Getting My Mitts On: HSF #7

Mitts, 18th Century. MMA, C.I.44.8.9a, b

I got in a lather about not having mitts. I have been trying to knit a pair from the Mara Riley pattern for some time, as in well over a year. It’s just an unfortunate thing. I understand the pattern, I like the yarn I have, the needles are authentic enough for events, and yet: I cannot get these things done. As a result, I get cold. (I don’t mean that to sound whiny.)

There’s debate in some circles about whether or not knitted mitts were worn in New England, though there is a nice pair of black frame-knit mitts at the MFA, with a history of use in Lexington, MA. That’s a long way from what I can knit, a fair distance from what lower-middling Kitty would wear, and vastly unsuitable for a woman following the army. Still, I want mitts.

In the Fall, I tried to make myself a pair. It did not go well.

‘Camblet’ lined with linen, linen lined with cotton. More pix on flickr.

Fortunately I have developed more patience or bloody-mindedness since then. This allowed me to spend the time scaling up the pattern in Costume Close-Up. That’s where I started in the Fall, but things went better this time, and I actually have a pair of mitts.

Two pairs. I have problems, I try to solve them with sewing.

The Challenge: HSF # 7: Accessorize.

Fabric:
Left: Silk and wool “camblet,” lined with light-weight linen, both from Burnley & Trowbridge
Right: White linen from Fabric-Store.com, lined with printed cotton from Wm Booth Draper.

Pattern:
My own, scaled up from Costume Close-Up, available here for you if you have large hands,  print it at 100% on 11 x 17 paper. You will need to tweak the thumb placement. Make a muslin. Make two muslins. It’s worth the effort.

Year:
1750-1800. Narrower than that I cannot get, yet.

Notions:
None.

Mittens, 1790-1800. V&A,
Mittens, 1790-1800. V&A,

How historically accurate is it?
Say 8/10, since I have never examined a pair and don’t know exactly how they were made. Yes, I’ve read the descriptions in Costume Close-Up and Fitting and Proper, but at this foggy insomniac moment, I couldn’t tell you much about those descriptions.

Hours to complete:
The bulk of the time was in the patterning, which took a couple of evenings and 4 muslins. But once you have a pattern that works for you, finishing a pair from cutting to wearing is about 3 hours all by hand. You could cut that significantly using a machine instead of hand back-stitching, and add decorative embroidery, which I really cannot do. Really. Photos to come.

First worn:
To be worn April 13…probably the white linen pair.

Total cost:
Nothing, really, as all fabric was left over in the stash. The pretty printed scraps came in handy.

Garters! Jo-Ann plus Wm Booth Draper, but so far no implosion

Oh, I made some garters, too. Easy-peasy. Use the Pragmatic Costumer’s Ten Minute Tutorial. Completely makes up for whatever project you think you just screwed up. The main lilac ribbon is silk, the decorative ribbon is so not silk. These are better than no garters, but I expect my stockings will still droop around my ankles, as required by the laws of physics and reenacting.

Over(h)alls, Trousers, & Breeches, oh, my!

Trousers, ca 1793. MMA,1988.342.3

Gentleman can agree to disagree on the attributed date of this garment, just as gentlemen might agree to differ on whether to call these trousers or overalls. It’s all in the crotch length, friends, and we’ll just back away.

But before I return a book of letters to the lender, I wanted to record some of the details that struck me.

Right from the start, the John Buss Letters, edited by Ed Nash, are filled with details. I got excited because, in a slightly random and not at all fabric-hoarding way, I purchased a remnant of grey striped woolen goods from Wm Booth, with the intention of making a jacket or trousers from the fabric.

This notion was rejected by my resident tenant farmer, who has particular ideas about his appearance and the quality of goods which should encase his limbs. Rebuffed from my historic fashion fantasy, I turned for solace to the John Buss letters, determined to make it all up by learning the history of the tenant farmer’s new regiment.

And lo, on page 9, in the very second letter, John writes home to his parents in Leominster, MA on October 1, 1776, saying that “my trowis has got very thin, I should be very glad if mother would make me a pare of striped wooling trowis as son as you can…” My tenant farmer was not impressed by my excitement.

