Resource Feature: Historical Threads

History.org has launched a new online exhibit of historical and recreation clothing from the 1600s through the early 1900s. This is a digital documentation of a Colonial Williamsburg museum exhibit. Currently it focuses on formal wear and accessories but the site promises informal, work, and leisure clothing to come.

While the selection of items on display so far is painfully limited, the photos are of good quality with informed, helpful descriptions clearly describing the national pedigree of the style, the year it was worn, materials and methods, and general style rules of the period. Although the images are not quite as high-resolution as the amazing online painting gallery I mentioned in my last resource feature, there is a pan-and-zoom option, allowing for better high-def detail than most sites. Some of the smaller accessories such as the shoes could be zoomed in enough to look at what kind of stitching was used, which is exciting.

Sadly, the exhibit covers no earlier than 1600, so it's of no use to SCA folks, but for those interested in Colonial fashion and beyond, it's a great site.

This is Not Period.

I was surfing the web today looking for some cast skull buttons, and the internet led me to piratemerch.com. My interest piqued, I stumbled upon the typical monstrosities of costume, but some additions that are just horrifying. The one that immediately caught my eye was this one:

Not only is this a $45 cotton tunic, which is pretty extortionate, but it's also an excellent example of 12th century French fashion. Which, in case you were paying attention, is five CENTURIES off from how it's being described here. The text includes the boast, "you'll be the sharpest pirate this side of the Black Plague" but what they fail to mention is that this is actually on the OTHER side.

They also describe this atrocity as an "authentic" Anne Bonney:

For comparison, a more contemporary depiction of Anne:

Nary a frill to be found. And faux velvet? Not so much. And what about authenticity for the gents? Just as bad. This one is described as an "authentic" Davey Jones:

I'm assuming Davey Jones is the DJ at that new goth club, because this fashion is circa 1990. 1980 at BEST. Davy Jones is a *mythical* figure. An "authentic" misspelling of a mythic personage? Really? It would actually be MORE believable to claim an "authentic" Captain Hook, because at least that's a trademarked character.

What annoys me is that this site has a section for "fantasy" pirate costumes, and these aren't in it.

New Page! Harlequin Haberdashery

The tricorn I made for the party last weekend was a cheater, using weird guesswork construction, but I've learned how to make hats properly and since then I've made a few more tiny hats using proper hatmaking techniques. I'm interested in making big hats, but I'm not sure what I'd use to mold the felt. I have something that might work but it's more round than head-shaped. I could experiment.

After my black & red tricorn, I molded a red crown thinking I'd make a red tricorn, but then I realized I didn't have enough red, so I ended up with red & green. So I went all-out Christmasy.

After my failure to plan, I checked out what colors and quantities of felt I had, and what stood out to me was orange and yellow, which reminded me of a jack-o-lantern.

I opted for a tophat because it gave me a chance to try out an asymetrical tophat and the stovepipe would give me plenty of space for a cute jack-o-lantern face. I ended up liking black instead of yellow for the inside. I tried a couple different bows with the satin ribbon, but although they were cute, the ends of the bows were just a little visible from the front, which I thought distracted from the overall shape.

I love the face, but I think my favorite is the stem star at the top. I considered a few different versions of it, and ended up making the hat without it, but it looked less like a pumpkin and more like an orange hat in an inexplicably goofy mood. I think the green ties it in a little better.

I've picked up a little more felt and I have plans for a tiny bowler, which threatens to be glittery. I also grabbed some rainbow tye-dye felt. I'm thinking that might end up as a bowler too. There's definitely going to be some more tricorns as well, and I'm going to experiment with different scales of "tiny" hat.

Roman Slave Research

In preparation for next month's Roman party, a friend of mine has asked for help putting together his Roman garb. Having just lost an impressive amount of weight, my friend is eager to show off his muscular legs, so I've suggested a Roman slave's garb. From what I've seen in researching my own outfit, slaves generally wore short tunics, giving him ample opportunity to show off his gams.

Pro Tip: absolutely DO NOT search for "Roman slave outfit" with safe search off. Yikes.

Though my initial web search was not entirely helpful, I dug up my copy of Peacock's The Chronicle of Western Fashion and nabbed shots of a couple of his illustrations of ancient Roman servants. This text was originally published in America in the early 1990s, at the height of political correctness, and based on my other research, it's fair to assume they wrote "servant" when they meant "slave.":

The examples show fairly similar styles. The garments are white or offwhite, short sleeved, in a single layer. Each garment is a loose tunic-like garment, generally with a belt, falling above the knees (sometimes considerably above the knees). One example I found from period sources shows a sleeveless tunic which, rather than being belted, has been knotted at the crotch. Several examples show trim as with a higher-ranking man, two parallel lines running vertically along the front (and presumably back) at the shoulder. However, freemen are typically shown with red trim, whereas the slaves are shown with black.

