Moving

Buttons came in. Pretty happy. It's been a good ride on Blogger, but ever since I turned my site back on the Google bots have had me in Google jail. I'm heading over to Wordpress, so update your links and please join me over there. The posts didn't come over quite right so making a redirect has been problematical. So long, friends and TTFN.

 

Loose Ends, Obsessions

 

Thought I might chat about loose ends, things I've finished, and what I was up to while submerged plus new skills I acquired. But first, brother Weed. Turns out he was offering variolation, popular among rich families and the educated classes. It was a chance for doctors to make money from preventative medicine for a change. Lots of money. Small pox was endemic to Philadelphia and variolation was known in Africa and Asia for centuries before it was brought to the West. Pure chance that 18th-century doctors added something effective to all their purgatives and bleeding. Amazingly, they also knew staying out of the sun on a hot day, fresh air, and exercise were good for you.

Above, I am channeling the Shrinking version of Harrison Ford in a throwback outfit. Turns out there are FOUR shirts in Blade Runner, plus three ties, two pairs of trousers, and the coat and trench coat. Oh yeah, and the sweater. All in all, a pleasant diversion. This was the golden age of sci-fi films: obscure accessories and cobbled-together props. It's all 3D printing now. The badge was made by the same house that still prints ephemera for Hollywood, using the old machines, signed by the same dude who signed Deckard's name for the movie.

Unclear why I did two of these, obsession brain probably. The bottom one is a kit, mostly from zinc pot metal, with a steel barrel and a dozen or so different screws holding it together. At top, a Japanese replica I was lucky to get, which I disassembled and refinished. The Japanese models were used in Blade Runner 2049. The original firing prop was built from a revolver and a rifle with a custom grip and scavenged items. Made famous in Star Wars, parts-bashed weapon props like this were notoriously heavy. Harrison Ford complained about it in both films. OF COURSE, the hero blaster in Blade Runner had one different part on it not seen in the film, when it reappeared at a Con after many years. So I made both versions. It took me a while to figure out the right Vietnam-era radio part and scope knob for one of them and acquire them online. Therein lies the problem: this level of obsession can be dangerous. if the creativity dries up suddenly, the brain can easily turn to bad things.

Cosplay has a nasty tendency to get bigger and more complex fast. Why not spend years instead of a month putting something together? It's only money. Granted, I learned electronic wiring and a bunch about 3D printing along the way. Aliens found items are hard to come by hence more expensive. The only things I could afford were the M1 steel helmet (modified with diamond-tipped tools), boots (German copies), watch, and the camera lens. The shoulder lights were originally made from a 1980's British home alarm system, with a video light rig and diving lamp handle added on. The microphone is an insanely expensive stereo model actually used for dialogue on set. As with the poor Star Wars ship modelers, the best solution is 3D printing. Many plans are free online, and Etsy offers custom printing. Thank the FSM there are passionate individuals willing to do some heavy lifting. Chef's Creations makes great replica armor and uniforms, with video tutorials on how to assemble the former. The original armor was hammered out of metal and hand-painted with Humbrol model paint. Painting my armor felt very nostalgic.

Needless to say, after this project I crashed hard. I was living alone at the time and with nothing to follow it, things got dark. I finally sacrificed my short commute to move in with Kitty again and with her help I'm back. She suggested I wear all this stuff to work rather than have it just clog up her closet. Maybe not the armor.

Problems

George Weed had a problem. In Woodbury, Connecticut in 1746 he handed off some bogus examples of the colony's script to a known counterfeiter. George informed this fellow that his brother Samuel signed the notes and could imitate any man's handwriting. The counterfeiter got arrested in Fairfield County in October. Weed passed some fake 20's in a local tavern and visited his "friend" in jail, sharing a mug of flip. The doctor advised him to escape. As soon as the counterfeiter was released on bail, he ratted out his co-conspirator. Weed was arrested but promptly ran from the constable.

Around that time, the great actor turned evangelist George Whitefield visited Connecticut. Weed may have seen him, or someone similar like Eleazer Wheelock, which might explain his problems with the Baptist church he attended in Philadelphia in 1765. He called their attempts to curb his preaching a trick that Dr. Faust played with the Devil:

Whereas George Weed has withdrawn himself from this church without applying properly for a dismission, and has since declined to come to show cause for his conduct for which irregularity and refusal, and also for his declining to pay the money he subscribed towards building the meeting house we do therefore erase his name out of the church book and declare him to be no longer of us, and this we do in hope it may be blest for the good of his soul.

