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A 'St Birgitta's Cap' thedreamstress.com

A St Birgitta’s Cap

There’s a slightly funny story to this post. I finished my St Birgitta’s cap back at the end of January, photographed it, and wrote most of my post.

And then my Costume History students at Toi Whakaari picked their topics for their first research paper, and I remembered that I’d given them a picture of a St Birgitta’s cap as a research option – and it had been chosen.

Ooops…

So obviously I couldn’t publish a blog post (even a fairly lightweight one using only the most obvious basic internet references) about making a St Birgitta’s cap until the student had turned in their paper.

But the paper was submitted this afternoon, so here’s the blog post! (and I haven’t read the paper yet, so I’m not cheating off it either…).

A 'St Birgitta's Cap' thedreamstress.com

I’d always put St Birgitta’s caps in the ‘too hard and time consuming’ basket, but then Hvitr made one and wore it to our 2019 Historical Sew & Eat Retreat.

Now, Hvitr is infinitely more patient and precise than me, and makes notoriously crazy and impressive stuff. So I had no illusions that I’d be able to do something as perfect as her, but there is still something about seeing a thing in person that makes you think “yeah, I could give that a go!”

And having a lovely cap to keep my hair all tidy when wearing Medieval was awfully tempting. And I had a fair bit of hand-sewing time on my way to Hawai’i and back to spend time with my parents.

I used these as my primary references:

And, also looked at:

My fabric is the very sheer linen I made my Medieval veil and the now-missing wimple I made just before Christmas out of. My goal was to have a full matching set of headgear. I used a linen thread for all the hand-sewing, and cotton tatting cord for my interweaving.

I cut my two main cap pieces, basted them together along the centre seam, and then felled down each seam allowance:

A 'St Birgitta's Cap' thedreamstress.com

Then I unpicked the basting, and basted each hemmed edge to a strip of fabric (an old waistband unpicked from some project, as it happens) to hold my cap all tidy while I created the interlocking. I thought I was being very clever and innovative, and then it turns out that Elisa (who’s album I hadn’t discovered yet) did exactly the same thing. There’s never any truly new ideas in costuming!

A 'St Birgitta's Cap' thedreamstress.com

I then marked lines as a guide for my interlacing pattern. If I did this again I’d mark the lines before sewing in my centre strip, and mark them in permanent pen, rather than heat reactive pens.

A 'St Birgitta's Cap' thedreamstress.com

At this point I thought I knew how to do a double-interlacing herringbone stitch, so dove in to it:

A 'St Birgitta's Cap' thedreamstress.com
A 'St Birgitta's Cap' thedreamstress.com

And at some point I got nervous that I might not be doing it right, checked other people’s posts, and ended up on Sarah’s Hand Embroidery tutorials, and freaked out because I was clearly doing it wrong, so I undid all the work I’d done, and re-did it following her tutorial.

And then I realised that Sarah’s method with a double herringbone only allows for a double-interlock, and I wanted to do a quadruple-interlock, and there was no way to change it from a double to a quadruple without unpicking and re-doing everything I’d done. Of course, the way I’d originally started doing it was the right way to do it after all…

A 'St Birgitta's Cap' thedreamstress.com

I decided I couldn’t risk unpicking and re-doing it a further time, because the linen voile I was working with was so delicate. I was simply going to have to go with a double interlock – and a much more lacey, open, delicate look than the original cap.

So, on to the first interlock of my double herringbone!

A 'St Birgitta's Cap' thedreamstress.com

And then the second:

A 'St Birgitta's Cap' thedreamstress.com

I really enjoyed this part of the cap: the double herringbone and the interlock were really meditative, and rather addictive. I desperately want to do the proper quad interlock now!

A 'St Birgitta's Cap' thedreamstress.com

I was extremely pleased that I had exactly the right amount of thread, until I remembered that I was meant to have ended the interlacing a couple of inches before the end of the cap, to give me room to add a band and tie the cap on…

A 'St Birgitta's Cap' thedreamstress.com

Oops! So I had to unpick some of my weave pattern at the end, and simply knot it off. Not the prettiest, but this was clearly a learning experience.

