PORTRAIT D’UNE FEMME EN BUSTE, by FRANCOIS-HUBERT DROUAIS ca. 1757
Boston keeps me busy, along with a few other things, but as a means of wrangling the project information, I made a free website. You can visit it here to see how it progresses. Yes, I could have used wordpress, but this navigation seemed better for the intended audience. Of course, all this just makes the list of things I want to make longer, for example, this lovely gown.
Do I care that she’s French? No, all I care about is that she’s plaid, like the oyster seller. Somewhere I have brown and white cotton plaid…and a long list of other things to make!
As Eloise or her Nanny might say, It is rawther warmer than I care for. Lucky for me, I have a new hat. It’s a black straw hat of a kind you might see called a bergère, along with 4 yards of silk ribbon, purchased at Burnley & Trowbridge’s tent at Monmouth. Jim and Angela and their assistants were very helpful, and this was rawther a splurge for me, as I mostly buy my ribbon from Wm Booth’s remnants, when they are available. (We are tenant farmers. Mostly.)
Coromandel Coast lined hat, from an auction.
But in this instance, I wanted a lady’s hat, so I pleated up about two yards of green silk ribbon, and added a bow. To get the multi-vector bending effect, I stitched millinery wire from Abraham’s Lady around the brim. The inside of the brim is lined with pieced scraps of the purple “Fleurs d’Inde” I used for a jacket (also made from a Wm Booth remnant). It ties on with yet another yard or more of ribbon. This is really a frivolous hat, for me. There are extant examples of straw hats lined with chintz, as you can see.
As luck would have it, I got to wear it right off, the very day I made it. How often do you get the chance to do without panic and pain? We attended the Saturday version of the Rochambeau Tea on Joy Homestead, an event which has its dedicated fans.
First hat outing
I wore this same gown last year, and to Nathan Hale; to my delight, I am enjoying it more each time I wear it. I think this petticoat is the right one; madder was too close and black too contrasty. Since the Rochambeau Tea “year” is 1780, this dress passes (ahem) muster; for many of the events I attend, it is too fashion forward.
London Cries: the Fishmonger. Paul Sandby ca. 1759. YCBA B1975.3.210
This hat will, I think, also work for the 1763 event, as the woman in yellow here is wearing a similarly dual-plane twist hat. I’ll never have a yellow gown though: I look pretty horrid in yellow.
Not the best weekend, but not the worst. Let’s start with the best parts, and perhaps the worst will be forgotten.
Drilling, 1758 style, at MMNHP
We went up to Minute Man on Saturday for the first of two rounds of early-period drilling for the 1763 event which will feature Marshall’s company of militia. One highway closing and a lack of period clothing later, we arrived. There was crossness, mostly occasioned by the closing of 95 northbound at Pawtucket, as we do not like to be late.
This early drill is pretty interesting, especially compared to von Steuben’s manual, developed nearly 20 years later. The early manual is almost baroque, and seems full of superfluous movements, described with superfluous words. In some ways, it reminds me of Morris Lapidus: Too much is never enough.
I sat under a tree and watched while re-pinning and re-basting Mr S’s bloody overalls, which must be done one week from Thursday, ready to be put on for a 7:30 AM departure for a parade on the North Shore, with a step off at 9:30. DC appeared, watched me sew, watched the drilling, got anxious as he always does, but was favored with the present of a rope work dice cup from one of the older members of the regiment. It’s a small kind of acceptance ceremony he performs.
Mariner’s cuff, adapted from a Costume Close Up coat.
After struggling with the utilitarian overalls, I felt the need for a more artistic pursuit. The horrid green frock coat seemed less horrid after staring at what was on display, so I brought it ought and made Mr S try it on all over again. It will still need altering to fit properly, but I think I can manage that better than I can making it into a waistcoat and making a new, proper frock coat. (Though I have some lovely wool, and a plan to have him turn out in that for next year’s Battle Road.)
With stripey-lined flap.