Speaking of problems, here is one of the linings I cut for the coat.

At first, I thought this was because I forgot to iron the silk before I cut it. Yet the other lining piece fits fine. They were both cut at the same time, from the same pattern. Nothing for it but to cut another lining for one side. Ino, I could piece the tail, just don't feel like it.

The silk also tends to explode when cut with a buttonhole chisel.  I could have done the fancy-pants individual lining squares between the buttonholes, but this coat isn't nice enough. 

Instead, I get a confetti of tiny pink threads poking through the buttonhole slit. I learned the hard way not to pull on these, as shown below.

As with the pocket flaps, I have learned a new and better way to handle pleats. Not sure why I have been doing them wrong all these years. More on that later.

  
 

Holy hell, where have I been?

I can explain: Well, not really. I got antsy about posting anything on the interwebs, then blogs went out of fashion. Also, I have not made anything in a long while. I would not wish anhedonia on anybody. Anyway, bizarre side effects of chronic pain meds fixed everything.

My partner and I have a new gig at MOAR in October, another chance to portray an actual couple in Philadelphia wondering what the hell is happening in 1776. 

George Weed appears to have been a sad character. A successful doctor (and counterfeiter?) He decided one day he liked preaching better. His hospital employer disagreed with his career change. He was also unsuccessful with freelance preaching in churches. Fortunately, his wife saved the lucrative pharmacy business. I look forward to playing such a conflicted fellow.

I realized I don't own any wool frock coats, and my unlined linen one is so old the outside is lighter than the inside. I'm going to use the Ryan pattern again, mostly because it fits me, but let's assemble it with Henry Cooke's directions. The wool is from Renaissance Fabrics and the salmon pink silk lining comes from B & T. The silk is pretty sheer. Add to that black death's heads from Blue Cat.

Okay, that pocket flap lining needs a bit of ironing, but Henry's directions make this process SO much easier. I dislike the size of the Ryan flaps, so these are scaled down to go with the small cuffs. The wool is pretty thin, so a folded edge is possible, but I'm lazy. It seems to hold a cut edge well enough. If I had it to do over again, I'd trim the turned silk edges because they show through the lining. Note the buckram in that pocket flap is not sewn to anything. I learned this the hard way after several attempts to anchor it.

Flip the coat front over and here is the interfacing getting stitched against the front edge. Note the huge honking 5/8" seam allowance. Don't worry this will get trimmed. The buckram is actually set 3/4" back so the silk lining gets 1/8" overlap. 

Note the pocket bag. I'm tacking the top corner to the buckram, so the bag doesn't fight with the free edge.

The button side of the coat is in limbo till the buttons get here, but there are ten buttonholes to do on the other side once the lining is in. Stay tuned.

 

Jackets and adjustments

"I am exceedingly obliged for your exertions in forwarding reinforcements to this army. I like your plan exceedingly of equipping the troops with Jackets, as I am persuaded these may be had, and coats cannot; and tho' they are not quite as sightly, they will serve to render them comfortable." 

--Gnl. Greene to Gnl. Steuben January 7th 1781

Back to our favorite obsession, the US Southern Army in North Carolina. Fort Dobbs timeline hosted Kitty for the first time (as a disgruntled 16th century colonist,) and the fifth iteration of the ragged-ass Continental. A dearth of roads and wagons left them under supplied, but years of experience made them tough with a taste for campaigning.

The above tantalizing clue from Greene's correspondence paints an interesting picture of the time before Guilford Courthouse. Steuben appears to have pushed jackets pretty hard as a remedy to uniform shortages. Quality was lacking, and they were unlined, but better than nothing.

Philip Katcher's Uniforms of the Continental Army, describes rebuilding the North Carolina regiments after the debacle at Charleston. The public store at Halifax had "Pieces Course Blue Frieze," as well as "Soldiers woolen Jackets." Were jackets waistcoats? Did they have sleeves?

As a purely speculative venture Kochan and Phillips serge was laundered repeatedly to give it a frieze-like hand. The jacket is similar to British light infantry types. Cheap and cheerful. It should cover the waistband of the breeches or overalls.

