Sewing for the Adjutant

On April 25, 2013 By kittycalashIn Clothing, Living History, Reenacting3 Comments

We were invited to join a Massachusetts regiment after the event at Old Sturbridge Village last summer, and we did. This has been a good thing, though it’s sometimes a little tricky to figure out which unit to “be” with. It is also a challenge because even though the Rhode Island unit has careful (if unwritten and slightly out-of-date) standards, the Massachusetts unit is another thing altogether.

Gathering the first sleeve head. Destination: Saturday afternoon — Gathering the sleeve heads. Saturday is soon!

The women last weekend kept asking what I was working on so assiduously. It was the hunting shirt (to become a frock) for the Young Mr for the new unit. Cut by the master, entirely hand-sewn by me. This is not something they would do.

“Sewing for The Adjutant, ” I said, “is another thing altogether.”

“Don’t even try. Who can sew like that? He’s a professional,” I was told.

What we're aiming for. — What we’re aiming for.

Well, yes.

So wouldn’t that be the very thing to reach for? It’s not like he’s not helpful. I have his shirt to copy, he answers my questions patiently, and I haven’t yet felt like an idiot.

The skill I have I owe in part to my mother and grandmother, and to the Dress U workshop with Sharon Burnston. Stroke gathers, two-by-two stitching, using the tiniest needle possible are all things I learned or honed in Sharon’s workshop. And thanks to that workshop, this hunting shirt-(perhaps)-soon-to-be-frock is a great deal easier to tackle.

The other part of skill is practice. It’s as true for piano or soccer as it is for sewing. Just keep stitching, and it will come.

And after the fitting, the fringing. That's for someone else to do. — After fitting comes fringing. That’s for someone else to do.

What I find hardest is fit: not only is it hard for me to judge how much to take in a garment to achieve 18th century fit while maintaining enough ease for the wearer to swing an ax (or to accommodate teenage wriggling), alterations annoy me. I suspect that the key may well be not to fit at the end of a day, but at a beginning, or at least a middle. Fitting after a long day of sewing could make you think you were tossing away a whole day of work. It also feels, still, like taking a car to the mechanic or the cat to the vet. There’s something wrong, and I don’t quite understand it. Yet. But with Shoulders Roll Forward and Monkey Arms, I bet I’ll understand more soon.

I came, I saw, I sewed

On April 23, 2013 By kittycalashIn Events, Living History, Reenacting

The usual view: the backs of the bellowers. — My usual view: the backs of the bellowers.

Last weekend was the BAR School of Instruction at the New Windsor Cantonment in Vails Gate, NY. April is an interesting month for travel: changeable weather can land you in a serious fog/cloud, some places aren’t open yet, but the crowds are, mercifully, small.

The meetings and discussions were interesting, and I think its useful for reenactors to continue to ask themselves questions about what they do, and how they do it–questions beyond authenticity. I still think there are great unspoken truths in the Temple Building: in the 21st century, a male dominated, volunteer-run organization will not thrive in its current form.

Chase with sticks. He needs drum instruction.

Movement towards demonstrations that make effective use of the actual numbers of soldier who turn out makes sense. as do roles for men retired from the field. More formal interpretive roles for women might strengthen the organization … but for now, I’ll try to learn as much as I can. Laundry: that’s something to work on.

Of course, they don’t want their clothes washed. That’s not dirt, that’s patina. I have this for a time to help me figure out how to put together one for the Young Mr, and eventually, for Mr S. It’s less crunchy now that it has hung up for a while, and I do understand the desire for patina. Mr S likes to get his overalls filthy, and his hunting frock. But where would that leave the washer woman?

Mending, I suppose, though I know women were employed by RI state troops to make shirts (there are receipts). We don’t need shirts right now, we need hunting shirts, which it turns out were probably actually hunting frocks, tied at the front with tapes.

Alterations will be ahead for this, though can you call them alterations before the thing is even finished? I started on Wednesday with just the cut pieces, and got this far, plus a completed but not attached sleeve, by mid-day Sunday. (Photos here.) As one of the women at the SOI said, “Without us, they’d be naked and hungry. You think they’d learn to appreciate it.” Probably not until they are actually naked and hungry…

For relief from the plain linen, I cut out a chintz jacket; the remnant was just enough to get a front-closing short jacket cut. It shouldn’t take too long to make, and will be a nice thing to have in warmer months. And it’s just enough pretty fabric that I might have been able to afford it.

Notes on a Brown Gown

On April 15, 2013April 14, 2013 By kittycalashIn Clothing, Reenacting2 Comments

The Brown Gown, which I do actually like

So after twelve hours in it, what do I think? Did I learn anything?

