Drunk(er) Tailoring

Well THAT was fun.

I destroyed my first pair of gaiter-trousers and my favorite shoes, but it was worth it. Not allowed to talk about it. Let's just say I understand why Peter Jackson likes Red cameras so much. Considering I only do living history a few weekends out of the year, I've finally reached a solid year of campaigning and it is time for some new clothes. Even my patches have patches.

Making overalls is a PITA. Trying to keep the seams straight on the legs is tiresome. It turns out I may have been doing it wrong all these years. Take a look at these nicely preserved trousers at the MET. The dating may or may not be right. The outseam is nice a straight, probably follows the selvage. The inseam is where all the fitting takes place. It looks like it meanders quite a bit. Clever.

Perhaps I have been too careful, despite my drunken intentions. Which brings me to terrifying thought: how bad did the British Army look in the 18th century?

Corporal Jones of the 13th Foot was drawn by William Baillie in 1753. His uniform is remarkably rumpled for being on a recruiting party. I'm beginning to think even my level of skill is too good for the King. We know that every soldier was generally entitled to a new coat every year, so making them must have gotten as close to mass production as possible.

Pieces were cut in several sizes economically and quickly, and handed off to poor women to assemble. Not tailors. Here is an interesting bit from the Old Bailey. I'm guessing Melckisideck didn't eat that day. So the faster you make coats the more money you get. Can I bring myself to use four stitches per inch?

This should inspire anyone to take up making 18th century military clothes. If it doesn't get laundered regularly don't waste time with fine stitching. The few surviving originals seem to bear this out: Redcoats looked good at a distance.

Gaiter-trousers

Okay, they're tight, but they're supposed to be.  Overalls or gaiter-trousers are a unique late 18th century military garment.

Previously, breeches were worn with stockings and separate leggings or gaiters. Around 1777, both American and British troops switched to hemp or linen varieties for Summer and Redcoats often got brown wool in Winter.  

Stylish as well as practical, the British wool overalls had horn buttons at the waist and fall. Unlike breeches, small horn buttons stretch from calf to ankle, toes cover the shoes, and stirrups hold everything down.

The back is gathered and laced, as with breeches. Overcast stitches cover the eyelets and linen tape makes adjusting the waistband easy. A small pie-shaped insert fills the gap.

The seat is just baggy enough to allow the wearer to sit, since the legs are "snug without constraint."

The fall is lined with linen for comfort, and one vertical button hole attaches to the lowest button on the waistband. The waistband is also lined with linen.

The front looks pretty ridiculous, but these are the only large horn buttons I have at the moment. The whole thing gets covered by the waistcoat anyway (ideally.)

When working on overalls, fit the top first. Get the waistband, fall, and crotch squared away. Leave plenty of material to fit the legs. My knees actually point outward, so the outside seam on these twist around toward the back. The leg seam should stay centered all the way down.

Next, the toe is attached and lined with linen. The outside seam has a half inch of overlap for six buttons and buttonholes, marked at right, with linen strips as re-enforcement.  Start the opening at the widest part of the calf to allow room for the feet.

Don't forget to wear shoes to fit the bottom. The last step is to sew a small button inside the inseam of the foot, and cut a strip of leather to pull everything down over the shoes. Punch a hole at each end of the leather, and cut a small slit from it to fit over the lowest buttons.

These leather stirrups should last years. Overalls feel weird the first time you wear them, but the joy of not picking up stones in your shoes more than makes up for the hassle of construction.