Tuesday, July 26, 2011

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.

Wednesday, July 20, 2011

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.

Monday, July 18, 2011

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.

Sunday, July 17, 2011

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.

Friday, July 15, 2011

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.

Saturday, July 9, 2011

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:

Saturday, July 2, 2011

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.