Twill Tape!
October 26th, 2011
Am I strange to become so excited by a roll of twill tape? 72 whole yards?
Just think how much corset boning this will hold in! And it’s good for binding stays too, if you don’t care about strict period accuracy…
Completed Collar
October 25th, 2011
Here’s the correctly sized collar, crocheted “in imitation of Brussels lace.”
You may recall that I made this collar last week too — but didn’t trust the original pattern (from 1846) and ended up with a collar that fit my husband’s neck better than mine, and he’s quite a well-built fellow. Just between you and me, I don’t know that I’m overly fond of this collar. The last two rows (which account for the chain stitch borders) are a little silly, and even look kind of sloppy in places. Hopefully they will neaten up a bit when I block it.
I may also make another version and leave the last rows off entirely. But I did have to see how it looked according to the pattern. It’s such fun to follow patterns without pictures — you never know how they’ll turn out. Perhaps it will look better over a dress too.
Next up, Grecian Pattern Collar, also from 1846.
My Career as a Manicure
October 24th, 2011
While preparing to stand up as bridesmaid for a dear friend, I had occasion to give myself a “french manicure.” There wasn’t time to go to a nail salon, so I picked up a kit at the drug store and did my best. Considering it was the first time I’ve painted my nails in years, I must say it didn’t turn out badly.
Neat, yet fairly subtle. And short enough that I can still crochet and sew with ease. It got me wondering about the history of manicures in the 19th century. America seems to have adopted this particular refinement by the 1880s, straight from the world’s most fashionable city. Here’s one of the earliest references I was able to find:
A NEW EMPLOYMENT FOR AMERICAN WOMEN.
AN article recently published in Harper’s Bazar, and entitled “Woman’s Pedicures and Manicures in Paris,” was doubtless read by many with considerable interest, as it pointed to a sphere of employment in which American women might find useful and remunerative activity. The writer sketches the personale and skillful treatment of a feminine pedicure, whom she engaged to perform the services which would be rendered by a professional chiropodist in this country, and who, for the insignificant sum of forty sous, furnished her “with a bran-new pair of feet, when she got up and prepared to walk off on them.”
Then she proceeds to describe the office and equipment of a “manicure,” to whom she went for curiosity’s sake and for an item or two.
“After a tedious waiting, my turn at length came, and I seated myself by the manicure’s little table, upon which were scattered the tools of her trade. These were scissors and knives of a shape specially devised for the trimming of the nails, files, nail-cleaners, a small basin of rose-water with a bit of soap near it, a tiny towel of linen cambric, a bit of lemon, and various polishing powders and sweet-smelling unguents in the form of ruby colored pomades. The first step in her proceedings was to wash off the finger-tips carefully, then to dry them, after assuring herself that there were no ink spots or other stain upon them. Then she clipped and trimmed the nails into the approved filbert shape, neither too short nor too long, nor too pointed nor too broad; the ‘halfmoons’ at the base of the nails were gently brought into clear light; all ‘hang-nails’ were amputated; and after this she rubbed a coral-colored pomade of a delicious odor upon the nails and the upper part of all the fingers. After allowing this to remain a little while she wiped it off again, and scattered upon the nails a golden brownish powder, which she vigorously rubbed with the whole length of her powerful forefinger, occasionally aided by the palm. More pomade, more powder, more rubbing, and then the nails were shown with that beautiful gleam upon them, that pearly pinkness, seen in the interior of some delicate sea-shells. As the pedicure had said, the manicure’s manipulations greatly ‘advantaged’ a pretty hand, but even in a greater degree advantaged an ugly one.
“The manicure, like the pedicure, charged forty sous for a sitting, that is, at her own rooms. When she did the visiting, her price was a dollar. That she found her business lucrative was sufficiently indicated by her handsome rooms and her prosperous appearance.”
As in Paris, there are many people of wealth and luxurious disposition in our large cities who would readily avail themselves of the attentions of a manicure, and it is in the nature of things that the establishment of such an art in America would have a tendency to improve the manual habits, so far as neatness is concerned, of our people at large.
— The Phrenological journal and science of health, 1878
The Bridesmaid
October 23rd, 2011
O Bridesmaid, ere the happy knot was tied,
Thine eyes so wept that they could hardly see;
Thy sister smiled and said, “No tears for me!
A happy bridesmaid makes a happy bride.”
And then, the couple standing side by side,
Love lighted down between them full of glee,
And over his left shoulder laugh’d at thee,
“O happy bridesmaid, make a happy bride.”
And all at once a pleasant truth I learn’d,
For while the tender service made thee weep,
I loved thee for the tear thou couldst not hide,
And prest thy hand, and knew the press return’d,
And thought, “My life is sick of single sleep:
O happy bridesmaid, make a happy bride!”— Alfred, Lord Tennyson
Just two days ago, I was proud to stand among the lovely bridesmaids while my oldest friend (in duration, not age) exchanged vows with the love of her life. She was breathtaking in a beaded white gown, blushing beneath the bridal veil her mother once wore. Here’s to the happy couple! May their union endure and blossom through the years.
Having one’s picture taken repeatedly, sobbing through a wedding ceremony, toasting, and dancing can really wear a bridesmaid out. By the end of the evening, I was ready to collapse into a handy chair. (I wasn’t quite as tired as I look — my eyeliner ran a bit when I teared up.)
Isn’t that the prettiest bridesmaid dress you’ve ever seen? I’m very lucky to have a friend who likes purple as much as I do. And there was something Madame X (or at least Gigi does Madame X) about the neckline too…which I admit I accentuated on purpose by nipping in the waist when I altered the dress.
Collared
October 20th, 2011
My fascination with crocheted lace continues. While researching petticoat edging, I’ve come across so many collar patterns from the 1840s and 50s that I finally gave in. For my first attempt, I chose a pattern by crochet goddess Cornelia Mee in imitation of Brussels lace. I’m not quite sure in what way it is meant to resemble Brussels lace though.
There were still two more rows to be added when this picture was taken. They didn’t do much to increase its affinity to any Brussels lace I’ve ever seen.
This is real lace. I found the photograph (culled from Ebay) on Lace News. Brussels lace is a pillow lace, originally made in and around Brussels, naturally. It’s frequently confused with other types of lace made in the same region, including Brussels point, a needle lace that is quite different. At least the experts say so.
Back to my crocheted collar. It seemed awfully small when I began, so I added an extra 30 stitches to the starting chain, thinking that my gauge was off (always an iffy thing with an historic pattern) or that necks are simply bigger in 2011. But when I finished pressing it flat I was horrified to discover that my “swan-like” neck was just swimming inside the collar. So I immediately began a new iteration, sticking strictly to the pattern. I’m nearly done with the new version (it works up very quickly) and plan to give away the enormous one to someone who will wear it with modern blouses, which have wider necklines.
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