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!!!!!

If Blogs were like children, the state would have taken mine away by now.

Awesomeness.

So these past two months of never, ever posting have been AMAZING. I wrote most of this post last month, when I'd only been absent from these hallowed grounds for about 3 weeks. Don't worry: It's been updated for additional pathos!  For everyone who is completely in thrall of my personal life, pray, read onward!

* I have had the most incredible combination of plagues. After toughing it out for a couple of weeks, I finally went to the doctor (much fanfare and fuss and all that). I was diagnosed with a sinus infection, acute bronchitis, and "a touch of pneumonia." Apparently, my doctor is a fan of nuance.

* Finals week happened, which was great except for the fact it lasted two weeks, not including the ever-excellent "Week Before Finals: Tournament of Badassery." (You know, that magical four day period before exams when EVERY SINGLE PROJECT IS DUE?) So that's three weeks of Academic Purgatory with a dose of Thread-Headed procrastination for the win!

* After worrying over it for a day, I decided to foster a stray cat that appeared at my work one night. After worrying over it for less than an evening, the cat decided to chew through a 60-year old steel screen and flee into the unknown night rather than spend another moment in my home. What can I say? I have a way with animals.

Sweet little tuxedo man outside of my store, before the jail-breaking at my house later that night. Please send good thoughts his way.

* In a fit of sleep deprivation-fueled insanity during the sickies, I found myself in the makeup aisle at Target where I bought a tube of red lipstick. This proved to be the exact same terrible idea that it has been the last 12 times that I bought a tube of red lipstick. Generally speaking, I look like a female. (Not bragging. I really sort of do.) Add an extra dash of eye makeup and some red lipstick? I look like a man in drag. Red lipstick #13 is now enjoying an ignominious burial in a purse I plan to never open again. **5.31.13 Update: I bought another tube of red lipstick. This one may be an improvement, because I look like a hooker now rather than a sexually confused lumberjack.

* I emerged from the chrysalis three weeks ago to check my email, whereupon I discovered that I was supposed to give a speech to some people on the following Tuesday (oops) about a museum exhibit I had to put up a week later (crap.) But it was okay because I had to give a presentation on that Friday, too. Different group of people, same disappointed glares. Gotta love it.

* Despite lacking coordination, motivation or any natural sense of joint articulation, I've decided to go "jogging" on my free mornings this Summer. This has resulted in every 10:00 a.m. Mommy Walker in the county protectively steering their strollers away from me as I "jog" down the path. I don't blame them. I managed to hit myself in the face twice on my first morning out, with my own hands. (In all fairness, I have it on good authority that I run like Jar Jar Binks.)

Here's your ticket to... the gun show. 

Also: that bottle of green food coloring has been there, along with his friend the solitary star candle, for at least 3 months. 

* Historical Sew Fortnightly Who? Yeah. I've been bad. Keeping up with the sew-a-thon was a good way of organizing my time. I really need to get back into it, with some alterations. Starting ASAP, I'm working on a research project for school. Southern Ladies' College uniforms c. 1895-1910, anyone?? Hopefully, the upcoming HSF challenges will include things like "Make A Nineteenth Century Woollen Suit Entirely Based On Two Grainy Photographs" and "Create Several Nearly-Identical Blouses With Gigot Sleeves Based On A Vague Student Handbook Reference."

And to wrap up the wall of belligerent rambling, I'm happy to report that my absence of two months has not gone unnoticed! I've gained 15 (undoubtedly loyal) readers since my last post. The secret to building a readership here at Ye Olde Snippet is apparently to avoid any and all forms of contact with you guys. For giving my fragile ego a much-needed boost, I say THANK YOU!

More lies and whimsy to come! Be back soon!

I almost named this post "The Weekly Wedgie #1."

No, really.

But then, I realized that even if the world needed another soul-wrenching weekly round-up of Blogger angst, it most certainly shouldn't been named in honor of a violent act of vigilante skivvy-yanking.

Then, there is the burden of irony in committing myself to weekly blog posts after a 3-week hiatus.

