April Mending

Guess who got to re-stitch her chemise gusset seams again this month? I didn't do much other mending, focusing instead on new projects (more to be posted shortly). Also, I covered most of my immediate repair needs in February/March, and now just have the larger remaking/remodeling projects in my to-do basket. 

Book Review: The Tudors: Art and Majesty in Renaissance England

A few winters ago now, The Met had an exhibit on Tudor artwork, and I was very excited to get my hands on a copy of the exhibition catalog (before the exhibit ended even!), though I procrastinated writing it up. In a fun turn, however, I recently discovered that the museum put a walk-through video of the exhibit online, and that inspired me to finally finish the review.

The Tudors: Art and Majesty in Renaissance England

The Tudors: Art and Majesty in Renaissance England by Elizabeth Cleland and Adam Eaker is the exhibition book for the Metropolitan Museum's Winter 2022-2023 exhibit of 16th century English art and portraiture. As the title suggests, that exhibit mostly looked at the portraiture and decorative arts of Tudor England, particularly that of the royal family, and how such artworks helped shape the Tudor dynasty's public image.

The book is organized around the 123 artifacts in the exhibit (or intended to be in the exhibit as originally conceived before 2020 happened), grouped chronologically and thematically into four sections. These explore the role of art in defining the Tudor dynasty, creating its public image, enhancing the prestige of its court, and shaping its historic legacy. Nine essays divided between these contextualize the art, providing overviews of the historic events concurrent with their making, as well as the artists, stylistic movements, customs, and physical spaces which informed them. Holbein, naturally, gets his own essay.

Each artifact has its label, a full-color picture, and 1-3 pages of accompanying narrative discussing the specific artwork's provenance, purpose, symbolism, maker (as best as can be determined), construction techniques, etc. Many of these artifact write-ups also contained additional photographs of related artworks not included in the exhibit itself (such as buildings). In addition to the numerous portraits and miniatures, the featured artifacts include tapestries, embroideries, garments, armor, ceremonial plate, sketches, plans for buildings and decorative features, medals, sculpture, and prints. All of the Tudor monarchs are included, though Elizabeth I and Henry VIII's relatively long reigns are most heavily featured.

As an exhibit book, this volume is focused on interpreting specific artworks. While the essays do provide historic context and link these pieces to wider artistic movements, the history that is being covered spans over a century, and so is handled in very broad strokes. I liked that the what theory is discussed ends up thoroughly grounded in physical artifacts, though that might not be to everyone's taste. With so much material to cover, close-up and detail shots are not included. Also, while there is a very wide variety of objects included, paintings are far and away the largest category. If, for example, you're looking for many images of original 16th century armor, this isn't the right book; if you want two suits of armor discussed context of the splendor of Henry VIII's court, it just might be.

In size and photograph quality, this is a coffee table book. It's quite pretty, with large, full-color photographs (249 total). Not being able to attend the exhibit in person, this book is the next best thing. I am also excited to add to my library a physical book of high-quality visual references from this period.

Score: 4.5 stars.

Accuracy: High. Lots of photographs of original 16th century art, and the text is all discussion of these pieces.

Strongest Impression: A gorgeous book. Very useful for anyone interested in 16th century English art history, 16th century English royals, or who just wants a physical reference book for the classic portraits of that time. This isn't going to be particularly useful for the hands-on aspect of recreating garments, or for a thorough grounding in the period's history, but it's top-notch for inspiration and has interesting insights into artistic trends during the time period.

Clothing Longevity II: The Poor

Welcome to Part II of my research series on how long clothing was expected to last in the years c. 1840-1870. [Intro.] This section explores the clothing of the extremely poor, particularly inmates, servants, and enslaved people. This body of data is largely shaped by institutional records/reports and advice written by the people providing clothing allowances to these groups.

Garment quantities and frequency of distribution (if not duration of use) are relatively well-defined. From context, we know that style and ornament are not important considerations. As a result, I think these sources provide a sort of baseline for how long clothing can last as an almost purely functional matter: providing the socially-acceptable minimum of coverage, comfort, and respectability that the benefactors are willing to pay for. Additionally, here we will see a few literary references which mention a poor character's clothing with reference to quantity, quality or other clues for how long clothing is expected to last or how long it can be made to endure. I also ended up with a bit of a tangent about servants' clothing; while less qualitative, the literature is inherently focused on the idea that clothing should last as long as possible.

