On & Off the Grid

It’s been a very busy time chez Calash, with many changes underway and to come. It’s hard to keep up with all the writing I’m doing everywhere, but eventually I’ll be back on topics of authenticity, standards, and whimsical Wednesdays.

This week, though, is all about checks. (Most weeks are, in some way, aren’t they?) Not paychecks, silly: linen checks.

We are headed out to Eastfield Village Friday afternoon where Mr Hiwell and the Young Mr will join in the 1833 militia muster, and Mr JS and I will occupy a house as a shop/tailoring business/punch-making and cooking establishment of one kind or another.

Mr Hiwell has been warned to expect a diet unlike his norm, and since his roundabout is white, we will quickly know if he is smuggling Oreos and barbeque sauce.
 For the Young Mr, I have been making trousers. Yes, I do like things to line up. I wasn’t even paying that much attention when I cut these, but apparently that was  was enough.

Yes, even the buttons.


Sigh. It’s a thing.

He’s also got a roundabout in the works, which I must focus on more closely to finish. This is patterned from an original in Henry Cooke’s collection, but… Mr. Cooke and I, on a very sticky Tuesday afternoon, did not have the Young Mr at hand to measure again. The original was too small: that we knew. What we did not know was that the boy had taken on a man’s shape– or, as a friend says, “he’s dude-shaped now!”–and the additions we made were not enough, except (barely) to the sleeves.


Oh, well. There was just enough to make it all work, and after some trials I realized it needed a lining. What kind of lining? A checked lining, of course!

It seems okay, but these collars are strange to  me.


Well, at least he will be clad.

Let you think  I’m sewing only for the lad, I am in fact working on a gown for myself. There’s a hopeful yard or so of another check’d  linen from the stickiest fabric store on 39th Street lurking, but I do not think that apron will happen this week. Perhaps John Brown’s housekeeper will finish it someday.

At least there are already gowns and aprons ready-made that can travel with me. Someday soon I’d like to finish my new stays… winter will come soon enough, and more sewing then.

Proper Sewing for Proper Garments

Synchronized sewing
Synchronized sewing

Tailoring: It’s the thing, right? A well-cut, well-fitted, and well-crafted garment fits like no other. Why do you think I prefer my historical clothes? They’re fitted to me, so they feel right.

There are lots of resources, if you’re willing to dig a bit. Last year, thanks to Mr Cooke, I brought you The Taylors’ Instructor. Good stuff, right?

But wait: there’s more. So much more. Not just the V&A Tailoring Reading List. Actual media. You can watch tailors using thimbles properly, and pad stitching with grace and ease. Prepare yourself for the bona fide English accent as Rory (winner of the 2009 Golden Shears Award) Duffy teaches you a thing or two in these videos.

Just want to know about thimbles? Here’s Savile Road Training to teach you technique.

Sheer Madness

Mercury is retrograde and the schedule is tight, even for me, as I made the plans I’ll put into action at the end of this week: a special event Thursday night at work, followed by mad packing and a drive pretty far into New York.

I did say sheer.

Yes: I am going to Genesee. It’s a long drive from here, so I’m happy to be picking up some friends in Albany (neither of whom live there) for company and some relief behind the wheel. Of course we’re taking our car: it’s the Quartermaster cart.

Since this is one of two occasions when I can portray someone in trade rather than in service (and a better trade than selling fruit on the street), I made a new gown. And a new Spencer. And a new reticule. And cut out a new coat for Mr S, with a newly (fingers crossed!) patterned collar, based on plates in Lapsley and Queen and images texted from a friend.

Yes, I am a little crazy, but it does make life interesting.*

Finished –even hemmed– days before the event!

The gown is made from fairly sheer block-printed Indian cotton found on eBay. The pattern is based on one in Nancy Bradfield’s Costume in Detail with a bib front and tucks in the center back. To help with measurements, I also referred to the bib-front dress in the back of Bradfield’s book, as patterned on the fabulous 19th US site, as well as Janet Arnold.

The first bib-front gown I made ended up a little slanted: your mileage may vary, but I find patterning on opioids is not recommended (I sewed while recovering from hip replacement surgery). This one seems a little better, though the fabric came in for some commentary when I was working on this in a room full of light infantry “men.” We devolved from “chicken on flower” to “Seagull on a bush” in describing this buta-like shape. I only bled a small amount on the tucks, despite texting while sewing.

Canezou de Velours, 1810

Inspired by this 1810 fashion plate, I made a black velvet Spencer as well. That’s finished, save for the buttonholes, though there will be no texting while button holing.

Men’s waistcoats often have cotton or linen at the CB neck.

It got pretty matchy-matchy when I did the lining.

You will note that the plate describes a “Canezou de Velours.” Canezou was new to me, and while I don’t trustthe internet too much, here we are with Larousse: Vieux. Corsage de femme en lingerie.

Huh. It seems to be a lightweight-bust length garment for women.

Here’s the OED:

Oxford English Dictionary

canezou canezouHist.

(ˈkanzu)
[Fr., of unknown origin.]
A woman’s blouse-like garment of muslin or cambric. Also attrib.
1827 Lady’s Mag. Sept. 510/2 A canezou spencer of embroidered muslin. Ibid. 511/1 Muslin canezous over high dresses. 1893 G. Hill Hist. Engl. Dress II. 241 A cambric canezou..with sleeves full to the elbow. 1898 Daily News 26 Sept. 6/4 When the Restoration came in 1815,..Fleur-de-lys appeared on everything… The canezou replaced the hideous spencer.

 

Ah, the hideous Spencer. I rather like them, myself.

 

*A very long time ago, I had a drawing teacher who said there is never an excuse for being bored. There is always something to do, to see, to observe. That was my first lesson in being present. Perhaps I take this statement a bit too literally.

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.