And You Thought YOUR First Date Was Bad... (Courting Candles)

Hello! Long time no see, I know! I was very busy over September and October with a variety of re-enactments, which I will hopefully be posting pictures of soon. In the meantime, I have a question for you. Did you ever wonder what dating was like in the 1700s? Do images of the father polishing his musket come to mind? Well, as you may have guessed, dating was VERY different in the 1700s. In fact, it wasn't called dating at all, but "courting." The process was also much different. Rather than arriving at your date's house, getting the "I'll kill you if you touch her" speech from good ol' Dad, and hitting the road, a much different scenario would await you.

You enter the house, and there's good ol' Dad, sitting in the parlor, waiting. Daughter Dearest, the twinkle in your eye, is also there, and she blushes when she sees you. Things are looking good, until Dad pulls out the Courting Candle. You groan inwardly, and watch as he twists the spike all the way down. The visit will be a very, very short one.

A courting what, you say? Observe:

(photo from Bird In Hand Iron, where you can purchase a courting candle for about $8)

Here's how it works: As you can see, the candle stick is made up of what looks like a very loose spring, standing on one end on a metal base (this one very charmingly in the shape of a heart). There is also a small wooden piece with a peg, on which the candle rests. This wooden piece allows the candle to be moved up or down in the holder, by using the peg to spin the candle upward or downward.

During the 1600s through the 1800s, a gentleman courting a man's daughter would arrive at the house of his beloved. He would then spend an evening with the daughter - and the father - in the sitting room or parlor. The father would have his trusty courting candle nearby, and could raise or lower it as desired. The higher the candle in the holder, the longer the suitor could stay, for when the flame of the candle reached the top of the holder, the "date" was officially over.

The father had a few helpful rules at his disposal. In addition to having the power to raise or lower the candle upon the suitor's arrival, he could also choose to snuff it out if he decided the suitor was being particularly unfavorable or forward! However, if he found himself wanting to let the two lovers extend their visit, he had the power to add another candle when the first ran out. Thus, a suitor's visit was highly determined by the father. It seems obvious now why a suitor would want the father to highly regard him!

One must wonder if the stereotype between father and suitor was born from the courtship candle days. Perhaps if more men today had to rely that deeply on a father's discernment, they would be more willing to help with the family work days!

Ash Cakes, Hardtack, and Biscuits

Alright, so I know I said  would write about tea kettles next, but the fact of the matter is that the topic is quite a bit more extensive than I had originally realized. I've decided that in order to write about the matter with any sort of knowledge, I'm going to need to borrow some books from the library and do some intensive studying. Until that gets done, the tea kettles will just have to wait.

In the meantime, I thought I would write about hardtack, also known as ash cakes, also known as biscuits. I made my first batch for our last event, and while I wouldn't call them the tastiest things in the world, they're certainly edible and can sustain long periods of time without going bad.

Okay, so what is it, exactly? during the 1700s, hardtack was known as "biscuits." These weren't your Pillsbury Doughboy fluffy biscuits, but rather a flat, often square bit of flour and water, cooked until all the moisture is gone and all that's left is an extremely hard morsel. Biscuits were great for long campaigns, because (since they didn't really have any moisture in them at all) they would last for weeks upon weeks, if not months upon months. You could toss half a dozen of these into your haversack and not worry about them for at least a few months, provided they didn't come into contact with water or other moisture. The idea of baking flour and water together has been around for centuries, and this hard bread was used by pilgrims coming over to the New World.

British soldiers during the Seven Years' War (French and Indian War) were frequently issued flour as part of their rations (along with salt pork, peas, and rice). It was their responsibility to use the flour as a meal item. Since this was usually the only ingredient issued, the soldiers had to figure out a way to make almost solely flour into an edible bread substitute. Thus, biscuits (now known as hardtack) sprouted into existence.

How were they made? There were two main ways to make these biscuits. One way would be to make them in an oven before the campaign started. Ingredients were about two cups of flour, enough water to make the mixture stiff (not sticky), and a dash of salt. Mix the ingredients together and roll the dough out flat. make scores into the dough so it's easier to break into pieces later, and then punch several holes into each scored piece so the moisture can escape. When I made these, it took about an hour in a 350 degree oven.

