The Pink Parasol's New Handle, Part 1

Give a woman power tools, and creative things will happen (whether they were meant to be that way or not).

Some years ago I bought this little parasol:

Small parasol that's lost it's handle. Hard to
date, could have been made anywhere
between 1890 and 1930.

It was cheap. Even in its day it was must have been cheap, its construction is mediocre, its parts are economy. And your eyes do not deceive you, its handle is broken off and irretrievably lost. But that made it unloved, and cheap.

This isn't the only parasol I have that has lost its handle, but because it's such a budget frame it's going to be my first full-handle-replacement project. Over the last few weeks I've been gathering the tools and parts I need. Today I went at it (though I'm REALLY supposed to be doing Costume College prep. Oh well.)

First thing is the replacement handle. I had originally planned to use an ordinary dowel, but went with the top end of a walking cane instead. A dowel would have had uniform thickness from top to bottom, while canes are generally a bit tapered, and that made, I think, for a more natural shape. The cane I used was *ahem* cheap, not very round, and not even meant to be used as a cane (it's only decorative). But it was a tapered stick of wood, which would do the job.

What's left of the cane. I was too trigger-
happy with the saw to take a photo before
cutting it up. It has an orange stain that
would look fine, but it also has a nasty-
varnish on top.

And now I had to solve a problem: how to drill a straight, centered hole into the end of a dowel? I explored a narrow handful of options (including buying a drill press, but I don't have anywhere to put a 100+ lbs tool), and then Lynn McMasters said, go buy this:

My doweling jig.

This is a doweling jig, which one uses to drill holes into the ends of planks in order to join them with dowel pins. Lynn has one that she's used to build a table, or something (Lynn is a master at technical solutions).

The doweling jig solved half the problem. I still need a way to hold the dowel itself, because if I just clamped it into the jig, the dowel would likely just rotate with the drill bit (or so I read on woodworking websites). So, I needed a dowel jig...for the doweling jig. Yeah, stay with me here.

I found the solution here: http://www.woodworkingonline.com/2008/04/08/dowel-drilling-jig/  I just needed to adapt it for the doweling jig.

First, to drill a big hole. So happens I have these big drilling bits (don't ask why, I do a lot of DYI on my house).

Big old bore drilling bits.
The big one is missing because it's stuck in the mount
(long story).

And here's what happened.

"Clamp" for the work piece on the left,
piece-to-be-clamped on the right. If I
had planned better, it wouldn't have split.

I wanted to fix a second piece of wood at a right angle to the one with the dowel hole, so I drilled holes for two dowel pins into the piece on the right (and used the doweling jig for this, yep, it works every bit as well as advertised!) Then I went to drill two holes into the piece on the left, and, well, I tried to drill into the kerf and split the wood.

I went at it with a file to see if I could make it work anyway. I got the other dowel pin to fit, but notice here that the upright piece is at an angle.

How they fit together (off-kilter; that'll need
to be fixed.

Yeah, that's not helpful when you're trying to line things up perfectly. These are postmortem photos, and I only noticed the off-kilter angle when I took them. I'll have to fix that before I try this again.

Now to put it all together. I clamped the work piece, the new handle, into the hole, and clamped the whole thing into the doweling jig. Yes, that made quite a contraption.

All clamped together.

Ready to drill. Here you can see the work piece.

And here's what it looks like. Bit off center, but it'll do.

3/8 inch bore hole for the new stick.

On the left, the new handle with new
partial stick. On the right, the frame with
a brass tube on the end, which will
connect and support the joint.

Notice that the frame, with the tube attached, is bent. I don't know what the original frame's stick is made of but it's certainly not a great piece of wood.

At this point I need to trim the brass tube, and I want to sand the handle some more. But it was late, I was hot and hungry, and decided to call it an evening.

Parasol Workshop, Part 3

This is a follow-on post to my earlier posts documenting steps in recovering a parasol:

Parasol Workshop, Part 1: canopy seams.
Parasol Workshop, Part 2: attaching to the frame.

In this post I describe another odd and unique step in recovering a parasol, which, well, really goes in between parts 1 and 2 above, but anyway, here it is now.

This step describes setting and reinforcing the hole at the center of the canopy. I have found this reinforcement on several extant canopy remnants, and on the modern umbrella that I'm converting into a parasol. My antique frames generally have little to nothing left of the canopy, so I can't tell you that the reinforcement is universal.

In some cases, the reinforcement isn't necessary. In the couple of cases where I've seen it, the seam of the canopy was shorter than the length of the rib. This difference is length is one way to manipulate the shape of the canopy. What happens, though, is that as you pull the canopy to attach it to the rib tip, the hole at the center of the parasol stretches and pulls out of shape. Now every time you close the frame, it'll slip down over the ribs.

So, here is what you do:

1. Put the canopy onto the frame tip. Keep the frame closed. With a double-length of thread, secure the thread about 1/4" from the opening.

I like to place my stitches through the seams, since it's
a sturdy point.

Pass the needle between the threads and under the knot.

