Costume Trash and Treasure

I first heard about it when someone tagged me on Facebook. A garage sale with a difference! Opera Australia was retiring some costumes and having a two day “everything-must-go” fire sale.

There was a bit of confusion over where and when, conflicting information. But I knew it would be bringing the punters in. We’d have to get there early to be sure of finding what we wanted.

And what did we want?

We’ve got new members of the Renaissance choir, and while I don’t want them scared off, they need to be appropriately attired for a winter’s evening entertaining the lord who is our patron. At least, that is our back story. So peasant clothing is not acceptable. However, we can put more decorative layers on top.

We also have older members of the Rennaisance choir whose costumes need to be brought into a more opulent style. We all need a change, and we perform in all seasons, so that can mean a need to still look fabulously Tudor, for example, in an Australian summer outdoors.

I told my choir director about the sale. We’d get going as soon as we could by car.

road trip for costumes

I told my history-loving son and his partner. They went in by train to the city.

When the director and I finally arrived, an hour after the doors opened, the line stretched round the block. We were in luck, however. There was my son and his partner, only thirty metres from the doorway. We slipped in with them and to their credit, nobody minded us jumping the line. I’d grabbed a plastic shopping bag to carry away purchases. That came in very handy when it began to rain. A few umbrellas popped up, I put the bag over my head, but nobody was abandoning their place in the line to seek shelter.

Still so much to choose from!

A pity we don’t need these!

When we finally got in, most of the good stuff had gone. But what we wanted was sufficiently specialised, and I can adapt stuff, that we still left with as much as we could carry. Inside each item was a tag often indicating which production it had been used for, who had made the item and sometimes who had worn it.

The people checking us out were also the staff who made the costumes. How would it feel to see your creations walk out the door?

Since then we’ve been having fun trying on various items, mixing and matching, and slowly finding homes for bits. One pair of leather turnshoes fit me well, and others that are too big (but were only $2 each) are finding homes among the men in the choir.

There were familiar faces and new friends, all brought together with a common passion for costumes and history.

On the way home we stopped off to inspect a pillory that has been made for possible use at our Renaissance performances. A novel way to deal with hecklers, perhaps?

So once more, my poor little car is overloaded with fabric, costumes and colour.

I have a lot of work to do…

A Ruff Guide, or ‘I’ve Gone a Bit Nuts During Covid’

My hand-sewing binge has gotten a little more out of hand.

Regular readers will know that I sometimes attend medieval fairs. I also sing with a choir that performs medieval and Renaissance music, in historical clothing. After sewing myself a 15^th century kirtle during lockdown in 2021, a fellow chorister asked if I’d make him a ruff. I’d never considered it before. In the end he bought himself one. But he’d started me digging again.

With my first ruff I used an old cotton sheet, using a rotary cutter to ensure the strips of fabric were perfectly even. I did a narrow hem top and bottom and rolled the fabric tightly, ready for work. Before stitching the ruffles I looked at a lot of videos and settled on the following for a guide in how to stitch the outer edges of the ruffles together. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fHuDl0_Yoqg Probably not canon, but who knows?

I also followed another video https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VlcGaXql1P0 on how to stitch top and bottom of the neck edge to a neck band. There are other videos which show this.

Some makers are reenactors like me, they break rules in order for the end product to be easy to manage. For example, I don’t consider squishing the neck-side down into a single seam, to be a true ruff. But that’s me. I want to be able to throw it in the washing machine (in a delicates bag!) and not need to starch it. These is for a stage costume.

I finished my first ruff and wore it to our Christmas concert in the heart of Sydney. During Covid lockdown we had nowhere in the city to change, so we travelled on the train in costume. That’s one way to get a seat!

My ‘back story’ as chorister is ‘seamstress’.

By the end of the evening, my ruff was a little the worse for wear. I also found that my new red mask stained the ruff pink. Thankfully, it was the neck band (generally not seen) that bore the brunt.

Feeling tired and very ruff. Coming home on the train at the end of a long day. Rather crumpled.

