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The HSF ’14: Challenge #12: Shape and Support

It’s the Historical Sew Fortnightly Challenge #12 – when we get to this we’ll be halfway through the year!

Challenge #12, due Tue July 1st, is Shape and Support.

Throughout history humans have changed their form and silhouette with garments that pulled in and pushed out.  Few eras of fashion have been entirely satisfied with the natural human body.  In this Challenge make a garment that changes and distorts the human form, whether it pulls it in, as with corsetry, or extends it, with ruffs and sleeve supports, fathingales and bustles and hoopskirts.  As long as the garment creates an extreme silhouette, it counts

Throughout history we have extended our heads with mad hats:

Book of Hours, use of Amiens. 4th quarter of the 15th century

Book of Hours, use of Amiens. 4th quarter of the 15th century

Lifted our bust and pulled in our waists with bust bags and corsets:

Bust bodice found in Lengberg castle, the end of 15th century (ca 1480 ?), University of Innsbruck, photo University of Innsbruck

Bust bodice found in Lengberg castle, the end of 15th century (ca 1480 ?), University of Innsbruck, photo University of Innsbruck

Corset, 1830—35, American  cotton, bone, metal, Brooklyn Museum Costume Collection at The Metropolitan Museum of Art 2009.300.3031

Corset, 1830—35, American cotton, bone, metal, Brooklyn Museum Costume Collection at The Metropolitan Museum of Art 2009.300.3031

Turned our bottom halves into stiff cones with farthingales:

Catalonian dress of the 1470s

Catalonian dress of the 1470s

And our top halves into stiff cones with stays:

Extant stays (Queen Elizabeth's effigy 'pair o bodies') ca. 1603

Extant stays (Queen Elizabeth’s effigy ‘pair o bodies’) ca. 1603

We’ve ‘improved’ our bums with bum rumps:

Bum rump, 1785, Lewis Walpole Library

Bum rump, 1785, Lewis Walpole Library

And our busts with bust enhancers:

Bust improver or reducer, made of cotton with metal boning, by Spirella Styles, (patented) 1907

Bust improver or reducer, made of cotton with metal boning, by Spirella Styles, (patented) 1907

We’ve lifted our feet with heels and chopines:

Chopines, 1590-1610, Metropolitan Museum of Art

Chopines, 1590-1610, Metropolitan Museum of Art

We’ve been cone shaped and bell shaped and elliptical:

Cage crinoline, Great Britain, 1860-1865, Spring steel, woven wool, linen, lined with cotton, and brass, T.150-1986

Cage crinoline, Great Britain, 1860-1865, Spring steel, woven wool, linen, lined with cotton, and brass, T.150-1986

Pinched in and pushed out in ever way, shape and form:

Corset, 1870-1880

Corset, 1870-1880

Nor have men been immune to body re-shaping.

They have had padded doublets to turn their chests into pigeon breasts, and poofed pantaloons to balloon their thighs:

The Gentleman in Pink, Giovanni Battista Moroni , 1560

The Gentleman in Pink, Giovanni Battista Moroni , 1560

Men have laced in with Beau Brummel bodice (and padded thighs, hips, shoulders and calves by the look of it):

Lacing a Dandy, 1819

And stiffened their fronts with doublets:

Robert Rich, Earl of Warwick, Painted in 1633 by Daniel Mytens

Robert Rich, Earl of Warwick, Painted in 1633 by Daniel Mytens

They have tilted their chins with wide ruffs:

Portrait of a Young Man, by Federico Barocci (Il Baroccio), perhaps c. 1580-90 but possibly slightly later, ca. 1600

Portrait of a Young Man, by Federico Barocci (Il Baroccio), perhaps c. 1580-90 but possibly slightly later, ca. 1600

And both sexes have created full thighs and calves with symmetricals.

All these odd and peculiar contraptions, just to achieve the shape and silhouette that fashion deemed necessary and attractive!

Rate the Dress: Élisabeth-Alexandrine in a perky hat

In case you’ve noticed that I haven’t posted anything for 5 days, it’s due to WordPress problems – I haven’t been able to start or edit posts.  After a desperate bit of ‘throwing away tons of stuff and clearing the cache and updating all the software’ I think I have it working again!  (I hope!)  So here is your slightly belated Rate the Dress…

Last week’s Victorian Fairy Godmother dress might have impressed you a lot more if it was better displayed (once again, I’m still impressed at how good the auction house managed to display it at all – unlike a museum, they don’t have a finite collection and infinite amount of time to stye and document a garment), and if it wasn’t such a strange green-gold colour.  Many of you acknowledged that for the event, and for the person and age, it was probably a fantastic choice.  The ratings evened out at 6.8 out of 10 – reasonable, but certainly not a rave rating.

This week’s Rate the Dress is inspired by the HSF ‘Tops and Toes’ challenge, because Élisabeth-Alexandrine de Bourbon-Conde de Sens (or Alexandrine, as she was known) is wearing such a distinct and cunning headpiece.

Alexandrine was the granddaughter of Louis XIV and his noted mistress Madame de Montespan, and a daughter of the 6th Prince de Conde, and thus a princesse du sang.  She herself was a close friend of the most famous royal mistress of all: Madame de Pompadour.  She’s most notable for being un-notable.  She renovated a few houses, and otherwise had little impact.  In the fraught annals of the French, her lack of notoriety is perhaps a virtue in and of itself.

