Choosing a Gown

Here’s a good question (I love questions): how do you choose which [historic example] to make?

The answer, as almost always: Research.

I start with a date. For Battle Road, the dress must be typical of New England in April, 1775 and appropriate for my impression or persona.  As I imagine my character from the past, she’s in her 40s, from the upstart town of Providence, married to a tradesman or craftsman. She has one child, and I haven’t thought about whether or not it’s one only or one surviving—too busy chasing the One Child Who Eats Like Ten.

Providence, 1790. John Fitch, RIHS Map #30
Providence, 1790. John Fitch, RIHS Map #30
Mrs Nathaniel Ellery, J S Copley, 1765, MFA Boston
Mrs Nathaniel Ellery, 1765, MFA Boston

Living in a port city means my character—we’ll call her Kitty—has access to new goods and ideas, a town where you can buy almost anything, but where staymakers are less common than in Newport.  It’s less refined than Newport, brassier, but competitive and striving and with plenty of money in some hands. Providence is where the Gaspee affair was plotted; in 1790, residents from around the world are recorded here—men from Java, living in Providence—it’s polyglot, mercantile, striving.

Given that Kitty is of the middling sort in a town, she can wear linen and wool and camblet and even some silk. Her clothes will be fashionable but not high style, “a thought behind the current moment,” as Lord Peter says of someone’s hat. What’s the purpose of this brown gown? Everyday wear, that, with accessories, can be dressed up, or dressed down. Eventually, who knows, I might manage a crewel work stomacher and nice linen cuff-ruffles for my shift, though a filthy apron, burned skirt, and a striped rough linen petticoat are more likely…

Mrs. James Otis (Mary Allyne Otis). JS Copley, ca. 1760. Wichita Art Museum
Mrs. James Otis ca. 1760. Wichita Art Museum

Making an everyday dress means not copying the silk dress from Williamsburg, and honestly, I couldn’t wear that wedding cake frosting on my chest, nor what Mrs. Otis has on her stomacher. How about that lovely Norwich wool gown? Well…almost. But I can’t sew that well, and haven’t got fabric that lovely, couldn’t afford it now, wouldn’t have had it then. I have brown wool. Have I seen Mrs. John Brown dressed like one of Copley’s women? Perhaps (if you take Copley as evidence, which you must do carefully.) Have I looked at the lovely brown silk satin and thought, I could do that. Possibly.

Black Heart Cherries, Paul Sandby, ca. 1759. YCBA B1975.3.206
Black Heart Cherries, Paul Sandby, ca. 1759. YCBA B1975.3.206

What we do know is that in New England, gowns are found more often than any other kind of garment (i.e. short gowns or jackets or riding habits). We know that wool is common, but that linen is found in towns and cities, wool more often in the country, and that the pretty, but expensive, cotton prints are popular. Open robes are more common earlier, and “hatchet” cuffs (pleated tubes) predominate. The style is worn by Copley’s women and Sandby’s girls, and it’s seen in images from 1760 on. That means it’s a good choice for a base style for any class level.

Here’s my process, more or less:

Determine the date, that sets the style.
1775 means stomacher front gown.

Determine the character, that sets the fabric and trims.
Kitty’s New England middling, so she’ll have a wool gown with robings but not trims, a plain stomacher, cuffs and not ruffles, and a matching petticoat.

Determine the event, that sets the accessories.
Battle Road is a hard one for me: as a woman, I shouldn’t be there, and as a Rhode Islander, I really shouldn’t be there. (RI militia were stopped at the border by the governor to prevent them joining Massachusetts men after news of the events at Lexington and Concord reached Rhode Island. They did get there eventually and participated in the siege of Boston, but you see what I mean…) So I have to construct a story for how to dress, and the best I can manage is going out, either to a shop or to pay a casual call on family. So what I plan is a matching petticoat, white neck handkerchief, clean check apron, and bonnet over a clean white cap. (This emphasis on clean should remind me to wash and iron a thing or two.)

That’s my story, and I’m stickin’ to it. For now, anyway, till I get a better idea.

More on Pockets

If you think you don’t like military history, think again. A friend of mine is working on a French and Indian War 250th Anniversary project in Boston, and in the course of his research he got interested in a red velvet grenadier’s cap that I happen to be adjacent to from time to time.

UBM 2006-08-53
UBM 2006-08-53

One thing led to another, fortunately for him and not me, and he ended up calling on the National Army Museum in London. There a curator after my own heart distracted him with one of the coolest things I have ever seen: A Lady’s Pocket made from the decorative panel of a mitre cap, or as they call it, Mitre Pocket.

Here’s their description:

“Front section of a mitre cap made into a ladies pocket, 1760 (c); wool and cotton; on front the emblems for the 70th Regiment of Foot, all sewn as for the period, 1760 (c); back is made of brown cloth; front is bound with red cloth binding.

