The Dreamstress

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Five for Friday: Things I love (that you might not expect)

1) IRD.

This one is first because it’s probably the most unexpected thing to like. What is IRD? IRD is the NZ Internal Revenue Department, i.e. the tax man.

Seriously, I like the tax man. I don’t mind paying taxes – I’m a practical person and appreciate my roads and my health care and the museums I visit and don’t mind subsidising other people’s kids going to school (well-educated kids make better citizens), or even other people’s sports arenas, ’cause, hey, I have my museums.

And IRD are nice, and sensible. I’ve never talked to an IRD representative who hasn’t been polite, well informed, and able to help me with my query in a logical, practical way. And they get to talk like real people, not like auto-bots following some script. And they make taxes do-able, on your own. All of these things mean that when I talk to IRD, I actually feel happier after I do. Yep. IRD leaves me with that warm fuzzy feeling

(the same does not apply to the US IRS btw. The IRS, thanks to their stupid “US citizens living abroad must file taxes for the rest of their natural born life” policy, sucks. May no seam they ever sew runs straight, and the ones that do run straight turn out to have caught extra fabric underneath. May their zippers break as soon as they install them. May their machines always knot on delicate fabrics, and drip oil on whites. May their hand-sewing needles always break, and their unpicks catch and rip the woven cloth. May their beautifully constructed garments get eaten by goats on the first wearing. Or get poo-ed on by an ostrich. And all of this applies x1,000000 to the accountant lobbyist groups, who are the real evil)

2) Spiders.*

I love spiders. They are cute and fuzzy and have 8 legs. Also, there are spiders in Hawaii with little happy faces on the back. I kid you not. And the Hawaiian word for spider is nananana!** How could you not love that!?!

*this particular entry may be slightly influenced by the fact that I’ve never lived anywhere where poisonous spiders are a problem. A few more trips to Australia and I might change my mind).

**clearly that theme song got used for the wrong superhero.

3) Unpicking.

I know, it’s the worst part of sewing, because it usually means you’ve made a mistake. And I don’t love the mistake part. But I actually quite enjoy the unpicking bit, especially when you can figure out a way to unpick really easily.

Liking unpicking is a very helpful attribute as a sewing teacher, because it means I’m always happy to help my students with it!

4) Things that taste like cardboard.

OK, not actually cardboard, but I really love foods with dry, not-quite crunchy textures and very subtle flavours. Even better if they have a uniform texture. Crackers all full of seeds and whole grains? Meh. Extremely flavourful, cheesy crackers? Meh. Totally un-flavoured rice crackers? Yes! Are they slightly stale? Yes? Who cares, I will still eat them!

My sister the chef doesn’t eat gluten, and while she was visiting she bought some gluten-free corn crackers. She ate one, made a face and said “This is horrible! It tastes just like cardboard.” Then she handed me the packet and said “You’ll love them.” And I do. They are now my favourite.

I just like the way things like that don’t overwhelm your mouth with flavour and texture. You have to really stop and pay attention to the tiny grains, and to the subtle sweetness of the corn.

But on the flip side, I also like…

5) Sardines

Now, someone else must like sardines, because every single supermarket has them, and not just one type, but multiple brands, but in multiple flavours. So I can’t be the only person in New Zealand, or the US, buying sardines. And they clearly used to be desirable, because early mid-20th century British books are full of characters who think that sardines are the best thing ever.

But when you tell most people that you like sardines, they react with levels of disgust and horror that might be a little more appropriate if I were confessing that I regularly eat live goldfish. (only the once. And it wasn’t even a goldfish).

I don’t actually regularly eat sardines. I love eating them when tramping, and I every once in a while I randomly crave them. And then I have sardines. Preferably on crackers that closely approximate the taste and texture of cardboard.

Yum.

Making Medieval cloth buttons

Published by The Dreamstress

When I starting doing research on a medieval gown one of the things I really knew I wanted was buttoned sleeves.

But the buttons? Those terrified me. Obviously they were little circles with the raw edges tucked inside, but I was sure making them would be a bit of a nightmare: very fiddly, and impossible to get even and solid.

