There’s silk taffeta, and the occasional silk satin, for bonnets.
And linen for shifts and linings.
But my all-time favorite fabrics are Indian block print cottons. I have multiple yards in storage, and multiple yards in the accessible Strategic Fabric Reserve. I try not to look at them in the online shops, for I cannot afford to be tempted.
My favorite three gowns are made of Indian block print cotton:
There’s an early red, white, and black calico based on a Philadelphia runaway ad, too, and though I’ve not had it on in a while, it may be due for a renaissance.
Once upon a time in Connecticut…
Oh, and while it requires some shoulder strap adjustments, there’s the brown Indian print I wear as a unsatisfactory Philadelphia servant and Boston sight-seer…and the red print I wore for a 1790 Providence housekeeper.
Yes, I am a material girl. The Strategic Fabric Reserve has grown beyond the allotted cupboards into plastic containers hidden under living room furniture and my desk. Reader, it’s true: I have a fabric problem.
But here’s the thing: you want to work with the best materials you can afford, and that means fabric, scissors, needles, thread, even measuring tapes. As a carpenter I know once said, “Life’s short; buy a good hammer.”
Just enough!
I’m currently working with a remnant of wool camblet from a friend’s stash, left over from making someone else’s coat. There’s just enough to make me a Spencer (with a little perfectly-accurate cuff piecing), and I’m finding that running the needle through the wool is like a knife through butter. Baby, it’s smooth.
And that’s the thing: working with better materials is actually easier than working with lesser goods. Maybe you’re buying from the remnant table (I know I do): just buy the best stuff you can afford, and as much of it as you afford.*
It’s taken me a while to learn this, and I’ll confess: I still have IKEA furniture, because I still have a teenager living at home, and three insufferable cats. But we swap out as we find affordable better things, because they are more beautiful and more pleasing.
Shears: former fabric and current fabric.
You can do the same with your sewing (or cooking or carpentry or cat husbandry) tools. My former fabric shears finally gave up after 15 years; I replaced them with better Ginghers (thank goodness for coupons) and downgraded the formerly “best” scissors to pattern-cutting duty. I have small thread scissors for home, and scissors for events that I’ll shed fewer tears over if I lose, because event sewing is often mending and not garment construction.
Second best for events; best for home.
Buy it once: that’s an ideal that can be hard to achieve in reenacting. Research moves on, everybody makes mistakes**, but you can never go wrong buying the best you can afford. Ease of use and finished beauty will make it worthwhile.
*They laughed when I bought that striped velvet from Wm Booth at Bennington– until they saw the originals I had in mind.Quirky can be right and even amazing, but cheap requires caution.
**I hear this in my head as the refrain from a New Order song at least once a day. And then I sigh. But it’s true, and worth taking to heart without beating yourself up over it. You will survive whatever unfortunate yardage or pink-handled, blistered-inducing scissors you now regret. There’s always the office Yankee Swap or Goodwill.
Well, not all that frivolous, but pretty frivolous for someone who has been doubled down on a uniform production and class prep.
The remnant of chintz has turned into a nearly finished jacket, which is good. All that remains to do is the hem, and once the lining has been trimmed that shouldn’t be too hard. The pattern is an adaptation of the JP Ryan jacket pattern, with sleeve and length adjustments. It’s plain enough to pass, and with a striped “lincey” petticoat, will answer for New York-New Jersey servant wear. I have my eye on Monmouth.
Also for Monmouth, the first of two checked linen bags. Small enough for toothbrush, comb, and other toiletries necessary in this century but out of place in 1778, these bags should help make camp packing lighter weight and more authentic. Hope so anyway, or what’s that backstitching and overcasting for, fun?
I watched it for six months.
And, finally, on a whimsical trip to Jo-Ann for plastic drawers, the remnant table was half off. The fabric I’ve been watching since it was $7/yard was $1.50 a yard. I got all 8 yards for $12. I see a dress of some kind in this fabric, though it will require caution to wear. 100% cotton, this will burn. Which century or decade? Not sure yet. But I like it, and that’s enough to start with, when you’re feeling frivolous. (And yes, I did read that article in the Times about hoarding, but this is Strategic Fabric Reserve purchasing, not hoarding.)
Kirsten Hammerstrom 
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