On Baskets, and Authenticity


I have been thinking a great deal about Surprise Number 4, issues of authenticity in reenacting, and what is really important. As tempting as it would be to post an image of Surprise Number 4, I remember how ticked I was at the comments about an image of someone’s unkempt tent at Fort Frederick, so I can’t. It would be wrong. I may have missed the Dalai Lama today (HVAC will be my undoing, I think) but I didn’t miss the point about “doing unto others.”

So instead of philosophizing, have some photos.

The large one actually captures the entire Kitty Calash family, from Mr S at the right of the rank of soldiers to the Young Mr, in close proximity: a rare sighting indeed. Mr S’s calves stand out nicely in his new overalls, if I say so myself. Two more buttonholes, two more buttons, two more straps and those suckers are done. He did a good job, too, getting them dirty before Nathan Hale.

Yes, that’s my attempt at the “Ale House Door” jacket.  The fit is OK, the style a little late for RevWar, but it’s what I have in wool for now, made from a Wm Booth Draper remnant, and that’s the first wearing of the Sharon Burnston apron.

Sew 18th Century has a nice post on baskets, and where to get them, but wondered about the documentation of the market basket. What I can find is 1732, Plate 1 of Hogarth’s series, The Harlots’ Progress, based on Moll Flanders.


Would these have been out of use by 1770? Hard to say—I think I may have seen this form in catchpenny prints, but I have only a print source for those and it’s buried in one of the many stacks of books at home.

Still, I love my newly-arrived basket, ordered from Jeanne Beatrice for $24.

And there I am running away. Coventry, Connecticut, here I come!

Images and Ideas

If the museum date is mutable, what to do? How to take non-illustrated Vogue for the Lower Sorts and turn it into an actual plan for a garment? By using period images.

Anne Carrowle runs away in 1774 in “an India red and black and white calicoe long gown,” but what does that mean?

Start with the negatives: It means she is not wearing a short gown or a bed gown or a jacket. She’s probably wearing what we most commonly think of women wearing, an ankle- or near-ankle length dress, open in the front (remember that the petticoat is described!) that pins to a stomacher or is fastened with bands or a band over a handkerchief.  (Excellent info on the topic At the Sign of the Golden Scissors blog.)

 When I start thinking about a gown for 1774, I start looking for earlier images. Not too much earlier, but a range. In this case, Anne left England in 1769, so 1769-1774 seems like a reasonable time frame. I made a Pinterest board for 1765-1774 ideas, which is easier than posting them all here.

To the left is a robe that’s clearly open: it’s hanging open. Laundry-work, women washing at Sandpit Gate, Paul Sandby, 1765; watercolor. Royal Collection.

1765 gets us closer to the time period, and it is before Anne left England, and it’s likely from the class she was born into. But it is early.

The two prints above are both from 1774; on the left, note the maid’s gown, which hangs open and has robings. On the left, the old woman asleep wears a gown laced over a stomacher.

But best of all perhaps is this image, of Thomas Mifflin and his wife, Sarah Morris Mifflin, painted by Copley in 1773. Thomas Mifflin (1744-1800) and his wife, Sarah Morris Mifflin (1747?-1790), were the only Philadelphians painted by John Singleton Copley. Mifflin was an ardent patriot and by the time this portrait was made, had established himself as a successful merchant; later he rose to the rank of major general in the Continental Army, and was elected the first governor of Pennsylvania after the United States achieved independence.

Why does this work for me? Because these are Philadelphians, and my woman ran away from the Philadelphia area. The detail really shows that Mrs. Mifflin is wearing an open robe with robings and stomacher over a quilted petticoat with a filmy white apron. This is multiple tiers above Anne Carrowle, but the style is what I’m aping, not the materials (obviously silk).

Another Copley portrait, of Mr. and Mrs. Isaac Winslow, depicts a woman in a gown with robings and a stomacher. Jemima Winslow is 41 in the painting, putting the style into my ballpark, and better still, the gown is of a patterned fabric.

Below is a detail of the fabric and stomacher. Though it will be a vastly simplified version, I think I have a model for my dress.

What time is that dress in the museum?

Guess what: they might not know for sure. Many garments donated to museums are given without clear dates, especially older garments donated in the 20th and 21st century. That means that dating the garments is, well, tricky.

You can find many dated to 1776 by donors. Everybody wanted to be associated with such an important event…especially around 1876, and 1976. Where I work, a dress like the one to the left was given to us with the firm statement that the fabric had been brought from England to RI (how did that work with Newport blockaded?), and that the dress was from 1776. Clearly, it is not.

To the right is Deborah Sampson’s dress, possibly her wedding dress: Don’t know who she was? Read here.