I like the style of the tunic shown on the baker in the second example, but I'm not sure my friend wants to show off quite that much leg. Instead I think I'll go with the light brown one-shoulder tunic on the left. Nobody else is wearing an asymmetrical style, so it'll add some variety.

I've already taken my friend's measurements, and I've already made a Roman tunica for myself, so this will be a very easy process. My friend measures 25" across at the shoulders and 50" from shoulder to knee. In order to properly pattern, I'll also need his chest measurement, but he'll be stopping by tomorrow afternoon for that.

Basically the pattern will be two rectangles, each 50 inches long and probably about 40 inches wide. I might even do a 50x50 square. I'll sew the fabric from bottom to top on one side and from bottom to a little more than halfway up on the other. On the open side (the high side), I'll stitch and gather the shoulder from about 1/3 across to about ten inches from the end, leaving the last ten inches or so open to flutter on the shoulder as the illustration shows. The only trick will be belting it in such a way that the hem stays flat. It's obvious the fabric isn't cut at a diagonal because there is draping on the low side, but I may end up needing to engineer a cheat to keep it even as the night wears on.

18th Century Miniature Tricorn (kind of)

Miniature tricorn hats were worn by aristocratic women in the mid-18th century and into the 19th century. Of course, they were not quite as miniature as mine.

To make my tiny hat, I cut three pieces of canvas:
A circle with an 8 inch diameter for the top
A circle with a 10 inch diameter for the brim
A strip measuring 11"x2" for the band.

I gathered my top circle until it had a circumference of about 10 inches. Then I stitched the band around the gathered edge, tucking the cut edges in like double-fold bias tape.
Next I stitched the top of my hat to the brim, stuffing the top of the hat with scraps to help it keep its shape. Normally a hat would be starched, but I didn't have time because I was making the hat for a same-day party and I don't have any starch at home!

Once the top of the hat was stitched to the brim, I folded the tricorn into its shape and tacked each fold in place. I had to do this about six times, because it kept coming out a little imbalanced, with one side bigger than the others.

Then the real trouble began. I tried securing it with ribbon, which looked wrong, then with a hair pin, which looked wrong also, and finally I attached it to a headband, which looked fine and held well all night.

And then the masochist part of my brain took over and I decided that what my hat REALLY needed was satin trim around the edge, taking a one-hour project and turning it into a three-hour project. So I hand-stitched (of course) red satin ribbon onto my hat. Next I'm going to find some appropriately piratey but also appropriately tiny buttons or broaches or findings or something to decorate it with the way we do our big hats.

My hat was made from part of a cloak from an SCA fighting unit I'm no longer part of. I wasn't sure what to do with it, but I made it at my own cost and with my own device, so there wasn't any call necessarily to give it back, but I also was never going to wear it again. So, hats!

Galabeya Research

Lord Grayfalk (partner-in-crime and fellow time traveler) is also shy a set of hot-weather garb for our hell-on-earth visit to the wilds of Victorville, and he's asked me to make him a set of Egyptian men's garb.

Now, I should clarify that when he asked this, it was delivered by way of, "you know those white robes you always see on diggers in Egyptology movies and Indiana Jones and stuff? I want one of those." This is approximately like calling a dealership and going, "you know that coupe they drive in LA? It's domestic, and it comes in blue? How much for one of those?"

So I made him do a little bit more research and show me what he's talking about. In no time, he came up with the modern version of this garment: he wants a galabeya. As they're worn today, they look like the photo on the left.

I did some additional research, but had some difficulty identifying when the galabeya came into being or how it's evolved. I've found some costume patterns which accompany cabaret-style bellydance costumes for women, which doesn't at all support any claim to accuracy.

I've found a couple sites which state that the galabeya is a Bedouin style, but if that's accurate, that means it could have come into use any time in the last seven THOUSAND years, since the term "Bedouin" is a generic name for a wide variety of Arabic desert-going nomads who have been around for 5000-7000 years. Photographs of Bedouin men show a garment similar to the galabeya (usually under a floor-length vest), with a variety of subtle distinctions, as far back as the late 19th century. Naturally, photographic evidence is not AVAILABLE before the late 19th century.

It's frequently assumed within the SCA and by costumers in general that Middle Eastern fashion has not changed at all over the millennia, and that's is safe to assume that anything described as "traditional" is how the Middle Easterns have dressed forever. Did we not wander out of the Garden and find the Eastern tribes garbed precisely as we see them today?

Not exactly.

It's ignorant and actually quite bigoted to treat the entire history of the entire region whence all culture originated as if its story were somehow simpler than our own. Consider how much the United States has changed in the two hundred and change years since the foundation of our unique culture. How can we assume that a culture which has existed for thirty times the lifespan of our own could be so simple?