How many garments are used/owned simultaneously, and the exact duration of each is less clear than the rate at which they are distributed. Having one new suit of clothes each year might mean the person only has one set of clothes at a time, or it might mean that the person has multiple sets of clothing and that the oldest set is being replaced each year (for example, if each suit actually lasts two years, that person would generally have a set of new-this-year clothing and an older set that was new last year).

Please note that some of the primary sources quoted or linked is this section use racial terms and stereotypes, particularly for Black or Irish persons, which are not preferred in the modern day. The word "insane" is likewise used in naming some institutions. There is, unsurprisingly, also a ton of classism.

 

Yearly Allowances

Institutional financial records provide some clues as to how the very poorest members of society were attired. The most explicit as to clothing duration is from the UK, where the Gorey Union workhouse report of 1842 specifies that a suit of clothes (with mending) lasts for 11 months, and that each person would wear out 2 pairs of stockings and 1.5 pairs of shoes in that time. It is also indicated that each poor person was only allotted one suit of clothes at a time. From the same parliamentary report, annual clothing allowances at Rathkeale Union workhouse for men include 1 jacket, 1 pair trousers, 1 shirt, 1 cap, 1 pair suspenders, 2 pair stockings, 2 pair shoes. At the same, women get a cotton wrapper, 2 petticoats (flannel and linsey-woolsey), 1 shift, 1 apron, 1 cap, 2 pair stockings, and 1.5 pairs shoes. Mending and alterations are also worked into the budget. The other workhouses listed in the reports either give aggregate numbers, or describe a similar baseline amount of clothing.

Clothing allowances for prisoners in the UK in 1841 describe the clothing provided, but not the duration it is expected to last. I expect that answer depends on the inmate's sentence and the kind of work they are assigned, but wouldn't be surprised if it follows the workhouse timeline above. Each person is issued one set of clothing at a time. For example, at Preston, Lancashire, the uniform is a jacket, trousers, shirt, and clogs for male prisoners, and shift, petticoat, upper petticoat, bedgown, cap, apron, and clogs for female prisoners. The bedgown/upper petticoat combination suggests an unfitted two-piece outfit like that worn by working women in the previous century. The Liverpool Goal provides a similar outfit to male prisoner (with the addition of a cap and neckerchief), while the women receive a dress, chemise, clogs, cap, and kerchief.

A pamphlet, "Management of Negroes Upon Southern Estates," published in Tennessee in 1851 outlines the author's system of clothing distribution. The average yearly amounts of clothing are given as follows:

"I give to my negroes four full suits of clothes with two pair of shoes, every year, and to my women and girls a calico dress and two handkerchiefs extra...

Clothing should be sufficient, but of no set quantity, as all will use or waste what is given, and may be no better clad with four suits than others with two. I know families that never give more than two suits, and their servants are always neater than others with even four...

My rule is to give for winter a linsey suit, one shirt of best toweling, one hat, one pair of shoes, a good blanket, costing $2 to $2.50, every other year (or I prefer, after trying three years, a comfort). In the summer, two shirts, two pair pants, and one straw hat. Several of my negroes will require two pair pants for winter, and occasionally even a third pair, depending mostly upon the material. Others require another shirt and a third pair of pants for summer. I seldom give two pair of shoes." 

Under this author's system, laundry is done weekly. The exact duration each garment lasts is not specified, but given the small number of garments and the hard physical labor undertaken, as well as the phrasing around "requiring two pair pants", I suspect that these garments are well worn by the end of the year, and may not be in a condition to use the following year. Thus, each person would have just the one suit for winter, to be replaced by the three for summer (or two winter and two summer), year in and year out. The reference to "families that never give more than two suits" in contrast to the authors's four suit plan gives an even lower threshold for dress: in both cases, basic garments are lasting between 3 and 6 months (2-4 sets per year), with some seasonal variation, and a pair of shoes between 6 and 12 months. I will note that the author contradicts himself on whether two pairs of shoes per year per person is standard or "seldom" in his example. 

