Making an 1840's Straw Bonnet

About eleven years ago, when I lived in my first flat, I picked up a straw hat in a charity shop, stitched with cotton thread. I’m afraid I don’t have a picture of how it looked, but imagine something closely akin to a “dixie cup” sailors cap. I realised that when unfolded it would form a good base for a 19^th century bonnet, but I didn’t yet know if I wanted an Empire/Regency one or an 1840’s one. So, like many other “someday I’m going to make something really nice from this” items, it ended up in my stash. I took it out from time to time, but never felt brave enough to get started.

And then I had an event coming up, the opening of an exhibition of women’s fashion from the 18^th century to today. I was, with some others, invited to the opening and asked to come in clothing from any of the periods represented in the exhibition. I decided on the 1840’s maternity dress I made three years ago. The dress is nice, but I felt I needed a bonnet to look properly attired, so I finally got to work on transforming the straw hat into a bonnet.

First I unpicked the stitches holding the straw braid for a few feet, so I could use that to edge the finished bonnet with. You can see the crease where the brim was originally folded upwards.

Then I dunked the bonnet in water to make it less brittle and cut out a piece for the neck. I had a plan for the cut-off pieces of braid, but later I thought I should have curved the brim down towards the chin instead of cutting it straight. You live and learn.

The pieces of braid just mentioned I used to make a sort of bavolet at the neck.

When the shape of the bonnet was what I wanted it to I started stitching the braid I removed previously to the edge. It turned out I didn’t have quite enough, so I took another braid I had in my stash for the inside. I stitched them both on simultaneously, making sure the straw was wet the whole time.

This is how the bonnet looked when I’d finished the sewing, but before blocking. I shaped it while wet and set it to dry, with a pot of honey at the bottom of the crown to make it flatter.

Then it was time for trimming. This was an all-stash project, so I picked out a scrap of green silk dupioni. Taffeta would have been better, and taffeta ribbons best of all, but I didn’t have any. I hemmed strips of the silk for ties and trim. I wasn’t quite happy with the straw bavolet, so decided to cover it with a silk one that I gathered to the proper length using whipped gathers.

I wrapped a long strip of silk round the bonnet, arranging artful creases here and there. Silk ties were also attached.

The silk was attached with very untidy stitches on the inside, as seen in period bonnets. Makes it easy to change the trim if wanted.

Then I was a bit unsure if I should leave it as was – after all, it looked very pretty that way – or add ostrich plumes. As I was dressing as a close to middle aged, married bourgeoise woman, I decided more was more in this case. I had some ostrich feathers that had fallen out of my feather duster and been saved for a moment like this. I picked out four, and stitched them together two-and-two with silk thread to make them fuller.

Then I attached them to the bonnet, again using long stitches on the inside. They turned out looking pleasantly fluffy, adding just the right oomph to the bonnet.

But the bonnet snagged my hair, so after consulting knowledgeable people I made a half lining using a thin cotton fabric. Not the most historically accurate fabric for this, but it had to do.

And that was that, all finished. I hadn’t added cheek ruffles to the inside, so I wore a cap under the bonnet instead to give a similar effect. It might be an old-fashioned thing to do for the 1840’s, but it looked nice enough. I felt very Cranford.

But woe! I wasn’t quite happy with the size! 1840’s bonnets usually hide the profile completely from view when seen from the side, and mine doesn’t. It annoys me no end, even though I love how the bonnet turned out over all. So disappointing…

Maybe I’ll just sell it - without the plumes it would look lovely on a girl - and try again.

Sources:
My Pinterest board of extant 1840's bonnets.

Early 19th century Swedish Farmwife’s Everyday Dress

Back in April I attended an event held at the open air museum of Fredriksdal. It focused on Swedish civilians and soldiers ca 1800-10. We got to live in the houses, cook in the fireplaces, even sleep in the beds. I didn’t do the latter, as the weather was cold and windy, I’m having a bit of a tough pregnancy, and to top it off, had just had pneumonia. I thought it safer to sleep in my own warm bed, and just stayed the one day, but still had a good time. The event, which was rather small and intimate, still attracted participants from the whole country, and even a few from Norway. Fredriksdal is located in the county of Skåne (Scania) and most of the houses are from there, so those women in attendance who, like me, are from this part of the country, chose to dress according to the local fashion, which in this case meant folk costumes, still in daily use at the time. Our feast day clothes wouldn’t do, so we tried to tone it down for an everyday look. Trickier than you might think, as very little evidence remains as to what was worn then. When it comes to the fancy clothes, much is known, but as usual, no one really cared to document what people wore when working in the kitchen garden.

