Some Velvet Morning

Sewing velvet is a strange experience. I’m working with a cotton velvet from a remnant table; it has a nice hand, but still crumbles and covers the table with fabric soot when I cut it. It’s not easy sewing black fabric with black thread, even in strong morning light, and “Some Velvet Morning” is an unhelpful thing to have stuck in your mind (especially the Lydia Lunch rendition).

With just one yard of 44″ wide stuff, cutting a Spencer took a little doing and some minor piecing. I borrowed techniques from some waistcoats I’ve seen recently, and pieced in linen at the back collar lining. That seems to be pretty common, and makes sense from a wear and hair perspective.

I patterned this on Monday morning before work, basing the pattern shapes on an 1810 fashion plate and an original at the MFA Boston. The MFA’s Spencer is particularly satisfying because of its connection to Lexington, Massachusetts. A New England-made Spencer is a happy find.

Frivolous Friday: A Feather Kerfluffle

Miss Caroline Vernon by François-Xavier Vispré (c.1730 – London 1790). pastel on paper. ©National Trust Images/John Hammond.

I troll the interwebs in the fishing and not the under-the-bridge sense: there’s a lot to read out there. Still, I’ve kept one eye on the feather-and-flower kerfluffle that erupted in certain circles this week, but have been much more interested in documentation of one kind and another.

Miss Vernon is really my favorite image of feathers on hats, and I wish I could say that a) I have replicated this fabulous creation or b) that I have seen such a thing, but alas! I have not.

Still, scouring sundry repositories for tayloring manuals (more on that another time), I found this delightful broadside. We can’t use 1782 to document 1780, and no means of using any of these items is mentioned or implied. Still, there they are, those inflammatory terms: Feathers, Flowers.

1782 Broadside. Early American Imprints, Series 1, no. 45771  (filmed)
1782 Broadside. Early American Imprints, Series 1, no. 45771 (filmed)

To paraphrase Max, Let the wild rumpus continue.

Can it!

Jar. Paul Cushman, 1805-1833. Stoneware. 20032.475

Or, how do you keep your pickles?

At work, we have found that the road to history is paved with unexpected documents. As often happens, while looking for something completely different, m’colleague and I found two documents that might help illuminate the question of food preservation and storage in the 18th century.

Probate inventories: I read all the way through and had one of those d’oh! moments. Why? Because at the end, there’s all the kitchen stuff. Andirons, warming pans, roasting pans, kettles, firkins, kneading trays, piggins, barrels, casks, bottles. This is the stuff of cooking and keeping food.

There are clues in the receipts (recipes): Amelia Simmons gives a hint in the final instructions “To pickle or make Mangoes of Melons.”

“put all these proportionably into the melons, filling them up with mustard-seeds; then lay them in an earthen pot with the slit upwards, and take one part of mustard and two parts or vinegar, enough to cover them, pouring it upon them scalding hot and keep them close stopped.”

To pickle Barberries ends thusly:

“let it stand to cool and settle, then pour it clear into the glasses; in a little of the pickle, boil a little fennel; when cold, put a little bit at the top of the pot or glass, and cover it close with a bladder or leather.”

Jar, Thomas Commeraw.1797-1819. Stoneware. 18.95.13

To pickle cucumbers:

“put them into jars, stive them down close, and when cold, tie on a bladder and leather.”

To keep Green Peas till Christmas:

“have your bottles ready, fill them, cover the them with mutton suet fat when it is a little soft; fill the necks almost to the top, cork them, tie a bladder and a leather over them and set them in a dry cool place.”

If we tease these apart, we come up with some basics: preservation is done with pickling and “putting up” foodstuffs in pots, jars, bottles, and glasses. These are sealed with bladders, which are tied on; there is a sense in the first receipt that “close stopped” might imply corkage, but the repetition of bladders in the following receipts suggests otherwise for most of these; the entry for Emptins does state “will keep well cork’d in a bottle five or six weeks.”

Covered jar, Connecticut. Earthenware, 1800-1830. 18.27.1a, b

The other key? You’ve probably come across food packages that require storage in a “cool dry place,” and as we have cupboards in our kitchens, or perhaps in our pantries, early cooks also had pantries or butteries (say it but-trees). How’d they do it?

Jar,. Earthenware, 1800-1900. 18.95.11
Jar,. Earthenware, 1800-1900. 18.95.11

The 18th century house was not centrally heated. 18th century Providence residents recorded temperatures of 48 and 58 degrees indoors in the winter, in rooms with fireplaces. An unheated room or cellar would be cool, too; here in the Ocean State, maintaining dry conditions could be the bigger challenge.

What did those jars and pots look like? As you can see in this post, the Met has a few– fortunately, these appealed to collectors and wound up in museums. Closer to home for the original question, the Missouri History Museum has a collection with a number of jars. A cursory look showed dates in the 1830-1860 range, but the shares are consistent with those seen at the Met.

I’m not a food historian, and I don’t pretend to be, but as I think about answering a question, these are the steps I take. Recipes, collections, and then more looking. I just hadn’t remembered that probate inventories would list everything, so one might get a sense of a household’s contents and thus its eating and storage habits.

Shark Tank

I’ve been thinking a lot about Watson and the Shark, at least when I am not thinking about the Raft of the Medusa, make of that what you will.

Here’s why: Waistcoats. Shirts. Open Jackets.

Detail, Watson and the Shark. MFA Boston 89.481
Detail, Watson and the Shark. MFA Boston 89.481

As you would expect from recent reports, the Young Mr has outgrown almost everything he owns, with the exception of his shirt. I put a lot of time into that blue wool jacket, so I’m not ready to sell it on Etsy yet, but I do have to replace it. Sewing new things means I get a chance to look again at sources for inspiration, and to do better this time around.

Since we’re in summer, I’m thinking blue linen, since I have access to very local inspiration in the form of Oliver Hazard Perry’s short jacket. But for earlier ideas, there’s Copley. I particularly like the horizontal stripe on the waistcoat, and what seems to be a striped shirt. Striped shirt! How exciting is that?

I’m thinking striped trousers, based on a Massachusetts letter, but we’ll see how far I get with that. The final deciding factor in wearing, of course, could be striped trousers are better than no trousers.