Ohio laws (1861) require each patient admitted to the state asylum to have two dresses or suits, a pair of shoes or boots, and outerwear, all new or like new. The New York State Hospital in the same year considered "two suits of clothing and several changes of undergarments" as the bare clothing requirement for patients; while the rate at which these should be replaced is not specified, the other admission requirements treat 6 months a minimal stay, so it may be that these two suits or dresses are expected to cover that period. An article in The Lancet (1846) emphasizes the importance of seasonable clothing being provided in asylums (including distinct winter and summer wardrobes) and gives an average use period of  9 months for a suit or dress, if properly maintained. It also notes that clothing wears out faster for patients engaged in agricultural work. While the phrasing of these reports suggests that two changes of clothing are sufficient for a 6-month period, I will note that not all such institutions actually provided or required adequate clothing: a review of British asylums, describing systematic improvements from 1842 to 1852, includes a horrible description of initial conditions in Haverford-West Asylum, with patients either naked or having no changes of linen available. 

A much later account (1895) of the Wayne County Asylum includes itemized quarterly clothes allowances. This state reports unfortunately only gives total clothing/board expenses for inmates at the Detroit House of Corrections, but clothing for the residents of the asylum are listed by item type and price for each person. The prices are consistent across types of garments, implying that all of the socks, dresses, shoes, etc., were of similar quality and material. I ran some statistics on the first twelve women listed alphabetically, and found that they received an average of 5.5 dresses per year (4, 5, or 6, with one outlier who received 9 dresses), 5.3 skirts (ranged between 1 and 10 each), 4.5 chemises, 3 pair drawers, 5.5 pair hose, 4 pairs shoes, 5.3 aprons, 5 handkerchiefs, 1 nightdress*, 1 pair slippers, and 1.5 vests or undershirts. Not all of the women received a pair of slippers, and only four actually received nightdresses (the average is skewed by one woman who only received nightdresses, hose, and chemises after the first quarter, suggesting that she couldn't leave her bed). Outerwear was not given to all the women, with only 2 receiving woolen jackets, and 1 a shawl. Three were issued hats, two were issued hoods, and five were given neckties (one woman receiving 5 over the course of the year, the other only one necktie a piece). Elastic was routinely mentioned at the end of the clothing lists, but only the price and not the amount or purpose.

The Emigrant in Australia (1852) advises that travelers pack for 4 months without laundry access. The bare minimum of clothing over this period is given as: 6 shirts or shifts, 6 pairs of stockings, 2 pair shoes, and two complete sets of outer clothing (for men) or two gowns and two petticoats (women).

An Encyclopedia of Domestic Economy (1855) gives suggested annual clothing allowances for most servants. Footman should expect 1 or 2 suits of livery to be provided, as well as an informal suit and a hat. Coachmen and undercoachmen just the one set of livery, but two hats and two pairs of boots; grooms should receive two sets of livery and two sets of clothes suitable for stable work. Maids are not generally issued clothing, but instead a recommended budget is included. It allows for three gowns per year (price and material varying with wages), 3 pairs of shoes, 4 petticoats, 1 or 2 bonnets, 3 or 4 pairs of stockings, 1 shawl, 2 pairs of gloves, 6 aprons, and fabric for an unspecified number of caps, handkerchiefs, and undergarments. 

The Careful Nursemaid (1844) gives a recommended wardrobe for a new servant: two changes of linen per week (times the interval that washing is done at), as well as two flannel petticoats, two upper petticoats, two pairs of stays, three gowns, 7 aprons (4 common, 2 nicer, 1 woolen for scrubbing the nursery), 2 pairs of black stockings, 1-2 pairs white stockings, 1 pair sturdy walking shoes, 1 pair thinner house shoes, caps, kerchiefs, handkerchiefs, a plain straw bonnet, a pair of gloves, one warm shawl or coat for winter. The exact duration all of this is supposed to last is unclear, but the wording about winter coats makes me think this is a year's clothing. At the very least, it is 'enough clothing to get started with' as the new nursemaid will have her wages to buy replacements as needed.