So I resewed it. That required a new neck band (made out of the same old cotton sheet). The ruffles are stitched to each edge of the band, leaving all the fabric in the middle unattached and free (like many a Lord in Tudor court…)

The re-sew looked more even, but it’s still too densely packed. Back to the drawing board…

My young grandson wants ‘to dress like a Tudor prince’ so I made a small-scale ruff for him. It’s blue, which was a banned colour in the court of Queen Elizabeth I (blue being the colour of the flag of Scotland, over which her hated cousin Mary ruled) but at the time of Elizabeth’s younger brother being King, that was not an issue. His outfit should hopefully be ready for Book Week at school in August.

My grandson, rocking the ruff. And a Tudor cap, just like Edward VI wore. Now for the rest of the costume, and he’s set for “The Prince and the Pauper” by Mark Twain, for Book Week. In August.

So now my guide on how to make a ruff. Remember, I hand-sew so I can still travel around, only not just with a notebook and camera, but also with a needle and thread.

I’ve found stitching the edge of the ruffle can be done discreetly and holds the ruffles in position. That first link shows how.

Then as the length of ruffle gets longer, start attaching it to the band.

Measurements I use are easy to code, depending on what you want. My first white cotton ruff, and now my new one, were done with X = 1”.

For my grandson’s tiny ruff, X = 1 cm.

Here are the measurements I’ve learned through this process. On your long trip of fabric (historically, linen) I marked intervals along one edge with a very fine soft pencil (I use a propelling pencil so it’s always got a fine point).

Instead of using pins I mark intervals from the left-hand top edge of X, 1.5X, X, 1.5X and so on. When sewing (according to the Elizabethan Ruff Tutorial) you insert the needle two dots across, stitch the two points together then travel the needle back inside the tiny seam to the previous dot. Then stitch through two dots ahead again. And keep going!

Depending on what material you’re using, you might find it starts to get a bit too long to handle. That’s when you start to attach the ruff to a neck band. Make the band the length of your neck plus a cm or two for comfort. A ruff needn’t be uncomfortable! Make the ruff 2X in width. Slightly narrower is okay, don’t make it wider.

Now mark the band with the pencil at 0.5X intervals. Offset top and bottom by 50% (which means the top, say, is 0.0, 0.5, 1.0, 1.5 etc, the bottom is 0.25, 0.75, 1.25 etc). How far it stands out from the neck depends on how wide you cut your strips, and is completely independent. Cut them too wide, though, and it will be more inclined to flop and need starch.

My most recent ruff was a cheat – I bought 6 metres of ribbon (A$3 a roll) and some op-shop lace (3c a metre!). No need to hem the ribbon, which saved me a lot of time and effort.

I tried machine-stitching the lace to the ribbon, but the ribbon didn’t like it, it puckered. Hand stitching was almost as quick and much neater.

By marking the points with a soft lead pencil instead of using pins, it means I could carry the work in progress in a pocket at times. With the last one, I had the lace on a card and the ribbon on a roll, so I worked out of a shoulder bag. I’ve sewed on buses, on trains and in the car. Waiting around at various places. Watching TV, or even historical clothing YouTubes!

I finished sewing the ruff at choir practice and took a quick selfie to see how it looked.

Measurement needs to be as exact as possible, I use a pacer pencil with 2B leads for marking. With a roll of fabric, I used safety pins to stop it unrolling and tangling in my bag (or pocket). The satin ribbon/lace ruff was maybe three or four days of hand-sewing. The neck band can be machine-sewn from cotton or linen, but be accurate! I used press-studs on the neck band to fasten this one. Definitely not canon!

I sewed an extra flap on the neck band so the press-studs aren’t pressing into the neck. The more trad option is narrow ties, but for this one, the ties would have to match, and that ribbon is too slippery. It’s horrible to sew, even slightly rough skin on my thumb was snagging the ribbon and pulling threads.

Testing headwear. Not quite right. Work in progress.

I have a month to be ready for the next costumed outing with the choir. First step, padding…

With the ruff done, it’s time for me to move to the next part of my Mary Queen of Scots gown. But where to start?

Watch this space.

Travelling Haberdashery

My car is full of fabric.

I’ve mentioned before, how I went a bit nuts during last year’s four-month lockdown and immersed myself in historical clothing, mostly from 13^th Century to early 17^th Century.