I made a brown wool skirt for the occasion, which I intend to also use as a petticoat for my fancy folk costume. Brown wool skirts from my parish are mentioned in estate inventories, but are far from as common as the usual blue and green, or the reasonably common black. I had a suitable fulled, twill woven wool at home though, so it had to do, even if it was brown.

It is constructed from straight panels. My fabric was 150 cm wide, but as the extant skirts I know of are usually made from narrower widths I cut my panels in half, and stitched them back up again, making four narrow ones in total, and a width of close to 3 metres. The hem was faced with a strip of unbleached linen. 

The skirt is smooth in front, as seen in extant skirts, and has the fullness taken in by stroked gathers at the sides and back, that are secured with rows of stitches, seen only from the inside. 

It closes by a sturdy brass hook and eye half way to the left side. 

I don’t know how they did about pockets – in some mid-19^th century folk costume skirts there are stitched in pockets, like in modern skirts of the time, but for earlier decades I’m unsure if they wore loose pockets or not. I left a slit open in the right side seam anyway, so if need be I can tie a pocket round my waist.

In the end the brown skirt ended up used as a petticoat at the event, as I decided I wanted two skirts for warmth, and wore my usual blue skirt on top. In the period manner I flipped the blue skirt up over my shoulders to keep out the wind every now and then, so I didn't make the brown one in vain.

I also made a new bodice. I intend for it to be trimmed with blue silk ribbons, and replace my old fancy silk bodice as that one has become rather too small. For the event I used it untrimmed though. It’s made from fine brushed wool, lined with unbleached linen, and closes in front with three pairs of brass hooks and eyes, but most of the closure is hidden beneath the skirt. The wide opening would be held by buckles and a chain for best, but for everyday was likely left as was. 

At the bottom of the bodice a rather thick, padded linen roll is stitched, on which the skirts rest. Having a full figure was considered attractive by the country folk at this time and place, and you do feel rather important in an "I break for nobody" kind of way when you come walking along the road in all your matronly fullness, especially when you wear several wool skirts on top of each other. It's far from what is considered an attractive figure today, which make rather few people recreate it as close to the originals as I try to, but go the more 'inspired' route. I'll post more detailed pictures of the bodice when it's trimmed and have the buckles attached.

As for the apron, I didn’t want to use my fancy one, as I expected to cook and do greasy dishes – a good decision it turned out. Instead I whipped one up from a piece of cotton fabric that I had intended to purge from stash. It’s not perfectly period, the fabric isn't quite right and it's much too narrow, but woven stripes were popular, and the fabric had a sort of washed out, sun bleached, worn look to it that I thought would do for everyday.

I never got any decent pictures of myself from the actual event (though I can be seen in a couple of these), so I took proper pictures the other day. The weather is a lot warmer now than in April, so I could ditch the knitted spedetröja I had to wear to the event, despite it feeling too fancy. For the pictures I wore the bodice and skirt over just an unbleached linen shift (for an everyday shift I’m not sure if it should have a collar or not...), and accessorised it with the ever present apron and head kerchief. As the temperature is pleasant I went without stockings or any form of shoes. I want a pair of wooden clogs, but all in good time.

The outfit might have been a little later than the event called for, as most of the sources I base it off are from Ca 1825-50, and I generally aim for the 1830’s-40’s in my fancy version of the folk costume, but ah well. I’m still not quite sure how historically accurate this outfit is, but at the very least I think it's plausible and believable. I may have to revise it in future, but then we always do, don’t we?

Sources:
My Pinterest board of extant clothing and period images from the area. Mostly fancy versions.
Allmogedräkten i Oxie härad, (1978) by Helge Andersson.

