Foods in Season: September, 1861

It's a new month, so it's time to once again check Beeton's Book of Household Management to see what's in season (in/around London) in September:

Fish- Brill, carp, cod, eels, flounders, lobsters, mullet, oysters, plaice, prawns, skate, soles, sturgeon, turbot, whitling, whitebait.

Meat- Beef, lamb, mutton, pork, veal.

Poultry- Chickens, ducks, fowls, geese, larks, pigeons, pullets, rabbits, teal, turkeys.

Game- Blackcock, buck venison, grouse, hares, partridges, pheasant. 

Vegetables- Artichokes, asparagus, beans, cabbages sprouts, carrots, celery, cresses, lettuces, mushrooms, onions, pease, potatoes, salading, sea-kale, sprouts, tomatoes, turnips, vegetable marrow, various kitchen herbs.

Fruit- Bullaces, damsons, figs, filberts, grapes, melons, morella-cherries, mulberries, nectarines, peaches, pears, plums, quinces, walnuts.

While overall diversity remains high, September sees multiple changes in almost every cateogry. Fish saw extensive turnover, with 11 removals and 5 new varieties added. Pork has come into the meat category, making the first change there since May.  Buck venison did come off the meat list, but only because it moved to the game category, which saw the addition of partridges and pheasants. Poultry saw ducks and turkeys replace ducklings and turkey poults (understandably), as well as larks and teals replacing plovers, wheatears, and wild ducks. Cauliflower, cresses, endive, and radishes are all off the vegetable list, though tomatoes have come onto it. Bullaces, damsons, morella-cherries, and quinces have replaced currants, gooseberries, pineapples, and raspberries on the fruit list.

The "green goose" listed back in August refers to its diet: a goose culled in summer that has been eating green grass versus the "stubble goose" of the autumn that is turned loose on on harvested grain fields to feed. It's not clear to me whether Beeton is using "goose" in the list here to mean "stubble-fed goose" or in a more general sense indicating that multiple varieties are available. Stubble-fed geese, I am told, are traditional at Michaelmas in late September, so this might be a case where there's variation between what is available at the beginning and end of the month.

Original: 19th Century Bathing Costume

 For August, how about a late 19th century bathing costume?

 

Wool bathing costume bodice with later "skirt"
From Historic New England.

The wool flannel I expected, though I would love to know when and why it acquired that printed 'skirt.' Also impressed that the stockings, trousers, and top have all survived and stayed together so long. I wish there was a photo of the trousers, and one showing the shirt with a sleeve out (to give a better idea of the shoulder position and sleeve shape).

Blackberry Jelly

Blackberry Jelly, this time, from The Improved Housewife (1845, 20th ed 1855)

 

Very visually interesting blackberry jelly.

My plan is to use it for creams or molded jellies later this year, as described in Beeton's. I wouldn't have bothered with jelly otherwise: jam is much easier to make, yields more per pound fruit, and tastes the same on scones. However, the seeds and pulp would be a problem in a jelly mold, and I had another large haul of blackberries, so jelly it was.

For this pint, I used about 3 lbs of blackberries. I put the berries though through the food mill, and then strained the juice through a cloth, but some seeds seem to have gotten around the edges. Fortunately, most of the seeds stayed in the fibrous pulp in the first place, so the jelly's relatively clear.

Per the receipt, I added 1 lb of sugar to the pint of juice successfully collected, brought it to a boil with a partial egg white (aiming for 1/3 per the recipe ratio, but this was pure estimation), took it off the heat to skim the resulting foam (some of which even adhered to the egg white), and brought back to a boil. After a second skim, I transferred the jelly to a clean pint jar and processed for 10 minutes in a boiling water bath.

After making so much jam, the yield was a bit of a disappointment, though that's entirely on me. If this works out well for a molded jelly or cream, I'll likely make more jellies next year for the same reason. If not, I'll probably stick to jams for the bulk of my fruit preserves, as they are much less work and leave me with fewer dishes to wash. 

