Regimental Revisited

The mid-eighteenth century British regimental is a strange beast: voluminous, not sleek like those from thirty years later. It can be worn any number of ways. Rich officer types would often unbutton the lapels and shove their hands between the coat and the waistcoat for portraits. The shape is unmistakable: short sleeves, big cuffs, long with full tails, hint of a collar. Even the buttons are unique and stupidly expensive to reproduce. It's the convertible aspect that gives the greatest pains when fitting.

Our specimen is five years old, and was last converted for a full-figure Provincial two years ago. The waist has three-button closure, but the top hangs open. It can be worn double-breasted, buttoned at the waist, or open as seen in the painting above. The collar geometry suffers as a result.

Slowly removing material from the back panel at the shoulder draws the neck hole up and closer. Compare at right, the collar is off the right side and the excess pinned up. Fortunately, the top of the coat is unlined. Unfortunately, adjusting the shoulder seams adds volume to the center back, so the collar needs to be removed even further to correct the center back seam.

The pleats are unacceptable. Not only do they stick out too much when the coat is buttoned, but there is an embarrassing amount of material in the back panels here. The hip buttons might as well be under the arms. All this needs to be cut apart, side seams reshaped, and the pleats refolded.

Adjustments to the shoulder seam make fiddling with the top of the side seam unwise. The sleeves are slightly baggy at the top for a reason. Luckily, the coat's bell shape and three waist buttons make that unnecessary. The comfy X-Acto handle with a #11 blade is your best friend at this point.

  What the hell. Unsightly bulges like this are a good problem to have. Next time, re-pleating and the faux cuff flaps get some attention.

Blasphemy

Pretty happy with the belted waistcoat. We'll see how practical it is in the Spring when it gets torture-tested on a movie set. Dangerous territory, this garment. There is documentation and visual evidence for them, but little else. The concept SEEMS sound (what little we know about it.)

Traditional waistcoats have their problems. One solution is to add loops or tabs to the inside to button the waistcoat to the breeches or overalls. Both the British and the French military mention this as a good idea. There are surviving civilian garments with tabs. Eliminating the tails and pocket flaps streamlines the vest further.

What we don't know is what the back looked like. Uncomfortable territory for some Progressive folks, SPECULATION is bad. It is how we separate ourselves from this. But old garments are like fossils, most didn't survive. Ignoring them creates just as inaccurate a picture.

So how much is too much? Two loops to the overall fall buttons DO hold everything together. Lacing the belt like breeches allows for some adjustment. It is possible to put it on yourself. Lastly, the belt acts like a cross between elastic on a sweatshirt and a weight-lifting belt. Practical, yes; correct? Maybe. No farbs were harmed in the making of this garment.

Next time, an old friend gets his third makeover. The F&I Regimental doesn't fit quite right. New skills fix old mistakes.

Born Again Hard

So this happened.

The folks who took the real time battlefield tour in Princeton, NJ this year got a surprise.  A Pennsylvania Associator company appeared right where they were in 1776. We maneuvered and fired as if fighting ghosts of the 17th Regiment of Foot. We marched all night to get there.

The scheme started with some young chaps determined to recreate Charles Wilson Peale's Company for one weekend. Seldom do we get to test our gear and clothes to the limit. It all started at the Old Barracks in Trenton on Friday. Thirty-odd souls assembled in uniforms specific to the Philadelphia militia of the period. We drilled, rations were issued and cooking was by mess. We were entreated to sign on for another six weeks to save the cause.

Thomas Paine's The American Crisis read aloud by bondfire is inspiring. Sleep was hard to come by as his Excellency General Washington ordered us to march around the enemy at midnight. The plan was to fall on the rear guard in Princeton. The roads are still there, replaced by pavement and the distance is thirteen miles. A cold moon lit the way.

Those who marched were changed by the experience. A few impressions remain: the drummer with an ice sheet forming under his canteen; blistered hands leaking under the weight of a shifting musket; the hissing of leather shoes; the best pea soup ever; sparkling frost on gaitors at dawn. It's why we do this.      