Here is where photographs come in handy. Even with the shadows the body of the jacket looks okay, but the sleeves are way too big. A bunch of material can be removed from the seams to make them snug. Leave some ease around the elbows.

Always good, especially with new projects to look at photos of yourself for fit issues. Similarly a breeze on your hind quarters means your shirt is too short. A blanket cape is a great accessory to shield the public.

First Person Redefined

It's been a fantastic couple of weeks. Fort Dobbs is finally open and spectacular. The Museum of the American Revolution reprised their Occupation of Philadelphia event, so Elizabeth Weed and Thomas Nevel returned to amuse the public. Both places were an excellent chance to refine lower class and middle class 18th century characters. The servant at Dobbs was a Virginia man fleeing the frontier war who joined the Carolina Provincials and became an officer's valet. Thomas Nevel was a historic Philadelphian, one of the city's leading builders, stuck between the British, his cheapskate clients (Congress,) and his feelings for the Widow Weed.

  The most important part of first-person interpretation is realizing it's impossible to replicate the 18th century mindset. We have no idea how they thought. Forget about speech patterns as well. We can research their circumstances, read their writing, and place it in the greater context of history. No need to have smallpox or be filthy (a different discussion entirely.)  We can make some good guesses about how they felt through a modern lens and share that with the public. It's the easiest way to make them feel connected to the past.

If Hamilton taught us anything it's possible to make history engaging with a bit knowledge and some theatrics. Puffing on a clay pipe, Thomas Nevel walked around Philadelphia with a stylish cane. If an approaching group smiled and made eye contact it was easy enough to ask them: "have you seen my cow?" We know Nevel owned a cow, and that the British were tearing down fences a soon as they arrived. He might talk about working on Carpenters' Hall and his house at the same time. He could mention his desire to court the Window Weed at the end of her mourning period. It's possible to break down the fourth wall and talk about why Carpenters' Hall was built and what it was used for over the years--mix first and third person.

Since Nevel was vaguely Presbyterian, and filled the Delaware river with obstacles on behalf of the rebels, he might share a pipe with the American prisoners working outside. His dress is a mix of working sort and middle class: stained leather breeches, faded frock coat, white shirt with ruffle and white neck cloth. He tried to impress the Widow Weed (since we know they married after the British left,) but she scorned his unkempt appearance and lack of income.

The valet at Fort Dobbs is a much simpler character who works twice as hard. Polish the officer's shoes, brush his clothes and hat, help him dress. Try and anticipate his needs, as well as keep him hydrated and fed. Pass him drinks on a tray, and gently scold him when he gets dirty. Provincial soldiers were the dregs of society and a servant was one step up from that. His clothing is raggedy, with a regimental coat, and he is barefoot at every opportunity. Class is a huge part of both of these characters.

When first-person comes into it's own is when several of the characters interact. None of this can be scripted and it takes practice. When one of the American prisoners in Philadelphia suddenly turned his coat and took the King's shilling there was a uproar. Nevel told him he had abandoned God, and was quickly silenced by British guards. The prisoner explained his reasons (financial) and showed his Queens Rangers broadside. The crowd got to witness the historic process of soldiers changing sides without thought for the consequences (hanging.)

Muskets aren't for everyone, especially old folks. The recreated past is better with all sorts in it.

Napoleon: Power and Splendor

These are trying times. The Deckard coat collar is too small and needs to come off. The prosthetic side burns failed miserably. There are two weeks left to finish some 1830's trousers. Solution: road trip. Kitty and his Drunkenness spent the weekend in Richmond, with Saturday devoted to the fabulous exhibit at the VMFA. I can't say enough good things about the museum or the exhibit. It is what history museums should be. No detail was too small: the walls are etched with French Imperial motifs, wind-tossed trees are projected around hunting displays, large gold objects get blue gel filters to make them even more magnificent. The exhibit focuses on the household rather than the man. The food and cocktails at the restaurant are also sublime.

Equally pleasing was being reunited with the Regency Society of Virginia. They took most of these photos, arranged the outing in costume, and are always welcoming. The meta aspects of touring a museum in clothing worn by America's earliest tourists gratified us. As did the obvious military influence on our fashion reflected in the paintings. Kitty's hussar waistcoat and my cossack trousers and chapeau are late 18th to early 19th century cargo pants and camo. The nostalgia of dressing up for an outing was a bonus.

