Come sew with me! Well, you’ll be sewing with Henry Cooke, but I’ll be there, too.
Check the Newport Historical Society’s website for more information about workshops and conversations this winter designed to for anyone with an interest in early American history who wants to expand their understanding of material culture interpretation.
We had a busy weekend, as I suspect most people did, though we don’t do “Black Friday” shopping. There’s plenty else to do, especially when you have greatcoats on the brain, and an annual meeting to attend. By nine o’clock Sunday night, Mr S and I were unwinding while watching the Wizard of Oz, when the Young Mr announced that he had forgotten that he needed to be a tree on Tuesday. An apple tree, actually, for the Wizard of Oz segment they’re doing in theatre class.
The three of us came up with a solution involving tan or brown trousers, a green t-shirt or sweatshirt, paper leaves, Christmas ornaments and the stapler.
Fortunately, I had to run errands last night after work, so I was already headed towards the craft store, where I found a green t-shirt and three sheets each of dark and medium green paper. We drew templates on scrap cardboard and cut the brown leaves from paper bags.
And yes, picky stitcher that I am, we stapled those leaves on, and the apples, too.
The apples really are Christmas tree ornaments, left over from St. Louis when we lived in big old row house with very high ceilings, and once got a tree far too large for our living room or the number of ornaments we had.
He seems pleased enough with his quick costume. Maybe next time the Young Mr will remember just a little sooner… though I doubt it.
I cannot manage to find the button I need to sew onto my real-world everyday winter coat, but I’m pondering and plotting how much broadcloth a Redingote (Redingcoat or Redingcote) would require, and internally debating the merits of red versus green.
Greatcoats have their attractions, and while Mr S would undoubtedly enjoy the warmth of a greatcoat, with a February 14 program in the offing, I am pondering a greatcoat of my own.
I can rationalize [almost] anything, but a Redingcote is a stretch even for me, despite that February program (indoors). I suppose the real appeal of one of these coats, aside from the pleasure of handling delicious green or red wool, is the challenge of making one. I have even found a front view to aid in the patterning.
What stops me? Some unfinished projects, and a certain feeling of unease about buying quantities of expensive wool. I have two yards of dark green broadcloth, but I’m pretty certain that I will need three to make even the shorter red coat. Without making a firm resolution, I had determined that I wanted to sew down my stash–and I suppose the answer is to sew it down, or put it on Etsy. Or to buy the wool, make the coat, and wear it in the winter. It would be a spur to winter program ideas, after all.
Now, if only I could find the missing button from my winter coat…
Let’s begin with the easy part: pretty pictures of a pretty house. (It’s too easy, right? More on that later this week.)
There are only a few for now– while our photographer took over 800 images, before he can process and sort them, we have to put the house back together first!
October 25 was a Saturday in 1800, the last Saturday before the first public schools opened in Providence on October 27. Mr Sweet, the tailor’s apprentice, had too much current-day public school homework to join us.
It was as well, perhaps, that Mr Sweet did not see the client in his natural environment. His tailor, Mr Taber, arrived with many samples and plates for Mr Mason’s perusal, and the room was in quite a state by the day’s end. I do not know why Mr Mason could not take the short walk to Cheapside, but his custom is so good that the tailor made an exception and came to call.
Late in the afternoon, we played battledore and shuttlecock; I was surprised and pleased to see the images and how much like Diana Sperling’s drawings they looked. It was a pleasure to see that we were doing something right, though a cold scoop bonnet was no help in seeing the shuttlecock.
The fortune teller came, much to the consternation of Mrs Brown and her sister. I believe it was the housekeeper who thought she could get away with inviting her friend to the house; in any case, it was foretold that Kitty should have comfort in her life, which was a great relief to someone who had been wearing straight-lasted and very flat shoes for some twelve hours.
Of late there has been a man hanging about the house; he enjoyed Goody Morris’s conversation as well, though late in the afternoon he caused quite a disturbance with a delivery of wine. We think he had been imbibing from our order, and his behaviour caused our new maid, Eliza, much distress. Mrs Brown was not well pleased at the commotion in her house.
Still, by the end of the day, we were well satisfied with our work, and posed for the passing limner.
Kirsten Hammerstrom 
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