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!!!!!

Jehossee Rides Again: Part Three

Dressed to Thrill!

This is my "serious" face. I generally make it as I stand next to strange men in khakis. My mother appears to be sneaking a peek at her watch, but don't be fooled. She is, in fact, dead. We propped her up for the picture to evade police questioning.

The Hallowed and Venerable Last Meeting of the Confederate Cabinet event was fairly well attended and included short speeches by several local historians and the lovely curator of the Springs and White family papers and antiques, Ann Evans. The afternoon also included mid-19th century food prepared by interpreters and a demonstration of canon and arms by a branch of a local Confederate reenactor group, and readings by the descendants of former slaves that lived and worked on the land prior to the Civil War. My role was to follow Ann on the scheduled home tours that day and give short descriptions of the clothing depicted in each room and answer any related questions.

In true form, I have almost no pictures of the talks that I gave, the people who attended, the activities in the yard or anything else that one may generally be inclined to photograph for posterity. What I DO have is this:

My Mother in her Big Blue dress assaulting my Emergency Back-Up Mother, Nancy. This was just before we brought out the Antebellum kiddy pool full of Jello.

More whining about clothes:

I had intended to make a new Civil War-era dress for myself for this event. The one that I'm wearing in the top picture is a couple of years old and has never been finished. I like it, but it needs some love. I even went so far as to BUY the bloody fabric to make a new dress. But then came Mom, and Mom took priority.

My Mother's dress was an adventure unto itself. She has forgotten more about sewing than I will ever know, so I have great respect for her skills. However, those skills were not employed in the making of her dress. Mom isn't really "into" stuff like this*, so concessions were necessary in order to get her out in mid-century drag. She insisted on picking out fabric (polyester lavender motel curtain quality stuff) and trim (black cotton balls which were impervious to scissors yet somehow managed to piss black fluff all over my house), neither of which could ultimately be used. (This I discovered after completing about 80% of the motel lavender dress, at which point most of the seams frayed out, ruining the entirety of what I'd finished.)

*Direct Mom quote: "I think it's nice you aren't embarrassed to look like that."

Thus followed a last-minute trip to Hanc*ck's for some blue slightly-less-sleazy-but-still polyester motel curtain fabric. Actually, I do like the blue. It's crisp and light-weight and most of all, it refused to fray. I didn't use a pattern for my mother's dress. It's based off of a June 1865 "Promenade" costume from Godey's and was draped on Headless June with a great deal of optimism. It's very fashion-forward for the year we were meant to depict but my Mother had dreams of wearing a bustle skirt with "a big straw hat like Scarlett" so this was a moral victory. The skirt is 3 panels of fabric pleated onto a band, leaving the front flat and the bulk of fabric in the back to reflect the elliptical silhouette of the mid-'60's. The Swiss-waist style belt is stitched on top of the skirt band and is a part of the dress. It closes with three industrial strength hook and eyes in the back center. The "shirt" she's wearing was draped onto her at the single prior fitting we managed before the big day, and it is a hot mess. The jacket was particularly stressful because I didn't know until the day of the event if it would fit at all.

The brown flashes lining the sleeves are fragments of a reproduction cotton fabric. I liked the contrast. You could only really see it when she did her Prince Valiant pose (here) or engaged in fisticuffs (above).

But it did! Mostly! Sort of!

The Jehossee clothing was supposed to come down the day following the event, but I was asked to leave it up for a few more days...

and then a few more days...

And then another week or so. Ultimately, it stayed up for a month. But I got to visit lots. I've been volunteering at the Homestead for most of the summer, cataloging the vintage and antique clothing that belonged to several generations of the Homestead's inhabitants. It has been a massive task, which I will whine about in more detail later. Excelsior!

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.

Regency Fashion in the American South: It's not you, it's me...

...which is the reason I didn't pick you as my Fall 2011 term project topic! I swear!

Yes, yes. More with the "School work" talk.

 A lady of Mississippi or Louisiana, date unknown. Also source unknown. :/ I suspect that this is about a decade earlier than most of the rest, though.