 

Clothing Duration in Contemporary Fiction

Exactly how long clothing lasts is going to vary based on what it is made of, how it is treated, and how often it is being worn. Most of the literary references I came across indicated the age and condition of characters' clothing through descriptions of its appearance rather than giving its exact age; "turned" and mended clothing will be handled in a future installment.

 In the story "Wait and See" published in Arthur's Illustrated Home Magazine (1859), a poor grandmother has only had two new dresses in the last seven years, both of them calico.

In The Wide Wide World (1850) little Ellen and her sick mother both expect to make one new merino dress last the whole winter. An anonymous benefactor gifts her a second length of merino and a quilted silk bonnet (on the grounds that her pasteboard bonnet isn't warm enough for the weather), which suggests that while 'one warm dress' may have workable for the season, it was far from desirable or comfortable.

In Les Miserables (1862), impoverished formerly-bourgeoisie law student Marius Pontmercy wears his suits for two years: his newest suit is reserved for formal occasions, with last year's suit for everyday use. By the end of the second year, that everyday suit is 'impossible' and so badly worn out that he looks like a beggar. 

Eugene Sue's Mysteries of Paris (1838/44), includes a detailed discussion on buying secondhand clothing. Out of her 100 francs per year clothing budget, the grisette (independent working class girl) Rigolette generally spends 5-6 francs per used dress (though one cost 15 francs), and 2-3 francs per pair of shoes. Her savings also comes out of this budget line (an average of 30 francs per year) as do her stockings, shawl, and bonnet (which have no prices given) and presumably undergarments. Extrapolating from there, we can infer she's acquiring absolutely no more than 10 dresses per year, and likely closer to 4, in order to afford her linens, stockings, and shoes. She has at least two dresses at that time in the story: the purple merino she's wearing, and a blue levantine reserved for Sundays. We can also presume that the character is making each dress last more than two months, given the way she refers to the "old" clothes she is buying as only having been worn one or two months before going on the second-hand market. 

"Servant-gal-ism" or What Not to Wear if You are Poor

"Every person's dress should harmonize with his or her employment." -Letter from Mrs. Pierson, The Ohio Cultivator, 1855

This is a bit of a sidestep, but it was a recurring theme when I sought out descriptions of servants' clothing, and seems worth addressing. Basically, there is a stereotype that some poor people, especially female servants, waste their money on either fancy garments unsuited to their way of living or on cheap, gaudy garments that imitate higher class clothing. This is presented as wasteful (whether because the finery is ruined through work or through being very low quality), and in poor taste. The recommended alternative is that one instead purchases items suited to one's lifestyle, choosing quality material that will last over flimsier items that look pretty, and that one mends this clothing diligently. Since this form of spendthrift behavior is often presented in part as a function of the clothing's duration of use, I thought it right to include here.

"Photographs of New York" in The New Monthly Magazine (1858) uses clothing to illustrate/accuse immigrant maidservants of vanity and wastefulness. In the given example, the archetype German servant girl spend all of her earnings on showy clothes, while continually demanding higher wages and easier work. From a calico dress and barehead, she progresses to a fashionable muslin with a bonnet (and veil!), then silk dresses with a white bonnet, and finally kid gloves and lace mantillas, then cheap jewelry and coarse hoops. In addition to poor budgeting, the author accuses this imagined maidservant of extreme vanity, with all free time and money devoted to displaying this clothing (at the theater or getting photographed), at the cost of spiritual or mental cultivation (for, the author assures us, these immigrant girls do not attend church or even serious theater.) The articles of clothing described are perfectly respectable middle- to upper-class garments, except maybe for the 6-carat gold pin with "stones" which is bordering into what Miss Leslie would call "coarse finery" or "trumpery" and the "barrel hoops" which are likewise a poor imitation of more expensive garments. Both betray a lack of the 'taste' which supposedly differentiates a true lady from an overdressed woman. Otherwise, the problem, as presented, is in who is wearing these silk dresses and kid gloves (a person of lower class), why (personal vanity), and at what cost (future financial difficulties, lost opportunities for 'improvement.') 

