: Pockets, no matter how elaborately decorated, should always be worn under the outermost layer of clothing, concealed from view.  Occasionally, you will see period images where a woman's gown has been pulled back and the edge of her pocket is sticking out, indicating that she is wearing it over her petticoat, but still under her gown.  In general, though, a lady's pockets should not be seen.

Francis Wheatley's "Fresh Gathered Peas," one in the
"Cries of London" series exhibited between 1792-5.
You can see the woman's pocket peeking out from beneath her pulled-back gown.
Image linked from www.spitalfieldslife.com.

Pockets are tied around the waist, usually over the stays to allow easiest access, and can be worn either singly or as a pair.  I've chosen to sew a pair onto a single waistband so that one pocket can contain my modern accessories during events, and the other can be filled with period goodies and can thus be pulled out for inspection by public eyes!

white cotton dimity pocket
I love my new pockets!

Sunday, August 18, 2013

18th Century Turnshoe Workshop (Part Two)

Like the previous shoemaking post, this post too was started by Ashley immediately after the workshop in August of 2011 and it too got buried in the "drafts"...until now!  I've dug it up and dusted it off and finished it up, and here, at last, is the story of our shoe-making beginnings!  :-)
- Rebecca


Shoemaker's bench
The shoemaker's bench and tools of the trade.

Our ladies turnshoe workshop at Eastfield Village in NY (see the previous post for a look at the location) was led by one of the shoemakers at Colonial Williamsburg.  There were six of us students who had committed to the entire week-long workshop, though we also enjoyed the company of two other individuals who stopped by the observe and to help out for a couple of days.  The group as a whole was fantastic, and we so enjoyed meeting new friends - including Miss Emily of Emily's Vintage Visions! - and getting to know everyone over the course of the workshop week.

Workspace
Our workshop very early in the week, before it became covered in bits of
wood shavings, leather, and thread!

The first day, Saturday, served as a general introduction to working with leather and to preparing and caring for the tools of the shoemaker's trade.  This included learning how to make up threads with boar bristles (the shoemaker's needle!), how to make and use shoemaker's wax, learning how to sharpen and handle different kinds of awls and various knives, learning the names and functions of a handful of other tools, and learning several different stitches commonly found on shoes dating from the 18th century.  We began work on a couple of trial projects, which provided us with the chance to practice working with our new stitches and tools while simultaneously producing two items that would be necessary to the shoe-making process later.  Having never worked with leather before, we both quickly discovered that learning its properties, temperament, and capabilities would prove to be an ongoing lesson in itself!

shoemaker's materials and tools
Some of the tools and materials of the shoemaker's trade.

Ashley
Ashley working on sewing her hand-leather, which protects your hands
as you pull stitches tightly together.

Stitching
Learning the shoemaker's stitch.

Sunday was an off day, so when we returned on Monday, we devoted some time to finishing up our practice pieces before starting on the next task: measuring.  Our instructor led us through the proper techniques to determine and accurately measure all of the key points of the foot.  Once these measurements were obtained, we then used them to select a last closest to our individual sizes and began the work of whittling and shaving and sanding away the excess wood in all the necessary places so that the last would match our foot measurements exactly.  Because we're making straight-lasted shoes, both shoes can be built from a single last.

The Last Lineup
A line of lasts!  A selection of standardized sizes were provided, and once we'd
found the one closest to our individual measurements, we then set about
refining it to perfectly replicate the size and contours of our own feet.

Narrowing the heel
Some of us had to remove more stock than others off the last...

In order to achieve the proper shoe shape of a 1770s-1780s shoe, preparing our lasts also involved building on and shaping a toe pin, which extends the length of the last to a fashionable point.  Because of our individual foot lengths and the unique shapes of our feet, some of us (ahem...) had to build larger toe pins than others, which took a significant amount of time and was a definite lesson in patience and perseverance when learning how to wield a knife through leather!

completed last
A completed last with toepin covered in white leather, and the instep nailed to the top.
(The heel is not part of the last, I just rested the last on it for the picture!)

Our next step was to build the instep, which is a leather piece that sits atop the last as the shoe is built over it.  If an instep wasn't used, you wouldn't be able to remove the completed shoe from the last; slipping out that instep once the shoe is finished allows sufficient wiggle room between the last and the shoe to be able to slip if off easily.  Building the instep was another challenge that took a full day and a half, but like the last and its toe pin, it is imperative that it be measured with the utmost preciseness to ensure that the shoe that is built over it fits as snugly and accurately as possible.

