1870 Hat by Lynn McMasters

I'm proud and privileged to be the owner of another custom hat by Lynn McMasters, milliner, friend, and occasional mentor (the last one was a really wonderful 1880s straw hat). In this post you'll also be treated...or horrified...by photos of yours truly! I'm not fond of having my photo taken. :)

This hat is the View D from Lynn's 1870-1880 Bustle Hat Pattern (eep! also featuring yours truly...I keep forgetting about that). Lynn based this view on several illustrations from around 1870.

I've got a big fat braid pinned to the back of my head to support the hat. There's a hat pin holding it on, but Lynn and I discussed attaching one or two combs or clips that will really hold it on.

The hat will got with a walking dress from around 1875 that, well, exists in my head...someday, hopefully SOON, I'll actually make the dress.

Finally I can't go without giving a plug to my friend Lynn. Making custom hats is something she does on the side; her primary business is making excellent hat patterns. Check them out here, or got to www.lynnmcmasters.com and click on "Pattern Orders" at the top. She's even got instructions on manipulating straw braid and blocking buckram! Even if you have no interest in home millinery, stop by her site and check out her amazing work.

Too much shopping...er, fun, at the Dickens Fair

Last weekend was my yearly visit to the Great Dickens Christmas Fair in San Francisco. My costume was the same old, same old 1868 gown I've had for years, so I'm not going to talk about that. Instead, I'm going to talk about the lovelies I bought during my visit!

For several years I've admired the feather arrangements and ornaments by PiumaMia Feather Creations. This year, I decided I wanted a feather ornament to put in my hair for the office holiday party. I picked out this collection of blue feathers, flowers, and clear crystals.

Hair clip in shades of blue and clear crystals,
by PiumaMia Feather Creations.

But buying one gave me the encouragement, for better or worse(!), to buy another! So I also bought this large arrangement with red cock feathers, peacock eyes, black ostrich plumes, red flowers and copper leaves. This one works great at so many different angles.

Red and black feather clip or pin
by PiumaMia Feather Creations.

I also paid a visit to Morgyn Owens-Celli of Strawbenders, and picked up this utterly FABULOUS straw hat. It's a modern design, but I find that it works for 1900 or 1930 or 1940 or 1950, depending on how I wear it. I really need to get photos of it on my head, but wasn't set up to take proper photos.

Straw and feather hat by Strawbenders.

Unrelated to shopping, my 1830s bonnet also had its first outing, on the head of my friend Sahrye (this is her blog, check it out, she's extremely talented and creative!)

The very talented Sahrye, in a late 1830s gown by her, and wearing my 1830s bonnet.

Sahrye made her FABULOUS late 1830s gown, inspired by the movie "Young Victoria." Read more about this amazing gown at her blog, It Came From The Stash!.

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:

Skirted Parasol Canopies from c. 1870

Well, never say never! In my previous post (Restored Parasol, c. 1900), I mentioned that I hadn't seen extent parasol canopies with a "skirt" like I put on the canopy of that parasol. Now I have, and on two antiques from my own collection!

Extant canopy on an 1870s parasol. The blue
arrow indicates where the rib tip is. The fabric
is silk faille.

Extant canopy from another 1870s parasol.
The fabric is something like silk taffeta.

Both these frames are from 1870s or later (they have metal ribs, so it's not likely that they date to earlier than the late 1860s, at the very earliest). The frames both happen to be folding frames (also called carriage frames) with tilt hinges. The canopies are prototypical: black silk, with pinked edges, lined with something like china silk. The silk is shredding to bits, of course, so eventually the canopies have to come off and be replaced.

The first canopy has a tiny skirt, extending only about 1/2 inch past the tip of the rib. The second has a slightly longer skirt, about 3/4 inch past the rib top. On the first, the rib tips are wrapped with thread, which has kept them from punching through the canopy fabric (this was hard to photograph, because the lining is in the way). The second doesn't have anything on the rib tips, so they've worn through the fabric in a few spots.

The second canopy, with the shredded top flipped out of the
way. The blue arrow indicates where the rib ends.
The canopy extends down from there about 3/4 inches.

These two parasols do date to several decades before my restored Edwardian-ish parasol, so they aren't exactly hard evidence that supports the skirted canopy style I went with. But at least I can say it was done somewhere, sometime. :)

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!

Paddle Loom

It's been dreadfully and boringly quiet here. Truth is, I haven't been working on anything new. So, instead I'll talk about something old.

Back in September of 2010 I acquired a paddle loom.

Paddle loom with matching shuttle, made from
curly maple. It technically doesn't have a "paddle"
because I wanted it to be as short as was practicable.

I got the idea from Janea Whitacker from Colonial Williamsburg. At Costume College 2010, she had a box loom with her. I decided I wanted something that took up less space, so opted for just the standalone heddle, generally called a paddle loom. The paddle loom also allowed me to have more "dents" (the slots and holes), since the box looms I found used narrower heddles. Mine was made by Jonathan Seidel (http://www.jkseidel.com/) and is a gorgeous curly maple.

I set to weaving what I had on hand: DMC pearl cotton and DMC cotton 6-ply embroidery floss.

First (or second?) experiment. DMC pearl cotton
warp and weft, using 15 warps. The resulting tape
is about 3/8" wide.

My first experiments used 13 and 15 warps, and I experimented with different numbers of plies for the weft. I also experimented with different warp patterns.

The upper tape is DMC pearl cotton warp and weft. The lower
tape is DMC 6-ply embroidery floss (using random
colors I wanted to get rid of). I used a full 6 plies for the weft.

So what can you weave with a paddle loom? I wove myself a pair of stocking garters.

A pair of stocking garters, in three shades of pink.

Yes, they only match in color, and mismatch in weave. I couldn't resist trying a different warp pattern for each one. These are about 41 warp threads wide, making them about 3/4" wide. With that many warp threads, the challenge with a paddle loom is to keep the tensions even. I invented a setup that lets me control the warp tension, and eventually I'll have to do a blog writeup about it. Here I also used 3 plies for the warp, which made the tape flatter.

These are made from DMC 6-ply embroidery floss. For the
weft I used 3-ply. They have 41 warp threads (I think)
and are about 3/4" wide.

I've used these garters a couple of times now, and they do work quite well.

The one thing I haven't succeeded at yet is doing a pick-up pattern. I really want to try this one from  WeaveZine. I think pick-up patterns work best if one uses different weights for the warp threads an so far I haven't had a chance to try it. But someday....

I surfed the web a bit in writing this post, and see that there are some great looking table-top looms available. Box looms (as seen on Jonathan Seidel's website) and paddle looms like mine have some historical backing, so if you're interested in doing historic demonstrations, those might be more appropriate. If you want to be able to weave wider wares, you may want to consider a table-top loom. If you really just want to save space (like I do) and maybe also some money, go for the paddle loom.

18th Century Embroidered Pockets - On Etsy

I just listed four pairs of embroidered pockets on Etsy.

These are what were left from a workshop I lead at Costume College 2009, in which the class made pairs of pockets. I offered embroidered fronts as an option, and what the students didn't take I sold to friends and fellow costumers. These four have been sitting around as unfinished panels since then, and since I'm in a fit of housecleaning, I made them up and now they're on Etsy. Stop by and take a look...tell your friends...these gotta go!

If you're curious what all the designs looked like, I have a gallery of them at my website. I don't have current plans to produce any more of these — but you never know where my short attention span may land....