A 14th Century Buttoned Cote

A few weeks ago I finished Tobias’ new cote. It’s made from a soft green wool fabric, and has 34 buttons down the front and 13 on each sleeve. That makes 60 hand made cloth buttons and hand stitched buttonholes in total. 
 

The cote is made to be worn as outerwear, so it’s a bit longer, and wider in the body and sleeves than his other one, but the look is rather fashionable for the late 14^th or early 15th century. I placed the buttons tight over the chest and more spaced from the waist down, as in this one from about 1360.

Walter de Heylon, died 1357 or so.

The most interesting feature of this garment is the tablet woven edges on the sleeves. I’ve been planning to tablet weave on clothing for a couple of years, but never got round to do more than a trial run until now. I used two tablets with all holes threaded, so a total of eight one ply wool threads. I don't recomend that; the weft tread kept breaking, which was very annoying.

In the end it turned out very nice indeed and was quite easy (apart from the breaking thread issue). I can’t believe I’ve not tried it before this. Well, actually I can: it’s down to the two facts that it’s a bit of a hassle setting up the warp and that “everyone” is putting tablet woven edges on “everything”. It’s beginning to feel like a reenactorism. At least there is plenty of evidence for woven edges next to sleeves’ buttonholes, so I don’t feel bad about that.

Don’t have much to add on this one. It’s hand sewn with unbleached linen thread, as most of our other medieval clothes. It’s one of those projects that caused some problems along the way (the sleeves just wouldn’t do what I wanted them to) but turns out acceptable in the end. It will do very well for cold weather wear.

I’m working on some body linens for a friends son (they will go in the HSF “white” challenge), but apart from that I’m taking a break from historic sewing. I have been feeling stretched thin by too many things to do; giving my family and home enough attention, a school paper, wanting to do something about my woefully neglected modern wardrobe, all the period clothes I wanted to make and all the events I wanted to attend, my other (a beginner’s guide to the Middle Ages) blog that needs a lot of research and work. I had to drop something. At the moment I try to dedicate my mornings to school (Tobias is on paternity leave all summer and takes care of B), my afternoons to my family and some modern sewing, and my evenings to my husband, modern sewing or occasional blogging. I have several future historic projects planned, but for the time being they will have to wait. It’s time to get my priorities right.

Anyway. Though it’s finished a bit early I thought I’d enter this to one of the HSF challenges.

The Challenge: # 16 Separates

Fabric: Wool, and linen for the facings.

Pattern: Made my own.

Year: Late 14^th century.

Notions: Linen thread.

How historically accurate is it? Tolerably. It looks sort of right, and it’s made using period cutting and sewing techniques.

Hours to complete: No idea.

First worn: For the event two weeks ago.

Total cost: Not sure, the fabric’s been in my stash for a couple of years.

A Medieval Paternoster

I’ve been needing things for little B to play with at events (I’ll bring some of his books and such as well, but I’d like to avoid them being seen by visitors during opening hours), and when the Historical Sew Fortnightly had an Eastern Influence challenge I decided to make a paternoster. 

A paternoster is not a toy, obviously, but a means of counting your prayers. From what little I’ve read about it, they was first used (by Christians – in Hinduism it’s been around longer) by desert dwelling hermits, called the Desert Fathers/Mothers in the 4^th century or so. First it was only loose pebbles in a bag, but it soon evolved into beads on a string. I’m not Catholic, so I don’t use one when praying, but I very well might have had I lived in the Middle Ages. For me to have one therefore makes perfect sense. Even though it’s not meant as a toy, I think B might like to play with it nonetheless, under proper supervision. We don’t want a case of suffocation by prayer beads…

I bought a necklace made from wood beads in a charity shop, and as there were three sizes of beads, it would supply both the smaller Ave Maria beads and the larger Pater Noster beads.

I made the string from a three strand finger loop braid in wool. I put a tassel in each end – I chose not to tie the string up into a circlet, as they seem to have been less common during my period. 

The number of beads in paternosters seems to have varied greatly, from one decade (ten beads) up to hundreds. Mine have twenty of the smaller beads, and two of the greater. 