So! What's new? Well, for starters, there's this:

It's a petticoat! For the Historical Sew Fortnightly "Peasants and Pioneers" challenge, a.k.a. "#5." This petticoat is made like every other 18th century petticoat I've cobbled together, with the exception of hemming it to the correct length BEFORE attaching it to the waistband. This worked out pretty well and will hopefully mitigate *some* of the pathetic scrambling to shorten petticoats prior to wear each time I need one. I don't know about you guys, but every single petticoat I made in my first two years of attempting such things is waaaay too long. The worst of the lot actually touches my shoes. Yes. 

The material (woven cotton flannel) is folded prior to pleating, and attached to the waistband with the interior edges left raw. The waistband is made of Dutch linen tape from Wm. Booth Draper, and cut a bit shorter than I usually do. I decided to go minimalist on both tape and yardage in the spirit of the challenge, so the petticoat is of humble width as well(basically 88 inches). 

And here is a picture of our heroine, wearing the petticoat:

What can I say? It's been a tiring few weeks.

Those of you following the Dreamstress's challenge may notice that this is about a week overdue. The worst of it is, I finished this petticoat over six weeks ago just to use up the last bit of this fabric! It's been done that long. Grr! I didn't intend to use it for any challenge, but life intervened, as it occasionally does. My original intention was to make a pair of leather stays for the Peasants and Pioneers challenge, based on this pair in the Nordiska Museet that I've discussed before. 

I have the leather, linen tape and even a scrap of antique Swedish linen to use for the lining. The big hold-up? Those damned "bars of iron" stuffing the front channels. I naively believed that I would be able to find a few little iron bars quickly and easily.

BWAAHAHAHAHAHAAA!!!!

I have contacted virtually every blacksmith I can by phone within a day's drive of my current location. I found a guy about 45 minutes away who said he could easily do it, no problem! After three weeks of wasting time going back and forth, he finally produced steel bars. Steel is made of iron (in part), but it's not what was used in the original stays. All of this went down about a month ago, leaving me pretty much where I started. So that project has been put on the back burner again. Boo.

In other news:

* I gave another presentation on the Jehossee Exhibit and will be moving the lot to another museum in June. Jehossee lives on! 

* Spring Break was last week. And not a moment too soon. I spent mine doing absolutely nothing except fighting a sinus infection and avoiding responsibility in all forms.

* I also made this:

Into this:

Internal Hamdialogue: At least it's not cupcakes.

The child on the right is "Hambone" (with a cousin), beloved offspring of my awesome friend "Boobs." He had a birthday, as children are inclined to do, allowing me to indulge in my yearly tradition of staying up all night making a malformed edible tumor that vaguely resembles whatever he actually wanted. He then pretends to be pleased and I pretend that I am awake for the duration of the party. 

I've got a pile of Regency stuff on the "to-do" list for most of the immediate upcoming HSF challenges, and with any luck, I'll actually finish some of it on time. Along with a blog post or two, if I can motivate myself. I've been in a bit of a funk, and I'm starting to get on my own nerves. Hopefully, that can act as its own motivation. In the meanwhile, here's the challenge break-down:

The Challenge: Peasants and Pioneers (#5)

Fabric: Woven striped cotton flannel from Fabric.c*m

Pattern: None. 

Year: It's intended to be worn as an under-petti, so I'm planning to wear it with wild anachronistic abandon. However, the cotton material, flat front panel and inverted pleats in back put it best at the late 3rd-early 4th quarter of the 18th century.

Notions: Linen tape.

How historically accurate is it? I don't know of any American woven cotton flannel petticoats from the 18th century, so it's not based purely upon an original. However, Florence Montgomery's "Textiles in America" includes swatches of many similar materials. Entirely hand sewn with accurate seam finishes, though the hem at the bottom is generous for a petticoat. Personal rating: 9 of 10.

Hours to complete: About 4. 

First worn: This morning, over my head in the yard.

Total cost: Fabric was $4 a yard, tape was about $2 per yard... so about $16 total.  (The length of the striped material was about 3 yards, and I used all but 18 inches of it.)

The B. in the Bonnet

The "B" will be me, of course.

I've gone and sewed some flotsam to a bonnet, an activity which required neither skill nor cunning. (And surprisingly little pre-meditation!) There's no need to beat a dead bonnet, so I shall endeavor to keep my punch-drunk, sleep deprived self on the modest side of the usual descriptive quagmire I write myself into!

Oooh. Did you read that last sentence? We're off to a terrible start. Best get this over with.