2. Back stitch around the opening. Pull the stitches snug against the tip of the frame.

Don't ask why I'm going left to right instead of right to left.
It made sense at the time, and ultimately it doesn't matter
which direction you go.

3. When you're done you have gathered the fabric a little. The stitches should be snug against the frame tip.

Now you're basically ready to finish attaching the canopy to the frame.

Inside the Parasol, Part 1

The parasol canopy that's featured in my earlier workshop posts on parasol restoration (Part 1 and Part 2) wasn't turning out as good as I wanted, so I took it off. This gives me a chance to talk about some of the innards of the parasol canopy. Fair warning: this is going to be a rather pedantic post, but I find these details just SO interesting, and if you're an aficionado of parasols, then hopefully you will, too.

Today I'll be discussing two common features you'll find underneath a parasol canopy. For lack of being able to find consistent terminology, I call these the "donut" and "joint wraps." More on terminology in a moment. I say they are "common" specifically because they are not universal, or at least there is no way for me to prove that they are universal. In the dozens and dozens of parasols I've seen either in person or online, however, I see them more often than not, and thus feel safe to conclude that they are common.

Ok! So first: the "donut" (I'm going to keep putting it in quotes to underscore that this is terminology I made up). This is a circle of fabric or leather that sits between the ribs and the canopy.

Fabric donut (cotton) on an 1890-1910 parasol.

When made of fabric, it's often (but not always) the same fabric as the canopy.

Donut that is made from some sort of canvas. The canopy
was silk taffeta. The parasol is from 1870-1890.

My guess is that the primary purpose for the "donut" is to protect the canopy from the metal, moving parts of the frame. I've also found that it's sometimes used as an anchor to stitch the canopy to, around the base of the parasol tip.

Remnants of a leather donut on an 1855-1870 parasol.

 Another purpose I've found served by the "donut" is to hide the spring mechanism of pagoda parasols. I've seen one "donut" that had this function that was enormous. This was on a friend's parasol, and unfortunately I don't have a photo.

Vinyl donut on a modern parasol (note the plastic top notch).

The Fox Umbrella Company ("Keeping you dry since 1968") calls this thing an "inside cap". I've also seen it called a rosette, but I like to think of rosettes as gathered, scrunchy rings of fabric, and the "donut" is invariably a flat, circle.

Here is the "donut" I put on the workshop frame:

Reproduction donut made from silk taffeta.

It's the same powder-blue silk taffeta as the canopy. It's a little big for the scale of the frame, but I can't be bothered to do anything about it. Now, fraying is completely historically accurate. But I hate fraying, so this little ring was completely soaked in fray check. Don't hate.

Next: "joint wraps." These are bits of fabric, also commonly the same as the canopy, that are wrapped around the point where the spanner ribs meet the canopy ribs.

Remnants of silk joint wraps on an 1890-1910 frame (this one).

The Fox Umbrella Company calls these "prevents," and, indeed, their purpose appears to be to prevent the canopy from rubbing the metal at the joint. On older frames, where this joint could have some sharp edges, this was probably quite necessary. Newer frames, however, (say, 1875 and later) have pretty clean joints, and I would think the "joint wrap" isn't as necessary. But tradition is hard to overcome, and I have an 1910-ish frame that was refurbished sometime after the invention of nylon and the commercialization of plastic that has vinyl "joint wraps."

Canvas wrap from the 1870-1980 parasol picture above.

I've found that "joint wraps" come in two styles: either a simple oval of fabric, as seen immediately above and below, or a tidily folded bit of fabric, as seen two photos up.

Cotton wrap on the 1890-1910 parasol pictured above.

Loosely and broadly speaking, the folded type of "joint wraps" that I have found are made from silk, because, well, an oval of silk would fray away. Both styles, though, are attached the same way: doubled thread wrapped a few times above the joint and a few times below.

Here are the "joint wraps" on the workshop parasol:

Fold silk taffeta joint wraps.

I've attached them with doubled Gütermann silk thread in a matching color (from ye old big box store), with a simple knot at the first stitch and last.

And that's the end of today's lecture.

I've ambitiously labeled this post "Part 1" because I figure I'll be talking more about the innards of parasols in the future. I just find them so ridiculously interesting, but I'll try to focus my posts on restoration issues. Anyway, I'm done for tonight, but I'll leave you with a teaser of where the workshop parasol is going:

Restored Parasol, c. 1900

There's nothing like a deadline to get you hopping on a project, right??

I needed a parasol for an outdoor event today...then, of course, today was completely overcast and verging on RAIN, so the parasol stayed home. Poo. Ah well, at least the parasol is now DONE.

This parasol's canopy was originally the subject of this earlier post I wrote, outlining the process of doing a large machine embroidery. The base fabric is medium weight linen, and the embroidery is cotton quilting thread on top, polyester sewing thread underneath.

I bought the frame a number of years ago, and it came to me completely bare, except for the  disintegrating remnants of silk wrapping that padded the spreader joints. These I removed and replaced with scraps of linen from the canopy. The frame also had rust around the top, and a little at the rib tips, which I painted over, partly for aesthetic reasons and partly to avoid the rust from spreading. The handle is some mystery wood and the shaft is a single piece of bamboo.