I’d have preferred a brighter colour on the yarn, and silk instead of wool, but this was the only yarn both thin and strong enough I had at home. Now, I’m rather partial to it.

The Challenge: # 14 Eastern Influence

Fabric: Thin, two ply wool.

Pattern: None.

Year: Generic late medieval.

Notions: Wooden beads.

How historically accurate is it? Acceptable. Prayer beads, according to the internet, could be made in anything from stone, wood and dried seeds, to gold, precious stones and ivory. Silk for the string might have been more fashionable and durable, but wool was more affordable – and I had it at home.

Hours to complete: One at the most.

First worn: For the picture.

Total cost: Just counting the necklace, 10 SEK ($1,5; £1; €1,1).

Medieval Pilgrims Satchel

I worked so hard to get my families new things finished for the event I mentioned in my last post, but to paraphrase Jane Austen “our intended excursion to Wadköping turned out very differently from what I’d expected. I was prepared to be wet through, fatigued…. ; but the event was still more unfortunate, for we did not go at all.” That is, little B and I didn’t go, as he got ill. Tobias went up on Friday afternoon, but came home again on Saturday evening to help me with the poor sick child. Little B’s been really ill, with huge, painful blisters in his mouth, and gums swelling so heavy his teeth almost disappeared from view, and it has prevented him eating very much at all. When he’s been so hungry he couldn’t help but eat, he did so crying from the pain. It was truly heart wrenching to witness. Naturally we went to the doctor, but as it was a virus there wasn’t much they could do. Now, after eight days of fever, he’s slowly on the mend – thankfully! He can eat again without more than the occasional whimper and is moving from liquids to soft solids, only has fever in the evenings, and can find things amusing once in a while. He’s still more sensitive than he usually is though.

Unfortunately Tobias and I are coming down with it now. I’ve had a fever for a couple of days, and I have a very sore throat. Bleh. So, pictures of the new tunic I finished for Tobias in time for the event will have to wait until we both feel better.

I have however managed to sew something during this last couple of days when B’s been getting better, and I’ve been getting worse: a medieval pilgrim’s satchel. (Isn’t satchel a nice word by the way? Just listen to it: satchel...) I have mixed feelings about them, as they are far more common in the living history world than they appear to have been at the time. Then, they seem to have onlybeen used by people during travelling, like pilgrims, but so many people of today feel the need to carry a lot of things with them, and must have something like their modern purse. I usually don't carry a lot of things with me, once I've left all my things in our tent all I have is my belt pouch. But having something more to pack in for events, and to carry the now needed child related things in, is important enough for me to have made one. It will be a good complement to baskets.

It’s made from rather heavy wool twill scraps I had in my stash, with white yarn in the warp and brown in the weft. Wool is a good choice for bags and purses, as it keeps the contents reasonably dry, unlike linen. Leather would have been even better, but I don’t have any I want to use for this.

The body of the satchel is made from one piece, and the strap from another. The satchel is about 30 cm wide and 32 cm deep. I made the strap rather short, as they often appear to be so in period art. I also find it more comfortable and balanced.

Guillaume de Diguleville receives the pilgrim's staff and satchel 

from Grace of God, late 14th century or early 15th century.

I had planned to tablet weave it together with blue wool yarn, but the fabric frayed too much for it to work. Instead it’s stitched together using waxed linen thread and trimmed it with wool braid. I also added tassels, which is a common feature in medieval bags and purses, including pilgrims’ satchels. 

I could have lined it, making it even prettier (I'm not thrilled about how it looks on the inside of the lid) and more sturdy, but I didn’t have any fabric I wanted to use for this, and I’m working from materials in my stash as much as possible at the moment. Still, all in all I'm pleased with how it turned out.

So that’s another of this summer’s planned projects I can cross of the to do list.

Medieval Toddler’s Boots

Last year little B didn’t need any shoes, but this year he most certainly does. We have our first all-weekend medieval event coming up, so a couple of months ago I tried to make a pattern for boots like this one from Medeltidsmuseet in Stockholm. 
 

 Picture from Medeltidsmuseet's Facebook page.

