A Panoply of Monthly Regrets Featuring Beatrice the Advice Chicken

So...

Yeah.

Six Seven months without a post!

Depending on your individual thoughts on the matter, this was either a really awesome break from what had become an endurance test of the highest order, or my absence was an emotional and spiritual trial which awakened thoughts of loneliness and despair otherwise known only to death row inmates and readers of Janet Evanovich's last three books. (Seriously, Janet... just stop.)

As usual, readership increased during my time away from the blog. I hope that my renewed presence does not turn away any of these fledgling followers. This blog, much like your parent's closet, is best explored when nobody's at home. But fear not! I will almost assuredly disappear for another 3, 6, or 22 months at some point in the future, and the timid may resume readership then.

It has been my experience that, when a blog writer disappears for a long stretch of time, the return is seasoned with Epic Life News and Developments. Just to be as clear and boring as possible, I have not:

Become married.
Become separated.
Become with Child.
Become the owner of a new and spectacular home.
Developed a legitimate sense of humor. (sorry, kids.)


However, I haven't been completely lazy!!*

* This is mostly a lie.

For those intrepid masochists who have made it this far, enjoy a brisk biannual re-cap of the past seven months! At least, what I can remember of it. To fill in the gaps in the saga, today's post will be liberally peppered with commentary from Beatrice, the Disapproving Advice Chicken.

"This post is much too long and picture heavy. You're going to alienate everyone except the shut-ins."

Yes, Beatrice. You're right. But I really don't want to create separate posts.

July boasted a trip out to the annual Revolutionary War reenactment at a local historic site, which in turn required me to stay up all night sewing things that I ended up not wearing.

I regret that I have but one bitch-face to give for my country.

School started back in August, and with it came the realization that I riddy riddy needed to get a little more motivated on that uniform project. This also represents the moment at which I declared defeat on any realistic participation in the Historical Sew Fortnightly Challenge, 2013. (A moment of silence please, for my good intentions.)

Why, HELLO antique original shirt-waist! So nice of you to provide a pattern!

September brought a new series of adventures. First, a childhood friend (and virtually the only person that I knew in High School that I still have any meaningful contact with) got hitched. I was a bridesmaid, and enjoyed my be-ruffled ambiguously purple-colored dress duties to the fullest.

Mistakes were made, though.

RED RUM

This is an un-retouched picture of the color I somehow managed to dye my hair in September. It's a shade of red usually seen only on the surface of the sun. It matched my acne beautifully, so there's the silver lining in that little cloud. Luckily, I managed to tame the beast a few weeks later with another box of goodness from the grocery store beauty aisle. (Or as I like to call it, "The Promenade of Self-Esteem Roulette".)

"You shouldn't buy discontinued hair dye from the clearance bin at Bi-Lo."

Thank you, Beatrice. I'll keep that in mind.

October holds a special place in my heart. This year was no different:

 Assorted facial mucus + non-insulated floors + dress pattern = Happy 32nd Birthday to ME!

This was also the last full month of sewing before the project was due. I finally hit my stride around the third week. Meanwhile, my nephew leveled up to a whole new echelon of awesome:

The Indian Maiden is bowing her head and weeping on behalf of my Sister-in-law's home decor. 

The fresh killing fields of November were finally upon me. In celebration, I spent FOUR DAYS STRAIGHT sewing without sleep. 

Four.

Days.

Straight.

Lest you think (as I did) that "four days without sleep" is comparable to "that week of finals in 2010 when I only got like, 6 hours of sleep total over the course of 5 days and I thought I was gonna die", think again. Going without any sleep at all for more than a day or two is pretty stupid, if you have a choice in the matter. Four days is just plain insane. Please take this as a public service announcement from your Friendly Neighborhood ThreadHead: Don't procrastinate on a project to the point that such things are even within your scope of consideration. 

But, the project went up and life went on. (I'll do a project post soon. Too much to cram into this little jewel.)

The day after I installed the uniform project, I went to the Northern Carolina and spent a few days with my mother as she recovered from surgery. As soon as she was able to get around a little, I went home and jumped into finishing the school semester. In the process, I got my first "B" of graduate school.

