The B&T Workshop Marathon Concludes with a Weekend of Riding Habits!

Last weekend was the second and final workshop in the Burnley and Trowbridge fall workshop series.  Both Ashley and I have been very eagerly anticipating the chance to do a riding habit workshop for years now, so when the opportunity finally came up, of course we couldn't resist!

The decision to go was also motivated by the fact that we both already had pre-purchased fabric, so technically (ahem...) there wouldn't be the added expense of needing to purchase materials.  Back in 2010 at Brandywine, I found some green worsted wool at B&T and bought it specifically for the purpose of making a habit - the habit below, to be precise!  It's been maturing in The Stash ever since, awaiting the day when it could be brought to life, and I'm tickled to death at how close it's going to look once it's finished!

My riding habit inspiration image: Jane Maxwell Gordon, Duchess of Gordon,

painted by Daniel Gardner circa 1775.

Image linked from wikipedia.

Ashley also already had some wool gracefully aging in The Stash, set aside for this express purpose.  A couple of years ago, she found a rich chestnut brown worsted at B&T and snapped it up with a habit project in mind.  Not too long after, though, she stumbled across a small piece of a gorgeous red silk velvet and decided it would be perfect as cuff and collar accents on a black habit, so she got some black worsted as well.  Finally forced to make a choice as to which color would become her first riding habit, she ended up selecting the chestnut at the last minute, and I think she was most pleased with that choice in the end.

Some of the goodies created by the CW tailors, laid out at the workshop for our inspiration.

Our weekend of fun with riding habits began last Friday afternoon with a fantastic lecture by CW tailor Mark Hutter.  Mark used a rich and comprehensive collection of period images to lead us on a fascinating journey of the evolution of female riding attire from the seventeenth through the early nineteenth centuries.  Talking through changes in cut, fit, style, trim, and regional differences, we learned how to "read" and date habits by deciphering the clues found in these details.  We also discussed common habit textiles and colors and even addressed fashions in head wear and footwear.  Before the first session concluded, our instructor demonstrated the process we'd undertake the next morning: the draping of the habit waistcoat.  I even had the pleasure of playing model for this first demonstration!  :-)

Behind the scenes at a B&T workshop!  Here's Angela in

the process of uploading one of her "live" Facebook updates.

Beginning to look like a waistcoat, eh?  No, this wasn't my

waistcoat fabric, but I really liked it and wanted to keep it!!

The back of the waistcoat.

When we arrived on Saturday morning, we thus went straight to work pinning and smoothing and tucking waistcoats on each other.  Ashley and I and our friend Lily were grouped together as draping buddies, and we all agreed that having that third set of eyes was infinitely more productive and helpful than just being paired off in twos; when one of us forgot a step or needed an extra hand to help wrangle fabric, the other was there ready to help.

Ashley and Lily helping out (and getting a bit more practice!)

by draping the back of another participant's waistcoat.

As we proceeded step by step with the process throughout the morning, Mark paused to review and re-demonstrate.  For those of us "raised" on the techniques of the mantua maker, forcing the brain and the hands to act instead like a tailor was a bit of a challenge, so the constant reminders as we went along were prodigiously helpful.

Mid-morning waistcoat front draping reminder...

...which was concluded around lunchtime with the re-demonstration of the final step.

It took us most of the day to perfect our waistcoats.  This was crucial because our waistcoats would also serve as the patterns for our habit coats, so achieving the perfect fit the first time around was essential before we could proceed.  Once Mark was satisfied that we were each meticulously fitted, our attention turned to the acquisition of yet another new skill as Mark instructed us in the art of transforming our three-dimensional draped waistcoats into flat patterns that would be used to cut our coats.  Homework that night was to cut and baste our waistcoats and coats for a further fitting the next morning.

Learning how to transform our three-dimensional draped waistcoats into flat patterns.

These flat patterns will be used to cut both our waistcoats and our coats.

With all the pieces (mostly!) together, Sunday morning was spent trying on and tweaking the fit of everyone's waistcoats and coats.  This got a little complicated because it involved remembering we needed to adjust seam allowances to be sure there was sufficient overlap for buttons - something we mantua-making ladies have never needed to consider before!

Checking and tweaking the fit of the basted coat.

Lily and Ashley checking the fit of Ashley's coat over her waistcoat.