Yes, all my fantasies are documented. But look: John Buss’s trousers are thin, not his breeches. And he’s clear about the difference between trousers, overhalls and breeches. In a February 22, 1778 letter from Valley Forge, Buss tells how he drawd from stores in Bennington “one frock, one Jacket, one Pare overhalls, one of stockings, one Pare of shoes and one shirt. Albany, October 25th., 1777, I drawd a  Red Jacket Quemans Pattern. November 5th., I drawd a pare of Braches and a pare of fresh shoes that was not worth tow shillings.”

Later, Buss requests lining (linen) to make breeches, as he is hot. So he draws clear distinctions between these garment forms. This is a costumer’s dream, really, and for me–oh, those striped wooling trowis! Now I have to make them. Look out, Young Mr…they’re headed your way. And lucky me, I have documentation for that red broadcloth remnant I bought in a random and utterly non-fabric-hoarding way.

Trousering

Looks like he’ll fall asleep any Minute, Man…it was late.

Nope, I did not attempt HSF # 6, stripes. I made some garters, so if the challenge was strips, I’d be set. Breeches mending, sewing gown sleeves and skirt hem,  and the kid’s jacket all took up my weekend, along with just plain living, so no pretty pictures.

I did think about how I choose what I wear, and how it’s a little tricky to sew for the guys, as they are engaged in a different way.

For one thing, they get told what to wear. 1778-1779 Rhode Island troops: you people are all set with your brighty-whities. You’re documented in your whitened towcloth overalls, shirts, and rifle shirts/hunting frocks. Happy marching in your thread stockings, you have broadsides and colonial records to tell you what to wear.

Would you trust these guys? I wouldn’t. 

And then we roll back in time to Lexington and Concord, and for Battle Road, what do you wear? Well, they went off in what they had. (By the time they left, the Young Mr’s jacket had one row of buttons and Mr S had better-fitting, mended linen breeches.)

Of course, they were the only guys in short jackets, and they were the guys with the most “lower sorts” impression. To be honest, I do not know enough about the composition of the Rhode Island militia under the command of Nathanael Greene in 1775. Bearing in mind that no Rhode Islanders were at the actual events of April 19, 1775, how should these guys dress? What sort of men comprised the Lexington and Concord area militia, and what would they have worn?

The only way to know for certain is by doing research. What’s the difference between the men in the RI militia and the men who served in RI’s continental troops? Were the militia better off than later enlistees? To what degree did the composition of the troops change over time? And oops, there we went the rabbit hole of history.

Mary Adams

Mary Adams, 1754, YCBA

Meet Mary Adams, painted in 1754. She looks to be a certain age, does she not? But she’s still rocking some style. I like black, and wore black clothes almost exclusively for years from high school on, despite the relentless taunts of  feral sixth-grade boys. (My nickname was Boots. Costuming and living history is but another episode of dressing funny…)

But I digress.

Mary was a happy find this morning, because I knew I’d seen this little detail somewhere…and here it is:

Detail, Mary Adams, 1754,B1981.25.513, YCBA
Detail, Mary Adams, 1754,B1981.25.513, YCBA

Did you catch that? It looks remarkably like Mary has laced her gown over her kerchief, and not over a stomacher. I’m doing a little dance, thankyouverymuch, because that is how I roll. Or lace, as the case may be. Look, too, at the top of the lacing: her gown is pulling. Yes. Imperfections, how I adore thee.

Snark aside, it’s a kind of relief. Looking at Copley and Feke and all their sleek silken women is like flipping through Vogue in the doctor’s office waiting room: after a while, I start to feel woefully inadequate in all ways. From the Richard III gown’s wiggly seams to my inability to pin my dresses straight, and heck, the generally asymmetrical rumpled-ness of my presentations… you can get to feeling very low, as Thompson and Thomson observe in Prisoners of the Sun.

Details!
Details!

So among the things  I note in the painting is the depth of the pull at the top of the gown.  Hmm. I feel better about how my flesh and gown relate in the armpit area now.

But if the pull line starts over beyond the robings, that helps a costumer figure out where to put the lace holes and how to arrange the gown. I also like the asymmetry of blue lace zig-zagging down the kerchief. When I work that out on Richard III, and alter my red calico gown, I’ll use Mary’s portrait as a reference.

Finally, and perhaps best, of all, Mary can read. And she need spectacles. That wonderful pair in her hand look like they are cousins of this pair. All in all, a happy find this morning.