Old friends

Recently, I went over to my parents' house and had a look at old pictures found at my grandmother's house (she is moving into a nursing home). 
Those provide a very interesting look into our family's history and I and my father (who is a keen amateur photographer) also enjoy their aesthetic qualities (at least, in the case of all those black-and-white pictures. old colour pictures tend to degrade badly over time).  
My grandparents were a very kind and warm couple who kept in touch with all their old friends. As a result, there were also a lot of photographs of people who are not part of our family. 
Today, I thought I would share two of those.
I actually know who the people in these pictures are (my grandmother wrote names on the backs of many of the pictures). 

This is the wedding picture of the parents of a childhood friend of my grandmother's. In 1918. Being Dutch, the husband would, despite his uniform not have spent the past years in the trenches (the Netherlands were neutral in WWI). And isn't it interesting to see a short wedding dress, before 1920?

And this picture shows the same couple, with another couple they were friends with, on a visit to the caves of Han, in the Ardennes in Belgium (these limestone caves are still a major tourist destination in the region. I have been there too). I guess that, like the wedding picture, this photograph was taken by a professional. It is just too focussed and well-lit for an amateur picture of the time (for one taken by people of limited means, that is). 
And if you look closely at the lady's skirt (the lady on the right), you will notice that she is wearing the same dress as in the wedding picture... 
Of course, this trip might have been their honeymoon but I just don't know. I do know it was very common to pick (or make or have made) a dress for your own wedding which could still be worn after it (with or without alterations).

All in all, I just think these pictures are really beautiful. I have two Gracieuses from that year, maybe I could find a similar dress pattern as a tribute...     

History of fashion

This is a little bit off topic but not even that far...

I don't just follow fashion- and sewing blogs but also a couple of history ones. On the (excellent) History Blog, I found a post today which will interest many of you. 

It's about a book made by a 16th century accountant with a flair for fashion and it records his outfits over his lifetime is lovely coloured images like this one. 
And there is a video about the recreation of one of the outfits. 
I won't go into all the details here because every thing I now know about it comes from this article, so if you find this as cool as I do, you'd better go and read that ;)

An unusual story

Following all the 19th century fashion goodness from last week, I would like to share something I found in one of my vintage magazines. These ladies' magazines didn't just provide fashion news, housekeeping advice and knitting patterns, they also aimed to entertain and educate. In this case, they, the editors of Beatrijs magazine in 1951, have chosen to share some curiosity from the wide world...

The article is titled "An Unusual Inheritance" and its subject is the traditional costume of the women from the Herero tribe in Southwest Africa. The text is fairly limited in the information it provides and not without a light touch of casual racism.  
What mainly stood out to me were those great portrait pictures.

According to the text, the Herero were originally nomads who traveled around with their herds of cattle until control of white people over the land forced them to settle. When they did, in the 19th century, missionaries came to convert them to Protestantism. And they handed out clothes to their new converts. Clothes which had been made by women in Europe in support of the mission. Those clothes, although not high fashion, were in line with the prevailing styles at the time: The long, full, frilly skirts and buttoned-up bodices of the Victorian era. 

The style caught on with Herero women and continued to be copied over the years. It was blended with African elements and always worn with the distinctive high turban headdress (only for adult women).

Of course, I tried to find some more information about this tribe and, as usual, Wikipedia provided. As was to be expected, the interaction between the Herero and the colonizing white people didn't go as smoothly as you might think from the Beatrijs article. In fact, the tribe had a prolonged struggle with the German settlers which ended in an initially successful, but eventually brutally crushed, rebellion in 1904. 

As for clothing, there is this modern picture of ladies in colourful long dresses which seem similar in shape to those in this article. Full skirts, long sleeves with puffs at the shoulder. And headdresses which are shaped like the horns of a cow. And are nothing like the high turbans in Beatrijs. An explanation might be the fact that the Herero are not a homogenous people. Of several groups, there are two (including the largest one) which wear clothing influenced by contact with colonial European culture while other groups wear traditional leather garments. It might be that the ladies in Beatrijs belong to another group than those on the picture on Wikipedia. The other of the two. And there is little doubt that the Beatrijs story is based on those groups, not on the story of all Herero people.