Blackberry Jam, 1846

More summer preserves, this time Blackberry Jam from Miss Beecher's Domestic Receipt Book (1846; 3rd ed, 1856.) 

Blackberry Jam. Allow three quarters of a pound of brown sugar to a pound of fruit. Boil the fruit half an hour, then add the sugar and boil all together ten minutes. 

 

I ended up with 68 oz of blackberries (4 1/4 lbs, or just short of one ice-cream tub full), and thus used 51 oz brown sugar. Anticipating about 4 pints of jam, as previous batches seem to produce just under 1 pint jam per pound berries, I was pleasantly surprised to get 5 pints (1 pint, 6 half-pints, 4 quarter-pints to be precise), which I must put down to the extra sugar, and no material being lost to skimming. Processed 10 minutes, based on my current elevation.

Obviously, this receipt was very similar to the jams in Eliza Acton's book, but with a higher proportion of sugar, and the specification to use brown sugar with the blackberries. I had planned to follow Acton's advice about skimming, but found it unnecessary, as no scum of any sort rose to the top of the mixture (perhaps why Beecher makes no mention of it). As usual, I consulted modern recipes for safe water-bath processing times, and to check that the sugar to fruit ratio is high enough. These historic receipts generally resemble the modern ones quite closely, except that they rely on boiling the fruit alone to thicken the preserves, instead of adding pectin.

 

Foods in Season: August 1861

Back to Beeton's Book of Household Management to see what's in season (in/around London) in August:

Fish- Brill, carp, chub, crayfish, crabs, dory, eels, flounders, grigs, herring, lobsters, mullet, pike, prawns, salmon, shrimps, skate, soles, sturgeon, thornbeck, trout, turbot.

Meat- Beef, lamb, mutton, veal, buck venison.

Poultry- Chickens, ducklings, fowls, green geese, pigeons, plovers, pullets, rabbits, turkey poults, wheatears, wild ducks. 

Game- Leverets, grouse, blackcock.

Vegetables- Artichokes, asparagus, beans, cabbages, carrots, cauliflowers, celery, cresses, endive, lettuces, mushrooms, onions, pease, potatoes, radishes, small salading, sea-kale, sprouts, turnips, vegetable marrow, various kitchen herbs.

Fruit- Currants, figs, filberts, gooseberries, grapes, melons, mulberries, nectarines, peaches, pears, pineapples, plums, raspberries, walnuts.

Fish again is the category with the most changes, with nine new additions and three removals. The meat category remains the same as in July (and June).  Pigeons have been added to the poultry category, while leverets have moved into the revived category of game. Potatoes are back in the vegetable category. Fruit has seen the most changes after fish: apricots, cherries, and strawberries have passed out of season, replaced by filberts (hazelnuts) and mulberries.  

Cotton Stockings

Finally tried something other than wool on the Autoknitter. For the hot August weather, I made a pair of cotton stockings using Knit Picks' Simply Cotton fingering-weight yarn. The thickness of the stockings is comparable to wool ones that I've knit, but I didn't find them uncomfortable to wear in the 90+ degree heat (though I certainly wouldn't have minded even lighter stockings).

 

Finished (and washed) stockings, of un-dyed cotton.

I was worried about how the yarn would handle in the machine, specifically whether it would have enough stretch to knit without breaking or jamming. It was a pleasant surprise to find that this cotton handled just like most of the wool yarns I've tried. The hardest part was actually winding the large skeins into cones for use--before the next pair, I really should get my swift repaired. One skein made for one complete stocking, plus the hem and first 57 rows of a second.

I read that 10% shrinkage is to be expected with this yarn, and adjusted my usual 'recipe' (based on Knit Picks' wool palette yarn) by adding 20 rows to the first section past the hem. I figured that as this was the widest part of the calf, it was the safest place for any extra length, if my calculations were wrong; I also added 5 rows to the foot length. Since I didn't finish grafting the toe closed until the morning I needed to wear the stockings, I didn't have the chance to wash them before use. The stockings were definitely a bit long in the foot on that first wear, resulting in some wrinkling around the heel, but were still use-able. After the first wash, the fit was much better through the foot and the texture of the stockings also improved--it generally fluffed up a bit and made for a softer hand. The foot itself is still just a little bit longer than I'd like, so I might try only adding 4 rows instead of 5 next time.