At the bench
Miss Emily at the shoemaker's bench, working on her instep.
 
Once our lasts and insteps were perfected into exact replications of our foot measurements, we were taught how to make the pattern for the uppers (the top part) of our shoes and then the art of clicking (i.e. cutting out that pattern) those uppers in both leather and wool.  Black calimanco was provided for our shoes as part of the workshop, and I and two of the other participants chose to use this, but Emily had brought with her a gorgeous blue worsted that she substituted instead (and it's so pretty!)  Ashley purchased some green Moroccan leather (green being her favorite color, of course!).  Our fabric shoes are lined with whittaw, while Ashley's leather ones are lined with linen.  The edges are bound with black silk grosgrain.

Making a pattern
Learning how to create a custom pattern for our individualized lasts.

Listening...
Emily and Ashley listening and note-taking.

Clicking the uppers
A truly 18th-century lesson in clicking with economy!

By Friday, we were all hard at work sewing together our uppers.  A couple of the participants finished and began learning how to prepared their soles that afternoon, but both Ashley and I still had work to do on them and didn't get a chance to begin our soles before we had to leave in a desperate attempt to beat the coming hurricane home (which we thankfully did!).

shoemaking workshop, Eastfield Village, August 2011
Ashley mastering the art of making up a thread.

After a week of hard and diligent work, we had made significant headway into beginning the process of making our very own custom - and 100% accurate! - 18th century shoes!  The picture below shows the state of my shoes after the workshop, with the completed last and instep.  One of the uppers was nearly finished, while the other was still in two pieces, waiting to be bound and seamed together.  Ashley's uppers at the conclusion of the workshop week were basically in the same shape as mine. 

shoes after the workshop
Rebecca's uppers at the end of the workshop week: one is nearly finished,
while the other is still in pieces.

Over the past couple of years, we've all been desperately attempting to fit all of our busy schedules together to meet up for a follow-up workshop.  Several of the participants were able to do this last October, but both Ashley and I unfortunately had work commitments and weren't able to go.  It wasn't until a couple of weeks ago that three of us were finally able to gather together again and, under the tutelage of our instructor, get back to work on our shoes.  Stay tuned to see the recent (and exciting!) progress!

If you're interested in learning more about the art of shoemaking in the 18th century, check out Art of the Shoemaker, D.A Saguto's superior translated edition of Garsault's 1767 "Art du cordonnier."  Nicole of Diary of a Mantua Maker has also done some fabulously informative posts about shoemaking in general and her own personal shoemaking experiences, which can be found here.  And Emily has started doing a bit of research into female shoemakers in 18th-century New England; see this post for a most fascinating account of one from Boston.

A plate from Garsault's 1767 "Art du cordonnier," showing shoemakers
at work, along with a sample of stitches and the parts of the shoe below.
 
Additional photos of the workshop week at Eastfield can be found on this flickr set.  Additionally, for more, check out Emily's posts about the workshop and her shoes on her blog.  And stay tuned for subsequent posts here of updates on how our shoes continue to progress!

Mending threads
Ashley preparing and refining a thread.

Monday, August 12, 2013

Threaded Bliss

Red Striped Cotton Gown, 1775-1785

red striped cotton gown, 1775-1785
Redcoats and Rebels, OSV, August 2013.

This fabric has been sitting in the stash for years now.  When I decided 8 days before Redcoats and Rebels that I needed (i.e. wanted) a new gown, I dug around in the fabric cabinet and unearthed three options.  Thanks to input from our Fashionable Frolick Facebook friends, this is the one I ended up with, and I'm so pleased with the outcome!

red striped cotton gown, 1775-1785
With our friend B at OSV.
Redcoats and Rebels, OSV, August 2013.

The pattern: The bodice and sleeves of this gown are those draped on me by Ashley at the gown workshop last November.  I made a minor alteration to the neckline, however, to square it out ever so slightly to reflect the wider necklines seen in the late 1770s and early 1780s to make it a most fashionable gown for the Rev War period.

Redcoats and Rebels 2013 at Old Sturbridge Village
Redcoats and Rebels, OSV, August 2013.

Construction details: As these are identical to the pink worsted gown (and every other fitted-back English gown we've done!), I'll just refer you to those previous gown posts if you're interested in reading the in-depth summary!

