A picture of my cat in a bonnet? YOU GOT IT!!

A long time ago, when the earth was still cooling, and I was still participating in the Historical Sew Fortnightly Challenge, I made this here bonnet:

Lots of hand-modeling in this episode. Enjoy. 

Well, sort of. The grim reality is that I purchased the bonnet from the nice people at Austentation, admired its braided nude straw goodness for about a month, and then slapped some seasonally indifferent flowers upon it.

And here's how!!

All great projects start with a plan. In my case, I planned to go to bed early one night and instead ended up drunk on Etsy searching for things like "STRAW BONNET REGENCY BONNET REENACTOR FORM STRAW." That led me to Austentation's Etsy shop (the link is to their website), and eventually to the fine piece of millinery you see above. Once I had the bonnet in hand, I sought out inspiration. As you can imagine, there is NO lack of 200-year old bad bonnet ideas.

Courtesy of Nuranar, who haunts my dreams AND my blog. I promise... the purple ruffle monster is not forgotten!

The relative simplicity of the plaid-trimmed number appealed to me, (sandwiched as it is between what appear to be lampshades embellished with adult diapers). But where does a girl find scalloped plaid silk ribbon in this crazy, crazy world?? Oh, yeah...

Using only a hammer, pinking iron and the power of my opposable thumbs, I violently carefully beautified the edges of some scrap silk taffeta that I'd previously cut into strips.

And then played around with them, singly and in layers, until I liked the effect. Everything was tacked onto the bonnet with brown cotton thread and my largest blunt needle. (It takes a while, but I can learn!)

I acquired the poppies for this bonnet from H*bby L*bby, but the rest of the bodacious floral bounty is left over from other projects. The flowers were sewn down by their stems, one at a time. Each stem is wrapped around at least one other flower before being attached. I tell myself that this is to ensure stability and strength, but in all honesty, it just made the sewing easier. (No more roly-poly stem chasing!)

Yes, the poppies look sad. You'd look sad too if you had to ride around on my head.

Sooo.... who wants to help me create a South Carolina chapter of the Regency Society?? Seriously, I have NOWHERE TO WEAR THIS STUFF. It's pathetic. No War of 1812 Battle Reenactments, no Regency Fairs (or Faires or Fayres), no nuttin'. Perhaps it's finally time to post an advertisement in the local paper and reach out to my fellow costuming nutcases.

 Or maybe I'll just stick with my current occupation of eating drugstore chocolate and writing to strangers on the internet. 

Yeah... that sounds like a solid plan.

The Challenge: #7: Accessorize!

Fabric: Scraps of pink plaid silk taffeta left over from... you guessed it! The Jehossee Project. 

Pattern: NEVER!!!!

Year: 1812ish

Notions: Assorted faux-floral odds and bits, thread, and silk remnant masquerading as ribbons.

How historically accurate is it? Aside from the questionable flower content, not bad. 

Hours to complete: 4

First worn: By my cat. 

Total cost: $30 for bonnet; $6.00 for flowers

And, as promised:

Fancy Shoes and a WTF Wannabe!

Ways to "Be Creative" with your fine Regency self:

Ways NOT to "Be Creative" with your fine Regency self:

"Tuppence, for the last time, that's NOT A CLOAK OF INVISIBILITY."

American Duchess has trotted out the New and Awesomely Fancy Regency slipper! Check it out:

I know what you're thinking... those are some SERIOUSLY sexy ankles. The shoes compliment them nicely. Pre-orders are open, and the price is amazing. (I spent almost half that on a pair of Etsy Bridesmaid Specials! Dammit, Lauren...) 

Thank you everyone who accepted the Inspiring Blogger Award! Being nice to people is an uncomfortable and unfamiliar prospect for me, but the pay-off has been fantastic! I've been stockpiling new blogs from everyone else's nominations like an Extreme Couponer with deodorant. 

It's been Spring for a couple of weeks now, but I never count it until after Easter. So you know what? HAPPY FREAKING SPRING!!!

ETA: Sorry for the late-breaking news, but mad props (always and forever) to Nuranar for the voluptuous vixen in a veil! 

WTF: Regency

L'amour, L'amour!

Some say that only the French can truly understand l'art de la Romance. I disagree. In honor of Valentine's Day, I present a very English fashion plate as my... "special" valentine to all of you.

Rendered in the rapturous glowing pastels of a Summer sunset over the Thames is this gorgeous image from our friends at La Belle Asfemblee. And who but they could have captured the resplendent elegance of this lovely damsel in her new pink frock? Truly, an artist of the highest caliber was employed for this plate; an individual singularly in tune with both the wisdom of the Old Masters and the inspirational qualities of an opium pipe.

