An Afternoon in N’port

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New coat!

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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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Malaise or Ennui?

image Hard to say which, but I am ill at ease and dissatisfied with my costuming. You might even call it bratty. But I don’t wanna be like Bridget Connor!

It started the week of the Stamp Act protest, when I felt quite tired of being the shabby, unrefined woman of the regiment and street vendor, and wanted a nice cozy shop like the milliner had. I was also looking forward to being a housekeeper again, and several weeks of moving boxes and volumes with red rot at work had me feeling generally filthy and unappreciated. Bratty.

When in doubt, sew. A new dress can’t help but cheer you up, right?

Well… sort of…

Last Thursday, we did a reprise of the Williams family letters program at the Newport Historical Society. The Williams family were Quakers, and the letters were from the early part of the 19th century, so for the program in March, I made a green silk cross-front gown based on the Quaker gown in the back of Costume in Detail. (Check out the schematic on the 19thus.come page; I didn’t see this until I was mostly done with the dress, but thank goodness I got it right!)

But it’s September, and Thursday was expected to be quite warm, so I salved my bureaucratic wounds in the $1.99 loft at the local mill store, and made a new Quaker gown, also suitable for a maid.

I ask you! Even though it’s my very own pattern based on sketches of original drawings, even though it fits, even though it cost $10, even though every seam is overcast and the whole thing is made with period correct stitches, it still fails to make me happy and cheerful and delighted.

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This brattiness has resulted in a reappraisal of my approach– and a trip to Sewfisticated in Framingham. What did I buy there? Yards and yards of pink taffeta? Gold taffeta? Blue taffeta?

No.

Because they didn’t have the right colors in the right weave– too slubby– or in enough yardage. Brace yourselves: I bought brown.

Many thanks to Sew 18th Century for taking the photos!
Many thanks to Sew 18th Century for taking the photos!

It appears I do not learn from my mistakes. When I think, “Gee, I’d like a pretty dress,” I end up buying fabric based on the texture as much as the color, and I have to tell you, that brown taffeta has the most wonderful l hand and sheen, and I will look much more like a Copley portrait than I ever have before, so that’s something.

It seems I have created a set of mental rules for myself, a mission, if you will, for the historic clothing I sew and the roles I take on, and I only play within those rules.

Friends in Newport

Costumed interpreters as 19th century Quakers
Interpreters at Newport Historical Society, February 2014. Photo courtesy Newport Historical Society staff

I’m so glad I have friends in Newport. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t get over to the Island nearly as often as I do now.

Next Thursday, I’ll be joining friends in Newport next week for a program based on letters in the Newport Historical Society’s collection.  This program will be much like the one I was part of earlier this year, but open to the public.

The letters are really interesting and entertaining, providing a window into Newport history that I know you cannot hear anywhere else.