Some of you may remember the smug bit of rubbish I wrote last year about turning 30 and buying a bonnet. (And for those of you who don't remember, congratulate yourself on your excellent judgement! Or follow the link.) For the Fourth Historical Sew Fortnightly Challenge (embellish!) I decided that it was high time I decorated my lovely Timely Tresses acquisition.

Image courtesy of the National Trust Collections, who will NOT be made to photograph anything from the front, because that's just the sort of thing that got HRH Kate in trouble.

My inspiration was this c. 1840-1850 bonnet from the National Trust Collections. This particular bonnet was selected because the shape of my bonnet is nearly identical, and the time ascribed to the inspiration piece played wondrously into my devious little hands. You see, I wanted a bonnet I could wear at Civil War events without raising too much of a fuss, but something that could also conceivably be displayed with the Jehossee Exhibit if need be. A Time Lord of bonnets, if you will.

The middle of the nineteenth century is not a great time to decide you want a chapeau that will accommodate a 15 year time span. But a Thread-Head's gotta do what a Thread-Head's gotta do.

I started the embellishment process by rounding up a piece of scrap silk that was too small to do anything else with. (It is actually too small for this project as well, but who needs to actually TIE their bonnet strings?? NAME ONE PERSON. That's what I thought.) I cut the silk into roughly 4" strips with the pinking shears I never use, and began pleating the fabric inside the brim.

The pleats are not precise. Frankly, if the surviving examples are any indication, bonnet trimming was a brutal, haphazard sport in the Antebellum era. (Some of them look as if the ribbon was applied with a cannon.) The silk I used is not remotely starchy or crisp, so I was forced to accept a certain... draped quality to the pleats.

I used pretty much every needle I own at some point in this process. It was ridiculous.  I started with my weapon of choice, a #12. That was tough going, so I ended up with the beloved vintage darning needle. That was a bust too, which ultimately led me down the rabbit-hole to a needle that I have no other earthly use for: a book-binding needle. Blunt, solid, short and possessing an eye commodious enough to house a family of four, it was the last thing that I thought would work. (Hence, why I tried it last.) But it was great! The blunt tip spread the fibers of the straw rather than stabbing through them, and the large eye protected the thread from the ravages of the straw. Who knew?

My bavolet is precariously created from the very last scraps of 4" silk that I'd cut. The chain-stitch across the bottom is H.U.G.E.... but so is the design on the original. Historical relevance for the win! 

Regrettably, my photo documentary ends here abruptly. After attaching the bavolet, I ran another row of stitches across the front frill of silk, roughly 1.25" from the pinked edge. It was the only solution I saw to a dreadful case of Flaccid Silk-itis. (When the bonnet was on, I looked like I had upholstered Zooey Deschanel bangs.) Then, in the manner of the Romans, I threw crap all over the bonnet until it could take no more. When at last it was full, I threw even more crap at it. Then I sewed the crap to the other crap. 

I've never felt more alive.

I then dragged it to the Archives and stuck it in a display case as part of the Jehossee diplay. Since it's living in 1850 at the moment, I tried to play up the horizontal look of things rather than the vertical. That said, I failed to get a single decent picture of the bonnet on a human head post-production. The stuffed head above does a lovely job of supporting it, but cannot provide the proper foundation of 1850's hair.

These pictures were taken after the bonnet was put on display and they were all taken from the outside of the case. Brilliant, yes, I know. *Sigh.* Why must I be merely beautiful instead of organized?

In addition to the saffron silk, I used cotton embroidery floss, felt pussy willows, wax blueberries, and some lovely blue plaid ribbon. The plaid ribbon was culled from the $1.00 bin at Micheal's (our local branch of a semi-national craft chain). It is not a natural fiber ribbon, but desperation won the day. Plus, I really love the ribbon.

And Huzzah! Blammo! Bonnet!

Hats Facts:

The Challenge: #4: Embellish!

Fabric: A 15" by 30" piece of saffron colored silk.

Pattern: Are there patterns for things like this?! None used. Images of extant bonnets were consulted.

Year: 1850-1865. (But really, I'll take any combination of those years. Right now we're going for 1850-1855.)

Notions: Yes!  This was the Big Show for notions. I used: 

3 kinds of thread! (cotton embroidery floss plus yellow and brown cotton quilting thread.)

