Portrait of a Waistcoat

On December 21, 2012 By kittycalashIn Clothing, History, Museums

Meet Mr. Jenkins. There are references to a Robert Jenkins, Vestryman of Christ Church, Boston and merchant of Salem, MA and Newport, RI. A Robert Jenkins married Elizabeth Champlin of Newport, and we have a pendant portrait of Betsey Jenkins, suggesting stronger ties to Newport. The records are confusing, but one thing is clear: that’s his waistcoat and he’s happy to have you see it.

This 1748 portrait by John Greenwood shows a man associated with a port city, perhaps connected with shipping and mercantile trade (see the ships in the background), and who has made enough money to a) commission a portrait and b) either own that sweet silk velvet waistcoat or to have one painted. It is entirely possible that he owned it.

And it probably looked a lot like this 1750-1755 one from the Met, but without the sleeves. There is fragment (two fronts) of one very like this in the collection at work. It’s not Robert Jenkins’, but it is Rhode Island, so we know these kind of garments were available and worn. The last piece to track down would be an account book, to get some idea of what this might have cost.

What I like in particular about the Met’s waistcoat is the cuff detail. The sleeve, which would be heavy if fully made of velvet, is not. Only the cuff is the velvet, while the sleeve itself is lighter weight silk.

Smibert Smitten

On December 19, 2012December 19, 2012 By kittycalashIn History, Museums5 Comments

John Smibert made me laugh. He’s been dead since 1751, so it wasn’t easy.

The day I went to the MFA and walked into the gallery with Mrs Tyng on wall, I laughed, and said, “I know her!” while my son died a small interior death. Then I pulled up the record and image for Mrs Browne, and showed him how I knew Mrs Tyng.

Follow Smibert’s pictorial advice if you’re reenacting an American woman of means between 1729 and 1732, and you’re wearing blue silk. You may have a red silk wrapper/shawl. Your shift will show at the center front and sleeves to show off your fine linen. You look like you might be a little cold, but perhaps that explains the “I store oranges in my bodice” look.

See for yourself:

After a while, you start to wonder if there was only one woman in the colonies in 1730… And then you wonder how she got into every painting…

I know, style and conventions helped create these portraits as much as Smibert’s skill. And the portraits only get weird when you do the thing that was never supposed to happen. We were never meant to see all of these portraits all together, all at once, anywhere.

So, what’s she wearing? Probably this dress. No, not this exact dress, though if it was same woman in all those paintings, maybe the Met does have her actual dress. (Sometimes I have these weird museum-y ideas, and that’s generally when I need a vacation or come up with a new program idea.)

The robe volante shows up in paintings of women dressing, and in informal scenes, as below. She’s clearly wearing stays, which is helpful to know, because while I knew the women in the Smibert paintings ought to be wearing stays, and they had conical torsos, the orange-smuggling look was confusing.

Galerie Dreyfus- Scène galante dans un parc, ca 1725

In fact, it confuses me still.

Seriously, the 18th century was a pretty sexy place, if you like oranges and silk.

Look, there’s Mrs Tyng again! She’s left the MFA and taken a chair at Yale.

Linings, perhaps not Silver

On December 17, 2012 By kittycalashIn Clothing, History, Museums1 Comment

MMA, 2011.104a–c, Silk & linen suit, 1780-1790

The house is cleaned up for Christmas, which means all the sewing things have been put away, which is rather sad. Cassandra is banished to the basement, fabric stashed and stacked. It’s only ten days: better if I don’t count all that lost time when I could be pleating! Better to finish up some portable plain sewing, like shift and shirt.

On Friday, I spent part of the morning in the Cave of Wonders known as Textile Storage with a historical costume expert who specializes in men’s clothing. He had already promised to leave and sworn not move in before I opened the door, and that was probably a good thing. But I got a chance to ask some questions and here are the answers.

The frock coat tail linings of calendered linen: Nancy wanted to know if they didn’t stick to men’s breeches, linen catching on broadcloth, in the plainer suits. No, my source says, because the linings were slick. That was the point of the glazing. When it was new and fresh, it was much slicker than it is now. After 220+ years, slickness will fade. Calendered fabric has been pressed and heated, and that process makes it slick. If you’ve ever pressed a wool dress with too hot an iron, you might have achieved a glossy, slick finish that you weren’t expecting. Calendering is similar, but on purpose.

And then there’s padding. Sabine made an amazingly beautiful jacket based on an original. The lining is really interesting, because it is padded. Well, that padding is about style. In the plate at left, the shoulder line of the jacket is high, and the collar rises up as well. The chest is rounded, as we can see along the side. The way to achieve that look is through tailoring, including the use of padding.

The militia jackets in the collection at work include one with some pretty intense (several inches thick) padding in the front. That was for line, not repelling bullets, or even so much for warmth. The padding we find in men’s and women’s tailored clothes is about style, and maintaining a line. You’ll see this often in women’s riding habits or “Amazones.”

On pages 160-161 of Nineteenth-Century Fashion in Detail, there are two examples of padding used to shape garments. The first is a riding habit, seen here in detail and in overview. (Click for the record & larger views.) The padding here has been used to create the smooth, conical silhouette.

Sweet Little Dresses

On December 16, 2012 By kittycalashIn Clothing, History

Bellville Sassoon rang no bells for me, being American. So I did the google and ended up at the V&A, of course. They have a Bellville Sassoon evening gown, which is a lovely column of froth and beads, but not my taste.

This led me to gifts from David Sassoon,including this miniature dress, a quarter-scale couture reproduction of a Jean Dessès dress.

Whoa. That’s really interesting!

There’s a Madame Grès as well, and the V&A catalog record notes:

“These scaled copies use the same fabrics and show the superb craftsmanship as their full size equivalents. The V & A have four of these miniature dresses which the donor acquired from the archive of the wholesale house of Dorville. Wholesalers would buy the copyrights to couture dresses so that they could sell modified ready-to-wear copies. It is thought that these quarter-scale dresses were sold alongside the patterns to show how the dress looked when made up.” Ever see the Newman-Woodwar movie A New Kind of Love?

What I love about the the Dessès dress is how much it reminds me of these dresses:

That’s one of the fun things about fashion, and about history. Details emerge and re-emerge in style and design (yes, historicism) and connect our present with the past. Museums strive to do that every day, but fashion can do it on the street and in your closet. That’s another kind of living history.

Kirsten Hammerstrom

Tag: fashion

Portrait of a Waistcoat

Smibert Smitten

Linings, perhaps not Silver

Sweet Little Dresses