What time is that dress in the museum?

Guess what: they might not know for sure. Many garments donated to museums are given without clear dates, especially older garments donated in the 20th and 21st century. That means that dating the garments is, well, tricky.

You can find many dated to 1776 by donors. Everybody wanted to be associated with such an important event…especially around 1876, and 1976. Where I work, a dress like the one to the left was given to us with the firm statement that the fabric had been brought from England to RI (how did that work with Newport blockaded?), and that the dress was from 1776. Clearly, it is not.

To the right is Deborah Sampson’s dress, possibly her wedding dress: Don’t know who she was? Read here.

Deborah Sampson’s is a closed-front round gown. Look at the catalog record, and you’ll also note the date: 1760-1790, a thirty-year spread. Why is this? Fabric gets remade, for one thing. Deborah Sampson Gannett’s dates are 1760-1827, so if this is her dress, we know she didn’t wear it in this size or style in 1760. But fabric can easily pre-date a garment. The V&A sometimes had three dates for their Spitalfields silk gowns: the date of the fabric, the date it was first made into a garment, and the date it was altered into a new style.

Sampson marries in 1785. That seems like a plausible date for this dress, given its style. That’s where the 1790 comes in; yes, it could be that late, it’s conservative in New England and makes a nice ending to a “circa” date. So how else might this dress be dated? 1785-1790? 1780-1790, fabric possibly earlier? Given the database I know HNE uses, the date field is a little tricky (we use the same one). If I were to catalog the dress, I think I’d use 1783-1788. Why 1783? Because we know Deborah Sampson was probably not wearing dresses in 1783: she was in the Army roughly 1778-1783. I’d add 5 years to that because it encompasses the date of her marriage, 1785, and indicates that I’m not convinced or have no firm documentation that this was in fact her wedding dress. That’s just how I would approach this if the dress was in my museum and is not intended as a criticism of HNE’s cataloging. And it’s not to suggest that my own catalog records don’t need work, because they do.

What does this mean for researchers and costumers? When I do research, because I know how the process can work, it means I’m often skeptical, or wish that the reasoning behind the date was explained—especially behind a 20 or 30 year range. It also means you have to fact check yourself, with independent verification. For that, I use period images, which I’ll explore in another post.

Runaway! Ambitions

The Met, ca. 1774

Regular readers know I have a tendency to make things, especially clothing, especially for events. So another event–actually two: What Cheer Day! and Nathan Hale–approaches, and the question, as ever, is what to wear?

I like to start with the runaway ads for inspiration and documentation. The ads for Rhode Island runaway women can be limited, so I look in Boston and New London as well, and sometimes Philadelphia. My mother lives outside Philadelphia, and I know that trade connected Providence and Philadelphia in the 18th century, in particular through the mercantile house of Brown and Francis.

Of course, I do also have a fabric problem not unlike my bonnet problem. I buy fabric, and stash it. Most sewers do, and after regretting a pair of very-marked-down red leather Andrea Pfister pumps I did not buy at Marshall Field’s one winter, if I like something, I buy it. It is often red, viz:

I know what merchants were selling in Rhode Island, and as early as 1768, Samuel Young in Providence at the Sign of the Black Boy, is selling “Chints, calicoes, and patches of all figures and prices.”

When I found the ad for the runaway wearing the red and black chintz gown, I knew I wanted to make that gown.

“Run away, on the 30th of last March, from the subscriber in Fourth street, near the Post office, an apprentice girl, named Anne Carrowle came from London with Captain William Keais, in the year 1769, she has a fresh complexion, brown hair, near sighted, left handed, round shouldered, and about 16 years of age; had on, when she went away, a green silk bonnet, an India red and black and white calicoe long gown, a blue halfthicks, and striped lincey petticoat, a white apron, and new leather shoes; she has been seen trolling on the Lancaster and Gulf roads, on pretence of going to service at Esquire Moor, and the Bull Tavern, and then at Carlisle….” [Pennsylvania Gazette, 27 April, 1774]

To add to the fun, I know Lancaster and Gulph, and this could be close to where my mother lives now. Too bad I am so far from 16.

Moving on…Here’s the dilemma: front closing or not? Open robe or round gown? The last one seems easier, as the petticoat is described, and thus probably showing, so an open robe. But the bodice, what about that? Stomacher front or closed?

There is a gown in the National Trust dated ca. 1770 with a closed front. And there is a gown with a missing stomacher in the National Trust dated ca. 1770. There are many gowns in the Snowshill Collection with closed fronts, but what is documented to New England? Before 1773, it seems, only stomacher front en fourreau gowns.

PMA, ca. 1775-1780s

I think the answer is that the runaway in 1774 is not wearing the height of fashion–though at 16, she will trend as new as possible, and could be wearing a closed front gown. For me, as a middling to lower sort, I think the best choices will be a stomacher front gown with robings. I have a bodice block for a front-closing gown, know the fit works, and have a back a like and a sleeve I can live with. So on to a muslin for the stomacher front, I think. The center front closings of the striped cotton gown in Philadelphia are probably too modern for what I’m doing, and for my age.

Really, it should be brown linen. Sober. Mature. Not running away. But what are costuming and living history, if not a kind of running away?