Next I got to unpick my basted-on marker band, and start on the band that finishes the cap and holds it on to my head.

A 'St Birgitta's Cap' thedreamstress.com

Tiny safety pins may not be Medieval accurate, but they certainly made that part much easier!

A 'St Birgitta's Cap' thedreamstress.com

So did some nice un-stressful background TV (can you tell what I’m watching?)

A 'St Birgitta's Cap' thedreamstress.com

And then it was on to the final finishing seam:

A 'St Birgitta's Cap' thedreamstress.com

And the cap is done! It fits nicely, but I haven’t had an excuse to wear it properly.

A 'St Birgitta's Cap' thedreamstress.com
A 'St Birgitta's Cap' thedreamstress.com
A 'St Birgitta's Cap' thedreamstress.com
A 'St Birgitta's Cap' thedreamstress.com
A 'St Birgitta's Cap' thedreamstress.com

It’s certainly not as beautifully precise as Hvirt’s, and I’d love to have the time to make a better (more HA) one someday, but for now I’m pretty pleased!

A 'St Birgitta's Cap' thedreamstress.com

And, since we’re doing the 2020 Historical Sew Monthly in any order that we like, I think this would fit nicely into October’s challenge: Get Crafty.

What the item is: A 14th century ‘St Birgitta’s Cap’  

How it fits the challenge:  The double-herringbone interweave was definitely a new craft for me! It’s almost like making your own lace.

Material:  linen voile

Pattern:  Katafalk’s St Birgitta’s cap tutorial for the general shape of my cap

Year:  14th century

Notions:  linen thread, cotton tatting cord.

How historically accurate is it? I don’t know if linen of this weight was used for caps in the 14th century, and my interlacing definitely varies from the extant original, both in material and weave. 50% maybe

Hours to complete:  about 20

First worn:  Not yet. We were planning to do an autumn ramble ‘back in time’ in Zealandia, but Covid-19 has probably made that an impossibility.

Total cost:  $10 or less

Dress (c. 1840), England, wool, silk National Gallery of Victoria, Melbourne Purchased through The Art Foundation of Victoria with the assistance of David Syme & Co. Limited, Fellow, 1977

Rate the Dress: 1830s excess meets 1840s restraint

Apologies for the late Rate the Dress. But, the late post means I found an dress I’d entirely forgotten about in my inspiration file, and it’s so fabulously fascinating I’m hoping it makes up for a late post!

Last Week: an Empire era spencer & petticoat

I’m not usually a brown fan, but I’m obsessed with the particular ochre shade of last week’s spencer, but alas, many of you do not share my love. And even those who loved the spencer weren’t sure about it paired with the frilly petticoat – though you liked each garment on its own merits. However, I’m afraid I may have cheated the score every so slightly by showing that interior view, because I suspect some of the costume nerds among you were so charmed by the details you gave the outfit a higher score for it!

The Total: 7.9 out of 10

An improvement on the week before, but hardly brilliant.

This week:  an 1840 dress in harlequin pattern

This week’s Rate the Dress carries on my love for rust-y, ochre-y hues, this time paired with a blue-grey. It also carries on the blend of simplicity and frivolity seen in last week’s outfit, although here the order and the whimsy are spread evenly across the dress.

Dress (c. 1840), England, wool, silk National Gallery of Victoria, Melbourne.
Purchased through The Art Foundation of Victoria with the assistance of David Syme & Co. Limited, Fellow, 1977

The whimsy is easy to see: the entire dress is made in harlequin patterned fabric (wool or silk or a blend of the two, according the catalogue record), albeit in a very restrained colour scheme. Note the very delicate vine pattern running through the centre of each blue-grey diamond.