I really, really want to whine about that. Really. But I absolutely deserved it. Sigh.

"You should have spent more time proof reading that final paper on Runaway Slave Advertisements instead of shopping for Korean cosmetics."

Thank you, Advice Chicken. But you're a little late.

December was calming. The semester was finished, the uniform project was well-received, and I finally started to re-establish normal sleep patterns. It was unseasonably warm all Winter here in Carolina-South, but we had a lot of these to make up for the snow:

Which is totally boss.

Side note! This is what the Manly Person and I made for his dad for Christmas to aid in the ongoing war against Belligerent Free-Loading Deer:

I'm looking for a few Scare-Hoes to liven up nights near the muscadine vines... pls txt.

January brought several awesome things this year. I was invited by my guy's mother to attend the MESDA seminar on textiles this year, so I began the month with a trip to Charleston with her. We got a dusting of snow in the middle of the month (and possibly another in a few days! Hurray!) and the new semester began. I've officially started my thesis, but I'm also taking an independent study in weaving. I've always wanted to learn to weave. Studying 18th century weave structures is so much more rewarding when you can relate to the method of manufacture. I have a lot to learn, but it has been pure joy so far. 

Modified Basket-Weave!

I wish I could say that February has been as good, but I can't. It has been pretty tough. My constant companion and Thread-Head mascot, BatMan, is unwell. After a lethargic week followed by a day of ignoring his food, I took the Bat-Cat to the vet. Diagnosis is advanced renal failure, which means that I'm going to lose my buddy a lot sooner than I ever imagined. He was at the vet clinic several days last week, and came home yesterday evening. He goes back tomorrow for another blood test. Pretty much anything that we do for him at this point is palliative care.

I haven't been given any reason to expect a miracle, but that doesn't stop me from hoping. He's a good cat. The best. And it breaks my heart to think of what may come.

 The Noble Beast, in repose.

And there you have it. The ongoing story of Alison, Were-Hag of the Southern Colonies will continue, despite the fervent prayers of some of my readers. As soon as I can motivate myself, I intend to sneak a few expository posts into the dead-air of the past months. In the meantime, thanks for checking in and Happy 2014 to my Bloggy peeps. You have been missed.

"That burning smell means that it's time to turn dinner over and cook the other side."

Yes, Beatri.... AAAGGHHHH!!!!!

Another day at the farm.

The slightly overdue photo round-up from this year's consortium of mullets and bullets:

Some bodice wrinkles and boob for ya.

 Local reenactrixes. They were respectively holding a candle and a sewing basket, so I decided not to intrude. Also, I have no idea why the fence is wearing a hat.

Moft excellent difh of noodlef a la Chef Boyardee.

Brattonsville, like many historic sites, is essentially a historical parfait. There are layers of history remaining there; wars, births, new houses, old barns, portraits, graves. Every event is a different take on some part of the complex past of the site.

                                                                                         




The original "Bratton" owner of the grounds left it to his eldest son, who became a doctor. Consequently much of the site is set up as a mini-museum of local medical equipment and related items.

Our heroine, showin' some ankle. And yes, this is the same staircase.

And last but not least, the main attraction: Honky the Pig. I love this pig. He's got personality AND he likes cats.

It was a nice reenactment and only slightly hotter and more humid than the devil's jock-strap, so that was good. The event was presumed cancelled for this year until a regime change at the site about 5 months ago. Huck's Defeat was back on by Spring, but a lot of reenactors (particularly military) weren't able to make it on such short notice. So this year boasted a few skirmishes instead of a full-scale battle. I actually think I like this better! No matter when people arrive, there's something to watch within an hour or two. I think the reenactors enjoyed it as well. Less time spent awkwardly sprawled near a tent pretending to whittle.

Thus wraps up this year's Day at the Farm.

The Round-Gown that Wasn't and Other Things

Making an 18th century gown has sort of been my Waterloo. Everytime I start, something hideous happens. Every decision is fraught with drama and tension. Every move is analyzed and ultimately found wanting. Yes! Optimism!