Appreciate, if you can, the emphasis on our Rosie's waist. A bedazzled belt? Absolutely! But open your mind... allow your inner eye to embrace the glory of her embellished skirt! Savor the immutable charm of a series of graduated trapezoids that vaguely resemble scabby dresser drawers. And what could be more romantic than thinking of a woman's scabby drawers?

Consider, if you are able, the divine mystery of a one-legged maiden; Where did her other foot go? Why is she wearing the wrong shoe on her one remaining foot? How has she come to have a slab of bacon upon her coiffure?

Discern, if you are so gifted, the veritable Gordian Knot of bosom she boasts! Observe the seemingly haphazard arrangement of flesh... is it so random after all? Of course not! A true artist sees immediately that she represents the divine Justitia, and her roving spencer weasels are the very scales of Justice. These are poignant remembrances of the imbalance we often face in matters of equity and fairness, as well as a startling reminder to never insert a wooden busk in your stays while intoxicated.

Happy Valentine's Day, folks!


With all the love in the world to Nuranar, who probably weeps every time she opens her Flickr album.

WTF: Regency (Now with 20% less copyright infringement!)

It is a little-known point of 1807 etiquette that, when exposed to the naughty bits of another woman on the streets of London, propriety demanded that you immediately renounce all natural pigmentation as well as your left arm:

 Fashion plate courtesy of the University of Washington Libraries, Special Collections, COS006

"Wihemina, PLEASE. Just tell me if it looks malignant. That's all I'm asking."

Her look of righteous indignation only adds to the unmistakable allure of our pallid amputee, along with the intriguing addition of a spangled bell-pull at the décolletage. (Ring for service!) Not to be outdone, the glories of Lady Violet's feminine apparatus have been further embellished by a coat trimmed in an exuberant halo of spotted Polish rat-pelt and the aggressive use of turban tassels.

One does wonder at her decision to divert focus, but perhaps they match the tassels in the front.



UPDATE 1/29/13:

This post was originally published without a source or credit. Luckily, one of the much more proficient historical fashion enthusiasts among us let me know that this is from the University of Washington. I contacted them regarding the use of this image and I'm happy to say that THEY HATH SPOKEN! (And quickly, at that.) With the proper tagline and a manic gleam of self-congratulatory compliance in my eye, I am at liberty to cull their vast and awesome collections for many, many more abuses of the WTF Fashion Plate variety in the future.

Now, you may all return to your erotic fantasies of the cast of Downton Abbey.

WTF: Regency

She's a dish. A petri dish.

This fashion plate brazenly challenges prevailing scientific dogma on both the potential growth rate of muslin-feeding paramecium and the origins of the home self-breast exam.

Our lady demonstrates that she's cultured in more ways than one by successfully marrying the tenacious allure of a bicep vine with the subtle mystique of a partially obscured potty chair.


And that, my friends, is why you should party like it's 1809 this New Year's Eve.



A solemn bow to Nuranar, who is probably in witness protection by now.

WTF: Sew Regency!

Happy Veteran's Day! 

That goes for everyone who has been in the armed forces or who has loved someone who served. A Thread-Headed salute to you all, and a smile of gratitude too. So naturally, this particular voyage into the vulgar and trite is in honor of Veteran's Day. (hey... I do what I can.)

Occasionally, while trolling the vast network of images and information that my mother calls "the ninnernet," I come across Regency-era fashion plates that have absolutely nothing wrong with them.

No, really! It's true!

Luckily, these are not those.


First up: The Hand Jive.

I am seriously in love with that pretty red vine border she's slammin' down on that kerchief. I have some concerns about her choice of a fork handle in place of a sewing needle, but what do I know? I've never been schooled in the feminine arts.

Except for lying, of course. And eating chocolate instead of paying my taxes every year... wait. Where was I?

Next up: Pink Fink. 

Ahh... VELOUR. No word conveys the expectation of class and elegance quite like "Velour." Our Mauve Mavin seems to have found a clever way of avoiding the needle-related difficulties of her compatriot up there above: simply embroider without a needle. Or thread. Or scissors. Well, really. Who are we  to judge? Maybe on alternate weekdays she just likes to find a few moments alone to sit on her special octo-stool and cuddle her embroidery. Maybe she's the embroidery whisperer.

Maybe she's embroidering... with her mind.

Somebody please explain the physics of this dress. How is this position possible in this skirt? She's attained the elusive 9-point wedgie and STILL that hem is hanging evenly!

Moving on: Knits Knot What You Think.

Okay. So I'm not one of those girls who has ever, EVER, had difficulty seeing her feet. I wear a bra much in the same way kids hang out Christmas stockings each year: with hope that one day soon, they'll wake up and find the thing full.

But I digress.

Our knitter extraordinaire here clearly does not share my plight. You'd think that a woman with such... "great tracts of land" would have figured out a way to hone her craft ABOVE the equator by now. Because really, there is no chance that she can see anything that's in her hands at the moment, even with 4-foot long knitting needles. Nor can she go by feel. Why? Because she's knitting while wearing opera-length leather gloves.