The emotional aspects and the interactions with the public are unique to this outing. The time period allows for expanded roles: sketching parties, collecting insects and plants for study, recreating leisure time with leisure time.

Napoleon is on exhibit in Richmond till September 3rd, 2018. See it if you can. Make sure to call and ask if you want to attend dressed up.

The only way to exceed the ridiculousness of 1820's clothing is to venture later into adolescent America. A battle reenactment of a battle reenactment. See you in the 1830s. Hoping the skunks stay away.

High Life under the stairs

It's been awhile. Kitty and I have been engaged in long discussions about time drag and what we want to do in the future. The amount of misogyny and prejudice in certain time periods is depressing. Guns are nice, but I'm having a hard time getting excited about recreating conflict and nothing else.

Deckard's rain coat is a welcome distraction. Kitty's Bernina sewing machine is a joy to use, even for button holes. Collar quilting became swift and actually presentable. Can't wait for the first rain storm after it's finished.

July 2nd, 1777 at Fort Ticonderoga: Always count on these folks to create a rich 18th-century environment of all classes. Their latest event included a servantpalooza of sorts. The New Englanders that made up the Rear Guard included a dozen officers. There was not quite enough help for all of them, and some had never taken on the role of servant before, but it went surprisingly well.

Kitty was tasked with feeding the servants (the officers had their own cook.) Since we were not paid, she broke into the Officer of the Day's quarters and stole from the Army payroll. There was a pleasant tension between the camp followers and the servants. If done correctly, serving is hard work. Lots of stairs between kitchen and quarters. What happens when your captain is late to a meal and the lieutenant asks you to do some sewing for him? Cleaning and polishing shoes in the dark is tedious. Without an actual economy it's hard to do things like laundry and gambling. It's also hard for 21st-century Americans to stop saying "please" and "thank you" to those below them. Maybe they were never good at it.

The right tools help. At left are the contents of a simple American servant's wallet. Clockwise, from lower left: Napkins, a rag and tin cup, "The American Crisis," wads of tow, shoe cleaning and blacking brushes, a linen cap, brick dust, a sewing kit and white ball, an oil bottle, comb, and dish washing brush, a pipe, button stick, and black ball. Not pictured: a clothes brush, apron, and a nice bottle of port stolen by the colonel's servants. This just in: prosthetic muttonchops have been delivered via post. More on that later.


  

Interlinked

A quick Preenacting update. Detective Deckard's coat is a strange one. Aside from the color choice, external pockets and cuffs, the outer sleeve is actually part of the back shoulder yoke. The shoulder pads improve the shape, but there is no seam there.

The yoke is also padded, and there is only one button. The shirts from this film are pretty garish, and complicated. Fortunately, the cosplay crowd gets support from some excellent vendors. Need a Skyfall suit? These folks have that and more. It's not cheap, but all clothes are made to measure. Very nice stuff.

Magnoli carries two Blade Runner 2019 shirts, both bonkers. Also two tie designs. The black shirt could use some toning down, and what better way than with Japanese dye pens. A touch of gray over the white makes a big difference at a distance. Mind you, we can't color over the pink top stitching. It's like a coloring book, a terrible one.

After a bunch of screen shots from the movie, it should be possible to make two complete outfits using the coat and trench coat. The shoes are still available. Magnoli makes sweet tweed trousers. Deckard's wrist watch is a 1970s Intel Microma that cost $200 new. The original black watches now sell for between $1,000 and $2,000 (!!!??) on Ebay. Much easier to get a steel three-button model and paint it.

For the history-minded among you beginning to despair, fear not. Kitty got us something really cool for Birthday. If you need a Federal hat (or other 17th, 18th, or 19th century one) Matt Brenckle is your man. Most of the Drunk hats were made by him.

This tasteful, understated chapeau bras is for civilians. The pantaloons cry out to be finished. Braces, a new tail coat and waist coat will also be required.

Knapsack

A weary veteran of years of service, this knapsack is a nice copy of what the British Army used at the end of the 18th century. Sadly, the original dates to 1794. Interesting thinking by learned men (Mr. Rees, Mr. White, Mr. Kirk and Mr. Melius, for starters) has shined a light on this subject recently.

This pack is towards the end of a long line of adaptations for blanket carry. War is a great innovator. It should not be too hard to shave 16 years off it's design, getting closer to the American War period.