Petticoat Makeover, Part Two

When preparing for an outing in 1840’s attire, I realised I didn’t have the number of petticoats I wanted. That is, I could have had an acceptable number, if one wasn’t way too short, the result of a previous makeover. Ooops. Thinking about extant mid-19^th century Swedish petticoats, I decided to give it a second makeover. You can see the before(s) here.

I looked through my stash and found a sturdy cotton bobbin lace that was long enough to go around the hem. I whip stitched this in place. I then took a piece of cotton fabric of the same quality as the petticoat, cut a wide strip that I folded in half, seam allowances inside, and whip stitched this to the lace, as seen in the picture below.

And just like that I had a petticoat of a proper length that I really like the look of. Pretty white petticoats are one of the main things that attracted me to the mid-19^th century when I was a girl, and I confess I still like them a lot.

Like most Swedish mid-19^th century petticoats, mine closes with tapes in the back. That may not seem as secure as buttons, but I’ll tell you one great advantage: if you’re pregnant and feel like you don’t really need any additional girth over your bump, you can put the petticoats on back to front and the plackets can open over said bump, putting a lot less fabric there, letting the fullness go in the back instead, where it's much more wanted. The tapes will make sure you’re able to wear the petticoats no matter what your current size. Of course, this only work for about 1830-1865, when petticoats were pretty similar all the way round. And speaking of pregnancy adjustments to your skirt supports; you might want to use a slightly fuller bum pad to somewhat balance your rear to your currently prominent front.

The three petticoats I wore to the event (one corded, one plain and this tucked one with lace insertion, the first two starched) did a decent job of supporting my skirts, but I still think I need more to get proper oomph... One can never have too many petticoats.

1840's Knitted Garters

I felt the need to make myself a pair of suitable garters for my 1840’s outfit. I had raided my closet and cut down a pair of too small white cotton tights to make a pair of over knee stockings (a budget variety, if you like me can’t afford reproductions – just make sure to stitch the tops, so they don’t unravel), but like their 19^th century counterparts, they wouldn’t stay up on their own. I felt like knitting and knowing I had come across knitted garters in the mid-19th century before, I went to the internet to see what I could dig up.

After a short search, I found that a description of how to make knitted garters were present in The Workwoman’s Guide from 1838, which suited my period just fine, though I have yet to find an example of knitted garters from this period in Sweden. I looked through my stash of yarn, and picked out a soft blue wool, not too thick. I used knitting needles 2 mm (US 0, UK 14), and with 14 stitches I got a width of 4 cm, not too far from the “nail, more or less, wide” mentioned in the description. To really have them a nail wide (a nail being equal to 5,7 cm or 2 1/4”) seemed too wide for comfort. I also made mine shorter than the 2/3 of a yard (about 60 cm) stated in the Guide, as 46 cm worked just fine for me.

I knitted in a hole at one end, described as optional, which might be why I didn’t need the full 60 cm: I just wrapped the garter round my leg, pulled one end through the hole, and tied it off.

This was a quick and simple project, just what one needs once in a while. The garters are really comfortable to wear, and though no one will see them, I like the fact that they are blue. When in active use, I fold my stockings down over the garters though, I feel it makes it more secure and comfortable, as the stockings will just roll down to the knee otherwise, which is really annoying.

1840s Cap Lace Trimmed and Starched

Almost six years ago I experimented with making an 1840s woman’s cap, and the result turned out quite well. I’ve since used the same pattern as a base for a more posh cap. This is a picture of when I'd first made it - look how young I was.

A while ago I thought that I’d push that first one, which was very plain, up a notch, and started trimming it with narrow cotton lace, taken from a baby sheet and pillow case I picked up at the charity shop. I didn’t want it too fancy; think lower middle class wife and mother.Then, as so often happens, other things got in the way and it lay forgotten in the accessories box, but the other week I finally finished it. Actually it came about because I wanted to take sewing related baby announcement pictures, and needed a pretty project for it. Once I started attaching the lace, I thought I might just as well finish it :) Meanwhile, it took ages for people on Facebook to get the hint in the picture. EDIT: five days after publishing this post I miscarried :'( END OF EDIT

I then starched the cap. Starch does wonders to many historical items of clothing, making them look (and sound - starched petticoats rustle in a special way) much more like their very often starched original counterparts. It takes a bit of time and effort, but is worth it if you want to add that extra little something to your impression. Also, starched items get a protective surface that will make it more difficult for dirt and grime to get hold. Of course, if it’s too wet or humid when you venture outside, the starch will lose its oomph quickly. Here's what my cap looked like before and after starching: all limp before, and holding up well after.