It's been a while since I've worked with stripes (the last striped gown was the blue and white linen two years ago), so this particular fabric presented a nice "refresher course" in fabric fiddling!  The first challenge was deciding the angle of the front chevrons.  Extant striped gowns and those appearing in period images display a range of angles; in some examples it is quite severe, while in others, it is so subtle that the stripes create chevrons only at the very top when the bodice widens around bust level.  After playing around a bit with the angle, I ended up with a modest chevron, a happy medium that seems to reflect the trend of many of the c.1780ish striped gowns I've encountered in my searches.

red striped cotton gown, 1775-1785
Front of the gown.

The next step was to determine the angle of the back chevrons.  This was partially determined already by the front (I'd look silly with severe "V"s at the back, and only subtle ones in the front!), but I angled it ever so slightly a bit more, to give it that necessary waist-defining and narrowing effect so valued by 18th century mantua-makers and their clients!

red striped cotton gown, 1775-1785
Back of the gown.

red striped cotton gown, 1775-1785

The outcome of where the front bodice pieces meet the back panel is thus already pre-determined, and based on extant striped gowns, seems not to have been of much concern to mantua-makers of the period.  Aiming for perfect chevrons at the sides, in other words, shouldn't be a goal because the front and back logically are the priorities.  I just fiddled ever so slightly with the side/back edge of my bodice piece, creating the usual pleasing curve and letting the stripes fall where they will.  In the end, it worked out looking quite nice, with the floral stripes sitting next to each other right at the waist and then splaying out a bit as it progresses upwards.

red striped cotton gown, 1775-1785
Back of the gown, with stripes diverging at the side/back lapped seams.

red striped cotton gown, 1775-1785
Shoulder strap meeting back panel and sleeve.

Pleating gown skirts is such a pleasure with stripes!  Using the floral stripes as my guide, I did tiny 1/4" pleats all the way around.  In general (yes, a sweeping generalization, but one nonetheless!), the later you go into the 1770s and 1780s, the smaller the skirt pleats progressively become, so these reflect the very specific period towards which I was aiming with the squared neckline as well.

red striped cotton gown, 1775-1785
Lots and lots and lots of pleats!

The fabric: A white medium-weight cotton embroidered in a pattern of red stripes with a tiny floral motif, with the bodice and sleeves lined in ivory linen.  I absolutely adore this striped fabric and really wish I'd purchased more when I bought it years ago.  As it is, I started out with a one-yard piece and a three-yard piece, and I ended up with just three little scrap bits left.  I'd love to have a matching petticoat, so the hunt is now on to find more if I can!

Redcoats and Rebels 2013 at Old Sturbridge Village
With our friend B at OSV.
Redcoats and Rebels, OSV, August 2013.

Finishing the look: This gown is certainly more posh than anything a camp-following lady should be wearing, but because we were surrounded by a non-military town setting and not the usual lone battlefield, I figured I was perfectly justified in wearing it to Redcoats and Rebels!  Although I have a scarlet red cotton petticoat of a similar weight to the gown that was intended to go with it, I opted for the more "common" appearance of the subdued red linen petticoat seen in the previous jacket post, both because it would be around fire and soot, and because it saved me having to remember to bring two petticoats with me!  Somehow, despite the very different shades of red of each of those petticoats, they both matched the fabric just fine; the gown's red seems, chameleon-like, to take on whatever shade of red against which it is placed!

Redcoats and Rebels 2013 at Old Sturbridge Village

Redcoats and Rebels 2013 at Old Sturbridge Village
With Miss Emily, both of us in fashionable cotton gowns with neat, white aprons!
Redcoats and Rebels, OSV, August 2013.

Walking about town, a sheer striped cotton gauze apron gave the ensemble a nice, clean, and tidy appearance that was further accented by the semi-sheer neck handkerchief that filled in the low, square neckline.  A necklace of red coral beads and my new favorite hat completed the outfit and brought it quite nicely into a middle-class impression.

Redcoats and Rebels 2013 at Old Sturbridge Village
Redcoats and Rebels, OSV, August 2013.

Back in camp, however, I quickly covered that fashionable, delicate white apron by tying a dark blue/ivory/yellow cross-barred linen apron over it to protect it from food preparations, fire, grease, and soot.  It also helped tone the outfit down a bit to make it appear more camp-appropriate.

Redcoats and Rebels 2013 at Old Sturbridge Village
Fashionable white gauze apron covered by the utilitarian dark linen one!
You can see the white one peeking out one side.
Redcoats and Rebels, OSV, August 2013.

Additional photos can be found in this project's flickr set.  Clicking on the images here will bring you to flickr and larger picture sizes.