The same theme, without detail of the garments, appeared twenty years earlier in the pamphlet "Hints to Girls on Dress" (1836).  In a brief parable about two servant girls, one of them (Ann) wastes her wages on fancy clothes and ends up poor, while the other (Lucy) is deliberate in her purchases and careful about mending, which allows her to save up enough money to give to charity and live comfortably.

Jane Swisshelm's 1853 Letters to Country Girls includes a fair amount of advice on dressing genteel on a budget (more on that anon), but particularly focuses on material quality and the time wasted in constantly replacing items. Not unlike the accusations against the above servants, this audience of "country girls" is accused of wasting their money buying cheap, gaudy materials that don't last. While Mrs. Swisshelm claims to make her own (mostly silk) dresses last for seven years, and that a good French merino might last twenty, she accuses her readers of wasting their time on poorly-dyed polychrome fabrics that run on the first wash or cashmeres that "soon look faded and old-fashioned." One again, a dichotomy is presented between wasting money on clothing out of vanity, and careful expenditures (which conveniently also result in one having better clothing to wear and spending less time making it).

Why do servants of the 19th century dress as they do? echoes these complaints, though it does not actually bring up the issue of clothing longevity, being mostly focused on maintaining class distinctions.

Cartoon from Punch, November 1863. As in the text examples, the servant's hoops are both unsuited to the task at hand, and apparently improvised. Note the maid's  "lamp" shape compared to the employer's "bell."

"The New School for Wives" an 1852 article in Household Words, describes a night-school for female factory-workers in Birmingham, England. The author claims that 3/5 of the women didn't know how to sew a hem or seam, and the remainder did so poorly. Whether there was a real skill deficit, or the assumption that working people are poor because they lack middle class industrious habits, the author goes on to note that the students resist mending and "prefer making gowns to all humbler work," subtly reinforcing the stereotype that poor women are more interested in display than in practicality.

The Popular Educator's 1856 article no. II on "Female Education" also addresses the need for young working class women to be able maintain their own clothing (sewing, washing, and ironing). It calls for schools to teach remedial sewing, and recommends pamphlets on cleaning clothing. Notably, this entire article focuses on bodily hygiene, clothing, and "general habits of order." These are held up as a necessary prerequisite for young working women seeking to make "mental and moral progress," which reveals something about the author's biases. [In fairness, this series is focused on self-education, and the the first article mentions resources for reading, writing, mathematics, geography, and history. However, the relative column space given to each of those subjects versus the detailed instructions here on cleanliness and mending are telling.]

The Teacher's Visitor opens its discussion of clothing for poor children with the aphorism that "the love of dress" is "the source of all frivolity and vanity in women." It goes on to recommend plain clothing for charity-school students ("all finery" is to be prohibited), for the purpose of fitting them to their station in life. The children should also be taught to care for their clothing, always appearing clean and tidy. While the duration of garment use is not with the scope of this short article, the idea of making clothing that lasts does appear: "We should recommend them to purchase the durable material, the strong calico, the good washing print, preferring at all times wear and usefulness to shew[sic]."

The Farmer (1844) summarizes its ideas on suitable clothing for farming families: "Everything beyond what is necessary for cleanliness and comfort, and for neatness and decency of appearance, should be avoided in dress, whether it be of male or female." The book notes that alternating between two pairs of shoes (allowing them to fully dry between wearings) prolongs their useful life, and advocates for "strong cloth or other stout stuff" and for wools in preference to cottons for women's outerwear, as the latter "loses its color, and does not wear so long." While specific duration are not given, the advice centers on using quality materials, which should be mended as needed, and re-purposed in due time, all in order to make one's clothing last as long as possible.

 

Conclusion 

At the very poorest end of society, persons living in the mid-Victorian period might have as little as single set of clothing to wear at one time. The few sources which specify how often this clothing would need to be replaced suggest that shoes might last 4 months to a year (more often 6-7 months per pair), while dresses and men's suits would need replacing between once and four times a year. Where more than a single outfit is allowed, changes of bodylinen and aprons are used for cleanliness and to protect the clothing. While these minimal allowances do not include clean linens and stockings every day, all but the most severe do allow extras to change. I have seen no indication of clothing routinely lasting more than a year or two, much less a decade, at this level of society.