But when I mentioned that I was worried about buttons, Sarah directed me to her tutorial on Som Når Det Begav Sig. It’s in Swedish, but there are photos which make it self explanatory (and Google translate when it isn’t), and links to sources and other tutorials at the bottom.

I ended up using a mix of Sarah’s tutorial and The Medieval Tailors tutorial. My buttons don’t look as exquisitely tidy as Sarah’s as I make them, but my fabric is much thicker than the fabric the Medieval tailor is using, and I found that using a strict interpretation of his tutorial only worked if I was making much bigger buttons. And I want really little buttons!

So here is what I did:

Caveat: this is not, strictly speaking, a tutorial, because I am not an expert at medieval sewing, and I really don’t like it when sewing bloggers without a lot of experience write tutorials on a technique they have just learned. So this is just a little photo essay of how I have learned to make medieval buttons based on the various tutorials available on the internet. I may have gotten some things wrong, and my end result may not be entirely historically accurate.

For the buttons, I’m using linen thread. Black linen thread is almost certainly period inaccurate (linen is pretty hard to dye, and black was a very expensive dye), but I’d misplaced my natural linen thread, and I have a number of spools of lovely vintage linen thread inherited from Nana.

Having made a few buttons, I can definitely say that using linen thread is very important. I’m really, really pulling on the thread at points, and any cotton thread weaker than buttonhole twist just wouldn’t be able to withstand the stress.

Right! On to the actual making. For my buttons I cut a 1″ square of my wool:

Then I trim off the corners, to form a 1″ circle:

Then I sew running stitches around the outside of the circle, about 5mm/1/4″ from the edge.

I pay careful attention as I sew the running stitches, to make certain that my needle will end up on the outside of the circle after the last stitch:

With the first set of running stitches sewn, I pull smoothly to gather the circle into a little cup:

Then I use my finger to fold/press the outer cut edges into the middle of the circle. My edges don’t tuck in as neatly and tidily as Sarah’s, but they are more tucked in than the Medieval Tailors:

With my finger on the nascent button, I start pulling on the linen thread, which pulls the button up on itself. I can still see a bit of raw edges in the middle, but the shape of the button is starting to emerge:

Then I sew another line of stitches around the button, going in and out of each ridge/gather formed by the first line of stitching:

When I get around in a circle I keep sewing in and out, so that each ridge has a stitch under it and a stitch over it. Sometimes I have to ‘cheat’ and sew halfway through one ridge as I come to the start of the 3rd circle of stitching, to make each stitch neatly go over/under a ridge as I sew around (hard to explain, but if you go to do one yourself you’ll quickly figure out what I mean – it has to do with whether I started with an even or odd number of stitches, to make an even or odd number of ridges):

Once I have sewed around so there are stitches over & under every ridge/gather I pull the thread, firmly but smoothly. I’m pulling really hard as I do this, and while I’ve never managed to break the thread, I am trying very hard to keep the pull quite smoothly, so there are no sharp tugs that would break the thread, or tear through the wool fabric:

As I pull the edges of the button are being pulled inwards, and the raw edges are completely hidden from view on the inside of the button. The threads themselves are pulled into a tiny circle in the centre of the button.

When I’ve pulled as much as I can, I like to sew a couple of stitches from one side of the button to the other, to pull each side together even more tightly. I make sure to catch the linen threads sewn around the button as I do this, as they are stronger than the wool fabric, and since they are sewn round in a circle, tightening them tightens the whole button, whereas the wool is pretty weak, and only catching the wool can rip through it:

And that’s it! I leave long tails (about 30cm) at the end, because I’m going to use them to sew the buttons on to the sleeves. I hope 30cm is enough, because I haven’t tried that part yet!

I was really worried about these, but I actually love making them. They are very easy, and very addictive. Every time I finish one I tell myself “OK, just one more, and then I’ll quit for the day…” And then I sew one more, and then start another one, and tell myself “Just one more…”

So far I’ve sewn 28 buttons. I’ve (preliminarily) decided on 19 buttons per sleeve, so I’ve just got 10 more buttons to go. When I’ve made 10 I am looping them together into bundles, to keep track of how many I’ve made (and to keep then from disappearing under the furniture and into the dark corners of the room, because Felicity thinks these are the best thing ever)

Now here’s hoping that I find sewing buttonholes as easy, fun, and addictive as buttons!