Since I was in a rush, I was just going to finish attaching the canopy and use the parasol. Buuut I couldn't leave well enough alone, so I also finished the "rosette" above the slider, and the "scrunchie" around the finial (I've made up those terms; I don't really know what they would've been called for real).

In reality, the most challenging part of restoring this parasol was that it was missing the cap that parasols often (but not always) have at the top of the finial. I sacrificed a slightly expensive (but real metal) pen to make this final cap. I'd like to find a better solution, but for now, this will do.

The parasol's handle didn't need any work. I cleaned it, back when I bought the parasol, with some wood furniture cleaner, but have otherwise left it alone.

So what's with the date of this parasol? It's really challenging to pin a parasol to a precise year, let alone an exact decade. There are a number of factors that one can use to establish a date (such as the rib construction, the style of spanner joints, the overall length, and the size and shape of the canopy), but when it comes down to it, there was never only one style of parasol in existence in any given year. Sure, there may have been a general look that was in fashion, but within that look there would have been plenty of room for variation, and who's to say that someone didn't offer styles that were just not in fashion It's not like the 1890s or 1910s had only ONE style of shoe. We know that just wasn't true.

Anyway! By my estimation, this parasol might have been built anywhere from 1890 to 1910, so I've labeled it with a date smack in the middle.

Lastly: what have I learned from restoring this parasol? First: the canopy is heavy. All the surviving canopies I've seen that aren't silk or lace have been fine, light cotton. Next time I do a canopy like this, I'll use cotton instead. Second: the "skirt" around the edge of the canopy doesn't really work. It tends to flip up when I open the parasol. I honestly don't think I've seen a skirt like this on a surviving canopy; skirts tend to be cut in crescents that leave the rib tips exposed. Now I think I know why!

Parasol Workshop, Part 2

EDIT 11/25/11: I removed the canopy from the parasol and just got 'round to putting it back on, so I retook the photos for this post. Sorry it took so long!

EDIT 8/10/11: I realized that I made a small mistake in explaining how to attach the canopy to the ribs. I've removed the incorrect photos. When I get around to doing another parasol restoration, I'll post new photos.


Hot on the heels of Part 1, here's Part 2, so that my gal-pals can finish up the parasols they were working on yesterday. Gals, I expect finished parasols! And photos!!!

In this post I'll explain how to attach the canopy to the frame, in somewhat nauseating detail, so that hopefully this process is clear.

What you need: buttonhole twist, preferably silk (I used cotton-covered poly, because that's what I had handy), and a needle with an eye large enough for the buttonhole twist, but no so large that it won't pass through the hole at the tips of the ribs.

First: put the canopy on the frame. Yes, really.

Second: attach the canopy at the tips of the ribs.This is where the buttonhole twist and needle come in.

1: Fold the fabric over the rib.

2: Pass the needle through the folded fabric, and through the hole in the rib tip.

3: Pass the needle through the fabric and the hole again.

4: There should be a loop underneath the rib tip. Pull the ends of the thread so that the loop is taught.

5: Make one overhand knot. Don't unthread the needle, so that it's ready for the next one.

6: Make a second overhand knot, so that you have a square knot.

7: Make a third overhand knot.

8: Trim, leaving short tails.

Next: attach the canopy to the ribs.This helps the canopy to behave properly, and I've seen it done, in some form, on every antique parasol I've ever seen. I'm going to go a little quicker here.

1: at a point 1 to 1/2 inch below the hinge (towards the rib tip), pass the needle under the rib and through the seam allowance, twice. Because this is a very small canopy, I'm putting these stitches about 1/2 below the hinge. On a larger frame, 1 inch works better.

2: tighten, and make three overhand knots like you did on the rib tips. Trim the extra thread, leaving tails.

3: repeat 1 to 1/2 inch above the hinge.

I'm going to stop here, because I'm going to finish attaching the canopy in a manner more similar to how the original canopy was done (a slight variation from what I just explained).

I did finish attaching the canopy to the frame, which makes this parasol ready to go...but, of course, I can't leave well enough alone! This parasol will also get a lining (just like it had originally), and TRIM. But more on that later.

Parasol Workshop, Part 1

Yesterday I lead a workshop for five of my girlfriends, in which we recovered parasols. This post is basically for their benefit, because I did a pretty botched up job explaining how to do the seams. Gals, skip to the photos.

For those of you who weren't there: the seams on parasol canopies are sewn in a particular manner that I assume gives them both strength and flexibility. While I haven't done an extensive survey, my experience, and that of my parasol mentor, Lynne Taylor, indicates that this method is nearly ubiquitous. I've seen it even on hand-stitched canopies.

Anyway, here's what I'm on about:

1: stitch the seam, using a small stitch length.

2: fold the seam allowance under.

3: stitch over the seam and the folded allowance. Try to stitch on to of the first stitches, or slightly towards the seam allowance.

4: what the seam looks like on the other side.

Since this parasol restoration has turned from "to-do" to "in progress", I'll chat about it some more soon.