Elisabeth-Alexandrine de Bourbon-Conde de Sens, Circle of Pierre Gobert, c. 1730

Élisabeth-Alexandrine de Bourbon-Conde de Sens, Circle of Pierre Gobert, c. 1730

While Alexandrine isn’t that interesting as a person, her costume is quite fascinating .  The dress of vermillion bizarre silk, with its long slim sleeves.  The black wrap with fur trim, lined in the same bizarre silk as the dress?  The single short glove that she puts on.  And that funny hat.  What does it mean?  Was it some sort of ceremonial wear?

And what do you think of it?  Is the wild fabric balanced by the simplicity of the dress, and the austere black?  Is the hat fun and witty, or just odd?

Rate the Dress on a Scale of 1 to 10

A smock of nettles

Of all the fairytales, the one that intrigued me most growing up was The Wild Swans (also known as The Swan Princes).

There are many variants of the story, but basically it is about a girl (Hans Christian Andersen, in his version, calls her Elise) whose brothers are enchanted and turned into swans.

14th century nettle shift thedreamstress.com

In order to free them from their spell, our heroine must make each of them a shirt of stinging nettles: and while she spins and sews (or knits, depending on the version), she cannot speak.

14th century nettle shift thedreamstress.com

Some of the local villagers are suspicious of the silent girl who gathers prickly weeds, and of the garments she is creating.

14th century nettle shift thedreamstress.com

When, desperate for a new source of nettles, she gathers them from the churchyard, the villagers turn against her completely, and try her as a witch.  She desperately sews even as they tie her to a stake and pile the wood around her.

14th century nettle shift thedreamstress.com

As they light the fire, her swan brothers fly overhead and circle around her, and she throws the shirts over them.  Unfortunately she hasn’t quite finished the sleeve of the last shirt, so her youngest brother retains his wings.

With her brothers finally freed from the spell, our heroine can finally speak and explain why she was making stinging nettle shirts.  The villagers are apologetic, and everyone lives happily ever after (presumably).

14th century nettle shift thedreamstress.com

I found the fairytale interesting firstly because fabric and sewing are so central to the story, secondly because the girl is so much the heroine of the story: saving her brothers and freeing herself, but mostly because of the fabric the heroine works with.

Making a shirt of nettles sounds like a mad fantasy, but there is actually a fabric made from nettles: ramie.  Ramie is similar to linen, and has been used as a fabric since ancient times.  There are Egyptian mummies wrapped in ramie bandages, rather than linen.  More of interest to me, I’ve read accounts that mentioned that ramie was used in the Middle Ages when linen could not be sourced (presumably because of droughts or warfare).  While the mentions are very third hand, and I’d like to see the original research, I was fascinated by the idea of a medieval ramie garment.

Last year I managed to get my hands on two metres of handkerchief weight ramie (at Fabric-A-Brac, of all places).  It was sold as linen, but I’m pretty confident the fabric is ramie.

So I handsewed a 14th century (more or less – it could be worn any time up until the early 19th century) ramie smock inspired by The Wild Swans.

14th century nettle shift thedreamstress.com

For the photoshoot my sister and I tried to capture the essence of Elise’s story: gathering nettles (we settled for wild parsley) and watching for her swan brothers, all while isolated and outcast from the normal world.

14th century nettle shift thedreamstress.com

I wore the shift (I know, not quite how the story works, but I had no need to make mens shirts) myself.  Since it’s very under-clothes-y, and sheer, I’m wearing it over a bra and knickers and tap pants and a slip for maximum modesty.  Very important especially since we did some photography on a beach right by the road!

14th century nettle shift thedreamstress.com

I’ll do a post about the shift construction, but with these images I just wanted to create a fairytale.  I certainly got the essence of it when it came to pain: my feet are so bruised from limping around on the rocks by the seashore!

14th century nettle shift thedreamstress.com

After taking pictures on the beach, I noticed a little goat trail heading up the hill, and we explored it, which turned into a mad scramble straight up a steep hill spotted with pine trees.  Those images look a little more ‘Snow White running fleeing into the forest’ than Wild Swans.

14th century nettle shift thedreamstress.com

After 30 minutes uphill, we were rewarded by a sunlit meadow at the summit:

14th century nettle shift thedreamstress.com

So my smock has already been well worn in: I’ve gone tramping in it!   It’s very comfortable, though pricklier than linen, but wearing it over a synthetic slip wasn’t.

The Challenge:  #6  —  Fairytale

Fabric:    2 metres of handkerchief weight ramie – $5

Pattern:  None, drawn up based on basic smock/shift pattern construction and conjectures about Medieval undergarments

Year: intended to be 1380s, but this basic construction could be used from 1200-1800.

Notions:  silk thread – probably less than $1 worth.

How historically accurate is it?   Medieval undergarments are a bit of anybodies guess, there is so little extent textile or visual evidence, though, having made mine, I suspect my construction is unlikely, simply because it creates significant weak points (I’ll tell you about that in a construction post).  And, of course, having a raime undergarment is based on the slimmest historical evidence, especially since I don’t particularly trust my sources.  So there could have been a 14th century smock that looked just like mine, but it’s more likely that it’s completely off.

Hours to complete:  4.5.

First worn:  For the photoshoot and a mad scrambly hike over the Miramar hills, because that’s what everyone does in a Medieval shift, right?

Total cost:  $6 (woohoo Fabric-a-Brac frugality!