A few weeks ago I made the first shoe, but as I don’t like making shoes very much, and my fingers were sore from the sewing, I postponed making the other one until last week. I then had to redo them slightly so they wouldn't fall of, but last night I finished them. I didn’t manage to make a perfect pattern, and the sewing didn’t turn out ideal either (I’m certainly not a shoemaker) but the shoes will do well enough. 

 

The shoes are stitched together using saddle stitch and medium thick, waxed linen thread. They are turn shoes, meaning they are stitched inside out, and then turned while still wet. I chose not to make the decorated border at the top, as he would then have much fancier shoes than his father and I, who both have very plain shoes, and that would look a bit odd. I’m keen to try it some other time though, on shoes both for B and myself.

As the shoe I based these off don’t have any extant lacing I wasn’t sure how I’d do it. After asking around amongst my 14th century living history friends a bit I decided on this method, one string for every two pairs of holes.

I’ve put thick inner soles in them, to protect from damp and the hard seams. Now I only need to have them greased a few times and he’ll be good to go. Or his feet will. I still have some finishing touches to do on his new cotte.

The shoes also fit under the Historical Sew Fortnightly's latest challenge:

The Challenge: # 13 Lace and Lacing

Fabric: Thin leather found in our often visited charity shop, and thicker leather for the soles cut down from one of my sisters’ old medieval-ish shoes.

Pattern: None. Made my own.

Year: The boot I based these on were found in a 14-15^th century deposit in Stockholm, Sweden, and as we do late 14^th century it’s perfect.

Notions: Linen thread.

How historically accurate is it? Pretty much; the material and stitching is all period. I’m not positive about the pattern, but the boots looks a bit like the original, so I’m not that far off.

Hours to complete: Including making the pattern, six perhaps?

First worn: For the pictures.

Total cost: Just counting the bit of leather I used for the shoes, 30 SEK ($4,5; £2,9; €3,4).

Checked 14th Century Pillows

This is my 200^th post! Hooray! I had hoped to have a giveaway, but there’s just no time to make anything for it. Hopefully there will be one later, when things calm down a bit.

For a while now I’ve been wanting medieval checked pillows, like in the pictures below, alla found in this database. They are tolerably common in pictures from the fourth quarter of the 14^th century (and continue to show up in the 15^th century), but not so much before. I did however find one pictured as early as the 1330’s. They are most often blue, but I’ve seen a few examples of red, black and green as well.

 Austria, 1330's.



Austria, 1350-75.

 Austria, 1370-72.

 

Austria, 1370-72.

Italy, 1370's.

Since I gave birth to little B 18 months ago I’ve had some slight problems with my hips. They are all right most of the time, but I need a pillow between my knees when sleeping or I get a bit of pain. The want for good looking pillows to bring to events have thus grown into need. Finding a suitable fabric for it was not easy though. I could have had it specially woven for me, like the one my friend Maria made for Isis, but that’d cost more money than I have to spend on pillows. So far I’ve stitched pillows into plain linen towels for every event. But then, a few months ago, I found a couple of linen/cotton blend tablecloths in our often visited charity shop, for 60 SEK ($9; £6; €7). The check is not a perfect match to the ones I’ve seen in medieval art, but will do very nicely until I stumble upon something even better. I could see pillows like this looking wonderful in soft wool.

 The pillows on a quickly made medieval-ish pallet.

This is what our sleeping arrangement will look like this summer.

For the past two evenings I’ve been sewing two pillowcases (by hand, with waxed linen thread, of course) but there’s enough fabric left for several more. I stitch up feather pillows in them, using rather large whip stitching. It’ll be a bit of a hassle to do that every time, and to take the stitches out whenever the cases will be washed, but I don’t know of a period way to do it. I don’t even know if loose pillowcases like these are period (I rather suspect they are not), so I think this imitation of pillows without cases will look nice and unobtrusive.

A good thing is that they look fine and modern enough to sit on our sofa when we’re not at events.

I wanted more blue pillows for our living room, so that’s two birds killed with one stone, and one project off of this summer’s list of medieval projects.

Toddler's 14th Century Shirt

The shirt I said I’d start on Monday got finished earlier today. As with most historic sewing projects this year, I fit it into one of the HSF challenges. It’s made up from three rectangles, two squares and two triangles.