As we do.

Based on the size of needles and the World's Biggest Ball of Twine chillin' out on the floor over there, I'm guessing she's making a scarf.

For Napoleon's ego.


Which brings us to: Rove, Rove, Rove your Boat.

Perhaps the most fascinating aspect of the image below is the description. Or rather, the lack of description. We think we are gazing upon a fair maiden spinning the Pope's salt water taffy into fishing lures, while wearing a tragic front-opening vest apparatus and the most unnecessary collection of ruffles EVER (bicep garters??), all of which is surmounted by a kerchief that she clearly stole from color-blind Gypsies.

And what does Costume Parisien have to say about all of this? For answers, we turn to the source:

"Cap of Organdy."

Cool. Thanks for clearing that up, Costume Parisien!! Back to spinning, now. His Holiness's delicious snook bait ain't gonna twist itself.


Furry Finis.

Here we have the curious image of a woman who is expressing the timeless, universal hand sign for "What the hell is this thing?"

Maybe it's vaguely related to sewing! So I'll include it in this post! And even if it isn't, perhaps she can somehow use it to MacGyver a solution to her "prehensile amputated monkey tail boa" problem.

I'd like to think that there are a bunch of little Regency-lings huddled on the floor behind her, listening with rapt awe as she rambles about "the old days"... you know, before the Directoire. Sure, a lot of people lost their heads. But not her! No sir. That "Demi Turban Palatine" is holding on for dear life.

I assume "Demi Turban Palatine" translates loosely to "Bundt Pan With A Fear Of Heights."



In other news, Liz at The Pragmatic Costumer is celebrating a blogging milestone: 100,000 views! That's awesome for several reasons, namely because she has only been blogging at that particular venue for about a year. A YEAR. It's also awesome because she's great at what she does. If you haven't discovered her yet, treat yourself: start with the "Pragmatic Manifesto" and go from there.

Happy reading!


Today's pile of plates brought to you by Nuranar. Viva la Nuranar!

WTF: Regency

Wherever they're going, I hope it's together.


"Mavis Whittle-Snape had occasion to reflect upon her folly many times that day, none so much as when she met Beatrice McBlodgins in the avenue on the way to watch a public execution."

Mavis: "Good-day, Beatrice. Won't you join me at the gallows?"
Beatrice: "Thank you, no, Mavis. But let's not mince words. I can see your... rather sheer shift."
Mavis: "That's not a shift. That's a petticoat."
Beatrice: "Fine. But I can see the junction."

Bloody brilliant. This solves so many dilemmas of etiquette ... that timeless question of what to wear when you want to prostitute yourself, but you also need to attend an infant baptism later in the day? A completely sheer gown and chapeau combo with a modesty apron, of course! The only thing that's actually lined on the entire ensemble is the lower sleeves. An odd touch, that. I suppose she wished to avoid the scandal that visible forearms would have ignited.

And possibly the most unbelievable aspect of this whole thing: who would wear this in May in LONDON? It's about 58 degrees at high-noon in London, in May. I would say "in the sun" rather than "noon," but as we all know, January to December is the rainy season in England.


All my best to Nuranar, who is probably wishing that I was a little less assiduous in giving credit for images right now.

WTF: Regency

Office Supply Closet Haute Couture:

This dress marries the divine elegance of over-sized staples with the timeless, understated glamour of a sunflower glued to the knee. Added to this piquant ambrosia is our obviously near-sighted heroine, who isn't sure whether she's holding her fan or a croissant, but she hopes to muster up the correct answer before anyone sees her nibbling the decorative paper.

Reasonably convincing Goddess Diana replica tiara: 38 shillings.
Leaving the entire top of your gown unlaced: Priceless.


Much love and mad props to Nuranar, who deserves better than this.

WTF: Regency

~*~ A Wedgy Primer ~*~

Agatha had occasion to lament with wrath 

 her voluminous robe one day in Bath.

Bessie St.Clair looked 'round in distress

as she excavated great wads of her yellow dress.

Carolina knew not how her problem had started; 

she only caught on right after she ---

Well, really. That's quite enough of that. 

With all due respect to the ancient and noble profession of Fashion Plate Illustrator, seriously, what are you people smoking? Does it REALLY show off the sexy new dress better if a buxom beauty is clawing at her rump with an apparently broken arm? Should we be reading scenes like this between the lines of every Jane Austen novel? Maybe Bingley would've made his move on Jane Bennet earlier if she hadn't been digging for gold at the dance. Or maybe she wasn't digging hard enough. 

Historical context, people. It's all around us. 

Thanks again to Nuranar, who probably never intended for things like this to happen.

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!