I found more green linen scraps in my stash, and then it dawned on me: If you haven’t got width, go vertical. With Koshka’s tutorial onscreen and Costume Close Up, I fiddled around with the scraps on Sunday morning, and came up with a mariner’s cuff adaptation. At this point, I figure this is a test garment, and whatever mistakes I make will turn out better on a broadcloth coat, and all buttons are recyclable. It’s a bit of a lie, this coat, since it’s got to be 1775 in July and 1763 in August. For a one-off event, it’s madness to make a totally correct outfit when I haven’t got exactly what is wanted for July. That short wool coat will be murder in August– so wonky cuffs and alterations it is.
The Young Mr might get a blue linen unlined short jacket: I have proven I can make those, there’s one in a Sandby drawing from 1759, and though I dearly want to make him a short, laborer’s coat in brown camblet with a red lining, I haven’t got a suitable pattern yet. With a 34 inch chest, he’s a tough one to fit.
John Collet, May Morning, 1761-1770. Museum of London
I find myself involved in an event scheduled for August 10 in Boston, though I know this could go awry because I worked for a number of years with DC, the organizer of this extravaganza. He’s got a style all his own, and for a taste of the madness, you can see him here (~5:26) with unmistakable and inimitable mannerisms, at Louisbourg.
While the Adjutant is arranging and training the militia, the event still needs civilians, and as the interpretive consultant, my task is to create the context of the day and hammer into DC’s head that when organizing something like this, you can hardly over-communicate, though having been on the receiving end of his phone calls, actually, you can… but that’s where I come in with the editor’s sharpened pencil and cut, cut, cut.
Mr S has signed right up for this event, though he lacks suitable garb, and thus it will soon be time to break out the wool broadcloth. I really liked Sharon’s waistcoat-conversion suggestion, and happily Wm Booth had a lovely dark-green wool remnant of just enough yardage for a skinny man’s frock coat that very morning. Add the brass buttons in the stash, and I thought we were off and headed for 1770 with a regression to 1763.
Except… in doing more looking at 1760/1763 images, I began to wonder if it was better to beat the green linen into an earlier coat, consider it a lesson learned, and move on, since it is only a one-day event. (I saw some small remnants of that same green linen in the Adjutant’s stash, and perhaps I can get them for cuffs.)
My logic is this: it can be tricky to walk a coat backwards in time, especially in sleeve width, and Mr S is in serious need and want of a lovely coat for Battle Road. (Except yes, heh heh, he needs it by July 14 for an event at Washington’s HQ in Cambridge. There’s not even time for gnashing of teeth!) I don’t think it means more sewing, really, it only means penance with alterations and begging for fabric scraps. It also mean focusing, and letting the Monmouth-acquired cuts on my fingertips heal.
John Collet, Scene in a London Street, 1770. YCBA, B1981.25.110
Mr S will be just one of a number of men who will be militia in the morning and civilians in the afternoon. In thinking about the Boston street of 1763, I’m reading the Boston Gazette and Country Journal (which DC had not done beyond the main articles…) and looking at images from London. Maybe the scene won’t be as chaotic, since it is a happy celebration, but it needs to be busy, and populated with men, women, and children of various ages, races, and class levels. There’s a nice way to search for “street” at the Yale Center for British Art, and you get a sense of the crowds and busy-ness of the 18th century street.
To that end, I have asked my silk-gown friends, and I plan to be the cherry seller. (I should so like to have that done by Sturbridge to acquire some patina, but doubt I shall.) For the Young Mr, I see runaway apprentices as a possibility. In the Boston Gazette of August 8, 1763, There is a 16 year old mulatto fellow, “large of his age,” who had on “a brown camblet coat with red lining, a white linnen and a mixt colour’d flannel vest” as well as a blue great coat with yellow metal buttons and leather breeches. There won’t be leather breeches by August, but a camblet coat lined in red may be possible.
Kirsten Hammerstrom 
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