Does my ruff look big in this?
Trying on an 18th Century puffy sleeve shirt (hand-sewn from an old sheet) which MIGHT pass muster for Tudor clothing. Maybe…

One of the choirs I belong to performs medieval and Renaissance music, and we perform in costume. I mentioned this in Travelling in Costume — at Christmas! helenjarmstrong.home.blog/2021/12/17/travelling-in-costume-at-christmas/

Over summer I got busy sewing more costume items, working at my own pace with no deadlines. Hand-sewing can be taken anywhere and I often sew while a passenger either in a car or by train. I discovered that old flannelette sheets make an acceptable visual substitute for wool, while being more lightweight for a warmer climate.

Sewing in lockdown while getting my dose of Vitamin D.

–

Backyard fitting. It still looks like a flannelette sheet. Needs work…

I bought the braid. It was $3 a roll. I needed three rolls exactly. Which makes this a $9 coat.

There we are! A bit of braid and he looks much happier.

Before I rediscovered hand-sewing, I got involved in Boomerang Bags in our village. We are a group of volunteers who make cloth bags from discarded, donated fabric. Another group near us formed as an offshoot of our group originally. I met up with one of them while browsing a new second-hand fabric shop which has opened in our district. I’d gone there looking for more old flannelette sheets (no such luck).

The rest of the same flannelette sheet — 13th Century hose. Not joined in the crotch.
Currently worn with lightweight cotton trousers underneath. Braes next!

Back view, to show the seam down the back of the leg. Functional, not glamorous.
The grin on his face is because a couple of neighbours stopped to stare.

Explaining to the neighbours with maille coif. Also unwittingly demonstrating why codpieces were ‘a thing’.

I was exclaiming over some lace I found, when my fellow Boomerang Bag sewer from the neighbouring group heard my voice (we couldn’t really see each other’s faces, current guidelines are for mask-wearing in shops). Her sewing group had plenty of sheets, she told me, which their group won’t use.

There was a brief lull in the rain on the day when I visited her home to collect the fabric. At the last minute she warned me that she had just been diagnosed with Covid, so we did a quick outdoor transfer of bags. I didn’t get a chance to check the fabric until we got home several hours later. It all needed to be transferred from my husband’s car to mine.

When I inspected it, I found to my joy that there were several flannelette sheets. They were old, badly pilled and had no other use. A tablecloth was a bit too worn and had a couple of stains. Ideas!

My car was full to the back of the seats with bags of fabric. “Not a problem,” I told hubby. “I’ll hand it over at our next sewing bee on Wednesday.”

The next day one of our kids tested positive for Covid. We were locked down.

I got sewing. No sewing machine, but I’m getting more confident with my hand-sewing.

Women in Tudor times wore a precursor to stays, called “pair of bodies”. They were in two parts, laced at the front and back, stiffened with bundles of reeds. The purpose was not to tightly lace a person into their clothing, but to provide a smooth shape in order to better display the fabric of their clothing. Fabric was expensive and labour-intensive to make, and the best was on display.

Because a pair of bodies was something all women wore, often as part of their undergarments, it was worn to death. Literally. Few examples survive, because these were patched, re-stiffened, repaired, re-lined and re-purposed until they fell apart. When people died, their clothing (including underclothing) was too valuable to throw away, it was passed on, until the next wearer passed on…and eventually the underclothing itself died in service.

As a result, few examples survive. But when Elizabeth I died in 1603, an effigy of her was commissioned, along with clothing to her measure. The dressed effigy was paraded through London, with the queen’s body, on the way to Westminster Abbey. This pair of bodies is still on display there, perhaps the best remaining example in the world, as it was never worn by any person living or dead, and never simply passed on to the next wearer.

We learn a lot from portraits also.

So here we were in lockdown, and I still need to keep working on my costume project for the dual purpose of dressing up at medieval fairs, and being suitably attired for the Renaissance choir performances.

I drafted the pattern for a pair of bodies to my own measurements.
http://www.elizabethancostume.net/corsets/pattern.html I started with cardboard, wrapped myself in it to check and moved to a fragment of old, stained curtain for a fold-up pattern.

Cable ties at the ready. Strong scissors are enough to cut them to size.

An old, stained and frayed tablecloth became the mock-up. A practice run.

Because this is for a costume rather than true historical accuracy, I had no qualms using heavy-duty cable ties for boning. In Tudor times bodies were often stiffened with buckram, a sort of heavy linen canvas liberally coated in glue made from rabbit skin. Not exactly washable… I did consider making my own modern and washable buckram using acrylic house paint instead of rabbit glue, but I wanted to play with boning. I’ve never done it before and it looked like fun.

