Chintzy Follow Up

I was thinking about what one would want to know in order to get any clarity on what Dutch chintz or jackets (or short gowns) in the ads could mean. There’d be the question of where the runaway came from originally (Netherlands or one of the German states). What the writer of the ad meant by chintz. And jacket/short gown/gown-that-is-short/caraco, and what that might really mean. And what the provenance is (really) for extant garments. Chintz is the easiest part there. And the blue Dutch chintz could be something like the Den Haan and Wagenmakers: 

I don’t know enough to draw a conclusion any more spectacular or detailed than “clothing other than gowns was worn by working women, and it was sometimes of calico or chintz.”

 

The catalog record for the jacket/caraco at the Met doesn’t say who owned it or how they know the origin is the Netherlands. It would be helpful to know if that meant just fabric, or fabric and finished garment.

Laying out this jacket and the ones at Snowshill, and the other examples in collections, would be interesting and might be revealing. Same with the short gowns in the world, from Williamsburg to Genessee Country Village.

Over time, I hope to see and learn enough to get a little closer to understanding something, and it might be more about the origins of people in the early US, and not anything about clothing. It will depend on how hard I work at it, and where I look.

Dutch Treat

I started thinking about calico jackets, short gowns, and bed gowns because OSV is around the corner, and it will be hot. At Dighton, I took off my jacket and worked in my stays because it was cooler, and at OSV I may wish to do the same thing cooking or washing. And what better thing to make than a jacket or short- or bed gown which takes little fabric and not much time.

For short gown/bed gown patterns, I’d been looking at Duran Textiles’ Newsletter, even though it is European. The general principles are the same, and I need to tweak my pattern as I don’t like the fit over the petticoat in the back.

And then I looked at images of women in bed gowns, and the paintings by Chardin, (above, 1738, right, 1747) show women in short garments over petticoats. Lovely. The rich solid of the brown with madder and the print are both attractive and practical, and I have a madder petticoat and pink striped petticoat. I could easily be a Chardin.

To get more grounded, North American Colony-based ideas, I looked through my Vogue for the Lower Sorts, Wenches Wives and Servant Girls, and found a woman running away in a Dutch calico jacket or short gown. She is a Dutch bound servant, but Catharine Mum takes off in New York with “a callicoe short gown, a green camblet gown, two striped camblet petticoats, a Dutch chintz jacket, one white and some ozenbrig aprons, a black bonnet…” and is described in an ad in the New York Gazette, 17 January 1774 (WWSG, p. 69). In Pennsylvania, a Dutch servant girl takes off in a Dutch jacket and a striped lincey petticoat (Pennsylvania Gazette, 30 March 1774, WWSG, p. 74).

Dutch chintz? Interesting–could the white ground bed gown/short gown be made of Dutch chintz? Browsing the Snowshill Collection, I found this:

Place of origin? Holland.

Is this Dutch chintz? Snowshill calls this a caraco, 1780-1800. Is it? It is a jacket? Is it a gown that is short? Is the blue Dutch jacket blue chintz, or is the style Dutch?

What are the links between the 1747 Chardin, the woman running away in 1774 New York wearing Dutch chintz, and the ca. 1780 Snowshill garment? Maybe there aren’t any, but it seems like there is a thread of some kind, though it may be a twisted and evolving thread.

None of this answers or solves my very local working fashion dilemma, except that I feel more confident that a short, skirted garment made of patterned cotton is a reasonable garment to make. I chose some kalam kari fabric and we shall see what I can make.

But first, a muslin.

Summer Eating

What to eat in the field in August? Redcoats & Rebels approaches, and food must be prepared. This time, we are camping over. That means that pretty much everything must be ready by 1:30 on August 3, and there is nothing like a deadline to focus attention.

To start with, I turned to The Compleat Housewife: or Accomplished Gentlewoman’s Companion, published in 1739. The author presents seasonal menus, because one important thing to remember is that historical eating was seasonal and local. (This concept may sound familiar to fans of Alice Waters or Mark Bittman.)

The suggestions are, of course, beyond the realm of soldiers’ rations.

Westphalia Ham & Chicken.
Bisque of Fish.
Haunch of Venison, roasted.
Venison Pasty.
Roasted fowls a la daube.
White fricassee of Chicken.
Roasted Turkeys Larded.
Beef a la Mode.
Roasted Lobsters.
Rock of Snow and Syllabub.

But take a closer look: beef a la mode is a kind of pot roast, so beef in a kettle with water and veg cooked over a fire ought to do. It’s what we call “officer chow,” and what the boys ate at Fort Lee. I was mostly looking for vegetables in season, or fruits, but the farmers’ market will provide that limitation.

So here’s what I think:
Pasties made Thursday night or Friday morning for supper on Friday.
Gingerbread cake for treats.
Oatmeal and fruit for breakfast Saturday morning, or else boiled eggs, bread, and fruit.
Bread, cheese, fruit and sliced ham for lunch on Saturday.
Tea, shrub, and gingerbread cake for Saturday tea.
Beef stew for supper on Saturday.

Breakfast and lunch will be the same for Sunday, and we pack up and leave on Sunday afternoon, so I won’t need to make Sunday supper in camp.

It’s reasonably authentic to the 18th century, though not to common soldiers’ rations. But the guys won’t want to eat firecake and water.

Hot Mess

Hand sewn, except for basting for fitting

Overalls: the devil’s clothing item, even more evil than the worst multi-part replica sleeve  (that’s right sleeves, I mean you!). First there are the fiddly fall bits. Then there is the question of overall inseam length, then the shape of the leg must match the contours of the wearer, and lest we forget, the evil tongue. All of this is followed by 15-20 buttonholes.

Why did Mr. S not join a kilted regiment? Pleats and hems, easy-peasy. Overalls, not so much. The current overall score is Overalls 1, KittyCalash, 0, Draw, 1. The current pair have conquered me, but I may yet prevail but turning them into breeches with a swift amputation of the lower extremity. The first pair I made were finally overcome last fall with a new tongue piece, but they are too baggy to be correct. We’ll call that a draw.

Many moving parts

Fitting the beasts is awful, because so much sewing has to be done up at the waist, but somehow I will have to come up with a muslin and drape the legs to the subject. Once that is done, I can make a more permanent pattern that accounts for shorter than average femurs, larger than average calves, long shins, high arches, and small feet. (Most of the 2nd Helping Regiment guys have very small feet. The Young Mr is the exception, with his 12s. Obviously, his shoes will be the first to be eaten on a march to Quebec: more leather, better broth.)

Then there is the question of a tent. Locally, a very fine hemp linen “other ranks” tent has been made, with ash tent pegs and hewn tent poles. The Young Mr and I made up a scale model last night (sans bell) to test the dimensions we worked out using math, Once school is out, all math must be real-world tested. From this, I began calculating yardage requirements, based on 57″ wide hemp linen available from a few sources. At $17/yard, it looks like $187 for a tent without a floor or mudflaps or a bell. 11 yards! That is a lot of fabric, and a lot of sewing.

Tiny little tent!

Perhaps tonight we’ll try out a slightly smaller version, with a bell. If we start this fall, we might have a tent done for next season…if the guys would only learn to sew!