This is how I did the starching:

I used 300 millilitres of water and 1 teaspoon of potato starch. This produce a light starch that I rather like. If you want a stronger starch, add more potato starch.

I put a little bit of the water aside, and brought the rest to the boil in a pot. I then poured the potato starch mixed with the water I’d saved into it, mixing hard to avoid the forming of jelly lumps. I let is boil for a couple of minutes, stirring all the time, and then set it aside to cool.

I took the cap and pot of starch out into the garden, and dunked the cap in the slippery goo until it was saturated.

I wringed it carefully and then smoothed it out as well as I could. I hung it on a line to dry in the wind.

When it began to dry it a slightly stiff, papery feel to it, holding up quite well on its own. 

 After it had dried I ironed it, and it looked beautiful. I look a bit tired though, having pregnancy related iron deficiency.

 While this is a totally lame entry, I treat it as a UFO and submit it just the same, as it will make me feel better – I’ve just managed one other challenge this year.

The Challenge: # 7 Monochrome

Fabric/Materials: Striped cotton (recycled from a worn out blouse) and cotton lace from an old set of baby sheets.

Pattern: My own

Year: 1840s

Notions: Cotton thread

How historically accurate is it? It looks all right, and the techniques I’ve used are documented, but I’ve never had the opportunity to look closer at an original, so… who knows?

Hours to complete: Originally – no idea. Trimming it – an hour or two.

First worn: For the pictures – I need a dress to go with it.

Total cost: The blouse the fabric came from was an old one of mine that wasn’t fit to use any more, so I’ll count that as free. The baby sheet and pillowcase where the lace came from was picked up in a charity shop, so not much. They will likely be used for a 19^th century infant’s dress eventually.

Looking back on 2014

This year has flown past! So many things have happened, but as most of them have concerned my personal and family life, not that much of it has been said on the blog. So what have happened….

We moved to a new town, a year ago Friday. Amongst other nice things (such as good friends only a one minute walk away) it also meant I got a sewing room – what a luxury! As we don’t have money to spend on storage at the moment, it’s a bit of a mess, with fabrics, notions, period clothing, etc. everywhere, but still - happy me!

 The mirror still on the floor, parts of my folk costume and some 

14th century hoods hanging on the door, lots of white linen and plain cotton in the shelf.

 Hats, some fabric (coarse linen for a gambeson, wool for period clothing, fabrics for contemporary projects), 

a loom for weaving tapes and ribbons, boxes with UFO:s, my seldom used sewing machine, 

this and that.... The cupboard is filled with striped, checked, and reproduction print fabrics.

I was pregnant and very tired for the first half of the year, and so didn’t get all rhat much sewing done, but I did manage to sew:

 an early19th century shortgown

 a sewing roll inspired by local folk costumes

 a babynest for the baby to sleep in

 a patchwork quilt for the baby

I also, thanks to a cousin and a sister who modelled them for me, got pictures of a couple of dresses (the Pre-Raphaelite Medieval, and the Elvish Maiden) I made years and years ago, but never had decent pictures of.

Then little baby H arrived, and pretty much everything had to adapt to his needs, and economy was still a factor. Being a student family with two young children, that is not surprising. We didn’t go to any events this summer, at least not any that we bothered to dress in historical clothes for. One can still take pictures though, and when the baby was a week old I swaddled him, dressed myself and B in our 14th century clothes and took some pictures.