Ribbon!

Wax blueberries!

Felt pussy willows!

Pinking shears! (They deserved a second mention.)

How historically accurate is it? With the exception of the VERY inaccurate blue plaid ribbon, everything else used is at least plausible. When I find appropriate replacement ribbon for the blue plaid, it can be changed out. I'm giving this one a 9 of 10.

Hours to complete: 6ish. 

First worn: I had it on several times after it was finished, just for fun. It has not been worn with historical intent at all, though it is currently on display with Antebellum clothing. Did we ever decide if that counted?

Total cost: The bonnet was an initial investment of $85, I think. I purchased the blueberries and pussy willows on sale over the course of the past year. I wouldn't have paid more than $3.00 per pick, so the lot comes to $6.00. Blue plaid ribbon was $1.00. Everything else was stash stuff. Roughly $100, if you count the shipping on the bonnet when I bought it.

My Lovely Lady Rump.

Just in time for the Historical Sew Fortnightly Challenge #3, I've produced this, a rump.

Majestic, no?

I didn't really think about making a rump for this challenge until I was trotting about in my super pretty gold gown last week and I realized that the shape and relative weight of my current rump wasn't quite getting it. My old rump (oh, how I love those words...) is made of the same pink sprigged cotton duck fabric, but tightly stuffed with rags and sawdust. At the time I made it, 10 pounds of rags and sawdust sounded like a GREAT idea because the hip pads I made four years ago (stuffed with a meager assemblage of bamboo and cotton fluffer-stuff) have slowly deflated like a popsicle in a frying pan. The old rump worked well, but it was bloody heavy.

 The new rump by night. Oooooh, baby.

There comes a time in every woman's life that she questions the wisdom of appearing in public burdened with what feels like most of a corpse tied around her waist. So I needed a new, lighter rump. My mother had given me a wonderfully busted old chair a couple of years ago as punishment for being such a disappointment as a daughter. (This is an assumption based on the relative hideousness of the chair. Hi, Mom!!!) During a particularly misguided bout of craftiness, and largely inspired by the success of RabidGlow, I pulled the chair apart with the intention of re-upholstering it.* I used the discarded padding from the upper back of the chair to stuff this rump. I suspect it's some form of poly/wooly/cottony blend but I have no idea. Its lightweight, it was handy, and it has maintained its original shape for more years than I've been alive.

* Yeah, freaking right.

The shape was dictated by a non-specific idea I had about what I wanted it to feel like more than what I wanted it to look like. (I was very inspired by some of the images in the excellent article that was presented on Démodé recently, too! Serendipitous timing.) This is a terrible way to do anything, but there you have it. Other than that, the fabric really had the final say in shape. I only had a small bit left of the cotton duck, and I wanted to make the biggest rump that I could. (Don't we all?)

 Closing the deal. I have made So. Much. Stuff. out of this fabric. It has integrated itself into the two rumps, a pinner apron and the lining of a half-finished coat. I think this is officially the last of it, though.

The seams are all back-stitched for strength. A 30" length of cotton tape was used as a waist tie, threaded all the way through the rump. I quilted 4 channels through all of the finished layers for the characteristic "puffy shell" look seen in 18th century caricatures. That was ultimately the most time-consuming part because I initially thought that I could sew through 4" of puff with a 3/4" needle.

 And we have rump! Rumpus Rumpus! The pink ribbon is not a permanent fixture. I didn't like how boxy the shape was when it was finished, so I tied the ribbons down tight to help round it up a bit. But then, I really liked it so I've decided to use some slightly less plastic-y ribbon on it when I find the right stuff.

In complete defiance of my lifestyle, moral code, spiritual beliefs and genetic proclivities, I finished this thing well over a week early. I know, I know. Something must be wrong with me. I'm looking into it. It was a tender mercy though, because I needed it. I spent part of the past week putting the Jehossee exhibit is back up at the university archives and I needed all the padding I could get for those blasted mannequins. Above, you see the rump already pressed into service to augment the abruptly interrupted charms of the mannequin I dubbed "Assless Boobs On A Stick." (If you don't get it, follow the link. Unless you don't want to get it, in which case you are probably too classy to be reading this. Go you!)