Black Bonnet Miscellany

Lot 102
AMERICAN OR ENGLISH SCHOOL LATE 18TH / EARLY 19TH CENTURY
LADY IN BLACK BONNET
In the original giltwood frames and glass, on original wood backing.
Pastel on paper
22 by 18 inches

The Sotheby’s Americana catalog arrived at work, and I had a pleasant walk browsing the sale lots as I walked from one building to another. This lovely lady is offered with her mate, a gentleman in a blue coat with brass buttons. They’re of a school of portraits made as the centuries turned, pastels rather than oils, less expensive and perhaps easier to drag about for an itinerant artist. She’s lovely, in her frothy white ruff, with that well-made bonnet. That’s a bonnet I’d like to try making…eventually.

For now, the most brilliant thing I can recommend is Hallie Larkin’s blog post on 18th century buttonholes. Needless to say, I have not been doing them right. Read, learn, and look forward to better buttonholes. Brilliant. Did I mention brilliant? The photos from Neal Hurst at B&T are especially helpful, and honestly, I am so glad I didn’t tackle the green coat’s buttonholes yet. Or a spencer. See? Value in procrastination, distraction, or whatever you want to call it. Better buttonholes…it’s like salvation!

More on the quilting process later, when I manage to download the photos I took of the stencil process, and when I take some of the sandwich and frame situation. And then there’s more documentation…along with a couple of meetings, mailing my mother’s birthday package, I forgot breakfast, and pitching the boiler repair to my boss–and finishing the new cap I started. And this is an easy day!

Framing a Plan

cross-posted from A Lively Experiment, all images copyright RIHS.

This coming weekend, I’ll be joining in at the Coggeshall Farm Harvest Fair, along with my co-worker who helped clean the museum 18th-century style. She will be helping with cleaning and laundry and ironing (must remember to pack the lavender and vinegar solution), while I will tackle a quilted petticoat.

At first glance you might think I’ll have the easier weekend, and in some ways, I will, sitting in a parlor with a quilting frame. On the other hand, I booked myself a weekend with worries that have pestered me since we were invited in mid-August. Is the fabric I’ve chosen going to work? Do I know enough about the quilted petticoats in the RIHS collections? What kind of quilting frame is correct? And where did I stash the batting?

Research is always the place to start. I compiled a Pinterest board of quilted petticoats  in other collections to build my visual literacy, and tracked down articles by Lynne Zacek Bassett in PieceWork[i] and in the  Textiles in New England  II: Dublin Seminar for New England Folklife Proceedings[ii].  From the Textiles in New England proceedings, I learned that September is the second-most common month for quilting mentions in diaries for the late 18th and early 19th century in New England (May is the most often mentioned, Octobe is third). This was a relief as I wondered if quilting in September was even appropriate. With that resolved, I was able to move on to aesthetics.

New England and Rhode Island quilted petticoats share some general characteristics: the overall skirt is quilted in a diamond or diaper grid of about 1” square. Below this is a decorative band or border, usually about 12” deep. The top of this is set off from the grid by a cyma curve or wave pattern. Some examples use an undulating feather border, and others have a stylized arc and clam shell border.  The background of the border is stitched in diagonal lines. Sometimes the direction is set from center front, and lines radiate to the left and right, and in other cases the lines radiate to left and right from the center line of each arced segment.

Within the border, floral and animal motifs are quilted. Animals seem prevalent in New England quilts—there is even a mermaid in Connecticut—but none of our quilts have a mermaid. We have sunflowers, pomegranates, and carnations similar in form to the stylized flowers that appear in samplers and embroideries of this time period. Animals include deer, lions, squirrels and a creature that looks like an oryx but may be an elk. Birds are represented as well, peacocks and stylized songbirds as well as an owl, and even what seem to be roosters.

I drew these conclusions not only from reading, but from examining two quilted petticoats in the RIHS Collection, the lighter one made ca. 1745 by Alice Tripp [Casey], accession number 1985.7.1, and the darker one made in 1770 by Anna Waterman [Clapp], accession number 1982.76.3. In the catalog record, the images for 1985.7.1 are incorrect–they are for 1982.76.2, and the confusion testament to cataloging and linking records in a building several blocks from where the petticoats are stored. Now, at least, we can work on correctly them.

The quilted petticoat that I plan to make will use the typical Rhode Island elements. The top portion will be quilted with an overall diamond pattern, while a feather border will set off the bottom band. Within that, I will quilt squirrels, chickens, and probably an owl and a cat, because they are favorite creatures in my household. I’ll also quilt in my initials, just as Anna Waterman did in her quilt.

You can join us at Coggeshall Farm Museum this weekend, September 15 & 16, starting at 10 each day, and see RIHS staff members in action! We think it will be a good warm up for What Cheer! Day, coming to the RIHS on Saturday, October 13.


[i] “Sarah Halsey’s Mermaid Petticoat.” PieceWork. January/February 2003

[ii] ‘..a dull business alone’: Cooperative Quilting in New England, 1750-1850.” Textiles in New England II: Four Centuries of Material Life, The Dublin Seminar for New England Folklife Annual Proceedings 1999. Boston University Press, 2001.