Then we moved on to patterning our sleeves, which introduced yet another new set of skills to learn because, like good tailors, we were working off patterns and using measurements, rather than draping directly to the shape of the body.  We learned how to take a tailor's measure of our key arm measurements (snipping that strip of paper brought back fond memories of the stays workshop oh so long ago!) and how to apply those measurements to adjust a sleeve pattern in the flat patterning stage.

Learning the tailor's techniques for measuring for a sleeve.

Applying our measurements to a sleeve pattern.

Measuring Ashley for her sleeves.

After basting our sleeves together, our final bit of instruction was in how to fit the sleeve to the coat body.  We each got at least one sleeve attached by the end of the day and strategically posed for our traditional end-of-workshop picture being careful to reveal only that one be-sleeved arm!  ;-)

Ashley being prodigiously diligent working on her sleeve pattern.

Fitting the first sleeve onto the coat body!

If you couldn't tell from the pictures we posted on Facebook, we had a splendid time and thoroughly enjoyed every bit of the weekend!  The group dynamics between all of the participants was the best we've ever experienced, and we all indulged in lots (and lots) of laughter as we learned and sewed together.  To Mark goes an immense amount of thanks for tolerating all our giggles and general hilarity, and an even greater appreciation for showing such dedication in teaching us, even to the point of taking hours of extra "over-time" to be sure we left with all the information we needed to complete our projects.  And thanks go, too, as always, to the lovely folks at Burnley and Trowbridge for yet another most excellent workshop experience!  You guys are the best and we're already eagerly anticipating the spring series announcement!

Historical accuracy is a hallmark of all B&T workshops and is strictly

observed at all times.  Well, just about... ;-)

Additional photos from the workshop can be found on Burnley and Trowbridge's Facebook page and in our habit workshop set on flickr.  If you're interested in participating in a spring workshop, keep checking back on B&T's website for updates!

B&T Sacque Jacket Workshop

When Burnley and Trowbridge posted their fall workshop schedule several months ago, I was ecstatic to find that both workshop weekends were going to be held back-to-back.  Not that any kind of persuasion would have been required to convince me to do both, but since I already had the fabric for both projects, that just made it so much easier to excuse the indulgence somehow...;-)

The first workshop, which concluded yesterday afternoon, focused on sacque jackets.  Ashley opted not to do this one because she'd just attended the Threads of Feeling conference the week before (her post about that is coming soon!), so this was the first time I went into a workshop without my trusty fitting buddy.  I missed her and it just wasn't the same without her, but I promised her that I'd console her for having to miss out by making her her own sacque jacket for Christmas.  She's in the process of choosing fabric now, so stay tuned for that!

Our end goal for the workshop: a sacque jacket.  This is the back of one recently
constructed by the ladies of CW's Margaret Hunter Shop.  That fabric is to die for.

Our workshop was led by the incomparable Janea Whitacre, mistress of the Margaret Hunter Shop at CW, and one of her apprentices, Sarah.  The ladies began on Friday afternoon with a brief lecture about the sacque jacket and its evolution through the second half of the 18th century.  Like the full-length sacque gown and the fitted-back English "nightgown," the sacque jacket enjoyed a surprisingly long period of fashionability across almost four decades.  Using images of extant originals and period prints and paintings, Janea and Sarah explained the stylistic differences between earlier sacque jackets and later ones; all of these would be options for us throughout the weekend as we worked on fitting and customizing our own projects.

Sarah using a demonstration piece (modeled by Abby!) to outline
the steps of the construction process we'd be learning.

The remainder of Friday was spent cutting our back pieces and learning how to create the signature pleats that define the sacque style.  We also draped sleeves (I'll take all the practice I can get when it comes to those!).  Our homework that night was to finish up our back pleating and have our sleeves completed in preparation for continuing on to the next steps the following morning.

Beginning the backs with the lining...

...which is then used to cut the back piece.

Demonstrating how to lay the back pleats.

My back piece all pleated and pinned and ready to be sewn.

Saturday was a very busy day.  We began by choosing our individual front closure details.  Both I and my fitting partner elected to do ours in the later polonaise style with the fronts of the jacket falling away to reveal a stomacher beneath. 

Fun with stomachers!