The writer of the Beatrijs article seems delighted that "These black beauties still dress like our grandmothers did sixty, seventy years ago". Oddly, she doesn't seem to realize that Victorian (and slightly earlier) style lived on, in a similar way, in the traditional costumes of certain places in her own country (that link takes you to a google image search which will show what I mean).  

P.S. This is not actually related to the story of the Herero women in any way but writing this post reminded me of the work of British/Nigerian artist Yinka Shonibare. This explores, among other things, the complex relationship between Europe and Africa. Often in textile and garment (or rather, dressed dummy) form. 

History and sewing!

Despite the fact that our route didn't take us to any of the historical weaving mills (another thing for my 'next time in Scotland'-list), I did come across something sewing-related. And purely by accident.

I already mentioned the "meet the Redcoats" event at Corgarff castle previously. What I didn't tell yet, was that we wouldn't even have known about it if the steward at Balvenie castle (which we visited the day before) hadn't mentioned it to us (this small, recently added event wasn't on the event calander. She also recommended the app, which did announce it).

Although the history of Corgarff castle goes back further, it now shows visitors how it would have looked in the 18th century when it housed a small garrison of Redcoats, English soldiers. They had been posted at strategically placed locations throughout the Highlands to keep the population under control after the Battle of Culloden.
One floor of the tower house has been furnished as a barracks, which it was at the time. But last week, on Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday, there were also three soldiers, an officer and his wife (there was joking about how the arrival of Redcoats might influence the referendum...). Members of Pulteney's Regiment (13th foot). (Which is part of a larger society of reenactors called Lace Wars. They also have a group of Jacobite reenactors, in case you were wondering.)

They all really looked the part and were very knowledgable about their era. Both about the overall situation and about the details of the everyday lives of their characters.
And there was sewing. Downstairs, in the officer's room, the lady was making him a casual coat. Unfortunately, I didn't take pictures but we did have a nice chat about period silhouettes and the start of uniform regulations.

Then, we went upstairs and met the soldiers in the barracks room. They were happy to show the various tools of their trade and even to let visitors (it wasn't busy, we were the first visitors that day and while we were there, two other couple arrived) handle them.

And then I saw one of them sewing. Finishing pocket edges with a blanket stitch, to be precise. So, I wanted to know everything about the uniforms.
As it turns out, soldiers in the 18th century would be given uniforms but they had to care for them themselves. To save a bit on the cleaning and mending, they would only wear the full uniform for parades and battle. The outfit worn by the soldier in the picture with E and the musket was the normal look at the barracks.
These modern reenactors however make their own uniforms (not everyone has all the skills necessary of course, so people may make things for each other). This particular gentleman couldn't only sew, he'd also learned leather working and metalworking. 

These uniform coats are made from thick wool and lined with the material in yellow. Only the part of the bodice which doesn't show when it's worn is lined in a thinner, cheaper wool serge. The sleeves were lined with muslin but he explained it isn't known whether or not sleeves were lined at all. The coat was carefully tailored to fit him, which is why, as you can see, it doesn't fit E at all.
What I found very interesting is the way the coat functions: There are no separate summer and winter uniforms. These wool coats would be worn all year.  However, the yellow contrast bits on the bodice can be overlapped and closed for warmth in winter. The same goes for the tails which are normally connected at the corners (with a hook and eye) displaying the contrast lining but cover more when they are allowed to hang loose. 
I suspect one might sew such the seams which don't show on the outside by machine but this one was entirely sewn by had (he mentioned he had to because his sewing machine broke down).
The whole thing is trimmed in distinctive white and yellow tape. Which would always have to be applied by hand anyway.

So just imagine how much work must have gone into this coat. Part of the outfit of the regiment's drummer, the only soldier to wear the regiment's colours the other way round. 

And here is the soldier's coat, worn by its owner and maker, in action. The musket, by the way, is a modern reproduction and they are shooting blanks.

The meeting was quite interesting and a lot of fun. We'll definitely try and catch another event next time we travel to the UK.

Weaving history

On our first full day in Scotland, we were in Stirling and of course, we visited beautiful Stirling Castle. A favorite of Scottish Kings and Queens for centuries (until they also became Kings of England), this castle is still (and/or again) pretty much intact and in size it's second only to Edinburgh Castle. 
Stirling Castle reached the shape and size it still has today in the reign of James V, the father of Mary Queen of Scots (by the way, while on holiday, I was reading Margaret George's biographical novel about that ill-fated queen. It proved a very good choice because so many of the places we visited had some connection to her reign).

And it's not just a stone shell with a lot of stories connected to it. In recent years, a huge effort has been made to restore the royal apartments to how they may have looked in the mid 16th century, when the child-Queen Mary lived there. This means things are more brightly painted and glossy than we're used to, but that is very likely historically correct. 
I won't go entirely off-topic here and discuss history, the way it is told and perceived or the benefits of or problems with large-scale restoration. I'm not an expert on any of those topics and although I love to talk about such things, I don't expect all of you to enjoy that. This is a sewing blog, after all. However, there was something there which I think will interest you. 

The tapestries. When I walked into this room, the Queen's Inner Hall, I immediately realized these couldn't be period tapestries. The colours were just too clear and bright and vibrant. The gauge also seemed somehow 'off'. And yet, they were definitely real tapestries, not imitations made by painting on coarsely woven canvas, like I've seen in Neuschwanstein Castle in Bavaria (of course, that entire castle is a 19th century phantasy and imitation of the Middle Ages).

The answer came later that day, when we followed the signs to the tapestry workshop (located in an outbuilding). 

There, two weavers were at work. By sheer coincidence, we were perfectly on time for the weaver's talk (which I believe they only do once a day).
She explained the story of the tapestries: As you may know, rooms in Medieval castles were often hung with tapestries for both warmth and decoration. That would certainly have been the case in the royal apartments of Stirling Castle in the 16th century. However, none of the original tapestries remained. And according to old documents, James V had owned a set of tapestries with a unicorn theme. 
When planning the restoration, Historic Scotland decided to re-create a set of tapestries. 
The new tapestries are based on a series which spent most of its history in France (one of only two surviving sets of unicorn tapestries) and is now in New York. It is called "The Hunt of the Unicorn"
The finished tapestries are all copies of those. And I was right to notice the gauge: the original tapestries were woven with threads less than half the thickness that is used now. This had to be done to limit the cost and the duration of the project.
The tapestry they are working on now, the last one of the set, is a bit of a re-invention. Only parts of the original survive but the story is known: It is the crucial moment when the unicorn lays its head in the maiden's lap.

Obviously, tapestry weaving is not a common skill these days. The ladies we met belonged to one of only two studios in the UK which could carry out such work. Just looking at them working, it was clear how much skill, experience, precision and endless patience goes into a project like this. Just imagine: the daily target for the work on this project is about 10 centimeters square. And you can see in my pictures how big these tapestries are. And they are not 'just copying' either. They constantly have to decide on when to change to what colour and invent their own intervals, because of the change in scale.

Unfortunately, I didn't take pictures in the weaver's workshop because I was too busy looking and listening. This is impressive, fascinating stuff.
I can tell you that the tapestry is woven on a big vertical loom, on its side. That way, it won't sag out under its own weight later. This is also how it would have been done by the weavers in the past. What isn't historically correct is that they are weaving the image from the front. However, these weavers were trained like that and it has the added benefit (for the part of the work that's carried out on site in Stirling) of actually giving visitors something to look at while the work is in progress.
The work has been going on for the past 12 years and it should be finished by the end of this year. 

stitches of history

You may know that I'm not really into crafts. I've done little bits of simple knitting and crochet and that's about it. I don't mind doing extensive hand-sewing on the garments I make but decorative needlework...... I think I once embroidered a tiny flower under instruction from my grandmother, when I was about six...
Of course, that doesn't mean I don't appreciate examples of those kinds of work in textile.

Recently, I came across this embroidered eh... Scarf? Small narrow table cloth? Something else?

It was in a display case in Hohensalzburg castle, the large mediaeval castle in Salzburg, Austria. 
The item had been casually draped in a corner (which is why I couldn't take a picture of it as a whole) and at first glance, it might not seem very special. Picot-like borders, line embroidery of fanciful leaves framing a center section of a sort of square mesh made from the embroidery yarn. Yes, it's fine work but we've all seen more impressive examples of that. However, all the items in this room (mostly furniture and fancy crockery) were from the 16th century. And look at this, in the corner:

1567. I don't know which family the crest belonged to but despite that, this is not a show-piece, like a banner. This is a personal touch, a little thing to make one's own living space a bit prettier. Because the castles in and around Salzburg were built by Archbishops, we can be pretty sure this wasn't made by the lady of the house. But the use of such a time-consuming technique on an item that probably didn't have a display function does suggest a woman of some leisure. Not a servant certainly. Most likely the wife or daughter of a wealthy citizen of the city. That would be in line with the other objects in the room (many of which, like the large pieces of furniture, were not originally from the castle) and with the status of the city of Salzburg at the time.
I wonder if the colours mean anything. Purple on white. I know in catholic colour lore, purple is a colour of mourning, used during Lent. Maybe this was for a table display during that part of the year?

Of 16th century fashion and withdrawal symptoms

I know, I promised you pictures of my recent vintage/thrift finds. And I haven't delivered. Tomorrow I'll make up for it, I promise.

I'm feeling a bit out of touch with the sewing world, since I now know I'll be without my sewing machine for at least another week. I did make some fitting samples for a friend over at M's place today and I managed to come up with one knit design for which I could really get away with using my serger only, but overall withdrawal has set in nicely...

Knitting isn't really my sort of thing and although I finished the cowl-thingy I started on, I'm not happy with the result (the yarn was from stash and didn't last anywhere near as long as I hoped). And although I love pattern making, all that paperwork without even being able to try out a single thing get discouraging after a while.

Now the complaining is over and done with, I should tell you something. There was a reason why I mentioned my recent DVD-viewing to you in my last post. Costumes! Whenever I focus on something, I tend to develop some form of professional deformation (literally translated from Dutch, so I'm not sure whether or not that makes any sense in English) pretty quickly. So whatever I'm watching, I can't help but notice the costumes.

The Tudors is a wonderful recent historical series from the BBC (they just finished broadcasting season 3) about the life of Henry VIII. Despite being quite a history buff, I loved every bit of it. As far as I can tell the series is fairly historically acurate (although somewhere on the web, someone mentioned how by season 3, king Henry is looking way too handsome. That someone is right, but who would really want that to be different? After all, TV is a visual expierence first)

The costumes are very nice indeed. Rich in detail and you can actually see the passage of time in the changing fashion as well as in the aging of the characters. I have spotted some (mostly) ladies' styles which I don't believe to be genuine 16th century fashion. Anne Boleyn's dancing costume from season 1 for example, and at the end of season 2, you see Jane Seymore in a dress which shows her natural body shape, not as you'd expect, the angular lines of period corsetry.

One thing I missed in particular, was a fashion said to be introduced at the Tudor court by Anne Boleyn. The lady supposedly had an extra digit on one hand which she would try to hide with a clever choice of clothing. In her time as queen she introduced dresses with long, trailing sleeves or decorations at the sleeve which would cover part of a lady's hand.

These comments however, should not even be considered criticism. Of course, choices have to be made when the 'look' of a TV-series is created and it would be impossible to put every detail in.