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.

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.

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.