Pretty in Pink and a Pathetic List

Eat your heart out, Molly Ringwald.

I was doing one of those random "18th Century Portrait" Google searches that have consumed great swathes of my life lately, and I saw this! Apparently, Sotheby's of Paris "found" this Jean Etienne Liotard pastel of one Mademoiselle Jacquet recently. And now, we all get to look at it with awe and wonder until it finds a new home with an eccentric billionaire. 

Her dress is fascinating. I love the dainty pink patterned silk cape and the frothy lace cap. I'm not tremendously "girly" in my color choices normally, but this is so bloody charming. Her face is what really captivates me, though. How often do you see mirth in an 18th century portrait? Tremendous.

In other news, I've neglected to make a big deal about my "blogiversary" or "blirthday" or whatever the hell we're calling it now. According to my lovely back-log of posts, twas May 5 a year ago that first I published 'ere. There are older, unpublished posts but in the rules of bloggitude, they don't count.

That means it's time for...

Introspective Alison Rant! "First Year of Nice, Polite Blogging" edition!

For lack of a better way to annoy the few readers who may still be perusing this, I'll throw a few recent milestones down here for posterity.

Things that I've managed to do in the past year:

*  Level up to age 30. (As it turns out, you can reach an age where it's possible to get gray hair, wrinkles, AND zits.)

*  Graduate from University. (I started the four-year degree at 17 and made a few stops along the way.)

*   Complete the Jehossee Exhibit and show it-all-around. (More on that another day.)

*  Become an affirmed fabric hoarder.

*  Cleaned the house approximately twice.


Wow. I'm glad I decided to celebrate on my own before I made the list.


The private celebration involved booze and the acquisition of this:

 Timely Tresses, but of course!

The much-coveted Flora Francine Straw Oval. Boo-Yah!

Which I can wear while tap-dancing in my Pompadours. Because they will TOTALLY work for the 1850-60's too. Yep. Good 'ole all-purpose Pompadours.

Thanks for putting up with my tripe for a year. Here's to another 12 months of Thread-Headed Magic!

American Duchess Awesomeness: Pompadour!

I get pretty hot n' bothered every time Lauren at American Duchess reveals a new shoe design or accessory.

BUT... I've never ordered a pair of shoes from her before. I went with red Burnley and Trowbridge walking shoes when the time came for my 18th century hoofing needs, and have been delighted with them. Since I can't afford to reenact at a glamorous level for the 18th century, I never harbored any serious notions of acquiring a pair of Georgianas, though I would love to dye and paint a pair of my own.

This Pompadour mess is where it's at, though. I absolutely adore these shoes! I love the point to the toe and the gorgeous, truly antique lines of them. They are intended for 17th- early 18th century wear, but to my highly suspect and extremely inexperienced eye, these things can maybe go the distance to the 1770's? Or at least they can in the "tormented logic and justification" part of my mind.

(Frantic "tormented logic and justification" Google search...)

These purport to be from 1760-1775 and are possibly French in origin. Image courtesy the Historic Deerfield Museum and OldRags.Tumblr.com.  And these are kind of like the Pompadours! Sort of. Maybe?

Hmm... so be it.

I think that the taupe is my golden ticket to personal happiness, mainly for the opportunities of further embellishment.

These are ready for pre-order in FOUR more days. And will I be there? Yes. Yes I will.

WTF: Regency

How do I feel?

Well, let's just see...

Thank you, Nuranar!

I feel GREAT.


This is why it's a good idea to just follow the other lemmings off the cliff and pose with your hand stuffed in your waistcoat, like Napoleon. Innovation isn't always a good thing.




Yes, yes. Another fluffy post. I will endeavour to write about Worldly And Important Sewing Projects in the coming weeks. But for now, it's just you, me, and Dr. Feel Good up there with his le main in his pantalons et guetres de nankin. Happy weekend, folks!

Taketh one Unicorne...

The thing that boggles my mind about the British Library is that people, seemingly constantly, "find" things there. It's like the Library is some sort of gigantic purse in which various learned and esteemed persons are forever seeking out a misplaced tube of lipstick. Theoretical lipstick, even. I have never seen the British Library, but I suspect that it bears little resemblance to the converted auditorium-turned-school repository that I enjoyed in my younger days. Apparently, in the British Library, it is possible to never really be certain what you'll find, or where.

Case in point:

 Cooking a unicorn will mess you up. Homeskillet was all peachy-keen til he cooked Hornsby up there. Now he's blue. True story.