First to go are the buff straps and all the iron buckles. We will reuse four of these, and no doubt find a home for the others. Buff scraps are great for polishing brass, &c. The pack interior needs to be removed, but the painted shell has similar dimensions to the Warner Knapsack, so it will work fine.

The new interior will stick closely to drawing in the 71st Regiment's order book. The Inverness pack has a top pouch which will go away, but that makes the two side pockets bigger. Next time the inside.

the Curious White Ball

Among the annoying traditions of some 18th-century British Army units (including the 7th Foot,) is buff leather belting dyed bright white for field use. Soldiering, even the pretend kind, is hazardous and unforgiving when it comes to fashion.

Between the belts, the hat trim, and the small clothes, white seems a poor choice. The larval military bureaucracy came up with a solution. According to Robert Hinde's 1778 The Discipline of the Light Horse:

"Take 1 1/2 lb of Pipe-Clay, 3 Quarts of Water, 1/4 lb of Best Glue, 1/4 lb of White Soap, Boil the Soap and Glue first, till dissolved, then Mix it with the Pipe-Clay, and Boil all together for a Quarter of an Hour; when Cold put it on with a Sponge in the usual manner, and when Dry Rub it with a Glass-Bottle."

Much easier to keep painting leather belts and wool white than use something that doesn't show mud/blood/scuffs. Idle hands and all that.

 Well, we are not going to use three quarts of water. Time to get out the calculator. "Best Glue" will be translated as hide glue and "White Soap" as the old lye variety. No coffee grinders were harmed in this process.

Hide glue is weird. Fortunately, it is still popular with the wood working set. The dry stuff soaks up a bunch of water over several hours and turns into a gelatinous puck. Be prepared to sacrifice one or two (cheap) pots to the gods. And how 'bout that smell?

Here is the glue in a double boiler with the soap just added. A digital or candy thermometer is handy since the glue is happy right at 145-150 degrees Fahrenheit. Below that, it's a solid; above it ceases to be glue. Keep the double boiler at that temperature while stirring and heating the water in another pot to the same temp.

Slowly add the hot water and clay to the soap and glue mess. At this point, it's best to take apart the double boiler and heat the mixture directly. Be prepared to scrape the bottom as you stir to prevent sticking.

Increase heat to boil the stinking mess for twenty minutes. The mixture is very watery at first, but thickens over a period of days. Stored in a period bottle that doubles as a polisher. Apply with a sponge dipped in warm water and alum.

White kaolin clay can be had here. Hide glue is here and many woodworking sites. Etsy is a good source for soap. A cheese grater makes short work of the soap cake.

Next, we defarb a tired knapsack.

Context

The Museum of the American Revolution is an interesting place. Not just because of their take on the war, but the way they structured their first large public event: Occupied Philadelphia. The museum's forecourt became a public market, with the 17th Regiment of Foot and the 40th Foot's Light Company quartered nearby. This would have been enough for most sites.

Instead, visitors got a packet of Continental currency to spend, a list of questions to ask the 18th century inhabitants, even a rebel spy master collecting intelligence should they choose the Whig cause. At left, Ruth Hodges (the shoe black,) and Kitty (the servant/thief/fence) discuss the price of stolen clothing. The 17th arrested Kitty soon after. The public learned their paper money was worthless as the merchants only took British coin, plentiful since Lord Howe's Army arrived. Goods were scarce since the port was still blockaded by rebels. Tyler Putman, Matt Skic (the spy master) of belted waistcoat fame, and Katherine Becnel along with other museum staff kept things running smoothly.

Oliver is trying to decide if he wants to be a chimney sweep with Matt Mickletz, or join the British Army with Sgt. Andrew W Kirk and Pvt. Jeremy Becnel, as Asher Lurie looks on. The air was filled with the cries of tradespeople and merchants. Out-of-work sailors caused trouble and were rounded up. There was excellent food for the participants. Gossip and rumors circulated, while arrests and scuffles broke the peace. A little girl asked "Is this real?"

Muskets took a back seat. The wall between weirdly-dressed historians and the public crumbled under the weight thoughtful questions and street theater. Best of all, Saturday visitors came back Sunday and stayed for hours.  History is messy and complex, so was Occupied Philadelphia.       