Yes! I need new pins. My friend had some from At The Eastern Door (their website is down today, but you can find them on Facebook) and I’ll be placing an order pronto. The stomacher and the robings do not wish to stay married, they have irreconcilable differences and need space. Space to flash the bodice lining, from what I can tell. I am less and less convinced that working women put up with stomachers and pins on a daily basis, and more convinced that I need to spend time looking at images of working (i.e. moving around, bending, twisting and reaching) women. There must be clues to this. Also, the popularity of closed front gowns makes a lot of very real sense now.

What else? Bonnets are distracting. They’re disorienting, a bit, but hide your face nicely. I have not had the full-on experience described and cautioned about elsewhere, but I will aver that bonnets do disorient you and you must be cautious. Especially around horses and crowds.

Run away! He got garters, too, which helped.

Garters! I was warned about them falling down, and they did, each one, once. The first went down in a wet tunnel (It’s like walking into a whale, Brian said) as some British officers passed. My short-jacketed farm laborer may not be able to maintain my sartorial splendors, you know…but he recovered the garter and I re-tied it. The other slipped down at the National Heritage Museum; both, after retying, remained in place. The first one took 6 hours to come down, so I’d say we did alright.

The mitts worked out well, too, and now have nice grime and grass stains, so they’ll need a little hand washing. It’s time to go back into the stash for another, longer pair, but even the linen blocked the wind and kept me warmer.

Meow! This kitten never loses his mittens.

From the soreness of my ribs, I’d say a new set of stays are in my future. I’m too tired to think about it now, but the soreness makes me realize the boning must not be running in the right direction in the right place now that the size isn’t right (they stretched). But that’s a winter’s project…for now, two paws lazy-way-up for good lessons learned and good, if long, day in Lexington.

After Battle Road

On April 14, 2013April 14, 2013 By kittycalashIn Events10 Comments

In short: we enjoyed it, and yet we didn’t. Battle Road is the kind of event where those of us who come from Rhode Island and are on the fringes of the organization are not fully integrated into the event. Mr S fielded in the morning, but the Young Mr could not, again, though he had been told at inspection that something would be found for him to do. He recovered pretty well, but there is a lot of waiting.

I was very grateful to have friends, new members of the Regiment, to chat with while we waited and watched the action. When you can’t participate, it’s fun to pick out your friends in the columns marching past. Sorry, no photos: authenticity standards.

Afterwards, we had lunch, and saw more friends. That gown is a copy of one in the Newport Historical Society. It has robings and front lacing–what an amazing artifact! I would love to get my fingers on the original’s front to find out how many layers there are.

At this point, though, my claustrophobia began to kick in. In the photo of my friend and her daughter you can see tourists taking photos of the Young Mr (by his buttons you shall know him) and Brian Jean of the 2nd Helpings.

The line to see Hartwell Tavern snaked through the yard, and the road was getting full of people, and dogs, and bicycles. We fled.

This is often my view. Good thing I'm tall. — This is often my view if I want space to breathe. Good thing I’m tall.

We slipped up to the MMNHP Visitors Center (flush toilets!) and watched the presentation on April 19, 1775. When we walked out of the theatre, the ranger said, “Welcome to chaos.” The Center was packed full of people, all talking, many pushing: we found a way through the crowd and snuck up to the National Heritage Museum (more flush toilets and a Coke machine!), which had a nice map exhibit. I had some ideas at the time about mixing maps and objects in a thematic exhibition, and vaguely, they remain.

I'm usually looking for where the arrow is pointing: The Kid. — I’m usually tracking the animal the arrow is pointing to: The Kid.

Here’s where the not-so-great part started for me. At Tower Park, I got left alone on the public side of the rope line. (We rode up with Brian, so my ‘getting around and doing things’ options were pretty limited.) To be a living exhibition with one other person is good; to be a living exhibition with a normally-dressed companion is bearable; to be alone is annoying.

Hands to yourselves, people, please. Also, those are my friends and family out there on the field, and I would like to see them, too.

I had a moment at Tower Park where I thought, Really, the hell with the public. This kind of reenacting is not for me; I’ll stick to something more personal, something for reenactors/living historians alone. But what I think I really wanted was a friend or a larger zone of personal space–you’d think petticoats and a cloak would help, but they don’t–a way for people to understand No Touching. Also, I like to be able to keep My Kid in view to manage my anxiety levels. Superstitious Mother Tricks…

I was a lot crankier about it last night, which was probably the result of being rather tired (getting up at 5 to lace yourself into a new gown after a week of insomniac-style sleep and intense work is not how most folks start “vacation”), hungry, and cold (it settled inside my stays mid-morning and I will feel it for a while to come).

Will I do it all again? Yes. Will I try to make better afternoon plans? Yes…though I’m not sure yet what they will be.

Kirsten Hammerstrom

Tag: common dress

Sewing for the Adjutant

I came, I saw, I sewed

Notes on a Brown Gown

After Battle Road