Interior bodice shot. That's leftover pink checked cotton from making a baby smock for "A" from the Jehossee project. 

So this round-gown project was suspicious from the first because everything went really well for the first two weeks. So much so, that I began to do that Really Bad Thing that people do when they stop sensing impending doom:

I relaxed. A little. And quite worrying because after all! It was coming together so well! And all that!

But then, sleeves. I don't think I've had such trouble with sleeves before. SEVEN sleeve mock-ups, all failures. I hit the wall on the sleeve issue the week before the Great Valance Box Menace of 2012*, but I had to get back to it because I needed to finish the gown.
* Tomorrow. Or soon after.

 Pardon the cat hair and thread fluff. The dress is basically a navy blue lint trap.

The above pic is one of the first irritating mistakes. The mock-up fit *perfectly.* But the same sleeve cut out of the fashion fabric? Nope. I don't pretend to have great sewing skills. As much as I love the 18th century, I've had far more experience in 19th century hand-sewing in the past year. So basically, I have no idea what I'm doing. And boy, does it ever show.

The final sleeve mock-up came about on Friday and was the product of a lot of alterations to dress and sleeve both. See the white pin on the bodice (below)? That "strap" across the shoulder was originally cut as one piece with the bodice. (It's the same Janet Arnold pattern that everyone else has made a thousand times). I had to create a fake seam there in order to move the strap into a more vertical position. This allowed the shoulder of the sleeve to have a bit more room and took some of the wonky angles out.

More cat hair! Yum!

Most of the round-gowns that I used for reference had a seam at that precise area of the bodice. (Most of the front-closing gowns in general seem to as well.) So I don't feel so weird about it being there, but it was still kind of a disappointment after the earlier success. After pinning out the excess, re-fitting, re-trimming and then re-fitting again, I cut my final *final* sleeve and lining:

 Internet: meet BatMan. 

 And then my cat laid on it. Because how else is all that cat hair supposed to get on the gown?

 The sleeve lining is unbleached osnaburg, also left over from good ole Jehossee. The scrap bag will be taking me back for years to come, I suspect...

 The sleeves in progress, above. I've stitched the long seams together, wrong-sides out. I don't have an "after" shot before I attached it, but you basically flip it inside-out and magically, your sleeve is lined. (This is a pretty nifty technique and I owe it to Koshka the Katherine.) The sleeve was attached bottom side first with a spaced back-stitch, then mounted under the shoulder strap and pleated into place to fit.

At some point along this juncture, I decided that I didn't want to make a round-gown after all. My reasons are obscure, especially to myself, but there you have it. The gown morphed into a quarter-back anglaise, which is possibly sort of farby when executed in linen. (Or possibly not... it sort of depends on whether the fashion of quarter-back gowns was borrowed from peasant/ lower class clothing or if it was developed spontaneously amoung the elite, I guess.) So instead of arranging the skirt panels in a characteristically round-gown fashion, I closely pleated them into the back half of the bodice.

Which I didn't take any pictures of it seems. So here's more construction pics of the bodice:

The panels forming the gown bodice were completely finished (lining mounted to exterior fabric) before they were joined together. I used the Costume Close-Up le point a rabbatre sous la mains stitch for the finishing. The panels were then whipped together:

...with green thread. Because that's how I roll. I think I need to adjust the panels a bit and add some boning chanels to help with wrinkling, but otherwise, the round-gown that grew up to be a quarter-back anglaise is done!

I know, I know... the petticoat is too long. I didn't feel like hemming 3 petticoats last night. Cut me some slack. And just in case anyone feels concern about the patterned petticoat with the solid-colored dress, it's okay. I feel pretty good about it.

Just in time for the week o'18th century dress. Today was the local annual roast of Banastre Tarleton and the first of the three 18th century events of the week. Tomorrow night is a local book signing for a fantasy novel set in 1765 Boston (yes, yes, the dress is 1780s, but what do you do?) that I intend to dress up for, and then Friday I'm participating in a gown workshop at a cultural museum one state over.

And I made my hat out of a place mat. True story.