An excerpt from the article:
Professor Brian Trump of the British Medieval Cookbook Project described the find as near-miraculous. "We've been hunting for this book for years. The moment I first set my eyes on it was spine-tingling."
So, we have a miracle then! Professor Trump (a great name if you plan to enjoy professional success) has been looking for the Unicorn cookbook for bloody ever, and then, he found it! And now, the British Library knows where it is!

Bet it was behind a copy of Are You There God? It's Me, Margaret and an empty Fanta bottle. Stupid kids and their Fanta.

 Gotteth Milke?

The real, non-Thread-Headed version of this article is actually supremely cool. You should go read if for yourself, but it's a fascinating slice of Medieval life. The cookbook itself was likely compiled by an adventurous chef named Geoffrey Fule under the reign of Edward III and his Queen, Philippa of Hainault. It is a historical treasure which is now rightfully restored to a place of interest an honor in a venerable, historic library.

Which is more than I can say for the Unicorn...

Yeah, I got yer new coat right here...

This is a charming photograph for oh, so many reasons:

Whatchoo lookin' at, Guvna?!

First, you are gazing upon the buxom second-hand clothes dealer of Newcastle-on-Tyne. Accept no substitutes. Second, this looks a great place to be. It's squalid and ramshackle, sure, but clearly you can get soap, booze and "good beds" without much difficulty. Plus, after choking down all the McEwen's Special you can handle, you can always stagger into the street and trade a pint for some fancy long trousers with 'ole Mary Two-Times there in the alley.

Mary Two-Times: because clothing isn't the only thing that can be second-handed.

I am astonished at how clean everything looks, though. Somehow, this is upsetting my visions of gritty, urban Victoriana. Isn't the detail incredible?  More information available The Guardian.

Jehossee Installation: Part Two

UPDATED

Sorry for the occasionally poor picture quality! I really wanted to finish this entry, but I don't have access to all of my personal photos yet. Consequently, some of these pictures are... "borrowed." They will be replaced in the near future. In the meanwhile, no, it's not your monitor. Squint with enthusiasm!

 From left to right: cotton roller-print dress for an 8-12 year old slave girl from the Aiken's Charleston home; Henrietta Aiken's plaid silk bodice and skirt trimmed; an antique chemise, c. 1855-1870 inscribed "Belle Canting"; a muslin chemise on a linen cord, meant to represent a plain variation of the shift a slave may have worn; cotton sateen pantalettes.

I was interviewed by a Highly Respected Local News Source* last week as part of the ongoing small-town fanfare and relentless opportunities for self-ridicule that keep coming my way these days. It was pretty awesome. I've been in the paper before, but always as a gaping bystander to a horrific accident, or a gaping bystander to a carnival freak, or a gaping bystander to a parade of carnival freaks that lead to a horrific accident. So this was new. Mainly because I knew that there would be cameras in advance.

*the only newspaper in town.

The story came out this week. It is a very nice little piece complete with pictures of the exhibit and an online video clip of me rambling incessantly about chemises, flopping my hands around like oxygen deprived fish and occasionally, opening my eyes.

Yes. So this is what I look like when I have been given time to prepare AND pose. 

Photographer: "Just act naturally!" 

Me: "Hurrrrrrr!! Chemise."

Where did we leave off? Let's see... I moaned about the Cranky Ladies and... well, that was pretty much it. Onward and upward!

Everything was set up on the first day, except Harriet's dress. There were several reasons for this, all of which revolved around the fact that the bloody thing wasn't done yet. Luckily, I finished it in time and set it up hours before the reception on my own dress form, Headless June.

 Harriet's blue silk taffeta striped dress, derived in style from an 1849 fashion plate reproduced in C. Willett Cunnington's English Women's Clothing in the Nineteenth Century. The chemisette and sleeve inserts are antique originals from my own collection.

The obvious advantage to using Headless June was that I knew the dress would fit, and that there was almost no chance of needing a tetanus shot before the evening was out. Damn you, Jangles...

The exhibit was comprised primarily of the garments I made, liberally seasoned with surviving extant artifacts and garments, and informative placards.  The total list of items ultimately included over 30 handmade garments, augmented by an antique chemise, quilted petticoat and quilted vest and the chemisette and sleeve inserts displayed with Harriet's gown. Additionally, I filled two cases with reproduction and antique shoes and  stockings, and a small collection of 1840's women's periodicals.

