This look seemed achievable, once a few compromises were made. To begin with, I scrapped the notion of replicating a silk taffeta gown: too dear for so short a time. I felt some comfort in this decision as I think the sleeves indicate a rather later date than 1824, and I am, in fact, striving for an Arcade-opening-appropriate dress suitable for about 1826.
So, what to do? Well, thank goodnessmen like to shoot at plywood and win feathers. My plan is to wear the brown striped gown with the existing belt and accessorize with a new antique lace pelerine-collar type device, I also plan [hope to] make a new extreme jellyfish cap and possibly a new bonnet.
I have the supplies. Do I have the time and will power? Stay tuned for the next installment of, “Yes, I may be overbooked.”
I set off for Newport yesterday to spend the day at Whitehorne House with Sew 18th Century. I was pleased to have my coat, and pleased as well to see the ads for “lead colored pelisse cloths” at Nathaniel Sweet’s shop at 112 Cheapside in N’port. Everything fits better when you have some documentation.
We occupied the kitchen at Whitehorne House, interpreting the lives of mythical maids and cousins Eliza and Kitty Smith.
The Whitehorne Kitchen
We hope to save enough to reopen our millinery shop, which flourished once in Salem just a few years ago. Times are hard in Newport, but there are some promising lotteries–a $10,000 prize in the Kennebec Bridge lottery and an incredible $25,000 prize in the New York Literature Lottery! We will have to save our wages to buy even one ticket– difficult to do with so many tempting’ wares in the shop–but the rewards would well worth our efforts.
A shop on Thames Street is to let not far from the Great Friends Meeting House. We think ’tis a fine location, for while Friends may be plain, they are well dress’d. One of our visitors offered to spread the rumor that the shop is haunted, so no one else will rent it, but I worry that such a tale might drive off custom.
Gingerbread, bread-and-cheese and apples form’d our repast
Visitors called from as far away as New Jersey, New York and Connecticut, but found Mr Whitehorne at the Coffee House and Mrs Whitehorne out makin’ calls. As prominent citizens, they are busy about the town. Mrs Whitehorne is well-known for her receipts, and we were pleased to offer callers a sample of her fruited gingerbread. Indeed, ’tis delicious, though not as sticky as the late Mr S preferred.
Some visitors thought our plan to invest in woolen mills was a fine idea, and in addition to the mills on the island (there is one in Portsmouth), we hear there are several in Hartford. Providence has not the monopoly on industry she imagines.
There is much washin’ and mendin’
The laundry does pile up in a household of seven children, and since we have run out of wood, I suspect the laundress has as well. The island is short of lumber now, and wood must come from Swansea. Still, there is always mending’ to be done.
Perhaps if we had known how many visitors would call, I might have taken more care in tidyin’ up the kitchen. ‘Twas a surprise to see so many, from so far away, but we do think N’port is due for a revival. ‘Tis a busier day of visitin’ than I was accustomed to in winter at the farm on Poppasquash Neck, but with Mr Smith now dead, and our lad on a brig in the coastal trade, we could not keep the lease. I am grateful to my cousin for helpin’ me find work in such a lovely house.
Because I’ll be spending Valentine’s Day in 1820, I thought I’d try to replicate this token. News on how it turned out later… I don’t feel clever enough to write my own verse, but here is the Rhode Island example transcribed.
My love is true to none but you My heart expires for your sake And if you don’t me pity show My true and tender heart will brake
Here a question you will find A sweet question you will find Sweet is the question mark it well Heart upon heart and so farewell
My Dearest dear and Blest Devine I’ve pictured here your Heart and mine But Cupid with his fatal dart Has deeply wounded my poor heart
There between us sat a Cross Which makes me to Lament my loss But I am in hope when the Cross is hone That both our hearts will be in one
My heart is fix’t no more to Range I like my Choice to well to Change Oh that my Heart to yours could meet Then all my joys would be compleast If you take this in disdain Pray send it back from Whence it Came L M
I’ll be a maid in Newport again this February, and for that event, I’ve made the skritchy rust brown gown.
Not quite finished, it still requires hemming and something to finish the sleeves, but in three days, I got pretty far, considering.
This back-closing bodice with bust darts was pretty awful to fit– strange relationships developed between the bodice neckline and a waistband now discarded and on its way to Johnston.
The back closes with a drawstring at neck and waist, as simple as possible. Mr S and I discovered that fitting a bodice back was deleterious to our relationship, so drawstrings won over buttons. I can tie the lower string, but not the upper– annoying, as I was trying to make a gown that was easy enough to put on solo at 4:30 AM. Vanity won over a pinned apron front gown, though I know they exist in Rhode Island collections. The skritchy rust-brown cotton pays homage to that extant garment, which is a rough homespun brown wool. I may not be stylin’ extant, but I’ll be itching correctly.
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