From the information we do have, it's clear that there are many differences in conventions of dress from decade to decade, and tribe to tribe. Certain cultures, such as the Ottoman and Persian empires, recorded in great detail their fashions and we therefore know a lot about the evolution of styles in those cultures. While portraiture was generally frowned upon in Islamic culture of the middle ages, the wealthy frequently commissioned portraits, and miniatures were made in both cultures with a frequency suggesting no moral hesitation. Perhaps the peoples of the Egyptian deserts were more pious, because my searches for 17th century art from that period yields mostly textiles and earthenware (both gorgeous, but devoid of human figures).

Egypt was a province of the Ottoman Empire from 1600 until it was captured by Napolean in 1798.

European art of the 16th and 17th centuries depict Egyptians the way we imagine Cleopatra and the Pharaohs, but in the 19th century, European art shows Egyptians dressing much more similarly to the way we see them today. Obviously a substantial shift occurred, but when, and what did those transitional garments look like?

Aha! I discovered this 13th century embroidery by Egyptian Christians. The figures are not detailed, but they're wearing simple, long-sleeved robes that flare from the waist. And that's what I'm looking for! Armed with the knowledge that a flared full-length robe with long sleeves has in fact been spotted before the 17th century in Egypt, I can make my galabeya with a clear conscience.

And by that I mean I made it last night, and now that I've researched it completely, I feel better about it.

I made the galabeya very simply. There's a front, a back, gores in the sides to add flare, and sleeves. I'm adding gussets in the arm pits to allow for more movement, and then I'm pretty much done.

Turkesque Autumn Entari

Going over my wardrobe plans for Highland War I realized I was about half an outfit short, so I decided to break my self-imposed ban on new projects to actually turn my corded velvet into something wearable. I started out making an entari to reasonably period-accurate specifications, but I decided to do a sleeveless design. I'll probably add sleeves later in the season as colder wars come up.

Then I realized that because this fabric is heavy, drapey, and striped, the straight-cut period design didn't fit exactly right and looked very very square, whereas the lighter fabric I used last time hugged my shape really well with the original design. In any case, I decided to add subtle waist curves, which made for a much more flattering fit.

In the long term, I'll want to match this with a different gomlek, because the neckline of the gomlek is a little lower than the neckline of the entari, and that looks a bit silly. I also don't really like the bunchy sleeves with the sleeveless entari, so I think the next gomlek I make will be straight-sleeved, with a high, round collar.

What's Period About it?

• Material: under debate! I was of the impression that corded velvet was period-accurate, but I'm having trouble finding nonverbal evidence online. That doesn't mean the evidence doesn't exist, but the source is, in hindsight, somewhat dubious, so I'm setting about to do some more research.

What's NOT Period About it?

• Color: As with the other piece, this is a little bit too subdued in terms of colors. Also, stripes were worn by the lower classes, whereas velvets weren't. 
• Closures: Entari closures are typically button-and-loop or long frogs. I used metal hook-and-eye style broaches. I thought the gold leaves fit well with the autumn colors of the fabric, and since I knew I already wasn't going 100% period, I was less worried about straying than usual.
• Cut: as mentioned, the cut should be straight through the waist, and instead it's curved. I could have avoided this by starting my gores higher and cutting the waist seams straight but at a slight diagonal, but I didn't, so there we have it. As a result of both the tailoring and the fact that I cut it just an eensie bit too big, there isn't as much bust support as the green cotton entari offers, so I'll have to wear a bra with it.
• Sleeves: there aren't any, and there ought to be.

This is why I listed it as Turkeque. "Turkish" gives it far too much credit. It's more of a costume piece than an actual recreation, but it's pretty, and it's comfortable, and I'm ok with that.

How to Make a Roman Tunica

In about a month, Hermanos de Sangre is hosting a Roman party at Highland War. Since the pinned-together muslin I'd been using as a makeshift stola has been cut up for a new gomlek, it was clear I actually have to make something that's actually passably Roman.

I've decided to make a 1st century AD tunica that's actually somewhat accurate. If I wanted to pass for an upstanding Patrician woman, I'd need at least two tunicas and a stola (for a matron) or a child's toga (if I decided for some reason to try to pass for a maiden, for which I am laughably too old by Roman standards). It's going to be hot, and wearing three layers does NOT sound like a great solution, so I'm going plebeian. I'm going to make a single tunica of bright red cotton (a color that would only be worn by a low class woman), trim it will cheap brass buttons, and belt it with some woven wool trim that's been lying around anyway. Mine happens to be a cotton duvet cover which I've stashed into my fabric stores for just such an occasion. The alternative would have been using it on a bed, and it's WAY too bright for that nonsense.

The first step is to cut two squares of fabric equal in width to the measurement from shoulder to floor. This should be almost exactly the same as the distance from one wrist to the other at full extension.