Mid-Victorian didactic literature aimed at the poor emphasizes the need for clothing to be strong, suitable to one's occupation, and carefully maintained. Functionality, including maximizing the clothing's usable duration, is the ideal; showy clothing is cast as the inherent opposite of such practicality. It follows that the clothing provided to society's poorest members (including the imprisoned and enslaved) would adhere to these strictures as much as possible, with a strong preference for durability over fashion.

Flatware Rolls

I made these rolls as a way to keep my 1850s  flatware and serving spoons tidy and clean when not in use, and to make it easier to pack for events (by which I mean "tea at Ft. Steilacoom.") I still don't have a good way to transport the used items home, but it's definitely an improvement. 

Open rolls, showing the pockets for each knife, spoon, or fork.

These are not based off of a specific antique design, but instead on the general idea of a rolled sewing kit. I've also seen a traveling surgeon's kit and a toilet sachet (toiletries bag) from the mid-19th century using this general organizational scheme, it's not completely outlandish. [Same idea underlies my straw tool roll.] However, I'm not exactly going to brandish them about at events, lest I give someone the idea that this was a typical way to store silverware.

Closed rolls. No problem with things sliding out so far.

The rolls are both made from 18" x 18" squares of 1.2 mm wool felt, selected both for its body (no need to line the rolls or bind edges) and its ability to wick moisture (the flatware being carbon steel and Britanniaware). One pocket on each is folded; the excess height cut off the spoon roll made the second pocket on the knife/fork roll.

 All told this was a quick and easy project. I used a ruler to sew the spoon pockets, but found it both faster and neater to mark the sewing lines in chalk on the fork/knife roll.

1000th Post & 20 Years of Reenacting

I realized that next month (Memorial Day weekend to be precise) marks the 20th Anniversary of my first event as a reenactor. And this is the 1000th post on my blog. That makes two projects which I did not foresee lasting so long, nor taking the routes that they did.

In honor of the occasion, here's my top 20 tips or lessons I've learned from living history, in the order I find funniest.

1. Hydrate.
   
2. Boots before corset. Always.
3. Put on your chemise before styling your hair. You can also do your hair after getting dressed, but having fewer garments going over the head will keep your hairstyle neater.
4. Dress for the weather, and try to resist the temptation to bring every possible garment along.
5. But also, bring an extra shawl, apron, and handkerchief. Back-up shoes are also a good idea for overnight events.
6. Have clean undergarments for every day of the event.
7. A sewing kit with a stocked pincushion is an indispensable dressing aid for every era.
8. Cutting someone's corset laces is less exciting than it sounds, and will also almost never actually need to happen.
9. Bunny ears in your stay laces and a front-opening busk are, in fact, better than sliced bread.
10. Corsets won't actually prevent you from doing that many things, provided you learn to bend with your knees rather than waist. Except for reclining seats. Also, they make running even less fun, and putting on your shoes a bit more annoying.
11. Straight hairpins need to be woven into the hair, and hold best when "flipped" into place. Bobby pins are for bobbed hair and are easily defeated by my mane.
12. The two great blessings of getting all your under-layers accurate are that your garment system isn't working at cross purposes (warming/cooling/bathroom access), and you don't have to stress concealing modern make-dos. The same applies to period food, containers, furniture, tools, and toys. 
13. If you're having trouble putting on a narrow-back or drop-shouldered dress, try putting on both sleeves just to the elbow, then sliding it up to the shoulder.
    
14. The research is half the fun, at least.
15. Document! Document! Document! Otherwise, years later, you will find yourself hopelessly searching for variations on a particular phrase you remember reading once upon a time, because it was related to something cool that you found once and cannot find again.
16. Practice sewing on bad fabric if you must, but whenever possible, save up for the good stuff. A shoddy fabric takes just as much labor to make up as quality one, but the later is much more pleasant to work with and wear. It will also have better remaking or resale potential.
17. Natural fibers are not only the most accurate choices for garments prior to the 20th century, but are also the safest option around open flame. 
18. No one catches their clothing on fire as often as pop history writers would have you think. Yes, even with long skirts and cooking/campfires/candles. That being said, you do need to exercise suitable caution and avoid doing stupid things like "setting a lit and unshielded candle on the ground in an area where people are walking."
19. Split drawers are amazing. I do still feel smug about getting through the necessary faster than the poor trouser-wearers struggling to deal with pre-zipper technology.
20. "If they had it, they would have used it" is not a useful metric for historic reenactment or recreation, and I will expound upon this, so don't get me started.