Dress (c. 1840), England, wool, silk National Gallery of Victoria, Melbourne Purchased through The Art Foundation of Victoria with the assistance of David Syme & Co. Limited, Fellow, 1977
Dress (c. 1840), England, wool, silk National Gallery of Victoria, Melbourne
Purchased through The Art Foundation of Victoria with the assistance of David Syme & Co. Limited, Fellow, 1977

The cut is also 1830s ridiculousness moving into 1840s restraint. The sleeves retain a bit of detailing and the last of the Romantic era poof. The elaborate bodice decorations so often seen in the 1830s have resolved into subdued pleating wrapping across the front of the bodice.

Dress (c. 1840), England, wool, silk National Gallery of Victoria, Melbourne Purchased through The Art Foundation of Victoria with the assistance of David Syme & Co. Limited, Fellow, 1977
Dress (c. 1840), England, wool, silk National Gallery of Victoria, Melbourne
Purchased through The Art Foundation of Victoria with the assistance of David Syme & Co. Limited, Fellow, 1977

It’s a perfect example of one era merging in to the next, all done in a memorable fabric.

Dress (c. 1840), England, wool, silk National Gallery of Victoria, Melbourne Purchased through The Art Foundation of Victoria with the assistance of David Syme & Co. Limited, Fellow, 1977
Dress (c. 1840), England, wool, silk National Gallery of Victoria, Melbourne
Purchased through The Art Foundation of Victoria with the assistance of David Syme & Co. Limited, Fellow, 1977

Of course, a perfect example does not necessarily mean something is perfectly elegant. How do you feel about large scale harlequin print and Romantic heads towards Gothic details?

Rate the Dress on a Scale of 1 to 10

A reminder about rating — feel free to be critical if you don’t like a thing, but make sure that your comments aren’t actually insulting to those who do like a garment.  Phrase criticism as your opinion, rather than a flat fact. Our different tastes are what make Rate the Dress so interesting.  It’s no fun when a comment implies that anyone who doesn’t agree with it, or who would wear a garment, is totally lacking in taste. 

(as usual, nothing more complicated than a .5.  I also hugely appreciate it if you only do one rating, and set it on a line at the very end of your comment

A 1910s-20s hat re-fashion

A 1910s-20s hat re-re-re-re-make

Welcome to a long, involved story about how a hat went through many design permutations before it finally became a lovely thing that I enjoy wearing!

I originally (all the way back in April 2017…) started out wanting to make this Lily Elsie mushroom hat to wear with my Miss Muffet dress:

Lilie Elsie, ca 1912
Lily Elsie, ca 1912

I began with a fairly generic straw sunhat I’d found at an op shop. I soaked it and re-shaped it over a hat-block and towels to get that mushroom shape. Somewhere there are photos of the process, but I just can’t find them.

Update: I have found one of the original re-shaping photos! The curved-up back brim is based on a catalogue image from 1913:

And…it looked terrible on me.

So it went in the naughty pile.

And then I needed a hat to go with the 1918-19 Not Another Blue Dress, so it came back out, and I re-shaped it again intp a shape halfway between this painting:

Charles Courtney Curran, The Boulder, 1915
Charles Courtney Curran, The Boulder, 1915

And the bottom left hat:

Hats, 1923
Hats, 1923

And then added a dark blue ribbon under the brim, and started trimming it with flowers all over the crown like the hat worn with the blue gingham dress:

The Delineator, Fashions for July 1921

And it looked really cute, but not with the Not Another Blue Dress – which happily did look amazing with my Tricorne Revival hat! (so at least one costume orphan got another use!).

So half finished, it went back into the naughty pile.

With the Waitangi Day garden party coming up I decided I needed a really good garden party hat to wear with my new dress. Something lovely and spring-y. This hat was the right shape, but the dark blue ribbon and flowers weren’t right.

So I pulled them off, and went back to the drawing board!

I assembled a pinterest board of mid-teens hats, and one of 1920s hats, and then started finding elements that I liked, and that I had the materials for.

I decided I really liked the fabric covered crowns you see with some teens & 20s hats. They are mostly shown with fabric brims, like the blue one in the top right, but there are definitely examples with straw brims and fabric crowns.