Some sources I've found say the sides are sewn, and some say they're open. It seems to depend on the use of the garment: a bride's garments are not stitched, for example. I've had no trouble maintaining a reasonable amount of modesty without sewing the sides of my makeshift tunica, but I went ahead and did side seams this time. Sew each side from the bottom edge to ten inches below the top edge (leaving wide arm holes).

Hem the bottom edge, the sides above the seams, and the top edge. I've used a rolled hem due to the fraying nature of cotton. I'd recommend the same for linen and most silks, both common fabrics for Roman women.

Next, the top closures. Broaches were used in period, but I'm using six brass buttons at the wrist, elbow, and shoulder. The diagram suggests a pretty flat closure, but the front neck opening uses more fabric than the back, so that it hangs in front and not in back. Therefore there is more fabric in the back along the sleeves, causing the bunches to fall open slightly and show the arms.

Now all that's left is to put it on and cinch it with a belt! A simple garment that's perfect for hot weather and takes no time at all to put together.

My tunica came out looking like this (sorry for the amazingly bad cell phone photo):



What's period about it?

• Material: cotton was imported to Rome from Egypt. Other common Roman materials included wool, linen, and silk (for women). My belt is hand-woven wool in a Roman geometric pattern.
• Color: bright red shows up all over Roman art, and was frequently used for the tunics of plebeians like me. Red, orange, and pink dyes were derived from madder, which was cheaply available in ancient Rome, making this color widely available. Richer reds were more expensive, since their dyes were made from fermented insect corpses. The poor WIN. A Plebeian might also be spotted in white, light yellow, medium to light blue, or a range of greens, which were also cheap to produce, mostly derived from local plants mixed with manure.
• Construction: My tunica is made from two squares in a period fashion, with straight seams. The finished edges on the top and arms are hand-stitched.

What's NOT period about it?

• Closure: I used buttons rather than broaches, for stability and ease of wear.
• Dye: This was chemically dyed through modern processes. This makes the color a little bit richer and a LOT more colorsafe than period processes.

Finished Turkish Outfit

As promised, finished entari with the rest of the outfit.

1. white cotton gomlek. You can't tell with the entari over it, but the gomlek is slit from the neck to the waist. The sleeves are extra-long because these are the sleeves that bunch up from the wrist to the elbow.

2. Black cotton pants. I'm cheating, because these are not really salwar but are loose, baggy pants that have a similar look, and they don't show a whole lot, so I'm not worried about it.

3. The entari itself, in all its recycled glory

4. Silk belt. I'm still figuring out what the belt situation should look like, but this is what I have for now.

Historical note: the front corners of the entari could have been worn down (as on the left) or tucked into the belt (as on the right) but not mixed. I did one up and one down to demonstrate the two ways it could be worn, and to more easily show the layers underneath. I'm probably going to be wearing mine down, since most of the ones worn up have a wide strip of silk on the inside edge as a decoration, and mine does not. Yet.

What's Period About it?

• Entari & Gomlek (mostly): cut & construction. The overall shape and construction of the entari conforms to period examples, creating an appropriate body line and providing bust support. The gomlek's sleeves are cut extra-long and bunched up the arms to create folds, a popular Turkish style.
• Layering: the layering shown here is appropriate for a Turkish lady who is hanging out inside. To leave the house, I'll add at least one more outer layer. I might also have another inner layer from shoulders to thigh, which would be barely visible.
• Material (kinda): pretty much this entire outfit is cotton, which was available to Turkish women through trade with Egypt, but it wasn't really popular for any of these garments. It's passable, but not ideal. I used cotton because I had these fabrics on hand.

What's NOT period about it?

• Colors: the salvar and belt are black, which was considered an evil color. Additionally, salvar were typically either white or a patterened color, so a solid color would be unusual. The green of the entari is a duller than what would have been available to a Turkish woman of the 16th century.
• Closures: The entari has semi-period closures. Frog closures something like these were common, but Turkish frogs were long and flat, rather than swirly like mine. The gomlek's closure uses a pearl bead and braided thread, which is period in style, but my "pearl" is glass and I have no idea of the fiber content of the white thread I had onhand. The pants are elastic. I made them in a hurry and until recently have been wearing them with my armor.

What Did Pirates Really Wear?

Since a lot of my travels put me in the company of 17th century pirates, I get asked a lot what actual pirates wore. There's a lot of confusion about what historical pirates might have looked like, and the simple reason is, pirates looked like everybody else. Pirates wore the best quality, most fashionable clothes they could get their hands on, and they dressed like anyone else in their time and (home) region. Piracy has existed for as long as boats have been used for commerce (about 4000 years), and as you might imagine, fashion has changed quite a bit.

Piracy has existed all over the globe, but I'm just talking about European pirates for now. Exploring the wardrobes of Asian pirates could easily take twice as long, and while indigenous North American peoples did engage in piracy, I don't know much about it.