Something new I'm trying. It looks like an 8th grade science project, though. Hmm.

The Dastardly, Deadly Dull Facts:

The Challenge: #3: Underneath It All

Fabric: My last little patch of yellow sprigged cotton duck.

Pattern: None. I referenced a few illustrations and the truly awesome post that Démodé recently published.

Year: 1780-ish is the intended use, but it's currently sitting nicely under an 1850 gown. It's a full-service rump.

Notions: Yes! Finally! I used a 30" bit of cotton tape threaded all the way through it as a waistband. That is totally a notion. The ribbons count too, I suppose.

How historically accurate is it? What to say? It's a functional butt cushion. Accuracy wasn't as big of a concern here due to my desire to have something more practical than strictly accurate. However, it's sized and shaped similarly to several original rumps (as seen in illustrations). The stuffing is highly suspect, and I have no way of verifying the use of cotton duck for rumps. I'll give this one a 5 of 10 for those reasons.

Hours to complete: 3. It could be done in half that, but it took me ages to figure out to use a larger needle for the quilting.

First worn: About a week ago for fitting purposes. However, it has been proudly installed under a cotton dress and petticoat for several days, so technically it's in use now.

Total cost: Zippo Nano. And MAN does it feel good to use up these odds and ends!

Exhibiting Symptoms

 The Massacre at the White Homestead

Moving the Jehossee exhibit around like a snake oil salesman in a travelling medicine show has taught me more than I ever imagined. When I started putting these exhibits and displays up, I sort of deluded myself into thinking that I would figure it all out as I went along. This was poor planning because it didn't actually involve any "planning." So for the edification of the three people in the world who, like me, didn't know this stuff in advance, I present my poorly contrived guidelines to Proper Exhibition. (As opposed to Exhibitionism. I can't help you there.)

My advice can be clumped into two general groups: 1. Stuff you should learn in advance, and 2. Stuff you should try to bring on the day of set-up.

Advance work:

* Know where you're allowed to display things. It may not be as obvious as you think.
Knowing the lay of the land is always wise. It generally prevents unpleasant surprises for yourself and will be reassuring to your host. Even if your intended display area is fairly small or very specific, it helps to go over it prior to the day of set-up. You may notice things that need to be moved or adjusted which you don't have the authority to touch, or you may need something as simple as light bulbs changed in a display case.

* Try to scout out your mannequins or dress-forms before the day of set-up.
If you intend to display clothing on forms of any kind, find out what will be available and how it may need to be modified for your needs. I've had issues with mannequins and dress-forms that were too large, too small and generally falling to pieces. Find out what kind of protection your items will have. If you have access to cases, who will have the keys? If the items are in an easily accessed area, will anyone be present to run interference between your precious cargo and the pawing public?


* Maintaining good host relations is always wise.
Always be respectful when you make any inquiries. Do no assume that being welcome equals being entitled. Be mindful of where you can spread out your massive piles of crap as you set up. If you're working with large, bulky adult dresses with multiple under-layers, you're going to need a generous footprint to work within. This needs especially needs to be addressed if you have to set up during normal operating hours to prevent blocking or obstructing portions of other exhibits, doorways in a historic home, etc..

Making contact early in the process is always worth it. You'll inevitably feel more prepared even if the reconnaisance proves uneventful.

Making adjustments at the Pettus Archives Exhibit.

Stuff to bring:

* Always bring lots of straight pins. You never know where or why you'll need them, but invariably, you will. Ditto for Duct tape. 
It probably is pretty obvious as to why you may want extra pins or duct tape, so I won't dwell on it. Just bring them. A small roll of tape and a small box of pins can fit anywhere and can save your arse if something starts to malfunction. Note: something ALWAYS malfunctions.

* Bring extra pieces of material if you have it, or scraps of neutral colors or whites if possible.
Scraps of fabric can be used to fill in gaps if a dress is smaller than the intended form or if a buffer is needed between the "real" fabric and the mannequin. Extra pieces of neutral material may be needed for a back-drop, petticoat filler or even an impromptu scarf. In the three times I've moved the Jehossee Display, I've needed one small square of white cotton each time. It has been reincarnated respectively as a handkerchief, bust-stuffing for a poorly endowed mannequin and an impromptu corset cover.