1901 Doll Dress

Nelly also has a new dress! 

 

Feeling princess-y.

 

Looking forward towards the end of Victoria's reign, I wanted this dress to appear suitable for c.1901, while providing a strong contrast to both Harriet's new c.1837 look and to the two dolls' usual late 1850s attire. To that end, I decided to give her a princess-seamed dress (no waist seam or separate skirt treatment), which was in use at that period, though it wasn't the only style. The skirt is thus shaped by goring, unlike the gathered rectangles used in their other dresses. While large puffed sleeves were popular near the end of the 1890s, they did start slimming down again getting into the 1900s, so I gave Nelly's dress narrow coat sleeves. It also has a standing, self-fabric collar (which made me confront just so short her neck is), and a ribbon trim simulating a yoke. To make the tiny collar delicate enough, it's cut on the selvedge of the fabric. At some point, she will need a gored petticoat to give this dress the proper silhouette.

1837 Doll Dress

Recently finished a new dress for Harriet, my Sewing Academy cloth girl doll, intended to represent the year of Queen Victoria's accession. 

 

Partying like it's 1837.

I started with the low-neck dress from her pattern (c. 1855-65), and then made a few changes. For the bodice, I shortened it slightly at the waist, while bringing in the sides as much as possible (thereby reducing the amount of fabric in the darts: this isn't very obvious at doll scale, but the few original dresses I've examined from this period have weirdly straight bodices shaped more at the side seams than through darts or gathers).

The most obvious change in the sleeve: I used the basic straight sleeve as a size reference while scaling up an original mid-1830s sleeve draft from Patterns of Fashion I. This particular style gets less extreme after 1836 or so, so I used five rows of very close gathers at the head of each sleeve, trying to make the a more late 1830s look with a sleeve that is close-fitted just below the shoulder, balloons over the upper arm, then fits tightly over the forearm. I don't think the close-fitting top of the sleeve comes through at this scale (the finished effect looks much more c.1835 to me), but it was a weirdly-satisfying exercise to sew it this way.

Foods in Season: April 1861

Spring and the new reenacting season are finally here, so it's time to see what foods Beeton's Book of Household Management considers to be in season for April.

Fish- Brill, carp, cockles, crabs, dory, flounders, ling, lobsters, red and gray mullet, mussels, oysters, perch, prawns, salmon (but rather scare and expensive), shad, shrimps, skate, smelts, soles, tench, turbot, whiting.

Meat- Beef, lamb, mutton, veal.

Poultry- Chickens, ducklings, fowls, leverets, pigeons, pullets, rabbits

Game- Hares.

Vegetables-Broccoli, celery, lettuces, young onion, parsnips, radishes, small salad, sea-kale, spinach, sprouts, -various herbs

Fruit- Apples, nuts, pears, forced cherries, &c. for tarts, rhubarb, dried fruits, crystallized preserves.

And thus we have the shortest list so far this year. Every category has seen some items disappear, though I hope for our ancestors' sake that the addition of multiple new ingredients (rhubarb, young onion) partially offset the smaller overall variety. For "small salad" read "microgreens"-- as we've seen before, "salading" encompasses a wider variety of leafy vegetables and herbs than can be eaten raw.

Original: Women's Button Shoes, 1851

Women's shoes, English, 1851, in the Victoria & Albert.

 

This month's antique garment is the other pair of women's non-slipper low shoes which I found while researching my recent shoe project. These are described as serge (wool) and leather, and between the material and date, would have been a better choice for me to try copying. However, I didn't want to make a button shoe this time. 

I did note the asymmetric flap for the buttons, which follows the a similar shape to most of the button boots I've seen from this period, and to the button gaiter pattern in Every Lady Her Own Shoemaker. From the specific date of 1851, I assume these shoes were once part of the Crystal Palace Exhibition, which formed the basis for the V&A's original collection.