5/28 – Nearly done – one set of side seams left to flatfell, and the hems.
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5/15 – In my latest wave of deluded naive mania, I have decided to HANDSEW Spoon’s shirt. This started with wanting to canoodle sit in front of the tv with Daan, rather than over in the corner making a racket with the sewing machine. I had to piece the sleeves together, because I was feeling frugal with the saffron linen. And if I was going to piece them, why not use insertion stitch, so they’d have a little more ventilation? And if I was going to do insertion stitch*, why not make it green, like the period descriptions?
Of course, the linen is a Great Enabler of these crazy ideas, because it turns out to be a total JOY to handsew. It’s got lots of body (think starch) so, when I fold hems into my cut edges, a crease APPEARS. The hem stays folded. No WONDER people made clothes out of this stuff that was such a work to process – by the time you get to the part that everybody had to do (the sewing), the material HELPS you. Wicked cool.
So since it’s so nice to handsew, and gosh darn it, since handsewing is PERIOD, I’m handsewing the shirt. I’m as far as the collar now.
*If anybody reading this knows what is meant by ‘insertion stitch’ other than [blanket/buttonhole stitch both edges then whipping the edge threads together] please let me know. It works, and looks great, but aren’t there other ways to do this? I was rather unsuccessful in internet searches.
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In exchange for Maude’s distaff, I’m making Spoon some garb. He’s a 1600’s Scottish Highlander, and itinerant spooncarver.
We’re starting with the saffron shirt. We made a conscious decision NOT to make a leine.
Leine.
Bad 19thc pictures of leines. Also not great scholarship (I want footnotes with pagenumbers). But a terrific rant against misleading scholarship.
WHY NOT: Because Spoon is setting himself at the very end of period, at the end of the use of the leine, and without more experimentation, we see those draggy sleeves as impractical for everyday SCAdian running around. Of course, the little voice in my head that starts insane projects says – ‘But how do you know they’re impractical? You should wear them around for three months and figure out the uses of draggy sleeves.’ I told the little voice to shut up.
From Reconstructing History’s The Evolution of the Kilt:
In Rome, Bishop Lesley published a treatise on things Scottish in 1578.
He says: “All, both nobles and common people, wore mantles of one
sort (except that the nobles preferred those of several colours).
These were long and flowing, but capable of being neatly gathered up at
pleasure into folds. I am inclined to believe that they were the
same as those to which the ancients gave the name of bracchæ.
Wrapped up in these for their only covering, they would sleep comfortably.
They had also shaggy rugs, such as the Irish use at the present day, some
fitted for a journey, others to be placed on a bed. The rest of their
garments consisted of a short woollen jacket, with
the sleeves open below for the convenience of throwing their darts, and
a covering for the thighs of the simplest kind, more for decency that for
show or defence against cold. They made also of linen very large
shirts, with numerous folds and wide sleeves, which flowed abroad loosely
to their knees. These the rich coloured with saffron and others smeared
with some grease to preserve them longer clean among the toils and exercises
of a camp, which they held it of the highest consequence to practice continually.
In the manufacture of these, ornament and a certain attention to taste
were not altogether neglected, and they joined the different parts of their
shirts very neatly with silk thread, chiefly or a red or green colour.”
Here’s a great explanation of why rich people like Bishop Lesley thought the yellow Scottish shirts were saffron, but they probably weren’t, from someone who actually did a bit of experimentation with dye, but still didn’t use footnotes.
More later, after the yellow linen and my pattern order comes in. (Yes, I could have done this constructing a pattern, but I kind of wanted to see what Reconstructing History’s version looked like, and it’s not like this’ll be the last shirt I make.)
“shaggy rugs”
In the documentation for the Folkwear Pattern Kinsale cloaks, they talk about how some of the robes were “shaggy.” This was a pile made by brushing the final fabric (made from long-wooled sheep) and then working it into swirls. I wonder if that’s what they mean here.
Would I fail you?
Joining two pieces of cloth together with a wee gap in between is called faggoting. Instructions are at http://vintagesewing.info/1920s/26-fcm/fcm-14.html
(go about halfway down the page).
And you’re right about linen–lovely stuff. I want to sew some when I get the kitchen floor finished (I’m about 3/4 done). Where did you get the lovely green stuff that you had when you visited?
I adore handsewing linen. The only quasi-drawbacks I see are the need to thoroughly finish the edges since it ravels as enthusiastically as it creases (if only it felted like wool, it would be nature’s miracle fabric), and to use it in contexts that don’t discriminate against creases as “untidy wrinkles”.
Leine sleeves are not inherently impractical. I have worn them and done all manner of craft and kitchen work–for which they can be folded/tucked back. when they are fully deployed, they are good for carrying things in, and comfortable in warm or cold weather. Of course a Scotsman has his choice of anglo or celtic style, so can follow his preference.