Through the ages*:

The Sea Peoples

The Sea Peoples were a loose confederation of Aegean and Mediterranean pirates who preyed on Egyptian (and later, Phonecian) trade vessels. They are mentioned in hieroglyphics dating 3700-4000 years old. While the exact ethnic identity of the Sea Peoples is contested, it's theorized they were displaced Greeks. During Egypt's 20th Dynasty (Greece's Helladic period), both the Egyptians and the Greeks were wearing similar garments, based around a skirt-like garment of white linen secured with a belt. Greeks may have worn a knee-length tunic with a belt, but much of the limited art from the time shows men hanging out topless. Pirates generally would have been on the lower end of the economic scale, so a pirate of this time period would have been spotted in the simpler versions:



Goth Pirates (and their contemporaries)

A Goth pirate is not a sixteen year old Johnny Depp fan shopping at Hot Topic. The Goths were a Germanic tribe of Scandinavian origin, who showed up around the 3rd century AD and kept making trouble until the 8th century AD. The Goths were accomplished pirates of the Aegean, Black Sea, and Mediterranean. Goth pirates looked quite similar to Vikings, who arrive on the scene later, from similar cultural and ethnic roots. I was unable to find images depicting EARLY goths, but by the 5th and 6th centuries, Goths were wearing long belted tunics with trim and straight ankle-length pants which were bound from the knee to the ankle. They wore leather shoes or boots. I think this image slightly exaggerates the number of weapons you'd find on a Gothic pirate's person, and a spear and shield, while effective against mounted troops, wouldn't be all that helpful on a boat. A short, heavy sword with a slashing (rather than stabbing) design is a more typical sailor's weapon. While traditional Gothic forces made use of chain maille armor, seamen typically go without due to sinking damage.

Further West, Saxon pirates were harassing Romans in modern-day France. Saxon pirates would have looked very similar to Goths.



About the same time, Irish pirates kidnapped St. Patrick and sold him as a slave to an Irish farmer. This gives some insight about what pirates were doing in the 5th century in Europe. An Irish pirate would have been wearing a long tunic-like dress called a léine (which was worn by both men and women). Portraits of St. Patrick  depict him wearing two léine layered together along with a cape. Other portraits of St. Patrick show a similar outfit with a belt, which would have been common for Irish men of his time. His pirate captors probably wore something similar (although the sleeves are a bit too narrow, the product of a portrait made significantly later):



Vikings

Though Vikings are frequently described as the "original" pirates, they didn't show up until the end of the 8th century AD and only stuck around until the mid 11th century. The lack of centralized governments made it easy for Scandanavian tribes to terrorize settlements in Western Europe, Italy, and even Northern Africa and North America. Vikings dressed very similarly to Goths, with loose, long tunics and straight pants bound from the knee down. The only significant difference is that since the Vikings came from colder climates, they were likely to have worn more fur.

The Neretva, The Baltics, and The Uskoks

Starting in about the 8th century AD, several Slavic tribes spread out across Europe took to piracy. The Neretva preyed on Venetian merchants until the early 13th century. While the Venetian navy was stationed locally, they'd sign truces and leave Italy alone, but while the navy was occupied elsewhere, they'd terrorize Venice and Sicily. The Baltic Slavs didn't have a highly developed agricultural system and were driven to piracy to avoid economic collapse, terrorizing the Baltic Sea from the 9th century AD to the end of the 14th century. Finally, the Uskoks were underpaid Slavic soldiers in the Adriatic who turned to part-time piracy to supplement their income. Weekend pirates. Hobby pirates. In any case, the Slavs were cultural and ethnic descendants from Viking settlers in modern-day Russia, and their wardrobe was very similar. Since the Slavic tribes settled southern Europe and traveled even further south, their versions of the Viking tunics are lighter, with shorter sleeves and vests rather than cloaks. They also seem to leave their pants loose rather than binding them below the knee.



About the same time, Arab pirates (who would have dressed much like the men on the left side of the above picture, in long, loose robes) were also exploiting opportunities in the Adriatic and the Mediterranean. Muslim pirates established secret pirate havens, often on small islands.

Early Criminal Pirates

Piracy was officially outlawed in the 13th and 14th centuries (depending on the country), and governments started prosecuting individuals for the crime of piracy in addition to their individual acts. In 1241, a man convicted of piracy in England became the first man to be hanged, drawn and quartered, which I think must be the most horrible way someone could possibly be executed. During the 13th century in England and throughout much of Europe, men typically wore very long tunics, but working men wore shorter tunics and leggings, and would tuck their tunics into their belts for freedom of motion. I believe a sailor would likely have worn something akin to the working man's garb.