As this was hand-sewn, I was able to take it with me. When we were allowed out of lockdown to at least shop for food, I would take my sewing bag with me and work on the bodies in the car (hubby driving). Doctors’ waiting rooms too, got a close-up look at my stays in development.

The first few ‘bones’ in place. In Tudor times they used bundles of reeds to stiffen the ‘bodies’, or buckram.
Lacing is the elastic from a dead fitted sheet. This is just a mock-up, after all.

Because I carry a seam-ripper in my pocket, spare thread in my bra and my current sewing project in a cloth bag, I’m at the ready for any other sewing tasks that come my way.

Yesterday on the train in Melbourne, while I was hand-felling some seams in a chemise, hubby said, “I need to put a few stitches in the strap of my shoulder bag.” He quickly added, “I don’t need you to do it, just give me some thread when we get back to the hotel, I have a large needle in my pack.”

I reached into my sewing bag, pulled out a bargain-shop array of sewing needles and invited him to select one. I threaded the needle for him (challenging on a moving train!) and he got to work, both of us sitting side-by-side on the train, sewing companionably.

I’d started the boning at the back for the lacing. Then I tied myself in and realised, it was too big. So I took to it with scissors and hacked out the centre. Did I cut too much? I’d have to do all the boning, and sew it all up closed, before I could know.

With a long trip coming up (another post coming soon, I promise – with REAL travel!) I wanted the job done. And I did it, by one day. I laced myself in and found that it fits. A bit rough, the final result may need to be re-made, but I’ve learned a lot in the process.

Laced in,front and back. I need to make a few adjustments. Better lacing, for a start!

And isn’t that what life is about?

Two days before we travelled, I was finally able to drop off the spare fabric I’d been given.

However, my car is still full of fabric.

Down the Rabbit Hole…

In Sydney, Australia, thanks to Covid and the outbreak of the delta strain, we’ve been stuck in isolation for nine weeks so far, with the prospect of another nine to go, at least.

What’s a writer to do?

The excitement of a medieval faire — Skill-at-Arms at Ironfest, Lithgow 2017. That’s a kirtle the lady warrior is wearing.

On 22 May, a few weeks before the lockdown, we went to Blacktown Medieval Fayre. We went with my friend, the director of the Renaissance choir, and we wore costumes from our choir performances, blending in totally. However, as is often the case, I felt my dress was a little too modern, I felt a bit of a medieval fake. Once again, I resolved to do some sewing. I bought a hat, a capuchon with a long liripipe, it looked easy to sew another like it. But I also knew that there are many ways to wear a capuchon. Very exciting! The capuchon was very much headwear for all weathers. it could be worn over the face in cold, wet weather, or rolled back in warmer weather. And to be different, it could also be worn upside down, in much the same way as a baseball cap these days is deliberately worn backwards.

I spent some time looking at displays with relevance to my Scottish ghost story, where my protagonists have to live off the land in an effort to survive harsh conditions.

Woodwork, medieval-style. Making a leg for a stool. Blacktown Medieval Fayre, 2021.

There have been some things about my fifteenth century Scottish ghost story that have been bugging me. Did they have chimneys in farm cottages in Scotland in the fifteenth century? What about clothing?

I had thought I’d had it right, but going back over my manuscript, I realised that some details were too modern. But, of course, the more I researched, the more I found that was peripheral to my area of study.

Family selfie at Blacktown Medieval Fayre, 2021. Myself, hubby and hairy older son (a Templar).

With nothing else to do (other than edit two anthologies, neither of which can be launched during lockdown anyway) I explored everything and discovered some wonderful personalities in the process.

I can now also make an egg fried rice that Uncle Roger would acclaim. But that’s another story entirely.

They say write what you know. So when we went into lockdown, I knew there was no time like total isolation in the present to immerse myself in the past via the internet and YouTube and really get to grips with all the life skills I might need in order to survive a fifteenth century Scottish winter.

While looking up exactly how to wear a capuchon (would my protagonist have worn one, perhaps?) I found other videos only peripherally connected to my area of study. But outside the house, the days were short and cold, so I snuggled under heavy clothes and studied on. Meanwhile I grabbed the medieval costumes of family members that were sadly in need of repair, and got to work with needle and thread.