  

The Royal Fusiliers in Canada, 1774

Here is the finished bearskin compared to a 1778 drawing of a grenadier by Philip James de Loutherbourg. The height difference is apparent, as is the grenadier's badge at center back. The cord pattern on the 7th Foot cap is completely conjectural, but is similar to surviving examples. Insanely talented Alexa embroidered the Regiment's badge on the madder wool bag. It includes the motto: Honi soit mal y pense. Perhaps some bear hair gel is in order.

Another de Loutherbourg comparison makes the cap height difference clear between grenadiers and fusiliers. The frontlet plate proclaims: Nec Aspera Terrent. Sadly, all the 7th's dress headgear was captured with their colors and a year's worth of clothing at Fort Chambly in October of 1775. Simple cocked hats were worn after that.

The mock "Present" position, with the musket at half-cock. Remarkable that the crease the tin shaping plate puts in the bear hide shows up in the drawing as well. The cap is light and surprisingly comfortable. Best of all, it half folds for storage. It's the perfect balance of intimidating and impractical.

Future Noir

Crank up the Vangelis, y'all. Somewhere in this pile (circa 1950-81) is inspiration. If any of this looks interesting to you, start here. You might bump into Adam Savage. Actual props and costumes have become big business, and like surviving historic clothing can be expensive.

Charles Knode created this coat from silk herringbone for Harrison Ford. No doubt there were several.

Ridley Scott describes it as "a Harris Tweed," and the Phillip Marlowe, detective with only one suit vibe is pretty strong. The shoulder yoke and back belt are a nice touch. Between still photos and the film there appear to be three different shirts and pairs of pants also, with one matching. Everyone knows the trench coat, but most miss the suit.

After weeks of searching for material, this appeared. Not silk, but they have a similar weave, which is fantastically soft. Shipping was fast. If you need linen, consider Lithuania. Previous experience with fiber reactive dye makes them an option. The terracotta color is misleading, in most images it is a warm golden orange with brown tones.

Perhaps some pants first to get the hang of the sewing machine.

Preenacting

Whoa. Has it been that long? Well, shit.

Getting thrown chez Calash leads to more adventure than anticipated. There have been excellent discussions, several detours and few new rabbit holes, but progress continues. This chap, discovered by Kitty, provides some cool details about bearskins. Turns out the lining comes right down to the edge of the cap. Unsurprisingly, the top of the tassel is painted to match the cord. Here's to completing modifications and finishing a new pair of drill overalls by the third weekend in September for some fusiliering.

Living history is weird. Information about the past is limited and trying to recreate a world from it is bound to be flawed. It's fun to try. Why not take the insanity one step further? How did people in the past view the future? This 1988 LA Times Magazine took a stab at 2013. Always interesting to see what they miss. Don't worry, we aren't leaving our favorite centuries behind, just exploring a side street. If you don't like science fiction or the 1980's you can skip some entries.

Speaking of which, here is what 1982 Hollywood thought an LAPD detective would look like in 2019. Yes, it is a movie, which makes it surprisingly harder to recreate. Isn't this just cosplay or costuming? Perhaps, but it's also history and that rain coat has to repel acid rain. It's still a uniform and a gun. Hot Topic, anyone?










  

A Perfect Day

Mrs. Delaplace (her name is lost to history) is worried. Strange people appear from the woods and ask pointed questions about the fort. Ticonderoga was more  "composed of decayed wood and earth" than a fortification in 1775. Fortunately, the stone barracks are serviceable.

Captain Delaplace worked his 23-man guard hard. He acquired livestock, and made his family comfortable by hiring servants.  

A middle-aged enlisted man and his wife cook and clean for them. The woman cooks, scrubs, and tends livestock while the man mends and cleans the captain's clothes, helps him dress and sees to his shoes. The battle against rust on fuzee and sword never ends.

Captain Delaplace has written to his superiors with concerns about the post, requesting more men, but it is already too late.

While late, his Drunkenness managed to combine forces with Kitty to deploy a servant team at Fort Ticonderoga this past weekend. The work was pretty constant, and surprisingly pleasurable to toss dirty water and the occasional chicken bone down onto the parade.  Captain Delaplace's gaiters were very tight continuing to lose buttons throughout the day.

Kitty's chicken was a hit, and we actually heated water and washed dishes at table. Note to self: must learn how to tie a sash properly. Also try to attend at least ONE drill with garrison to say hello.