Chicken Legs

One spat down. The buttons are sewn to the straight back piece. The larger curved bit gets (more or less) evenly spaced buttonholes. A leather instep strap runs from the bottom button under the shoe to another button on the inside.

The difference between good spats and bad is tightness. Button the two parts together and fold them in half along the toe to determine where the center back seam should fall. Pin them loosely together and fit them over shoes and stockings. Backstitch for strength. If they are hard to put on, they are made properly.

Here is the belted waistcoat pinned over a shirt. The pockets are British Army style, but slightly higher. Keep in mind there is scant evidence for belted waistcoats, so interpretation will be conservative and familiar. The front is made of white cloth and the back of serge. No vents or tails, the whole thing is tight.

The bottom is cut square, but slightly lower at the front to match the tilted waistband on breeches and overalls. The vest covers all but the lowest button on the pants. A period button formula has a space of two button widths between each actual button, so between ten and twelve buttons depending on height.

Rushon Boys

The kettle bag turned out swell, and work is proceeding on the spats. A matching small kettle bag is cut out. Meanwhile, TOP SECRET things are altering the sewing queue a bit.

The Continental Army kit has been languishing for awhile. Most of the gear is still acceptable, but upgrades are in order. While doing research for the winter march in January, a favorite subject reappeared.

An officer in the Royal Deux-Ponts regiment, Jean Baptiste Antoine de Verger, captured these chaps in watercolor at the Battle of Yorktown. Their mysterious waistcoat vests are worthy of speculation.

The classic late 18th-century waistcoat has tails and pocket flaps.  Both tend to get hung up in regimental coats and stand up in an unmilitary fashion. Overalls, trousers, and breeches ride low on the hips, and a gap can form where the shirt peeks out, especially if the waistcoat is too short.

A belt that buttons the tailless vest to the pants would seem a (vaguely French) improvement. It uses less cloth as well. Time to apply drunk tailoring skills to a belted waistcoat.

Multitasking

Well, Diderot's mitten pattern works. Sleevil is strong with that thumb piece. Five tries later, it finally fit the hole. This is why fitting patterns are so important, especially with new stuff. Once that is out of the way, it takes about an hour to put together.

A quick scan of surviving 19th-century cloth mittens shows the seams on the outside. It may look better inside out, but it isn't as comfortable (and these things are hella comfy, y'all.) The separate cuff piece can still be added if they are too short, but with stocking sleeves rolled down over them it's like a wool space suit.

Here is the spatterdash toe back-stitched, with the raw edge whipped to the body. The buttonhole edge is turned under and clipped to fit the curve. There is a surviving 18th-century civilian gaiter with linen lining the toe and along the bottom inside edge. Add if desired.

Last, the kettle bag gets a tube over hemp cord to act as a draw string. The side and bottom pieces have their seams pressed open, and the raw edges are whip-stitched to the body. Remember this stitch when we start the unlined linen coat in the future.

Mitaines and Markings

Our pal, Denis Diderot offers us an idea of how an 18th-century cloth mitten should look. This image is from the bottom of an illustration in the Encyclopédie.  Knit mittens were not unknown. A survivor was unearthed with British military buttons.

Sewn wool flannel mittens were considered an expedient at first, but found to be more durable by the British military. The knit one is 12" long (!!!??) Ten inches will probably work. Square off the cuff unless you're feeling fancy. Make a fitting pattern first.

Pity the poor British military fellow, issued tons of crap: gun, hat, shoes, &c. ordered not to loose any of it (or sell it for booze.) Gabriel Bray's delightful painting of a sailor bringing up his hammock gives us an idea of how they kept track of such things.

Fifth Foot Captain Bennett Cuthbertson recommends in A System for the Compleat Interior Management and Economy of Battalion of Infantry, marking linens with a mixture of vermillion and nut oil. Since cinnabar (HgS) is toxic, this seems like a good substitute.

Fold it into some walnut oil with a palette knife until the paste stands up by itself.  Thin with turpentine or mineral spirits. Use a nice period typeface. Initials, company, and regimental markings are good for starters. Oil paint can take weeks to dry depending on the environment. Adding drying agents and heat can speed the process. More information on markings can be found here, buy all of these immediately.