The Golden Age of Piracy (or, Pirates of the Caribbean)

From the mid 16th century to the early 18th century, colonization and war in the new world brought thousands of sailors, soldiers, and settlers to North and South America. English, Dutch, and French pirates and privateers raided the Spanish-controlled Caribbean and established famed pirate-friendly trading hubs like Tortuga and Port Royal. Meanwhile, pirates plundered and traded from New York to the Gulf of Mexico and beyond. Cuba was considered pirate-friendly into the 19th century, by which time most pirates had turned to slave trade.

The average sailor might have worn something like these men. Short pants, buttoned jackets, collared shirts, white or colored knee-high socks secured with garters, and leather shoes.



The captain, or a particularly successful crew, or a privateer of station (of whom there were several) might wear something more like the pirates we see in movies and ads. This depiction of the capture of Blackbeard has some familiar elements:



Many individual elements of the public's imagination of a pirate is more or less accurate to late 17th into 18th century fashion, but most pirates wouldn't have worn the latest fashions because they were sailors. Even on a successful ship, the individual sailor probably had neither the resources nor the storage space to waste on fancy clothes.

The Golden Age is the end of notable European piracy. The availability of slightly more legit work in the form of slave trade and the popularity of executing pirates in the 17th and 18th centuries caused piracy to dry up (no pun intended).

*I'm only talking about what men wore during these periods because female sailors were aberrant in pretty much all these periods, and if a woman did go to sea she was likely dressed as a man, either to conceal her sex or simply for practicality.

1670 Corset: Construction, Front Trim

I am very, very excited because today, after about ten million years of working on it, my corset is corset-shaped! I finished stitching the satin ribbon to the front, placement based more or less on the extant piece at V&A, and I decided to ditch the idea of tie-closed shoulders, and stitched them. As nice as it would be to be able to adjust the fit, the shoulders are going to be bearing the weight of my bosom (which is a herculean task), so I thought it might be more stable and less apt to come untied at inconvenient moments (by itself or with the help of drunk and debauched campmates) if it weren't tied at all. I'm going to dig in my fabric and see if I have any canvas left with which I might reinforce the seam on the inside to help further stave off potential wardrobe malfunction, although the non-stretchy seam binding will also help keep the seam in place.

Without ado (and without the placket), the corset:

I'm thrilled to see it coming together to this point.

On a less exciting (but still VERY exciting) note, the skirt that matches the corset, made of the same set of recycled bedsheets, is pleated in the back, but not the front, because my (very late night) math was shoddy and I realized halfway through pleating that if I continued pleating all the way around, I'd have to lose about 12 inches off my waist. So I ended up with the back half pleated and the front section smooth. I thought this surely was not period accurate, and I've been trying to figure out how to use it without having to tear it open and start again.

And then I discovered evidence as early as the 14th century of pleating just the back of skirts to give the lady a more bootylicious silhouette. So my skirt (which does indeed result in a bootylicious silhouette) is completely passable. The lines aren't quite wide enough to match the period of the corset, but it's way less incorrect than I thought, which is good enough for SCA.

The Trappings of Salome

Once upon a time, there was a beautiful princess  named Salome. Salome was the daughter of King Herod, and one day Salome's parents gave her a very special present... the severed head of St. John the Baptist.

This fascinating and grizzly tale has been a favorite of artists for centuries, and apparently Salome was a very fashionable woman, because in every depiction her wardrobe is breathtaking. A few of my favorites:

Salome in the 1510s-1530s, Giampietrino

 



Salome in the late 1400s, Andrea Solari

 



Salome in the 14th century. Artist information not available

Resource Feature: Painting Library

Today I discovered http://www.nationalgallery.org.uk.

The national gallery's website offers high resolution scans of art organized by century and decade. Their site allows you to zoom VERY close in to examine fine details of images, so anyone looking for costume resources will do well to check it out. I'm currently geeking out over their 1660s portraits, but I'm looking forward to checking out their earlier collections as well.

I'm pleased to say I've discovered pretty much everything I was looking for. The style of dress I've been looking to recreate is that of a Baroque-era Paris Hilton. The garments of the woman with resources and time, but not much formality. Less lace, more skin, very little jewelry, and the women are shown either passed out drunk or playing party games. I've so far found evidence for bodices being worn to parties without sleeves, bodices being worn with mismatched single-layer skirts, and women going to fashionable social events with either TONS of jewelry or absolutely none at all. Awesome. I can wear what I wear anyway, but now I can feel justified in doing so.

1670 Corset: Trim on the Back!

I spent a few hours today stitching the satin ribbon on the back of the 1670 corset. Now I need to do the front trim, the top edging, shoulder fastening, and eyelets. And hip gores, but I think I'm going to wait on that or make them easily adjustable so it keeps fitting as I continue to lose weight. I'm hoping to have that done before Christmas 2015.

I've also made a deal with myself that I'm not allowed to start any new projects for myself until I finish the epic stash of half-finished garments I've already started. Including this one. I will be making a couple pairs of pants for Connor, possibly tomorrow.