Deborah Sampson’s is a closed-front round gown. Look at the catalog record, and you’ll also note the date: 1760-1790, a thirty-year spread. Why is this? Fabric gets remade, for one thing. Deborah Sampson Gannett’s dates are 1760-1827, so if this is her dress, we know she didn’t wear it in this size or style in 1760. But fabric can easily pre-date a garment. The V&A sometimes had three dates for their Spitalfields silk gowns: the date of the fabric, the date it was first made into a garment, and the date it was altered into a new style.

Sampson marries in 1785. That seems like a plausible date for this dress, given its style. That’s where the 1790 comes in; yes, it could be that late, it’s conservative in New England and makes a nice ending to a “circa” date. So how else might this dress be dated? 1785-1790? 1780-1790, fabric possibly earlier? Given the database I know HNE uses, the date field is a little tricky (we use the same one). If I were to catalog the dress, I think I’d use 1783-1788. Why 1783? Because we know Deborah Sampson was probably not wearing dresses in 1783: she was in the Army roughly 1778-1783. I’d add 5 years to that because it encompasses the date of her marriage, 1785, and indicates that I’m not convinced or have no firm documentation that this was in fact her wedding dress. That’s just how I would approach this if the dress was in my museum and is not intended as a criticism of HNE’s cataloging. And it’s not to suggest that my own catalog records don’t need work, because they do.

What does this mean for researchers and costumers? When I do research, because I know how the process can work, it means I’m often skeptical, or wish that the reasoning behind the date was explained—especially behind a 20 or 30 year range. It also means you have to fact check yourself, with independent verification. For that, I use period images, which I’ll explore in another post.

Runaway! Ambitions

The Met, ca. 1774

Regular readers know I have a tendency to make things, especially clothing, especially for events. So another event–actually two: What Cheer Day! and Nathan Hale–approaches, and the question, as ever, is what to wear?

I like to start with the runaway ads for inspiration and documentation. The ads for Rhode Island runaway women can be limited, so I look in Boston and New London as well, and sometimes Philadelphia. My mother lives outside Philadelphia, and I know that trade connected Providence and Philadelphia in the 18th century, in particular through the mercantile house of Brown and Francis.

Of course, I do also have a fabric problem not unlike my bonnet problem. I buy fabric, and stash it. Most sewers do, and after regretting a pair of very-marked-down red leather Andrea Pfister pumps I did not buy at Marshall Field’s one winter, if I like something, I buy it. It is often red, viz:

I know what merchants were selling in Rhode Island, and as early as 1768, Samuel Young in Providence at the Sign of the Black Boy, is selling “Chints, calicoes, and patches of all figures and prices.”

When I found the ad for the runaway wearing the red and black chintz gown, I knew I wanted to make that gown.

“Run away, on the 30th of last March, from the subscriber in Fourth street, near the Post office, an apprentice girl, named Anne Carrowle came from London with Captain William Keais, in the year 1769, she has a fresh complexion, brown hair, near sighted, left handed, round shouldered, and about 16 years of age; had on, when she went away, a green silk bonnet, an India red and black and white calicoe long gown, a blue halfthicks, and striped lincey petticoat, a white apron, and new leather shoes; she has been seen trolling on the Lancaster and Gulf roads, on pretence of going to service at Esquire Moor, and the Bull Tavern, and then at Carlisle….” [Pennsylvania Gazette, 27 April, 1774]

To add to the fun, I know Lancaster and Gulph, and this could be close to where my mother lives now. Too bad I am so far from 16.

Moving on…Here’s the dilemma: front closing or not? Open robe or round gown? The last one seems easier, as the petticoat is described, and thus probably showing, so an open robe. But the bodice, what about that? Stomacher front or closed?

There is a gown in the National Trust dated ca. 1770 with a closed front. And there is a gown with a missing stomacher in the National Trust dated ca. 1770. There are many gowns in the Snowshill Collection with closed fronts, but what is documented to New England? Before 1773, it seems, only stomacher front en fourreau gowns.

PMA, ca. 1775-1780s

I think the answer is that the runaway in 1774 is not wearing the height of fashion–though at 16, she will trend as new as possible, and could be wearing a closed front gown. For me, as a middling to lower sort, I think the best choices will be a stomacher front gown with robings. I have a bodice block for a front-closing gown, know the fit works, and have a back a like and a sleeve I can live with. So on to a muslin for the stomacher front, I think. The center front closings of the striped cotton gown in Philadelphia are probably too modern for what I’m doing, and for my age.

Really, it should be brown linen. Sober. Mature. Not running away. But what are costuming and living history, if not a kind of running away?