I'll probably knit myself a second set of these, so I'll have two pair cotton and three pair wool stockings, which should do me for most events throughout the year. For really hot weather, I should also probably make a new pair of sewn hose, as the cotton knit fabric is thinner and lighter than these stockings. However, between the annoyance of fitting sewn hose and the frequency of broken seams, I am very eager to add more knit stockings into my wardrobe. I also prefer how the knit ones fit. These cotton knit stockings will fill a nice niche for warm and 'in-between' weather, allowing me to save the more fragile stockings for the most extreme heat. 

 

Assorted Jams, 1845

And now for June/July's berry jam haul. I used Eliza Acton's  Modern Cookery, in all its Branches (1845) for each of these. And despite the different receipts, they basically all boil down to 'boil the fruit, skim, add half the fruit's weight in sugar, and boil it again.'

Strawberry jam: Approximately 4 dry pints fruit yielded 3.5 lbs (after removing stalks and picking out bad pieces), which combined with 42 oz sugar made 3 1/4 pints jam. 

Strawberry Jam

Red raspberry jam, from the same source. 3lb 5oz fruit, plus 1lb 11oz sugar made for 3 1/4 pints raspberry jam. I made a second batch the following week, for a total haul of 7 1/4 pints. We used one of the quarter-pint jars at Tenino Oregon Trail Days the other weekend, and it went beautifully on the hot Soda Scones (with or without butter).

Raspberry Jam!

Another good common preserve (mixed berry jam): This jam receipt is basically the summarized form of all the others, but giving permission to freely mix any soft summer fruits in any proportion, and then add half-as-much sugar. For this, I tried a mixed berry assortment, using all the fruit in season at my sibling's house the first week of July. I got 3/4 pint of jam from 12 oz mixed fruit, 6 oz sugar. Raspberries were the majority fruit, with some strawberries, blueberries, blackberries, and black currants. The jars look like more raspberry jam, but we'll see if any of the other flavors come through.  

 

Pickled Cucumbers, etc.

The garden has bern going wild this year, and I've been canning something at least every week through June-July as a result. This is not unrelated to the dearth of blog posts

My first bunch of pickling cucumbers came ripe at the same time as well a decent crop of radish seed pods (with plenty more of each to come). In the spirit of efficiency, I decided to make both up with Beeton's Universal Pickle.

As before, I found it convenient to up make at 1/6 scale, using 1 qt vinegar, 3 oz salt, 1/2 tsp cayenne pepper, 1 tsp mace, 1.5 tsp tumeric, 2 tsp mustard seed, scant 1 oz ginger and scant 2 oz shallots (technically 2/3 oz ginger and 1 1/3 oz shallots, but my scale isn't that precise). This quantity filled the four pint jars exactly. Each contained 1 1/4 cucumbers, and a generous handful of radish seed pods (about ~1/3 cup). 

 Processed 10 minutes, per modern safety recommendations. 

Cucumbers and radish pods.

My second batch of cucumbers got a modern dill pickle recipe. The main problem with this year's plentiful cucumber harvest is getting the cucumbers picked while they're still small enough to fit in jars nicely. I'll clear them all on a Monday, and by Wednesday there are somehow more cucumbers, all too tall or wide for my pint jars. So, instead of whole, these dills got quartered lengthwise. At least the next receipt I found calls for them to be sliced.

Modern "fresh-pack dill pickles"

 

Foods in Season: July, 1861

Late, but technically still in the right months, let's see what Beeton's Book of Household Management has in season in July.

Fish- Carp, crayfish, dory, flounders, haddocks, herring, lobsters, mackerel, mullet, pike, plaice, prawns, salmon, shrimps, soles, sturgeon, tench, thornbeck

Meat- Beef, lamb, mutton, veal, buck venison.