Before I hit upon the idea/insanity/soul-crushing-enormity of Jehossee, I bandied about a few other ideas. One of the foresaken project ideas was to compare Regency-era garments from a specific year (1810? 1815?) from a few Southern states with the fashionable ideal presented in fashion plates from the same year. While I initially focused on extant garments, I quickly cast a wider net for clear representations in prints and paintings as well. Because folks, there isn't much.

From the Smithsonian. 1812-1815, Richmond Virginia.

It was a good idea... I think. Maybe. Or maybe it was hideous. I don't really know, since I abandoned the whole thing after a rather disheartening few weeks spent culling internet archives and print sources for Regency gowns that were definitively associated with specific Southern states.

The Met, Sophia Fraser, 1815. Charleston, South Carolina.

I managed to find a few, but then my pathetically legalistic brain kept tripping over the date attributions that the museums (or whomever owned the garment or painting) supplied. Meaning that if you're trying to do a project that is totally dependent upon a specific year as a "control" factor for a group of otherwise barely related items, the word "circa" becomes your worst enemy. Because with rare exception, the hard-and-fast dates of many antiques, whether garments or paintings, is simply not known. A disparity of a few years isn't a big deal in the grand scheme of things, but if you're trying to figure out if the good ladies of Georgia were 5 years, 3 years or 10 years behind Paris standard fashion-plate time, it can be a VERY big deal.

 Smithsonian? 1815. Richmond, Virginia.

So the images you've seen in this post are what's left in my "Prj.2011/Reg." folder on ye olde computer. And darn it, it would have been a cool topic. Maybe.

I would really, really like to include the source of everything posted, but I've lost some of the original locations. If you see something that you recognize that isn't attributed, don't hesitate to let me know!

A day at the farm.

 A very accommodating interpreter. The blue wooden box holds an oxygen tank... he suffers from sleep apnea. Kudos to the adaptive interpreters. 

Over the holiday weekend, I traveled to a local Revolutionary War reenactment. Perhaps I speak in haste. I traveled to the SITE of a local Revolutionary War reenactment to which I arrived so "fashionably late" that I missed the battle entirely. This really wasn't as wretched as it could have been. I love the site, Historic Brattonsville, and the weird and wonderful collection of buildings and events that they host there. It was nice to wander about with my esteemed companion and enjoy a nice day with very little noise.

 Exhibit A: Weird and wonderful old building. 

This used to be a school for girls, among other sins. It's one of my favorite buildings on the site. Unfortunately, funds weren't available for years to restore it. Supposedly, things are lookin' up. I really hope so.

Several of the buildings on-site have been extensively restored and remodeled in recent years. One of these, called "Hightower Hall" (because it has a... high tower...) is another favorite. It even made an appearance in the movie "The Patriot" in a less improved state.

 Staircase inside Hightower. Walking... walking... walking...

 ...and stop to smirk. Why am I smirking? Because I am a poor, indolent servant girl who somehow managed to beg, borrow or steal glitzy brass shoe buckles.

This is an unimproved basement kitchen located at the main site. It's set up for roving bands of school children and historically-enthusiastic families. Lots of plastic fruit and resin cheese in evidence, but the place is amazing. Herringbone-laid brick floor, romantic exposed wood beams, and it still smells of smoke and herbs. Possibly due to the continued presence of herbs and the occasional fire, but a girl can dream.

And then there was the loom. The loom! I have a very fanciful idea that one day, I will somehow rig up a loom somewhere in my home. A standing loom. Like the sort that was excavated at Herjolfsnos. I've always wanted to learn to weave. This particular loom is a reproduction (I think) of a much later, 19th century design. The good folks at Brattonsville are working on recreating woven corded fabric to accurately recreate woven corded petticoats.

Yes, that's a cell phone. But if we're going to pick at things that aren't historically accurate with what I've got on, why start there?

It was a lovely day and a wonderful visit to a place I love. I hope to get more involved in the future with Brattonsville, be it volunteering or interpreting. Or petting the pig.*

*Don't pet the pig. He bites.