Note: Hanoverian white horse and ‘Nec Aspera Terrent’ used by 8th (The King’s) Regiment of Foot, later King’s (Liverpool Regiment), which might make the L an initial not a numeral and the XX a company number rather than part of the regimental numeral.”

Grenadier’s cap, 1833.1.1, RIHS

One of the most charming things about the email is that the woman at the NAM sent my friend an image of a gown and pocket, just so he’d be clear about how it would have been worn. He knew anyway, but I thought that was a very nice thing to do.

The cap we’re looking into is this one, said to have been picked up at Bunker Hill. Not for nothin’ (as the locals say), but this cap would make a lovely pocket.

Brown Gown

Gown, ca. 1765. CW 1985-117,1
Gown, ca. 1765. CW 1985-117,1

The very first dress in the Costume Close Up book matches my measurements pretty well, so I thought I’d be quite clever and pattern it up for my own use. I want a stomacher front open robe for Battle Road and a 1763 event this summer, so what better place to start than with an original ca. 1756-1760 gown?

I laced up my stays on Friday and spent much of the day measuring, drawing, cutting, and sewing. By mid-afternoon, I had a muslin with the devil’s own sleeve and a large measure of frustration.

Yes, I ate, it wasn’t just low blood sugar that caused all this unhappiness. For the public safety, there are no photos of the ensuing debacle. But the situation was not irreparable, as I have been in this miserable place before.

Patterned up from the little illustration.

( To add to the fun, my stays have stretched, and now give the impression that they slip down throughout the course of the day. They do this even while I am not especially active: I’d dismissed the sensation at Fort Lee. Oh, it’s the hours in the non-18th century seat, it’s running around the site, it’s one more lame excuse I’m making up. Nope. Suckers have stretched and will require attention. Also, for being slightly more than one year old, ought they to have wear marks from tying on petticoats? Next time, I’m using cotton, since it doesn’t stretch like linen.)

Gown, 1750-17651988-223, CW
Gown, 1750-1765,  CW 
1988-223

I got out the basic bodice block I’d patterned in June, and adjusted that to have a straighter, more horizontal waist line and made the bodice fronts narrower. The robings with be pleated to have a layered look, for which this Norwich wool gown at CW is the inspiration. I stitched up a muslin of the altered bodice block, and wouldn’t you know, it fit. It’s a relief to know that some measure of frustration eventually pays off. Maybe.

By Saturday night, I had the lining sewn up and Sunday morning, I attached the lining sleeves (I like to check the fit and have something to beat the fashion fabric sleeve against.) That meant I was ready for the terrifying step of cutting and sewing the actual wool. I have enough of it that I can mess up and redeem the problem, what I don’t have enough of is time. Certain gentlemen have garments in need of alteration, and creation, you see.

The back, with pleats sewn down, and skirts on their way.

Since this is the third or fourth or fifth time I have wrestled with the 18th century gown cut en fourreau, I know what I am getting in to. I know about the three hours for four pleats. I know the heartache of hand stitching the back only to realize you have introduced a wiggle. What I don’t know is how to keep this in perspective.

I followed along with Koshka the Cat’s en fourreau tutorial, which I found incredibly helpful. It won’t keep you from introducing a wiggle into your seams, but you will get the seams in pretty much the right place, as long as you’re honest about your measurements. It’s only a little bit Richard III up there in the center seam….

It’s good to be a perfectionist, but sometimes you have to just let go and sew. I’m still learning how to live with that.

Working the Curtains

Like most people, I have good days and bad days at work. Unlike most people, I sometimes get to use my hobby at work.

MuseumStaff

We have a new audio tour at the museum, and one of my colleagues is working on the rack card for the tour. He got an idea that needed people in costume, and lucky for him, my friend and I have wardrobes handy. He dressed, too–those deerskin breeches are really fantastic–and another colleague took the photos.

Taking tea, with a coffee pot.
Taking tea, with a coffee pot. It won’t matter on the card!

This was the first outing for the Curtain-A-Long dress, and its friend IKEA Curtain petticoat. I like it, though I have petticoat issues. Every time I wear any dress, I find some new thing to tweak. Fortunately, the problems are pretty simple to solve and involve channels for petticoat waist ties.

It was a fun morning, playing in the house, and only makes me want to do more living history tours and costumed interpretation. (Apologies to my Library compatriots for being late getting back!)

CityShower
I do love this one,and the original print, too.

When I wear the Curtain Gown, I think of the Sandby drawing of Sarah Hough, and I think of well-turned out housemaids. It would be a great deal of fun to develop more behind-the-scenes tours. After attending the first-person interpretation workshop, I had hoped to work on more tour ideas. Not yet, but I’ll get there someday this year!

We probably won’t actually spray filthy water on those lovely breeches, though. It would be a shame, and I know who made them!