The Devil's Cloth

A few years ago I struck a deal with a friend, that I would make her virtually an entire closet of garb in time for Estrella, asking only that whatever fabric she bought for her own garments, she doubled, and that I be allowed to keep the excess. From this deal I've gotten several very nice skirts, and I think most of a bolt of muslin which is long gone. I also got a huge, and I mean HUGE lot of wide-cut velvet corduroy, which has wide stripes of green and gold. I fell in love with the fabric, but couldn't decide what to make with it (other than a pair of salvar that don't fit and were given to a friend), so it's been sitting in storage for three or four years while I decide, and every now and then I look at it and go, "I can't wait to wear this!" but then I still don't know what to make of it, so it stays there.

My main hesitation is that it's really nice fabric, and I've been unable to find evidence of striping in any of the time periods I was looking at as options for the fabric's destination. After an unfruitful search today, I decided to search "history of striped cloth" to see if perhaps it was a technological, rather than fashion, shortcoming. As it turns out, my theory was wrong but I was on the right track.

I found an article discussing the fact that in the renaissance in the West, striped cloth was seen as immoral, and only immoral and untrustworthy people would wear it. Stripes are not found in the portraits of nobles because they were the territory of whores, tricksters, and traitors. By selecting my fabric I have committed myself to creating a gown which, to the historical eye, will mark me as duplicitous and untrustworthy.

This in mind, it looks like I'd be better off turning it into a very luxurious entari, since the East did not have the same prohibitions against stripes. Unfortunately, a Turkish lady of low enough station to be wearing stripes would not have velvet, so I'm still out of luck as far as period accuracy, but I have all this fabric, and damn it, I'm not letting details like history slow me down.

1670 Corset Update

I've been working on my corset a few hours each evening, and I've finally finished applying satin binding to the lower edges. Now all there is to do is stitching the satin ribbon in verticals and curves across the front and back of the corset, applying binding to the top edges and arm openings, and couched eyelets. That'll only take another three or four lifetimes. Here's a quick cell phone photo of the corset as it stands currently. I've finished the binding on the lower edges and applied trim to the side seams. there will be vertical trim up the center back, and curved trim on the back seams and along the front.

In the mean time, I've created a sketch of what I expect the finalized outfit to look like. This is in part to remind myself of why I'm spending countless hours sewing satin ribbon, and partly because it's fun. I make no apologies for my lack of artistic genius here.



The one thing I will say is that while the corset is patterned closely on period sources, this outfit takes some creative license. While the Victoria & Albert Museum's description suggests that the corset might have been worn with a matched skirt as an outer bodice in a casual, private setting, my sketch describes an outfit even more casual than what I believe the V&A Museum is suggesting.

The original corset upon which I have based my design is on display at the Victoria and Albert Museum in London:

Turkish Entari Started

Last week I had a sewing day with my friend Niyo, where I started working on a Turkish entari made from a recycled duvet cover. The duvet cover was a lovely satin-finish cotton with green on green stripes. It seems everyone I know has a set of sheets in the same pattern (mine are black), but it was a nice lightweight cotton with very little stretch, so I knew it would be a sturdy and comfortable option for an entari, which is a support garment.

In Turkish ladies' clothes, the base layer is a sheer chemise-like garment called a gomlek which is generally long sleeved and goes at least to the knees. My gomlek goes to about mid-calf and has extra-long sleeves which are bunched up to create a lovely pattern of folds up the arms. Next comes the entari, which is a floor-length coat with 3/4 or full length sleeves. The entari closes with buttons, frogs, hooks, etc, and is shown open from the waist to the floor, and frequently from the neck to the base of the sternum. The entari is belted at the hips with a cloth sash or metal medallion belt, and the ends of the entari's front corners are often shown tucked into the belt.  The entari is frequently shown worn as the outermost garment in interior scenes, but the lady would layer additional garments over the entari when she went out.

The entari is cut with the same geometric lines of all Turkish garments, and the tightness of the garment through the ribcage along with the under-bust closure provides bust support.

This garment is frequently confused with a gawazee coat, which is a non-period garment frequently worn in the SCA that is fastened from the underbust to the waist but is cut under the bust and is usually worn with a decorated bra. Gawazees are also typically shorter, falling to the thighs or the knees, whereas Entaris are shown falling to the ankles or to the floor.

I made my Entari about the same way I would have made a cotehardie: two back pieces, two front pieces, two sleeves, with gores at the sides and back. The front is open all the way down.  After I cut out my pieces I found a pattern cut from a single piece for the back and front sections, with only the gores added in, but if I make another one I'll probably make it the same way since it fits so well! Entaris are shown with narrow and wide sleeves, stopping at the elbow or going down to the wrist. Because I'm making mine for hot weather and I'm planning to wear this with my gomlek that already has decorative sleeves, I opted for short, wide sleeves.