I also got some sewing done:

 I finished my Hobbit outfit UFO

 got a lot done on an 1840’s outfit; a shift, bum pad, cap, collar and dress

 made some 1840’s baby clothes; a petticoat and a dress

 and a witches bonnet for Halloween – I don’t mind spending time in more than one fantasy world ;)

I’ve also hosted a sewing class with a friend (in the green silk dress), sponsored by the event Thomanders Jul i Lund: eight women with varying experience in historical sewing made 1840’s style shifts, stays, petticoats and dresses. It was an educational experience for me, who never taught a sewing class before. Some of the ladies (as well as little H and I) are in this picture. The styles of their dresses cover pretty much all of the 1840's - don’t they look wonderful? Unfortunately I don't have a picture with my friend/co-teacher Maja also in it, as she had a pet emergency that morning.

Picture (c) Lena Birgersson.

Not my most productive year, sewing wise, but not the least so either. Even when I wasn't sewing myself, I was kept busy being a co-moderator in the Historical Sew Fortnightly (HSF) Facebook group, and will continue being so next year, though of course, the challenges will be monthly now (HSM). Hopefully I'll be able to complete more challenges myself now :) 

 

For Christmas Tobias gave me this book that I’ve wanted for a few years. The title can roughly translate to “The Tailor, the Seamstress and the Fashion” and is all about how the making of women’s clothing in Sweden changed from being a men’s business to gradually becoming a women’s business. It also has diagrams of stitches, seams and patterns taken from period clothes.

This year have been very much 19^th century for me, as I’ve felt a bit burned out on the 14^th century – last year I sewed like mad to get ready for the season, and never got to attend a single event with my group, and that just made me sick of it all. Now though, I’m beginning to feel the pull again, so hopefully there will be more medieval things in the coming year.

Thank you for reading my blog this past year - I hope you are all well, and will have a Happy New Year!

An 1840's Baby Dress

As little H have only just begun to taste solids, and is thus still dependant on me for food, he naturally had to come with me to the event at the Tegnér Museum I mentioned in my last post. Of course he needed to be properly dressed as well. I looked through my stash, and found some old cotton curtains I’d bought for the fabric a few years ago. It was all bleached on one side, but the other side was in good condition. The fabric is similar to what is used in this extant dress. The dress was hand sewn using linen and cotton thread.

The bodice is high necked – it is winter after all – and bound with a self fabric bias strip. It closes in the back with mother of pearl buttons from my stash. It’s lined in plain white cotton, and then eased into the waistband. 

The skirt is tightly cartridge pleated to the waistband, and has numerous tucks – more than I had planned; the result from cutting the skirt too long. The tucks help a lot to prevent the skirts from clinging, they look pretty, and of course, can be let out if needed. 

When I came to the sleeves I was beginning to run out of fabric: I’d used some of it in my eldest boys patchwork quilt three years ago. I decided to make short sleeves cut on the bias – very 1840’s – and have longer ones under them.

The longer sleeves are pieced, with plain cotton sheeting where it won’t show under the shorter sleeves. They are only loosely sewn in, and can be removed in summer. They are pleated to cuffs, also closed with mother of pearl buttons. 

 

The dress was worn over the petticoat I’d made previously. A little shift should have been worn as well, but I didn’t have time to make one, and the medieval one I tried before turned out to be too bulky. It worked well anyway. He also wore tights, to keep warm and hide the very modern nappy. Little drawers would have looked nice, but lack of time…

I think H looked absolutely adorable in his little dress! Quite a few discussions on baby clothing in the past was the result of people assuming he was a girl. Several people recalled that they had pictures of their grandfathers in dresses when babies. And thus the boy in a dress issue was diffused.

The Challenge: #22 Menswear (Yes, I’m stretching this, as the dress could just as well have been worn by a girl.)

Fabric: Different cottons.

Pattern: Drafted my own from looking at pictures of extant baby and toddler dresses.

Year: Roughly 1840’s. 

Notions: Cotton and linen thread, mother of pearl buttons.

How historically accurate is it? As usual, as best as I could make it without looking at extant dresses in person. Period materials, constructions and stitching.

Hours to complete: Mmm… maybe 8-10?

First worn: For the pictures and a small event at the Tegnér Museum in Lund, Sweden, on the 29^th November.

Total cost:  Nothing at this time, as fabrics and notions came from my stash.