After patterning our stomachers, we moved on to draping the front of the jacket and then learning how to fit the outer fabric onto that draped lining to create the cute little flared shaping of the jacket's skirts.  Our final step on Saturday was to fit the fronts to the backs, and it was so exciting to see everyone's jackets beginning to take shape.  We all had jacket envy for each other as we walked around the room admiring all of the different fabrics and personalized styles.

Draping the front lining...

...and cutting it out...

...and conforming it to the shape of the body.

One side of my jacket's front waiting to be attached.

Fitting backs to fronts.

By Sunday morning, everyone arrived with fronts secured to backs, all ready to finish the shoulder straps and then begin to set the sleeves. 

My jacket as of Sunday morning, finally looking like a jacket!

This is always the spot where my confidence begins to drop; sleeves and I have never been bosom buddies, and it always takes me forever to get to a point where I'm satisfied (but never completely happy) with them.  This experience proved no different, though I'm always glad to have the additional practice and the chance to ask lots and lots of questions and have expert eyes to guide mine as I go along.

Setting sleeves.

The back of Sarah's jacket.  Ooooo, so pretty!

What made this workshop even better than the others we've done in the past was that Janea and Sarah decided to sew along with us and make Sarah a jacket in "real time."  This meant that with each step, their own piece was in the same place as ours, so we could see how everything went together and what little trouble spots we might encounter as we went along.  And I think Sarah was just as tickled about her new jacket as the rest of us were about our own!  The blue and white checked taffeta she and Janea used made the most adorable jacket, and I look forward to seeing it finished and trimmed!

I didn't get a picture of my jacket with the sleeves attached, but there is a group shot that includes it in its workshop-ending state on Burnley and Trowbridge's Facebook page.  If you're interested in seeing more step-by-step pictures, there are more on their page and also a bunch on the Margaret Hunter Shop page as well.

All that's left to be done on my jacket now are to finish sewing in the sleeves, to finish the hem, and to apply trim to the front and hem and to the sleeves.  I'm also about half-way done with the trim for the petticoat.  I think this jacket is well on its way to being my new favorite outfit.  It's just so pink and puffy and pretty and girly and the style is so stinkin' cute!  :-)  Many many thanks to the folks at B&T for putting together yet another brilliant weekend, and to the Margaret Hunter ladies for sharing their expertise and guidance.  I can't wait to see what they cook up for us for the next workshop season!

With three days now until the riding habit workshop, I'm going to challenge myself to see if can finish this before that next big project begins!  Wish me luck!!!

Apologies for the long silence!

We apologize for the lengthy silence that has descended on the blog!  We've both been so busy with work and with putting together new items for the Etsy Shop that we haven't had a spare moment to devote to posting.  With the Holidays all-too-swiftly approaching, we want to be sure we're well-stocked! The lull in posts, however, shall be broken soon by a series of exciting new posts, we promise!  Ashley attended a day of Battle of the Hook this weekend and will be sharing her pictures shortly, and we've got several special events over the next four weeks that are certain to provide some most satisfactory material for blogging!

In the meantime, we just thought we'd share some of the newest items currently available in the Shop, in the hope that it will provide sufficient eye-candy to entertain you whilst you await our upcoming exploits!  :-)

A matching orange/grey changeable silk taffeta covered hat and muff.
Both are trimmed with white silk satin ribbon and tiny bunches of
paper flowers.  I'm sorely tempted to keep this set for myself, but... ;-)

A full view of the hat pictured above.

An olive green wool broadcloth mantle with a large fully-lined hood.

A lovely understated hat trimmed in a stunning rosey pink silk satin.

A dark indigo blue silk taffeta muff trimmed with wide white silk satin ribbon.

The Christmas delight!  Covered in white silk taffeta with cherry
red silk satin ribbons and a covered wood button.

An olive green wool broadcloth short cloak with a narrow double collar.

Lots and lots of poofs of silk satin surround the crown of this hat.

The back of a hat trimmed with pink silk taffeta ribbon.

A wintery confection of white silk taffeta, white silk satin, and white silk gauze.

18th Century Turnshoe Workshop (Part Three)

As I mentioned in the first post in this series about our Crispin adventures, our shoemaking instructor recently held a workshop reunion that three of us students were able to attend back in July.  During a previous reunion last year, which I had to miss, the other two had made progress far ahead of me, which meant we were each at a completely different part of the process.  This was actually a good thing because we ended up comparing notes and sharing reminders about individual steps as we worked.