* Bring some padding or stuffing material. 
Because you never know when you may have to unexpectedly craft a butt.


(These, incidentally, are the EXACT same guidelines I use while directing weddings, if you swap the mannequins for drunken bridesmaids.)

A sampling of the motley crew in all their glory.

I feel a bit foolish posting this, mainly because I worry that this is probably common knowledge. But, as in many facets of life, it wasn't common knowledge for me when I started on this magical voyage and therefore, it may help someone else who is just starting out. I'm sure more can be added with time and experience, but these are the basics. (So far.)

And in other news: I'm going to Dragon*Con! An item is now checked off the bucket list. (Provided the trip actually happens, of course...) Since my capacity is official rather than idle, I won't have much time to do loads of personal things there. But seriously, every nerdy fiber of my being is singing the Hallelujah Chorus. I'll report back in a week or so!

Have a splendid week!

 American Duchess, you're famous.

The Friday evening before last I ventured out of my lovely, bleary-eyed, unwashed cocoon of GRE-studying mania and drove up the road a'ways to a natural science/history museum. This was for the second in a series of lectures and workshops that have been scheduled this summer called "Clothing the Back-Country Housewife." This particular lecture dealt with gowns and petticoats, and I think I was invited to speak more out of a spirit of willingness than knowledge or ability. I've made... (actually counting right now)... 7 petticoats in 18th-century style. I make them the same way every time, so no news there. And gowns? Yeah. Let me just bring out the massive, ancient index of all of the 18th century gowns I've made and just lay it here on the counter with a heavy, authoritative "thud." I made need help opening it. It's pretty massive. Ready? Ah, yes. Here's the page with all of the gowns totaled on it. Licks finger and scans the page... 

One. I've made one full-length gown.

But if you count all of the short gowns I've made, the number jumps to two.

So clearly, I am an expert on the subject. (And this is why I love living in South Somewheresville. Distinguishing oneself is not difficult. I am also a local authority on soap, because I used some once.)

I was delighted to go. I love, LOVE the ladies that organized this lecture/workshop series. They are a hoot. Especially when they get loaded with decaffeinated coffee and pecan sandies. (I am the youngest person there by 30 years. We are a mature gathering.) Discussion is lively and opinions are tempered with both Southern manners and a liberal application of cookies. Many of the women have been studying rural early American clothing since the Bicentennial, and most of them have the ruffled, floor-length cotton chemise to prove it.

The workshops have been a wonderful opportunity to swap historic sewing war stories and compare projects. They've collectively made a recent push towards greater accuracy in clothing presentation on the site, which is both admirable and daunting. Their research has been very illuminating. But the down side to interpreting history in the rural South is all the "great unknown" issues. Sure, there are unanswerable questions related to any epoch in any place. But it gets compounded when you push everything about 100 miles (and more) away from the nearest "city." Does a free woman on 20 acres of land who works in her own fields have more or less access to materials than an indentured servant who works for a family with a city home as well as a country home? Does a runaway slave from Edisto Island dress better or worse than a prosperous farmer in the foot-hills?

Et cetera, et cetera.

This brings me to American Duchess and fame. At the end of the recent small-town gown workshop, one of the participants began to comment on another woman's shoes. (Modern wear.) This inspired yet another of the venerable ladies to literally shout out "Wait! Before everyone leaves! I found a GREAT new source for 18th century shoes! She's called 'American Duchess' and she's out of Nevada! Look her up!"

It was one of those moments, ya know? Clash of the worlds! Universes unite!

So, Lauren, I just thought you'd like to know... a septuagenarian in self-proclaimed "back woods" North Carolina knows to go to you for 18th century shoes.

You are now officially famous.

Jehossee Rides Again: Part Two

Yes, I had WAY too much fun with the mannequins. Ahem. Moving along...

On the day of the set-up, assembling and dressing the mannequins required about 3 hours of work. At least half of that time was spent trying to figure out how to cram the arms into the sockets, followed by trying desperately to keep the arms from falling back out of the sockets. Dressing a mannequin with a full compliment of limbs requires skill and coordination. I do not possess these qualities, so I had to rely upon profanity and non-traditional dressing procedures that resembled the Heimlich Maneuver.

Boobs. They happened.