Poultry- Chickens, ducklings, fowls, green geese, leverets, plovers, pullets, rabbits, turkey poults, wheatears, wild ducks (called flappers).

Vegetables- Artichokes, asparagus, beans, cabbages, carrots, cauliflowers, celery, cresses, endive, lettuces, mushrooms, pease, radishes, small salading, sea-kale, sprouts, spinach, turnips, vegetable marrow, -various herbs.

Fruit- Apricots, cherries, currants, figs, gooseberries, melons, nectarines, pears, pineapples, plums, raspberries, strawberries, walnuts, in high season and pickled.

More changes in fish this month (seven new varieties, two removed), but none to meat, and only one addition to poultry (the wild ducks). Cauliflower and cresses are back in the vegetables, also joined by sprouts, mushrooms, turnips, and marrow, though I'm confused at the loss of cucumbers (as my own garden has been producing them in adundance all month) and potatoes (also producing well this month, though starting to wind-down). For fruit, peaches and rhubarb are out, replaced by figs, plums, and walnuts.

Revisiting Tea Cakes (1855)

Needed something sweet for Steilacoom, so I decided to revisit the tea cake receipt from Cookery, Rational, Practical and Economical (1855). This time I tried increasing the spices to 2 tsp cinnamon and 1 tsp allspice, the combination of which made for more flavorful cakes. I like that this recipe is already on a small scale (8 flour, 5.5 oz sugar, 4 oz butter, 1 egg; makes 2 pans of cookies), though I had forgotten just how dry the dough is. It takes a lot of hand kneading to get all the dry ingredients worked in, and ends up making a rather grainy dough as a result. The cakes were a bit dense (as usual for this kind of biscuit/cake/cookie), but are perfectly serviceable for serving with tea.

Small tea cakes flavored with cinnamon and allspice.

Being pressed for time, I tried just shaping these cakes with my hands (roll into small balls and flatten rather than rolling out a sheet and cutting them). It worked tolerably well, and made 3 dozen ~1.5" diameter cakes. I do think the texture could be improved by letting the dough chill overnight and then rolling them out, which is what I will plan to try next time.

Original: Seaside Outfit, c.1864-1867

Cotton seaside ensemble, c.1864-7, in LACMA.

 

Something summery this month! I selected this sacque-and-petticoat outfit partly for the seasonal theme, and partly because it breaks all the 'rules' (read: general trends) of reproducing 1860s dresses. It's a two-piece outfit; the bodice (sacque) does not closely fit the figure; and the fabric is a solid cotton (no printed design in sight). And it's covered in embroidery! But there are reasons for all of these departures from the norm, which is that this is a very specific kind of outfit, made of a very specific kind of fabric, worn by very specific people for very specific purposes.

In short: this is a rich person's casual summer recreation outfit, intended for outdoor daywear in a "watering place" (read: seaside resort full of other rich people relaxing and having fun outside). The loose fit of the sacque makes the whole thing look relaxed and informal, while the unprinted white cotton should both look and feel cool in the summer heat. And that isn't just any kind plain cotton: it's a cotton pique, which as far as I can recall is only used for summer wear (and is one of the few solid-colored cotton materials to feature in women's dresses of the period). And the white won't be fading or crocking; not that this need be a concern, because the person commissioning hyper-specific garments for hitting the beach on vacation is not someone trying to eke out a meager clothes budget, and can readily replace this outfit when it starts getting dingy or dated. Note also the long train on this skirt: it's meant to be worn over the fashionable elliptical hoops of the later 1860s, despite the ostensibly 'relaxed' show made by the sacque.

Shoe-making Tool Roll

Much like the flatware rolls, and the one for my straw-plaiting accoutrements, this tool roll isn't an historical copy, but rather the application of a historic method (rolled fabric pocket) to a crafting and living history need (a way to contain my shoe-making tools, especially the pointy ones, in storage and transit). It certainly would have been a familiar organizational strategy for the sorts of women trying to DIY their own shoes with Every Lady Her Own Shoemaker, so I think it's a reasonable addition to my interpretive kit. After all, I'm not portraying a period shoemaker, just a person with basic sewing skills attempting to learn from a book.