Emily (of Emily's Vintage Visions) was one of the attendees at the workshop reunion, and having also been at last year's meeting, she's now getting very close to being finished with her shoes!  During the reunion, she worked on stitching in her whittaw heel cover on one of her shoes and oh-so-painstakingly shaping her wooden heels to the proper size and curve to fit her individual foot.

Emily's shoe with the heel cover newly attached...

...and the wooden heel being glued into place.

R, who is making a pair of gentleman's shoes for himself, also made significant progress during the previous meeting, and by our recent July reunion was also nearing the end of the process.  Over our two-day meeting, he worked on stitching in the rand of his shoes (gentleman's shoes - like earlier women's shoes - were randed, not turned, like the ones Emily and I are working on).

R stitching in the rand on his gentleman's shoe.

Without expert eyes to oversee my work, I hadn't done a thing to my shoes since the original workshop back in 2011.  This was the state of them: my last and instep were completed and one of the uppers was almost done.  The heels and the sole leather are still in their original, untouched states.

Completed last with instep and uppers in pieces before the July workshop reunion!

Being behind actually ended up working to my advantage in the end!  Having encountered a couple of minor fitting issues at the last reunion with the other students, our instructor decided it might be a good idea for me to take the time to make a "trial fitter" test shoe to double-check the fit of my pattern before I went ahead and lasted my calamanco uppers.  The trial fitter was assembled similarly to the real shoe, but with much coarser stitching and only very thin scrap leather for the test sole.  It turned out that my pattern fit perfectly, so no changes will be necessary with the final shoe!  Huzzah!  This means I can now start lasting with confidence!

Lasting my trial fitter, sewing the upper to the sole.

The trial shoe.

After making and testing out my trial fitter, I then spent the remainder of our reunion finishing up my uppers, which are black calamanco lined in a soft but strong whittaw.  The edges are bound in black silk grosgrain ribbon.

I have tentative plans to meet up with the instructor again some time in the next month or two, so hopefully these shoes will be well on their way to making even more progress soon!  I can't wait until they're done - I have so many other pairs in my mind's eye that I'm longing to make!

Threaded Bliss

A Cotton Print Gown for a Young Lady,

1750-1790

It is often the young girls who are the ones most fascinated by seeing the clothing we ladies wear to reenactments, and the girls who are the most excited when you offer them the chance to handle a gown, test out a fan, or try on a hat.  But the question always arises, "Would little girls like me get a dress like this, too?"  I have a small collection of images of 18th-century children that I bring with me to our non-battle public reenacting events, demonstrations, and "shows," but I always wanted to make a representative girl's gown to be able to give these inquisitive young ladies a real glimpse at what their counterparts wore centuries ago.

With a special local historical society event this past weekend, I decided it was the perfect time to finally get around to making something suitable, and I'm so glad I did!  The reaction it got from all the young visitors was priceless - added to which it also offered the perfect photo opportunity!  It was so, so precious watching these little ones fall in love with historical fashion.  :-)

The pattern: Not having a child of my own to draft a pattern on, and having examined only a handful of extant children's gowns myself, I decided that going with a pattern for this project would be the best way to assure I achieved the proper shape and proportions.  There are surprisingly few options out there when it comes to gowns appropriate to girls and pre-teen young ladies, but based on the original pieces I've examined, and on images I've looked through online, I opted for the Mill Farm pattern, which gives an accurate and representative shape appropriate to girl's gowns worn between about 1750 and 1790.  I made some changes to the pattern based on my own research, which I'll detail below, but these were more or less minor.

Inspiration: I wanted to make an everyday gown for the child of a lower-middling family, which would represent the majority of CT families (mostly farmers) during the Rev War period.  My primary inspiration for the fabric choice was a "blue and white sheled" cotton/linen textile currently on display in the "Threads of Feeling" exhibit.  It's included in the Threads of Feeling book as figure 33, on page 41.  The child admitted with this token in 1759 was a girl, and I was delighted to find a brand new fabric that had been recently released that fit the bill quite satisfactorily.  More specifics on the fabric are below.