Someone got their frontlet plate. While slightly shorter than surviving examples, it still looks incredibly badass. Both the plated copper and the tin inner plate have a nasty habit of cutting thread, so caution is required. Pull gently.

Next time the leather sweatband and the tin stiffening plate. Sewing through hair can be fun, and cut threads begin in earnest.

Bag It

So THIS happened. Miss Kitty talked me into it. Honestly, I don't feel like I have much to say, but together we could be helpful. We're both obsessed with excruciating little details that most folks ignore. Speaking of which, thanks to Kitty and Alexa for lending their special brand of insanity to the bearskin project.

The cord machine was a huge success, which is great because there is no twisted cord on bearskin caps. Oh well. It works fine on 18th century hats, so it won't go to waste. Here is some braided wool cord in a Monkey Chain for the top. It's upside down and needs to be trimmed. The whitening is obvious, per regulation.

Kitty's tassels have a net stitch over the head. I am still paying for the one I cut accidentally, which required her to make a replacement. Jason kept the cord pattern simple. The tassels finish the ends on the right side.

 Here is the cap, inside out, with the bag partially stitched in. Historic bag examples have three layers: red cloth, rough hemp, and canvas.  Wrangling all that hair is a challenge. It needs to stay out of the seam. Secured at the top and bottom, it's clear easing is required around the sides. At the lower left is the patch to fix the bald spot. The whole cap is still remarkably light.

Next time, the frontlet plate goes on, the leather sweatband starts, and the tin plate goes in.

Give 'Em Enough Rope

Last post of the year. Hoping for more next year. Slightly taller than the originals, the boots now need stretching and finishing. These things are crying out for some pantaloons or stretch pants. Very happy with the finished product. Somehow there are now twice as many Federal Era shoes as 18th century.

Where the boots were simple, the bearskin has spawned a cottage industry. The old Royal regiments were allowed to have their badge embroidered on the cap's wool top. The 7th's device includes a crown, rose, and the Order of the Garter's motto. A delightful woman is willing to take this on. There is plenty left to do.

The cut hide is nearly perfect, with a small hair club for bears problem on the back. As with the period items, the bald spot is patched and the top sewn together into a point. The small triangular patch of soft leather reduces hair bulk behind the frontlet plate. It's also damn comfy.

The seam allowances are all tiny (1/8") with hair trimmed out.  The cap is slightly large to allow for all the metal and lining to come.

As if all that isn't enough, the cap is finished with knotted wool cord arranged in an elaborate pattern with two tassels. Wool cord is hard to find in the correct thickness. Fortunately, machines to make cord are cheap and fun to use. At left is a test batch of 24 strands of lace weight. It came damn close to the 3/16" cord required.

Kitty promised to help make three or four yards of this in January, channelling all those old New England rope walkers. We will need her help with the tassels as well. Once the cord is made it's time to braid. Some surviving caps have a Monkey Braid pattern sewn around the crown. Jason decided to have both tassels behind the right ear as seen in the 1778 de Loutherbourg drawings. More next year.

Hides

With the boot toe up, pressed flat on the floor, here is the cardboard template for the front. The pin marks the center, and the scratch awl is used to trace the new edge. A cut down Teflon cutting board inserted into the boot makes this job easier.

Nearly two inches need to come off the back of the boot, so the canvas pull straps are removed, and their stitch holes made further down. Cutting was nerve-wracking at first, but not difficult.

This is not one of the Frenchmen's helmets from Monty Python and the Holy Grail. The secret of 18th century British bearskin caps is a mitre-shaped tin plate. Bent into a curve, it is drilled with holes for stitching. It is sandwiched between the hide and the linen lining, with the front plate over the hair.

The front cutout makes it lighter, more comfortable and it is matched to a small triangle of calf skin sewn into the bear hide. The whole mess at the edge is wrapped with a leather sweatband (velvet for NCOs on up.) One of the Royal Marine caps has holes drilled around the cutout. Since there are no known Fusilier bearskins, the height of the plate was determined by surviving German Fusilier mitre caps.

Here is our legally taken bear hide. Check your local laws before you buy one online. Some states have strict controls on bear parts. The pattern is sketched to take advantage of the hair crown on the back. All the hair should lay up on the cap. The very top of the pattern is cut in a shallow V-shape, for a nice tight seam over the point of the plate. The gradual curve is where the wool bag goes.