Tools all assembled.

 

I left out the hammer and pliers, due to their size and weight skewing my mock-ups. The rest of the tools and supplies get their own designation pockets: wool-lined leather sheaths for two shoe knives and a rasp; wool needle-page;  then fabric pockets for two awls, a wood burnisher, an edging tool, bar of wax, thread winders, a bag of tacks, and glass burnisher. Wool is used to keep moisture (and thus rust) away from the blades and needles, while the rest of the roll is made from reproduction cotton prints. The awls have small pieces of cork over their tips to prevent them poking through the fabric.

I've taken it out for one event so far, and other than being inconveniently large for the table space, it did a good job of keeping everything neat and ready at hand. I also appreciate that it rolls up into a single neat package, which is helpful for organizing my box of shoe-making supplies.

Remaking Plaid Gaiters, c.1856

Now that I have proper lasts to play with, I decided to take apart and remake the plaid gaiters that were my first pair of non-slipper shoes. They worked, to a certain extent (especially after I had glued on an outersole so the stitches weren't exposed), but had always fit a poorly due to my inexperienced attempt at adjusting the width. I figured that I was unlikely to wear them again in their current state, so I might as well use the material to practice on and, in the best case scenario, get a little more wear out of them as well. 

Before: Dirt, worn out binding, and very clunky soles.

After disassembling the whole shoes, including removing the binding and cutting away the damaged parts of the lining, I washed the wool uppers (which mostly took off the surface dust, but had little effect on the serious stains around the lower edge), cut new linings by tracing the old ones, and pieced them in along either side of the eyelets. I considered adding foxing, mostly to cover the aforementioned stains, but decided to save the material. As it turned out, the worst of the stains found their way into the lower seam allowance.

Fitting in the new linings.

Then, I re-bound the uppers with wool tape; I did the same with the tongues, because I had bound them before and wasn't sure if I had enough seam allowances to sew them wrong sides together and turn. I also added a heal stiffener along the center back of the upper (just a piece of crinoline, so that it would turn easily). Then it was a matter of tracing the last and cutting the soles (which went more smoothly this time, hopefully I'm improving). I decided to try sewing the soles properly this time, based on the turn-shoe method given in Every Lady Her Own Shoemaker. I also consulted Nicole Rudolph's Gonzo cosplay shoe-making video (even though I'm not making a welted shoe) to get my head around the book's description of skiving and pricking the sole.

Results: a qualified success.

The sewing part went faster and easier than previous attempts (I credit the curved awl and tapered edges of the sole), and I managed to attach both soles in a single afternoon's work. Turn them right-side out also went easier than I feared. The result shoes are very light (and feel quite flimsy compared to the double-layer soles on my other recent pair). They fit just fine, and I'm not swimming in them like before. I also like that they have a more defined shape off the foot, and especially the distinctive square toe of this time period.

Original: 1840s Brocaded Silk Fabric

 

English-made silk brocade, 1840s, in the VAM.

It is the month of May, what better time for some English flowers? This Spitalfields brocade caught my eye not only for the bright polychrome floral sprays, but also for how their strong colors contrast with the more delicate white-one-white patterning of the background. The description calls the whole thing brocade, though at high magnification, the colored flowers look like they might be embroidered using satin stitch on a brocaded white ground. That being said, my eyes could be deceived, and all the flowers may be woven in. I do wish I could see the reverse of the fabric to make a better guess.

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.

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.

1840s Shoes

My last two pairs of 1850s shoes are both in need of new soles, and as none of the vendors currently have my size in stock, it became necessary to try making another pair.

The end result has much rounder toes than expected.

