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.
Friday, September 27, 2013
Thursday, September 26, 2013
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.
(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.
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