Clothing Longevity c.1840-1870, Part 1: An Introduction

This project stated with the broad question of "How long did mid-Victorian clothing last?" (and it's reenacting corollary: "Can one justify wear a dress with specifically 1840s style elements at an event set in the 1850s, 1860s, or later by pretending to be old, poor, or rural?"). I've since come to realize it's really a series of related questions encompassing among other things:

• How frequently are dresses (or clothing more generally) being replaced?
• How long is a particular dress expected to be used in its original configuration by its original owner?
• How long can a particular dress (or other garment) continue to be used as clothing in some capacity by any person at all?
• Which people have the means, ability, and inclination to update old garments? Are there groups who do not?
• What assumptions or stereotypes do period writers attach to wearing outdated or outworn clothing?
  

Related to this, of course, is the issue of what happens to a garment after it's initial period of service. Is it being "turned" or altered to continue being used by the same person in the same capacity? Is the garment being altered to serve a different purpose for the same person? Is it being passed on, intact, for use by another? Is it being remade to a different purpose for a different person to use? Is the garment's fabric being re-used for a non-clothing purpose? Or is fiber itself being recycled?

Consider a woman's formerly 'best' silk dress...

• which has been re-made for/by the owner to keep the sleeve shape and other style elements up to date, for continued use as her best silk.
• which has been re-made for/by the owner as a wrapper for wear around her own house, with a new dress taking the role of "best."
• which has been sold through a used clothes dealer and bought by someone else to wear as-is.
• which has been gifted to a servant and re-made to suit the new owner's size, taste, and social station.
• which has been been taken apart and used to make a mantel for the original owner's daughter
• which was put away for several years, and later cut up to make a "crazy quilt"
  
• which has been used for one or more of the above, until the last pieces are finally picked apart by a rag-merchant and sold to a fertilizer company.

Arguably, most of these events can mark the end of the dress, if not the end of the fabric's useful life. And, unfortunately, the sources available to use don't always differentiate between one of these fates and another, especially when it comes to the issue of remaking the dress. As a result, my answers here are going to take a few different forms, and there will be a certain amount of uncertainty about how remade and altered dresses fit into the "life expectancy" of the middle class wardrobe. I'm mostly sticking to sources from the period 1840-1870, excepting The Workwoman's Guide (1838) and a beautifully comprehensive guidebook published in 1873 which brings together many of the elements suggested and implied in the 1850s and 1860s sources.

I'd also like to observe, before we get too much further, that different materials may perform very differently, not only due to their inherent properties, but also on account of how they are worn, laundered, and repaired. Sheer dresses (cotton, silk, or wool) can be very fragile; figured weaves can snag and collect fuzz; cotton prints may be subjected to harsh laundry methods; woolen materials are preyed upon by moths; an expensive silk might entail a much higher level of care than a cheaper material and be worth re-modelling.

And, as a final aside, modern clothing really can't be a guideline in this matter, in my opinion. The materials out clothing it made out of has changed drastically; the manufacturing processes of the fibers themselves produce different fabrics; wear patterns have changed; laundry methods have changed; the frequency a given garment is worn has changed; mending and alterations are much less common; there's greater tolerance for idiosyncrasies in dress; and the way our garments work together are all very different from the practices of the 1850s and 1860s. A modern person retaining clothing from 20+ years ago is not evidence that people in the year 18-- commonly did so without censure.

Book Review: Easy Street

Easy Street: A Guide For Players In Improvised Interactive Environmental Performance, Walkaround Entertainment, And First-Person Historical Interpretation by Ann-Elizabeth Shapera. This book has been on my reading list for some time. For four years, to be precise, ever since Betsy mentioned it in her mourning impressions post.

And I should have read this book years ago. There's a lot of insight into what works and doesn't work when interacting with audiences, as well as exercises for designing a character, engaging an audience, or ad-libbing with other players.  Easy Street is certainly written from a Ren Faire viewpoint, and while my interpretation tends to be site-driven or activity-driven (rather than character-driven), I still found found it helpful and informative.

The book clocks in at 193 pages (plus a 14 page introduction), but the casual, conversational writing makes for a fast read. There are also lots of bullet points. The twenty-six chapters form an introduction to street theatre, freely mixing suggested exercises, advice, and illustrative anecdotes (positive and negative) from the author's years of performing and directing Ren Faire. Some other works are cited or recommended, but the basis of this book is the author's personal experience. The book presents a great deal of information, but it's presentation is too welcoming to feel overwhelming--which says something about the efficacy of the author's methods.

I think that any living history interpreter would benefit from taking a few of Ms. Shapera's lessons to heart, particularly the suggestions for promptly establishing character, and the mantra to 'make it work' for the audience.  Starting conversations has always seemed to be hardest part of interpreting (in my experience as an interpreter and viewer), and her theories for how to get the ball rolling are helpful. That being said, the examples given are for a jester performing in a Ren Faire setting, and are a bit more flamboyant than I'd be comfortable using in a craft demonstration or historic house setting; however, the underlying principles still seem to apply.

My caution about this book is to be sure you adapt the lessons to your own site and interpretive needs.  While research into the era you are presented is encouraged at multiple points, I feel it was conspicuously absent during the character-design section of chapter 2. Researching the audience's expectation can certainly be worthwhile, but I wonder that the list of possible activities was drawn solely from that, and not from one's topical research.  Activities appropriate to one's historical persona but unexpected by the audience are a great topic to interpret--and this point is spelled out, regarding the historicity of female jesters in chapter 15.  I like the emphasis on accurate costuming (for aesthetic and educational reasons, as well as conversation-fodder).  Incidentally, if you're reading this and don't do the Tudor era, see here for more costume reference books.

The conversational tone of the book causes it to amble a bit.  I think my copy will be gaining colored tabs in short order, for easy reference of key concepts and exercises. However, the personal stories about performing at Faire (and jester competitions) were amusing, and contributed to the overall message: first person theatre is about the audience, and it is something you can do it.

Score: 4.5 Stars

Strongest Impression: An insightful, approachable guide to improvising. It made this reader feel empowered to go forth and do first-person historic improv, which means it lived up to its goals.  I'd recommend every living history interpreter read this book at some point, but I might not hand it to a complete novice unless they were performing in a Ren Faire setting, as I think some first-hand knowledge of your living history niche is needed in order to apply the book's lessons.

Musing About Research, Advice, and Asking Questions

Interesting thoughts yesterday from Wolf in Ivy: Will This Work?...A Rant.  I liked the emphasis on material culture as a tool for story-telling. That is, after all, a major component of living history: the "stuff", and what we're doing with it is distinguishes living history from other ways of presenting.

Anyway, I'm mentally filing this near Liz's ever-relevant Progressive Questions on my "living history philosophy" reading list.