One video I found which I went back to, was Elin Abrahamsson and how to sew a medieval kirtle. Worth a try.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fRvzUQ8v9Ss

Along the way I learned that hand-sewing could actually be very strong. In medieval times and even later in the Renaissance, clothing was kept carefully, what people wore was a reflection of their status and, unless you were nobility, people made their own clothes. How hard could it be?

I rummaged through my fabric stash. Hmm. Not much there. Shops closed, so no trips to Spotlight. I rang a friend who has a larger fabric stash and asked for help. We did a Covid-safe fabric hand over, and I found some heavy cotton fabric, a sort of tan-coloured canvas.

The instructions on the video were simple — don’t waste fabric. Rectangles and triangles. You measure how high you are, how round you are, work out how much hem you want and calculate it out. Then mark it on the fabric with chalk and a ruler, then cut it out.

I got out the sewing machine. The only place I could set it up in our crowded house was the driveway, on a sunny day. Hubby hung a sail overhead and I did my best. I really tried. But the sewing machine needs to be serviced. Again, not possible in lockdown.

Sketching in the desired neckline with a pencil.

I had to sew by hand. With one sewing needle left and no matching thread, again I had to make do. I chose a thread colour as close as possible in tone, but darker. I sat and hand-stitched long seams in every spare minute. Watching TV or looking over my husband’s shoulder while he fell down the same rabbit hole as me. We started with Vikings, worked our way through Queen Victoria’s cuisine (there was a lot of it) then worked our way back again. As I worked my way through the Tudors I noticed some detail on various styles of headwear worn by the women. I’d had plans to make one of those box-style headwear things worn by various wives of Henry VIII until I found out how they’re put together. That’s a big NOPE from me. You needed a dresser, a seamstress and a large packet of pins just to get dressed each morning. Nothing elaborate for me. After the dress I’m going to sew myself a light linen coif, the small white cap that all people wore on their heads, men and women. Underclothing, on body and on head, was necessary in order to keep the more expensive outer wear clean and in good condition.

Hand-stitching while I wait in the car for my son to get his Covid shot. It was a wait of several hours each time.

In lockdown we have had strict limits on where we could go. One exception (and I rang officials to check) was getting vaccinated. On the day my son had to get his first Covid vaccine, he had to go into inner Sydney. Public transport would not be a good idea, so I drove him. Of course I stayed in the car, listened to the car radio and sewed the seams on my kirtle. He got needlework done on him (Covid vaccination) while I did my own needlework. Travelling there and back was strange, driving on empty roads which normally would be choked with traffic. We shopped for groceries on the way home and it was his turn to wait in the car. Only one person per household permitted to shop. One person per day.

Back at home, after some long study of the Plantagenets (the Henrys, with a few Richards and a John thrown in) my husband was working his way through Scottish history, notably the border rievers. It felt oddly familiar to be hand-stitching a kirtle while watching a docudrama about Rob Roy. The dress I was sewing looked like the ones in the video.

Hand-felled inside seams for added strength.

Attaching sleeves. Again, pin while wearing and adjust fit individually.

One thing I learned through this whole process was that history is so often about the rulers, the leaders, the manipulators. Whereas I am writing about the ordinary people, the day-to-day lives of the majority. I felt glad to immerse myself in the process of sewing my own dress.

The finished kirtle. Finished except for ornamental trim.

Kirtle with capuchon. Our friend thought I had dressed as St Benedict. Apparently it was the right day…

I’ve now started to go back through my novel (the Scottish ghost story from the fifteenth century) and refine the details on clothing and lifestyle. When I mention the young woman mending her brother’s undershift by the fire, I want people to feel the scorch of the fire on their faces, hear the crackle, see the flash of firelight on needle and smell the burning peat. Writing has to be immersive, if the reader’s experience is to similarly be so.

With inside seams finished, I sewed the hem of the dress during a Zoom writers meeting this afternoon. When we went outside to photograph the dress, an old friend was walking his dog past our fence. He didn’t bat an eyelid when he saw me in kirtle and capuchon. Perhaps he was questioning my sanity, after so many weeks of lockdown. We chatted from a safe distance while we got ready to take our photos.

Of course, the dress project is not finished. There’s still another nine weeks to go, at least, in this lockdown. And now it’s time to trim the dress. I’m going to have a go at tablet weaving. But first, that coif…