 

This time went better than before, notably because I now have some lasts, and was able to follow the general process in Nicole Rudolph's "How to Make Regency & Victorian Shoes" video instead of just relying on Every Lady Her Own Shoemaker alone. Nicole recommends making a low shoe rather than a boot in her video, so my options were rather limited. The inspiration shoes are a pair of 1840s cotton shoes from the Met. I chose them because the foxing and lacing effects look similar to the popular gaiters of the 1850s, and they were one of only two pairs of women's non-slipper shoes from the mid-19th-century I could find in my searching. While slippers appear to have been used for daily wear earlier in the century, by the 1850s they really seem relegated to formal dress for adults. 

 

The original shoes have a figured cotton upper, which is cut in two pieces (left and right) and seamed at the center front and center back. For mine, I used a wool twill "lasting" from Burley & Trowbridge, with scrap leather for the foxing, and white pimatex cotton for the lining. 

 

No interior images are available, but bit of the little the center back lining seam that's visible has no raw edges; I chose to interpret this by making the lining and outside upper separately, then joining them at the binding with all the raw edges sandwiched between the layers. The shoes have six whip-stitched eyelets in their center lacings; on the originals this closes the shoe, and no tongues are visible (though they could be present and hidden under the ties, I see no evidence of this).

I originally enlarged the historic shoe image to match my shoe length, then took a series of proportions off of it (foxing should extend 1/2 way up the ~4.75" center front seam, then 1/6 of that length is a plain seam, then the final 1/3 the open placket). I'm not satisfied with how these compare in the final product to the original, but I did repeat this process for the sides of the foxing, the heel foxing, and the height of the shoe, and when taking the pattern on the last, it looked a lot closer to the original.

 

For the uppers, I mostly followed the process from Every Lady Her Own Shoemaker, along with what I could reason from the historic picture. After seaming the wool layer of the upper, I bound the foxing pieces with the twill tape, then laid them over the wool and topstitched into place. Close-up view of the original show 2 close rows of lockstitch or backstitch going over the tape on the foxing. After this, I lined up the lining and outer layer, a joined them by binding their upper edges. I did this by hand in order to avoid turning sharp corners on the sewing machine. I couldn't find a seam in the binding on the original, and interpreted this by putting it at the front inside corner, where the bows conceal it. It's definitely not at the center front opening, though it could have been at the center back, where the binding almost entirely worn away on both originals. The six eyelets are worked in whip stitch in a black silk buttonhole twist.

 

I followed Nicole's video to cut the soles and insoles, attach the upper to the last, and put everything together. She mentions in the video that using rubber cement instead of stitching the soles wouldn't become popular until 40-50 years after the Regency shoes she is making, which was nicely reassuring for me trying to make shoes from that later period.

Better than my previous pairs, but I have much to learn.

I wore the shoes to cook at Fort Nisqually last Sunday. It poured rain all day, but I contrived to stay indoors most of the time. I did end up crossing the yard ~3 times, and found these adequate. They only felt a little damp on the second two excursions, and dried out very quickly (in fairness, I was keeping to the paths and trying to avoid puddles and wet grass). The shoes were a little looser than I feared/expected, though nowhere near as floppy as the plaid gaiters I made before. There is room for my insoles, which made them much more comfortable than most of my other period shoes, though they feel lighter and flimsier than my purchased shoes.

 

Appearance-wise, I have a laundry list of problems, from the very rounded appearance of the toe (the last actually has a square toe, albeit with more of a curve along the outside edge than I'd like) to the crooked foxing, to the two places where I shaved of the turned leather too close to the edge of the sole. Despite edging and burnishing, the soles are a bit rougher around the edges than I'd like. The sole-upper-insole layers were rough and clumsy-looking despite my attempts to even things out, but somehow this didn't end up making the shoes uncomfortable.

 

In the end, I'd call this "serviceable" and "the most accurate shoe option currently available to me," but I'm also going to try getting my Balmoral boots and/or walking shoes re-soled for outdoor use. These lighter shoes I'll keep for indoor and summer events (where the light uppers should be very comfortable).