 This was taken right before I filled the cases and walls with insipid little informative signs. So imagine this, only more cluttered. From the top moving clock-wise we have an 1849 "Godey's Lady's Book," an 1847 "Sharpe's London Magazine," an 1846 "Ladies Wreath," and a single May, 1850 issue of Godey's.

 Overall, the experience has been really good. I have been genuinely shocked at the level of interest that people have expressed, both as fellow costume enthusiasts and local history buffs. Is the exhibit perfect? No. But it's better than I ever could have expected. And it may have a life outside of this first showing. A few of the local historic sites have contacted me about setting up parts of the exhibit for smaller events throughout the summer. 

 People milling around, trying to act like this isn't THE GREATEST THING THEY'VE EVER SEEN IN THEIR WHOLE LIVES, EVER.

Numerous people have suggested that it would be wise for me to build my eventual master's thesis upon the Jehossee project. I can certainly see the wisdom in doing that... in theory. But I really think that it is time to move on.

Hopefully to something even more conversationally awkward! 


If you have waaaaay too much time on your hands and are interested in a) stalking me or b) hearing what a public school education and at least two personality disorders can do for your public speaking skills, check here or here.

Jehossee Installation: Part One

 My life has not been my own for quite a while now. As I occasionally lament, the Jehossee Plantation project (start here and here if you enjoy redundancy and whining) has for much of the past 9 months, sucked the very life from my feeble, pasty body leaving a pock-marked, increasingly wrinkled, red-tressed husk in its wake.

But now! I'm back. Or getting close to human again, at any rate.The project was technically submitted for a grade before Christmas, on the basis of what I'd finished at that point and an additional written assignment. The delay in the Archives building opening to the public allowed me to drag out the last of the sewing far past the end of the semester, well into this here glorious new year. (Yaaaay, procrastination!!) But all dawdling must eventually culminate in days of frantic activity, and thus the installation day was upon me.

The artist in repose. Actually, I have no idea what I'm doing here. Arranging the burlap. On the floor. With a lingerie hanger. These are troubled times we live in.

I was met in the Archives by a motley crew of donated* dressforms upon which I was expected to perpetrate my grandeur and awesomeness. As I wrestled with them in turn, I came to understand their quirks and gave them names to ease the process and offer a more focused outlet for my invective. The names were easy to remember because they were generally rooted in the unique psychosis/ deformity of each of the Cranky Ladies. (See what I did there?) They were respectively, "Charcoal Charlie," "Jangles," "Crunky Brewster," "Kevin" and "Assless Boobs On A Stick."

*abandoned

The dressforms really were in hilariously bad shape. They all were either rusted into useless heights or worn out so that the gears no longer functioned. Even after being bludgeoned into seeming submission, they continued to flop around in obscenely inviting postures and made the kinds of noises I associate with orgasms amoung the elderly.

 Charcoal Charlie in action. This was the dress form that greeted me when I first arrived and began setting up. I was told that she was tragically burned in a house fire... 40 years ago. This was by far the nicest of the dressforms.

I have no idea what I expected. I've never set up an installation of anything before, (unless you count my canned goods, which I delight in maintaining as though there is a small but proud Grocer who lives in my pantry) but this was quite a challenge. My school's new Archives is a thrice-remodeled building which was recently beautifully furnished with new display cases. (All of which were too heavy to move, so a lot of the creative decision-making on how to arrange the cases themselves was taken out of my hands.)

 You can see Assless Boobs on a Stick chillin' out there behind Jangles, who is sporting Pauline Boudet's fan-front dress. Those sad little calico piles on the floor behind her? That's the last 9 months of my life.

The rest of the materials at my disposal amounted to the fore-mentioned Cranky Ladies and an assortment of used coat hangers and duct tape. All of which I used, mainly on each other. Luckily, I managed to cram most of the dressforms into the lovely, insanely heavy mahogany cases that lined the walls. In order to disguise the fact that no two of them could stand up straight (except Kevin, who was technically, literally a MANnequin) I decided to arrange the garments with some subtle suggestions of natural movement or posture. This worked out well, and prevented the whole mess from looking too formal or staid:

 

Crunky Brewster turned out to be preggers! Congratulations, CrunkyBrewster!

Because I have lots of problems with being too formal and staid.

Installation day was about 3 weeks ago, and at that time Harriet's dress was not yet finished. So for Part Two, we'll explore that and oh, so much more!