Hats, 1923
Hats, 1923

I had a scrap of silk crepe de chine from an end-of-bolt. It had tape marks and writing on it, but by cutting carefully I could cover the crown and make some lovely lush decorations.

A 1910s-20s hat re-fashion
A 1910s-20s hat re-fashion thedreamstress.com

The rosettes are made by cutting wide strips of crepe de chine on the bias using scalloped pinking shears. I then hand basted along one edge, gather the ribbon in, and then sewed a second line of stitches a bit out from the centre one, to create a floral centre, and to control the fullness of the ‘flower’

A 1910s-20s hat re-fashion thedreamstress.com

I went through my entire ribbon stash, and couldn’t find a better match for the under-brim ribbon (which hides the millinery wire, and is a very 10s-20s touch) than a satin ribbon.

1920s dresses thedreamstress.com

The colour was right, but the satin ribbon looked terrible eased around the crown, because viscose satin simply doesn’t ease. You can see every wobble and tiny sewn in crease in it.

A 1910s-20s hat re-fashion

The trip to Fernside Gardens gave me another chance to wear the hat, and a chance to fix the brim ribbon – and re-trim the hat to be a bit more 1910s instead of 20s.

I searched every store in Wellington, and finally found a cream petersham ribbon for the poor much-unpicked and re-sewn brim.

A 1910s-20s hat re-fashion thedreamstress.com

With the help of judicious amounts of steaming, pinning, and the assistance of a hairpin (my favourite finessing tool for really delicate sewing), I got the 3cm wide petersham tape to go on smoothly and perfectly:

A 1910s-20s hat re-fashion thedreamstress.com

It’s one of those things that you can only achieve through the wonderful shape-ability of natural fibre petersham.

A 1910s-20s hat re-fashion thedreamstress.com
A 1910s-20s hat re-fashion thedreamstress.com

And how do you get a hat to look more Edwardian? Add feathers!

I had some vintage brown ostrich feathers in my stash, and the pinky brown hues worked perfectly with the peachy crepe-de-chine.

A 1910s-20s hat re-fashion thedreamstress.com

A swoosh of them across the back and up one side of the hat added just the right touch.

A 1910s-20s hat re-fashion thedreamstress.com

If needed, I can take them off again, and restore the hat to its more 20s look. I love it either way though!

A 1910s-20s hat re-fashion thedreamstress.com

Many thanks to Miss A for additional pictures of me at Fernside Gardens (anything with a tiny logo is Miss A’s)

A 1910s-20s hat re-fashion thedreamstress.com

Best of all, the hat fits perfectly into the Historical Sew Monthly February Challenge theme of ‘Re-Use’

“Use thrifted materials or old garments or bedlinen to make a new garment. Mend, re-shape or re-trim an existing garment to prolong its life.”

A 1910s-20s hat re-fashion thedreamstress.com

What the item is: A teens-early 20s hat 

How it fits the challenge: The hat is re-shaped from standard sun-hat, bought at an op-shop. The millinery wire was repurposed from another old hat. It’s trimmed with an end-of-bolt silk remnant that had tape glue and pen marks on it, and vintage ostrich feathers. The only totally new thing on it is the petersham ribbon.

Material: a straw hat, silk crepe de chine

Pattern: None, inspired by a bunch of 1910s & 20s photographs and fashion plates

Year: 1913-23

Notions: millinery wire, grosgrain ribbon, thread, ostrich feathers

How historically accurate is it? It’s inspired by the general shape and trims of teens and 20s hats, but not based on a specific example. The construction is much more basic than most (although not all) hats of this era, and mostly I just kept tweaking and adding stuff till it looked good. A few elements are very accurate, but the overall look is plausible rather than totally accurate.

Hours to complete: 5-8, depending on whether you count all the re-shaping and trimmings before I got to a good result!

First worn: Feb 6, Waitangi Day, to a garden party at the Governor General’s residence

Total cost: $12-ish. All bits were from stash and purchased years ago from op-shops, but that’s my best guess.

A 1910s-20s hat re-fashion thedreamstress.com