Oh, and guess what? These aren’t a garment, but they are a fully done thing, so they count for the HSF:

The Challenge: #6 Out of Your Comfort Zone

Fabric: Scraps of 70% wool, 30% viscose plain weave with fulled surface in dark red-brown.

Pattern: Based on Sarah’s and The Medieval Tailors tutorials

Year: 14th century (as I understand buttons like these were probably used from the 12th through to the 15th centuries)

Notions: linen thread

How historically accurate is it?: Obviously the fibre makeup isn’t quite accurate, and I suspect the colour of my thread isn’t accurate, but other than that the weave, fibre makeup, colour and techniques are probably pretty good.

Hours to complete: about 15 minutes per button.

First worn: Not yet, they will be used on a ca. 1370s gown I hope to have done by the end of the month.

Total cost: As a percentage of the dress, the buttons are going to be about $10 worth, or less.

Rate the Dress: Johanna of Castille, regally patriotic

Published by The Dreamstress

In keeping with the arrival of summer in the Northern Hemisphere, last week’s Rate the Dress was a warm-weather frock, 1870s style, in white cotton brocaded in red wool spots.

Some of you said the spots made the dress look as if it had measles, and some of you didn’t like the polonaised poof of the bustle, and some of you didn’t like those oh-so-Victorian sloping shoulders (question: if you hate the mid-Victorian look for its sloping shoulders, do you also hate the 1950s New Look for its revival of the sloped-shoulder look?), and some of you didn’t like the black ribbon (which, incidentally, is my favourite part of the dress. It’s the little bit of sex in an otherwise almost too-sweet frock. It says “imagine if the neckline were here” or “tug me and see what happens” – still tasteful, but just naughty enough to add dimensionality to the ensemble 😉 )

But most of you liked the frock, really liked it in fact, giving it a total of 8.8 out of 10 (despite the occasional score of only 5) and keeping up the rather nice winning streak we’ve been having,

This week I really wanted to give you a depiction of a medieval garment to rate, but there just aren’t that many images of medieval garments that are large enough, detailed enough, interesting enough, and obscure enough. So I settled for very late-Medieval-rushing-through-Renaissance-with-a-smattering Tudor portrait of Johanna of Castille:

Joanna of Castille, ca 1500, in a detail from the wings of the Last Judgement Triptych of Zierikzee, by the Master of Afflighem, Royal Museums of Fine Arts of Belgium

Joanna, noted both for her beauty and for her intelligence, before she became known for her madness (an indisposition that was suspiciously convenient for both her father and her husband, which I’m sure had nothing whatsoever to do with their determination to declare her mad and have her confined to a convent for the rest of her life so they could rule in her stead) was about 20 when this portrait was painted, and is depicted wearing a mix of romanticised costume, fashionable headgear, and status symbols.

The long, flowing skirt of Johanna’s gown looks back to medieval styles, and like her wide sleeves, provided an opportunity for the artist to meticulously render the sumptuous fabrics of her garments. The skirts may have been more fantasy than reality: other portraits of Joanna depict her in the fashionable Spanish farthingale that her younger sister Catherine famously introduced to England when she was married to Arthur. Her headdress is a current fashionable style, the black dye a particularly expensive colour, its severity serving to emphasise her noted looks.

The final piece to Joanna’s costume is her spectacular cloak, which presumably shows the coats of arms either of her titles, or of the nobles who owed her allegiance. The cloak increases the chances that the portrait was painted after July of 1500, when Joanna became heiress to the Spanish kingdoms after the deaths of her older brother, sister, and nephew. By this time Joanna had just begun to exhibit the first signs of what her family considered madness: religious scepticism, and an inclination to be lenient and liberal towards Protestants.

While probably not a strictly accurate depiction of Joanna, or what she wore, the Zeirikzee portrait is an excellent example of a the desired image of a Queen in the minds of the Spanish & Flemish: regal, elegant, devout, beautiful, fertile (note the emphasis on the roundness of her stomach), there to be admired, rather than to act.

So what does her outfit make you think of when you look at her? Does it appeal? A proper case of right royal raiment?

Rate the Dress on a Scale of 1 to 10.