Extant children's clothing is, predictably, rare because it would typically have been worn by multiple siblings until it fell apart.  I did, however, have two main inspiration originals for this project.  One was a brown wool gown dated to the 1740s in the collection of the Met Museum.  The Costume Design Center at Colonial Williamsburg did a reproduction of this gown (right down to all of the piecing details) and had it on display during the "Reconstructed Visitable Past" conference several years ago, so I had a chance to examine it closely there.

Child's gown, Met Musem of Art acc. no. 1990.24.

Image linked from the Met Museum of Art online collections database.

Back of child's gown, Met Musem of Art acc. no. 1990.24.

Image linked from the Met Museum of Art online collections database.

The other was a cotton print gown in the Philadelphia Museum of Art dated to 1780.  This gown has some curious details, including the mock laced-in stomacher and the flaps at the sides that (one suspects?) might cover the pocket openings, or simply reflect the peplums of jackets that were increasingly popular in that decade.  There is no back view available, so you can't tell how far these pieces extend around the back, nor how the gown is fastened closed.

Child's dress, Philadelphia Museum acc. no. 1943.23.1.

Image linked from the Philadelphia Musem of Art's online collections database.

Construction details: The Mill Farm pattern was clearly written with an experienced sewer in mind, so the directions were correspondingly limited when it came to specifying stitches and similar details.  This basically leaves construction methods up to the sewer, so I opted to put my gown together using the documented construction techniques I use on all of our adult gowns.  First, I assembled the sleeves as usual, opting not to include tucks in them, following the Philadelphia Museum inspiration source, though you do sometimes see two or three sleeve tucks in period images of cotton or linen gowns.

The bodice lining was done in the same way as a typical gown lining, turning the edges of outer fabric and lining in on each other to finish the neckline.  The sleeves were also inserted in the "usual" way, which got a little complicated because I didn't have a child's shoulder to fit them on, so I just fiddled with the sleeve cap pleats until they looked good to my eye and then double-checked to see how close my fit was to the pattern's.  I then top-stitched the shoulder straps down to cover the top of the sleeve, in the same way as you would for a woman's gown.

The skirt of the gown has three growth tucks along the bottom.  The couple of originals I've looked at had very deep hems instead of the growth pleats, but you do see a lot of tucks in children's gowns in portraits and I prefer their look to the deep hem.  It's also much easier to let out a tuck to lengthen the gown than it is to unpick the hem, let it down, refold it, and then hem it all over again.

Three growth tucks are at the bottom of the skirt.

The pattern did not include pocket slits, but I added some because the kids who visit our events love learning about tie-on pockets and speculating about what they might have kept in them if they lived "back then."  Because I added the slits, I opted to pleat the skirt to the bodice instead of gathering it, as the pattern calls for.  Both methods are documented, but I preferred the pleats to help accentuate the pocket slits.  They're angled in the same directions as they are in the standard 18th century petticoat.

The back of the gown laces closed with two hidden eyelet panels sewn into the back of the gown to allow for greater adjustability, a feature I copied from the Met original.  The pattern includes criss-crossed lacing, but I changed it to spiral lacing to reflect the lacing pattern on that same extant Met piece.  I also liked the idea of the spiral lacing mimicking the conventional lacing style of stays.

The gown laces closed in the back using two concealed lacing

strips supported by two pieces of boning.

Spiral lacing up the back.

The fabric: As I mentioned above, the inspiration fabric was a "blue and white sheled" cotton/linen textile token from "Threads of Feeling."  While monochromatic arched "shell" prints and motifs were very popular throughout the second half of the century, particularly amongst the lower classes, there are few options available now in terms of comparable modern fabric.  Duran Textiles offers a document reproduction of an original shell print that lines a 1760-1780 banyan at Winterthur, but this was a tad out of my price range for this project.  Instead, I opted for a new print recently released by Wm Booth, Draper that was inspired by multiple shell prints.  It's a very nice quality and a lovely weight and looks adorable made up into the gown.

Finishing the look: A young lady wearing this gown would have worn it over a shift and perhaps over stays, though as the century worn on, younger girls tended to wear stays much less frequently than they had in the past until they reached puberty.

Inspired by one of my favorite period paintings of a child, Chardin's Une petite fille jouant au volant (1741), I'm planning to complete this display item by making a white linen pinner apron to pair with the gown, as well as a smaller set of child's pockets and a child's cap.