Textile geeks can be a little Nuts.

Still making progress on the madder-red gown for my Viking ensemble.  Seams.  Lots of seams.  Tiny little stitches ...

Since my last update, I received my brooches (shiny!) and my book (informative!) in the mail.  I also got to work breaking a large bag of walnut hulls into smaller chips for use in a dyebath, and put my wool cloth through some mild torture to remove any sizing chemicals applied at the mill.  This involved hot water and washing soda (alkaline), which can be quite scary when handling raw wool, but I know as long as I don't agitate the fabric too much I won't end up with a giant lump of felt.

1.1 kg of the walnut hull chips went into a large plastic paint bucket, followed by 3 gallons of boiling water.  Stir, slap on the lid, and place the bucket in an out-of-the-way location.

One day and two nights later, I pried off the lid, fished out the biggest chunks of walnut hull with a slotted spoon, then poured the dye liquor through a mesh strainer to remove all but the smallest bits of solid dyestuff.  I poured 2 more gallons of boiling water over the soggy solids (again, in a large paint bucket), slapped on the lid, and it's now waiting alongside the bucket of strained liquid for the Husbeast to leave for work tomorrow so he doesn't have to suffer while the house is filled with the smell of simmering walnut dye.

The day I hit "Publish" without first adding a title

Sometime back in the past, I wasn't terribly interested in Viking garb ...

My friends, that has changed.  This past week I've ordered some Viking-themed birthday gifts for myself - a pair of bronze tortoise brooches from Raymond's Quiet Press (these, for the uninitiated, are used to fasten the shoulder straps on an apron-dress) and a copy of Medieval Garments Reconstructed: Norse Clothing Patterns.

I also picked up some wool fabric yardage, an off-white twill which will be dyed used for either the apron-dress, a kaftan, or simply a cloak.  Still not 100% certain.

I selected a nice rusty red cut of linen from the fabric stash for the gown.  I had originally intended for this fabric to become a later-period kirtle ... But I can always use an excuse to shop at Gulf Wars, right?  On Wednesday I cut out my body panels, rough-cut the sleeves, and began sewings up the center-front seam (the back is one solid piece), leaving a long enough slit below the neckline that, if needed, I could unhook a strap on the apron-dress and whip out a boob to nurse a baby.  (No, I'm not pregnant ... or at least I don't have any proof of it as of right now, but it's on the To Do list, and since all the research and hand-sewing take time, I'm aiming for maximum utility from all new garb projects for the immediate future.)

Thursday I finished sewing the front seam, reinforcing it at the bottom of the neck slit.  Then I cut out the underarm gussets and shaped the sleeve panels.  Friday I sewed the shoulder seams and attached the underarm gussets to the sleeves along one edge.  Yesterday I attached one sleeve-and-gusset combo to the body panels, and today I added the other.  After dinner I'll fiddle around with the final shape and dimensions of the keyhole neckline and decide just how wide I want to cut the side gores.  Since the body panels are trapezoidal, I don't need to add much extra fabric to accommodate a long stride, but I do need to measure what I've currently got around navel-level and figure out if it would be roomy enough for another little person to hang out in there for a few months.

I'm browsing eBay and Etsy for small brooches and beads that conform to my perception of the Viking aesthetic.  Lots of possibilities.  I also have access to a number of accomplished embroiderers who can help steer me in the right direction on decorative seam treatments and embellishments.

Side note: My grand-Laurel (my Laurel's Laurel) is the new Princess of Gleann Abhann, and she has expressed a preference for a Viking reign, so my shift in interest has been most timely!

Little Red Viking Hood

Sitting in camp at Gulf Wars, a Viking friend took notice of my blue linen hood and asked if I might make her a hood.  No problem!  It's a simple 3-4 piece pattern (depending on the fabric width) and uses less than 1 yard of material.  I took her measurements and we discussed materials.

Fast forward to summer, and the fabric (vibrant red wool) was delivered safely into my possession via a system of person-to-person relays.  Time to get cutting!

The body of the hood is simply a 12" x 50" (plus seam allowances) rectangle.  The front and back gores are right-angle pieces with curves toward the seams.  The back gore is a little bit deeper than the front gore, which adds some extra wiggle room for the shoulders.

I sewed this piece with red poly thread, keeping the stitching as inconspicuous as possible since the owner will be adding embroidery.  The seams were finished with herringbone stitch (tiny tacks on the right side of the fabric, practically invisible), and at the edge of the cape I sewed a narrow rolled hem, again with itty-bitty stitches on the right side of the fabric.

I delivered the completed hood at Kingdom A&S, and despite the heat and humidity in the display hall, Olrun popped it on for a fitting.  She was happy with the final product, and I hope to see it in action at next weekend's Coronation - or if the weather isn't quite cold enough then, it should be by Christmas Revel.

Make it Sew!

Sooner or later, garb is going to start showing signs of wear - a popped seam here, a tear there, and how did I not notice that singed spot?!

(Thankfully I've avoided setting myself on fire, but you get the picture.)

Some people may choose to let it go, and replace the garment when it is well and truly beyond salvaging.  I see it as an opportunity to make my garb more authentic.  Fabric was expensive in the medieval period, but labor was cheap (it just took a heckuva lot of labor to produce a few yards of fabric - spinning all the thread for the warp and weft, dressing the loom, weaving the yardage, and dyeing ... all by hand).  The bulk of the population didn't have the disposable income for an extensive wardrobe, so when an article of clothing suffered minor injuries, it was crucial to mend them ASAP.

My green Maciejowski cotte and my brown and green kirtle have been in service for roughly two years.  At this past weekend's A&S event, I noticed a break in the thread where the kirtle's shoulder straps attach to the front of the bodice (and takes the strain of my arms flexing and moving about).  No problem, once I returned home it took just a few minutes with the needle and thread for everything to get snugged up and ready for action.  As I was looking over the green cotte before sending it to the laundry, I noticed some wear in roughly the same area - front arm seam.  A little herringbone stitch inside the armhole (picking up just a thread on the public side of the fabric) and a reinforcing tack at the end of the seam should keep everything in order long enough to add some more outfits into the rotation.

Speaking of which, I've heard the alluring call of the Viking.  With a minor alteration in spelling and a northward geographical shift, Mathilde de Metteneye from 15th-16th century Flanders becomes Matthildr (Björnsdóttir, perhaps - the Husbeast calls me Bear) from 9th-10th century Denmark.  I've already started on a look book, and am browsing through Viking culture resources online to avoid any glaring styling mistakes.

Oh, rot.  There are popped threads in the kirtle's pleats.  Looks like I have a bit more fiddling to do before the garb gets laundered.  Settles which outfit is going to Coronation, though.