Pinner Aprons

Mr & Mrs Thomas Sandby. Watercolor by Paul Sandby. RCIN 917875, Royal Collection Trust.
Mr & Mrs Thomas Sandby. Watercolor by Paul Sandby. RCIN 917875, Royal Collection Trust.

On Saturday, Sew 18th Century and I went out for lunch and fabric shopping. Along the way, I brought up pinner aprons, and that I’d seen them in British prints. She said, “You should blog about that!” and I went back to check my sources. Fail! There was an English print after a French original, and that doesn’t count!

So I shelved that idea, and went about looking for more Paul Sandby images of soldiers and maids and tents, and found instead Mr and Mrs Thomas Sandby. Ahem. Pinner apron alert.

Fluke, right? Well, no, not exactly.

Lady Chambers and child. Watercolor by Paul Sandby, RCIN 914409. Royal Collection Trust.
Lady Chambers and child. Watercolor by Paul Sandby, RCIN 914409. Royal Collection Trust.

Because here is Lady Chambers and child, with Lady Chambers in a pinner apron.

The thing to note, though, is that “apron” here is a decorative, almost ceremonial garment made of black silk, while the maid engaged in Domestick Employment is wearing a working garment of [probably white] linen.

Domestick employment, washing. Mezzotint by Richard Houston after Phillipe Mercier, 1736-1775. British Museum 1876,0708.23
Domestick employment, washing. Mezzotint by Richard Houston after Phillipe Mercier, 1736-1775. British Museum 1876,0708.23

Well, can I wear a pinner apron as a Continental army laundress or not? Probably not, though I will be going back through all the images of laundering I can find. It would be so useful and protective a garment!

No, instead, it looks as if the black silk pinner apron was a fashion adopted by the British upper class probably in imitation of the aprons worn by young girls. These fleeting, black silk accessories were probably adapted to some other use when the fashion had fallen from favor. (You could make a lot of mitts out of one of those.) Sadly, I don’t care enough about the elite to go chasing inventories and more images, but someone else can. I think I have seen a few other examples of this style, but cannot immediately place them. My sense is that these are not common.

I’m much more interested in laundresses and maids. Doesn’t she look sassy? We could call her Bridget. 

A country girl, full-length, facing front, leaning against a fence & a tree. Watercolor by Paul Sandby. RCIN 914438. Royal Collection Trust
A country girl, full-length, facing front, leaning against a fence & a tree. Watercolor by Paul Sandby. RCIN 914438. Royal Collection Trust

Ironing on Grass

Paul Sandy, The Laundress, 1780. British Museum, 1904,0819.624
Paul Sandy, The Laundress, 1780. British Museum, 1904,0819.624

This print makes me think of Gertrude Stein, “Irons on the grass alas” because I think I would be pretty alas if I were ironing on grass. Still, I’m glad to know that ironing in camp is plausible, because it’s one more thing I can do, though also one more heavy item to pack.

I continue to chase laundry in my spare time, with a Pinterest board of collected images, which will give you a sense of the timeless drudgery of washing clothes. There will be stooping.

A Washerwoman, by John Varley (1778-1842). Tate Britain, T08695
A Washerwoman, by John Varley (1778-1842). Tate Britain, T08695

In this sketch by John Varley, he has helpfully given notes to supplement the lines.

“neckhandkf
spots Drab stays
blue check apron”

The symbol in front of ‘spots’ suggests the neckhandkerchief’s pattern, a dot in a square, much like the ones you can today from Burnley & Trowbridge.  “Drab stays” suggests a very utilitarian pair of wool stays, and that the washerwoman has stripped off her gown or bodice, and is working in shift, stays, and petticoat(s). This seems to be the same woman is in the “Woman with Wash-Tubs” drawing, and I’d guess her hat is straw.

A Scotch Washerwoman. Crayon drawing by Pauil Sandby after 1745. British Museum, Nn,6.61
A Scotch Washerwoman. Crayon drawing by Pauil Sandby after 1745. British Museum, Nn,6.61

There’s a remarkable consistency in the English drawings, though Varney and Sandby are about two decades apart. The tubs, the tools, the stooping: laundry is hard and unglamorous work, Sandby’s Scottish laundress aside. I can guarantee you that the 10th Massachusetts would have to outsource laundry in that style. (In any case, Scotland typified poverty and backwardness for late-eighteenth century Englishmen, so Sandby’s drawing, in addition to being titillating, is perpetuating English stereotypes of Scottish dress and practices and is, thankfully, not a reliable source.)

A Favorite Gown, at Last


First wearing at the Martin House in Swansea, MA

Most of what I’ve made I’ve hated. It hasn’t been perfect enough. This is pretty much how it works when you are learning something new: your eyes outrun your abilities, and you have to keep working away to build the skills to match your dreams. I’m still building skills, but I have at least managed to get to a place where I can just about trust my ability to make something I can stand to wear.

I’ve also learned that you are likely, in the process of making a gown or what-have-you, to hate the garment in question. My friend hated her Green Gown of Doom, but when it was done and on she liked it. Midway through the Cherry Seller Robe, I hated it, thought it a failure, and wanted to quit.

Persevere: the moment when you are most frustrated is often the moment right before you figure out the thing you have been trying to learn.

Paul Sandby, London Cries: Black Heart cherries... ca. 1759. YCBA,  B1975.3.206
Paul Sandby, London Cries: Black Heart cherries… ca. 1759. YCBA, B1975.3.206

The story behind the Cherry Seller Robe is that I plan to wear it in Boston on August 10, so it is very old fashioned. Based on Paul Sandby’s Black Heart Cherries watercolor, it is open with robings, and made of Burnley & Trowbridge’s wool-cotton “Virginia cloth.” The gown fits in a “v” on the front, and to my eye, has a 1750s look. (I have not finished the cuffs, attached lacing strips, or finished the stomacher; once lacing and stomacher are done, it will fit more like How Now Brown Gown.)

It was windy. Catastrophic hat failure resulted.

For August, I’ll make a white linen petticoat and a tan “Virginia cloth” petticoat, a blue linen apron and, I hope, a new lappet cap. (I had one cut out around here somewhere…) The yellow and blue or yellow-blue-white striped petticoat may have to wait; I have a lead on some in a stash, but no sightings yet.  Making new, lighter-weight petticoats is in anticipation of August weather in downtown Boston. I’m still debating about the kerchief, which seems to be a solid color with a striped border; I may just wear the one I have.

Yesterday was hot and windy, with a chance of hat failure. All in all, a fine day to sew and wear wool.

Time Traveling

Girl with Pack Horse, Paul Sandby. YCBA B2001.2.1167

Once again headed south, this time with a more fully loaded vehicle and the Gentlemen of chez Calash. We shall return stinking and happy, I hope, and if not, there should be a good story in it. Farewell to any HSF Princess Dress dreams, and hello to Anne Carrowle, runaway, who still needs to re-set her sleeves but instead finished a pocket and fringe and basting and baking. Fingers crossed for good weather and happy camping.