I finished the construction seams at Niyo's house, and hand-stitched the hem (as my sewing machine is in the repair shop). I've decided to use prefabed frog closures, which fit the general style of the period but aren't textbook correct. I had time to sew on two of them before rushing off to an event this weekend, but eventually there will be six, going from the collar down to a few inches below my natural waist.

My photo is a fit test the night before the event.

What's period about it?

• small round neckline. Period art shows high, small necklines, either round or v. Many of the necklines in reference art were even higher than mine, staying very close to the neck. The top is open to below the breasts and with support provides PLENTY of cleavage. There's no need for a lower cut. I was struggling to maintain modesty as it was.
• geometric seams. A lot of gawazees are cut with princess seams in front and back which adds significant complication to the construction process and provides less support. The measurements for my garment are based entirely around the waist. The upper part of the garment is supportive because the top is tight (having been cut to my waist measurement rather than curving up to the breast). The lower part of the garment allows for hip flare by having the gores go all the way up to the natural waist. It allows for full range of movement and perfect compliment to my shape. The front of the garment can hang closed as in the photo or slightly open to reveal the gomlek and salvar (pants) underneath.
• frog closures. Period examples show either a row of buttons or a row of frogs. However, period frogs looked a little different, being long and narrow, where mine are rounder in design. I think to get a period shape I'll need to make my own, which I'd like to try in the future.

What's NOT period about it?

• Fabric. I used cotton with a slightly shiny satin finish. Silks and velvets were most commonly used in period, including brocades, but cottons weren't on the list.
• Color. Turkish clothing was very bright. Advanced dye processes gave them access to shockingly bright colors, and they used them. The moss green fits my personal taste, but would have been too dull for a real Turkish lady.
• Pattern. I found tons of examples of solids and florals, but not stripes. Stripes are widely associated with middle eastern garb in the SCA, but I haven't found many resources that explain why.
• Frogs. As I mentioned, my frogs are in the right direction, but not QUITE correct.

Overall I'd consider this a 10 foot rule piece. Passable at ten feet, but not quite the real thing.

1670 corset

The 1670 corset is a project I've been working on for ages. It's an entirely hand-stitched cord-boned corset with a wooden busk. The style is based on an extant corset on display at London's Victoria and Albert museum. It's a placketed corset, which means there's a separate center piece and the body of the corset laces in front of the placket. Sometimes plackets were used to add girth to a corset when a woman out-expanded hers, but based on the design I believe this corset was intended to be worn with a placket.

According to the museum, a corset like this would have been worn by an upper-class woman, and would either have been worn as a support garment under a more formal bodice, or worn with a matched skirt and sleeves as an informal garment, such as in her home.

The corset is made mostly of things I had lying around. I think I spent about $15 in materials for this corset and a skirt made to match it.

My corset is three layers. The innermost layer is 100% cotton muslin. This is the white visible everywhere that's boned. Then there's a layer of middle-weight canvas, such as you might find on the thinner end of tote bags. I bought the canvas at the fabric store for less than $10. This is the dark blue visible on the inside of the placket and the triangular back piece. The placket is not lined in cotton, but instead has two layers of canvas. The outermost layer is a silver satin-finish cotton bedsheet. I made a silver skirt out of the same fabric.

The corset is stiffened with a wood busk and hemp cord. The hemp is a theoretically period boning technique on par with broomstraw boning. We think women used these materials when they couldn't afford whalebone, but there's no hard evidence. The use of these alternatives are inappropriate to my pattern because this style would have been worn by someone who could afford whalebone (the original was silk!) but I decided that I don't care.

I saw tests on broomstraw that showed it to be an effective, flexible, and breathable alternative to steel boning, and I was inspired to put hemp to the test! Each stripe you see on the white fabric is an individual hand-sewn channel, each with a length of cord. There are 114 channels total.



The busk is a carved wood piece that I cannibalized from an elizabethan corset I bought several years ago that never fit me correctly*. I already had a busk, but you can order them online for about $10.

At this point, I've finished boning the garment and I've put all the pieces together. The placket is completely finished, but the body has one more section where the silver outside needs to be stitched to the canvas. Then black satin trim will be applied to the body, and I'll add shoulder ties that will hold the corset's armholes closed (and allow the corset to be adjustable), and I'll add eyelets. Then it's done!

I don't remember how many hours of work have gone into the corset, but both it and the skirt have been 100% hand stitched... no machine work whatsoever.

*By "never fit me correctly" I mean it was too short on my torso, the steel boning slipped out of the channels the ONLY time I wore it and by the end of the night the steel had pierced my side in six places, leaving me with a very feminine and impressive scar for about two years. Don't buy corsets from Sofi's Stitches. Just... don't.