Every garment presented a new challenge. The most difficult was the Harriet Aiken dress, which had to be arranged on one of the lovely boobalicious mannequins. These mannequins belong to a nice, modern design firm which uses them to display nice, modern clothing to represent the nice, modern feminine ideal. Which meant that the nearly 6-foot tall mannequins had 25-inch waists and 38-inch bosoms. I had already decided to display Harriet in a seated position, if possible. Luckily this was the ONLY posture that allowed the dress to close at the waist and sit more or less correctly on the form around the... intrusive interior objects.

 Before the nerds among us get bothered by the sight of the 1849 dress arranged on the 1880's love seat, you should know that this was for an 1863-themed event. Bwahhahaha!!

None of the mannequins was designed to "sit," so this was an engineering marvel. Ultimately, Harriet was jacked up in a sitting position through the artful use of a fleece blanket from my car, three books that I relocated from the library shelves and one of her own legs.

The rest of the garments were arranged on the standing mannequins, with an eye towards giving them a "reason" to be wherever they were. The dress below was oriented next to the pianoforte as though the intended wearer (French Governess Pauline Boudet, in theory) was at attendance on a pupil.

I really did not want to have the mannequins lined up in the hallway, or clumped in a convenient corner. It was my hope that as people wandered through the house on the day of the event, they could catch glimpses of the garments in a "natural" setting. (However natural a gaggle of decapitated plastic women can be.) Despite the invitation to display the clothing and address the tour groups about it, I wanted it to be in the background. People came to see the house, not my stitchery. And truly, since I designed every garment to be as close to average day garb as possible for the intended wearer, the clothing made more sense "walking around" than it ever could have in a glass box.

 Plus, it was fun spooking people. (Including myself). Walking quickly from one room to the next was a perfect recipe for "finding" one of the mannequins unexpectedly. As I look at these pictures, I can still hear Pearl the housekeeper screaming as she came around the bottom of the steps...

 What mannequins, Pearl?

Next time: A little less talk and a lot more of my mother in a polyester dress!

Jehossee Rides Again: Part One

So lately, I've been doing a lot of body dismemberment and relocation. This requires the use of black trash bags and a can-do attitude.

Come with us, Alison.... it's just on the other side of the Rainbow Bridge...

The curator of a local historic home invited me to bring the Jehossee exhibit to roost for a while to coincide with their annual celebration of The Last Meeting of the Confederate Cabinet. (Yes, the capital letters are necessary. I live in the South.) She felt that it would lend a bit of intimacy and social context to the event, which is largely militaristic and political in its modern re-creation.

And I felt like it would be fun to hang out in such a classy joint without being asked to leave by the police.

The house, called the White Homestead, is lovely. Like many gracious old homes, it has lived many lives and boasts several additions which were added under the auspices of various generations since the late 1830s. The center of the home is generally fashioned like a Victorian parlor and dining room, with four bedrooms above.

You can practically hear your grandmother crow "WIPE YOUR FEET!!" can't you?

I decided to set the clothed mannequins up as though they were inhabitants of the home. This required actually finding mannequins. And this is where my dress-form/mannequin/stuffed corpse luck turned around. The family that owned this home for much of its existence are also the local mill owners from years gone by. And business is still good. Their current operation is locally based and boasts a "creative" facility which doubles as an archive for the family business.


And did I mention? They have mannequins. NICE mannequins. With hands and feet and improbably huge boobs. Which I guess they need for "creative" purposes back at the factory.

  She's got leeeegggggsssss! And she knows how to uuuusssse them!

Having the mannequins was amazing. Putting the d@$* things together was a different story. They were delivered to me in three contractor-size trash bags with various, unlabeled body parts grouped together. I said many a silent prayer of thanks for the years I wasted  spent playing Tetris on the family IBM Compatible. Assembling the new Team Jehossee would have been much easier had I not been terrified that I would make one false move and accidentally destroy the irreplaceable French gaming table, or whatever.

And did I destroy it? No!

It was like that when I got there.

Slowly bringing the house down to my personal standards of cleanliness...

Despite a healthy amount of anxiety and pretty much no clue how I was going to do what I wanted to do, set-up went astonishingly fast. I was motivated by the assurance that it had to be done that day, no matter what and that children would throw rocks at me if I failed. 

So basically, it was Middle School all over again. 

Coming up: Part Two! And more of this: