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33 Things I Did in Hawaii

For the next two weeks (and then some) you can expect this blog to be all 1916, all the time. For a little pre-respite from that, here is the rundown of what I did in Hawaii:

#1 Ate lots, and lots, and lots of poke (raw fish salad):

Partly because poke is awesome, and partly because it is one of the few prepared foods available in Kaunakakai (the main town) that I was willing to eat.

#2 Ate lots, and lots, and lots of poi (mashed, fermented taro root). Just because poi is awesome.

#3 Watched ducklings hatch! (see that egg with the dark hole?)

#4 Spent lots of time at the beach

#5 And in the stream that runs through my parent’s farm:

#6 Got made fun of (in a gentle, loving way) for saying little like a Kiwi (lit-tle) rather than like a Hawaiian-American (liddle)

#7 Pushed the number of ohia ‘ai (mountain apples – light and sweet and refreshing, as soft as a peach but crisper) one can eat in a day without eating so many that things go very, very wrong, to its absolute limit. But not beyond, thankfully!:

#9: Visited Kalaupapa Lookout and the phallic rock.

#10: Had fun with Mr D:

#11: Cooked with the best ingredients in the world:

#12: Made friends with crabs:

#13: Made friends with ducklings (so many ducklings!):

#14: Collected slugs. So many slugs…

#15: Watched a swallowtail butterfly hatch and unfurl its wings:

#16: Did without internet for days at a time

#17: Built fires with Mr D:

#18: Helped harvest bananas:

#19: And mangoes:

#20: And cacao:

#21: And eggplant:

#22. And canistel, which I then turned into delicious things like canistel bread:

#23: Hiked up to Halawa Falls:

#24: And got to watch it flash flood:

#25: Discovered that not only have I lost my childhood immunity to Hawaiian mosquito bites, I’ve developed a pretty serious allergic reaction to them. That was fun…

#26: Got to cuddle the farm cats:

#27: And make tamales with my mum:

#28: Saved the life of a duckling with hypothermia:

#29: Visited the Honolulu Museum of Art:

#30: Did I mention ducklings?

#31: Enjoyed the natural beauty of the island:

#32: Had great fun making beach art with my dad:

#33: And sad, sad times when I had to leave it all:

Rate the Dress: Blue & Green should never be seen?

Published by The Dreamstress

Last week’s Rate the Dress was an 1830s dress in red, and while it got a few mark downs simply for being from the 1830s (sigh) most of you thought the combination of the colour and trim was fabulous, so while a few very low scores dragged it down, it still managed an 8.3 out of 10.

It’s been quite a while since I’ve done any children’s wear, and while that’s always a slightly risky proposition, ideals of how we dress and present children having changed a great deal over the centuries, I’m feeling daring this week. Maybe last week’s red dress has rubbed off on me.

This mid 1880s ensemble for a young girl features a blue and white brocaded silk paired with a teal green taffeta, blithely ignoring the old saying about never pairing blue and green in dress. The cut of the dress takes into account the young wearer: the simple silhouette would allow more ease of movement than one with a fitted waist, and would allow longer wear for a growing girl. The details, however, are entirely in line with standard fashions of the time: one could easily imagine an adult version of this dress, with a fitted waist, the double row of buttons framing an ever-so-tight bodice, and the long skirt basques cascading over a full bustle.

Girl’s Two-piece Dress, England, circa 1885, Silk brocade, silk satin, shell buttons, lace, LACMA, Gift of Helen Larson AC1999.46.32.1-.2

In addition to the standard view, LACMA has also styled it on a girl mannequin, though I must say that personally I don’t think it’s quite doing it justice. She looks just a little short and small for the dress: like a little girl trying on her older sisters outfit. There is something about the cut of the dress that makes me think of a girl just hitting the stage where she really stretches out, and gets quite tall and lanky for her width.

Girl’s Two-piece Dress, England, circa 1885, Silk brocade, silk satin, shell buttons, lace, LACMA, Gift of Helen Larson AC1999.46.32.1-.2

What do you think? Does the pairing of blue and green work in this case? And does the outfit do enough to take into account its young wearer (keeping in mind, of course, that this is clearly a formal outfit)?

Rate the Dress on a Scale of 1 to 10

A sewing machine for 1916: meet my new (very old) Singer 27 series, VS-3

Published by The Dreamstress

Among the many questions I’ve been asked about the Fortnight in 1916 project is ‘Are you going to be sewing like you would in 1916’?

Why yes, yes I am!

My goal is to make a blouse entirely as it would have been made at home in 1916, and to cut and start one of my outfits for Costume College (obviously, one that is 1916 themed!)

To do this, I need an era-correct sewing machine. Meet my new, very old, hand-crank Singer Model 27:

She dates from 1893, and is version 3 of the 27 model.

Singer launched the 27 series in the mid 1880s, as the first of their machines to use the new vibrating shuttle technology.

A vibrating shuttle is a different kind of bobbin which swings back and forth inside the machine, instead of having the threads carried around the machine, like a modern bobbin.

So the inside of the machine looks like this:

That point silver bullet looking thing is the bobbin, and the arm that is carrying it swings back and forth in the undercarriage, making the whole thing vibrate as you sew – hence the name vibrating shuttle!

Because the bobbin case is long and skinny, the machine takes a totally different kind of bobbin, shaped like little tiny barbells, like so:

Obviously 1893 is a good 23 years before my experiment, but the 27 series was made and marketed as a lifetime investment, and they were still in production in 1916, so it’s very likely that many Wellington housewives of the 1910s had and used similar ones.

Mine may even have been used by a Wellington woman of 1916 – it’s certainly been well used and loved!

The 1893 date really appeals to me on a personal level too, because I’m pretty sure I got my first sewing machine in 1993. I have and use one that is the same model as my first machine, so there is a nice symmetry to 1916 me and 2016 me and our machines.

As this machine is very well used, all its decals have worn off, but I can just see that it originally came with the Ottoman carnation decals – my favourite for this series!

In addition to being well-loved cosmetically, the machine needed a bit of mechanical TLC, so she’s currently in the shop getting tensions and bits adjusted, and I am holding my breath that all of that is going to make her sing (or, more accurately, whirrrr…whirrr..CAH-LUNK, which is the sound she should make) properly again.

I’ve got my fingers crossed that she’ll be fixed in time, because if not I’m going to have to get my 1903 Standard treadle dusted off, and honestly, that machine makes me want to throw things. There is a reason old Singers are so valued as working machines while so many other older brands are not! Ironically, it’s pretty much the opposite today, where modern Singers are pretty poorly made, rubbish machines.

Obviously, the big thing I still need to do with her is name her. What do you think? What’s a good name for an 1893 machine?

UPDATE: And she has a name! Ladies (and occasional gentlemen), meet Harriet.

I started thinking about names as soon as I published the post – lying in bed turning over options in my head.

Like many of you, I noted the significance of the year 1893 as being the year New Zealand became the first country in the world to give women the vote, so thought the name should tie into that. While Kate Sheppard is the obvious choice, she’s been honoured with many things, and she was far from the only suffragist in NZ. And how could I possibly go past Harriet Russell Morison, suffragist, tailoress, and vice president (and later secretary) of the Tailoresses Union, and general campaigner for the rights of women workers and the mentally ill? Here she is in a photo from 1911. May my machine be as awesome and hard-working as her namesake!