Hiding behind the straw hat from challenge # 9 – he looked so

adoringly sweet in one of the pictures I took, but as I try

to keep his privacy somewhat intact, I won’t post that one. Sorry.

As you might know by now I try to save fabric (and thereby money) when I can, and so this shirt is made from a medium coarse linen runner bought in a charity shop, and, as I could only get the body and sleeves from out of that (by the way, industrially made linen items are not cut along a thread), some old scraps from an old linen dress of mine that had the same quality, for the gores and gussets. The two fabrics differ slightly in shade, but not enough to be very noticeable. The gores are both pieced.

I believe that this might have been a possible practice at the time, cutting down old linens for the children. If they didn’t match perfectly, it was not as important as being able to dress the little one. One plus to making children’s linens this way is that the material is already worn soft.

 Felled seams and the different shades of the fabrics.

As usual, the shirt is hand sewn with waxed linen thread, and all seams are neatly felled. Usually I’d have hem stitched the hems, but I made the shirt too large, so B will be able to wear it next year as well, and running stitches will be quicker to take out then. The shirt might possibly be large enough for him to wear even the year after that. The sleeves have deep hems, and can be let down 4,5 centimetres, and the bottom hem can be let down 3 centimetres. It’s also cut really wide in the body and sleeves.

The Challenge: # 11 Squares, Rectangles and Triangles.

Fabric: An old linen runner, scraps from an old linen dress.

Pattern: None. I measured and cut.

Year: It would probably work for the whole Middle Ages, and likely both before and after too, but it’s intended for 14^th century use. A wide, rounded neckline might have been more common, but the higher keyhole neckline protects better against sun and cold when worn closed and overlapping a bit.

Notions: Linen thread.

How historically accurate is it? Pretty much; the material, construction and stitching is all period.

Hours to complete: Maybe seven or eight.

First worn: For the pictures.

Total cost: 30 SEK ($4,5; £3; €3,5).

A Pile of Planned Projects

As our participation in this years living history and re-enactment season draws ever nearer I, as always, find myself heaped with 14^th century projects that needs to get done. That’s the problem with having too scattered interests; you don’t make the things you will need until the need is upon you…. As I can’t bear the thought of cheating and machine sew our clothes it takes a bit of time to get it all finished. At the moment I’m working on:

- Tobias’ new buttoned cote. There will be 34 cloth buttons down the front, and a bunch on each forearm. I guess at least 50 in total.

- Shoes for little B. One is stitched, awaiting finishing, the other one not yet begun. They will eventually be front laced, not tied round the ankle as when tried on in the picture.

- A shirt for B. Well, I’ve not really begun it, only ironed the linen, but as I want it done for the next HSF challenge I’ll start it tomorrow.

What I have planned is:

For me

- A shift. Unbleached linen is ordered.

- A veil and wimple – I have semi fine, bleached linen for that.

- A new kirtle. Will be remade from an old grey wool early medieval cote.

For Tobias

- A new pair of hose – brown wool is ordered.

- A new bag hat. We have a lovely thin red wool for that.

For B

- A new cote or two. Wool left over from making Tobias’ clothes will do nicely.

- Possibly a new coif. Fabric for that might be found in my linen scrap box, or the stash.

- Fake cloth diapers, to go over his disposable ones. Again, linen scrap box.

- A period looking toy or two wouldn’t hurt…

Household items

- Pillow cases, from this linen/cotton blend.

- Pilgrims’ satchels. Coarse wool fabric from the wool scrap box (I have several scrap boxes…).

- Linen towels. If large enough linen scraps can be found.

I will likely also make some toddler’s clothes for a friend’s son, in return for nalbound socks for B, as she is much better at nalbinding than I am, and I am the better seamstress. Trading work is a good thing.

Now, not all of the above are equally important. I will have to choose carefully in what order to make things. I also have a paper to write, so as to finally finish my education to be a specialist nurse in paediatrics. Though I’m a stay at home Mum, a university education is always good to have. With all of the above, all I can say is; it's a fine thing that Sunday is a day of rest!