The above is the more "refined" way of making biscuits. The other way is to take a small handful of flour, add in enough water until you have a stiff dough, and then flatten the dough out and place it on a flat rock under the ashes in a fire. The term "ash cakes" came from this practice. It was a quick, easy way to bake up your flour ration into something you could eat on the trail (if you had enough teeth). With a little salt, biscuits really aren't that bad. If you use a 50/50 white/whole wheat flour mix (which, from what I've heard, is the closest we can get nowadays to the kind of flour they had in the 1700s, minus the maggots!), the biscuits take on a slightly nutty flavor.

I took our biscuits with us on our six mile trek to our last event, and ended up munching on a single one the whole way. I hadn't finished it by the time we'd arrived in camp. Additionally, it caused me to drink more water just because it was so dry, which led to better hydration for me throughout the walk. I highly recommend them!

I didn't take any pictures of the biscuits I made, and I think they were so popular with the other re-enactors from our unit that we didn't have any left over. Here's a picture (from http://www.green-living-saves-us.com) of biscuits that highly resemble the ones I made:

And for your own personal enjoyment, here's a picture of a round ship biscuit from 1784:

(from http://www.nmm.ac.uk) Inscribed on it are the words "This biscuit was given – Miss Blacket at Berwick on Tuesday 13 April 1784, Berwick."

Fort McHenry and Koh-Koh-Mah

I must divulge again into my actions on the re-enacting front. Two weekends ago I was in Baltimore, Maryland, for Defender's Day at Fort McHenry, which is one of my favorite events. Last weekend I was much more local, going to a French and Indian War event in my own state of Indiana. I don't have a lot of pictures from either event, but I have a few amusing ones that I thought might be enjoyed by more than myself. First, Fort McHenry:

The boys - I love this group of musicians. I always have a good time with them, and they always make me feel like part of 'the gang.' It's a shame we live so far away from Maryland!

We get "The British are coming!" a lot on account of our red musician's coatees (musicians of the period dressed in the opposite color of their unit, so the dark blue of the American units was countered by bright red in the American field music) - so we frequently hold up our canteens - like the one above - or packs when people ask if we're British. The "U.S." always throws them for a loop.

Bass drummer and dear friend, Aaron Bradford. Aaron (also known as "Smiley") is always an encouragement and an inspiration to me. His cheerful disposition and Godly attitude are great testaments to his faith!

While waiting to march through the streets of Baltimore, we hit on this bocce ball court in Little Italy. We enjoyed watching some possibly native-born Italians play this game, even if we didn't understand all the rules.

And the best picture I got from the whole weekend. Running short on time in order to make it to reveille that morning, Phillip appeared on the bastion dressed enough that, from the ground, you couldn't tell he wasn't fully dressed. I snagged this picture of him when we lined up in front of the barracks for roll call. I love it.

So that was the weekend of Defender's Day in Baltimore. As I said, always a good time. We had a few days to rest and recover, and then it was off to Kokomo, Indiana, for Koh-Koh-Mah and Foster. I only have a few pictures from this one:

The rangers decide to take a page from their manual for supporting firearms and instead support themselves. At one point I had crawled underneath, but we didn't catch that part.

And the rangers - this is everyone minus Ranger Gerret, who disappeared with his honey before we got this picture. What a bum! Can't say I blame him though - if I were him I'd probably choose my honey over this motley crew too!

This year, for the first time ever at Koh-Koh-Mah (to my knowledge) we actually had English field music. We're a rag-tag bunch, but I'm proud of each one of our musicians for showing up and giving it their all! I'm really excited about our group expanding in the future.

And finally, a quick shot of our camp set-up. We had to double up Gerret's and Robert's tents because we were tight on space, but the result was a pretty nice little area for our kitchen between Gerret's tent and our officer fly, with the "girls' tent" in the back. Our ladies made wonderful food for us over the weekend, and I think we're starting to get the knack of this camp management thing - we were even complimented on our camp by another re-enactor - it was a great weekend!

P.S. We purchased a tin kettle at Koh-Koh-Mah, and I'm completely thrilled about it. Hence, my next legitimate post will be about kettles of the time period - stay tuned!

Puzzle Mugs

I've recently become interested - nay, fascinated - with puzzle mugs. I was introduced to my first puzzle mug at a historical re-enactment about a year ago, and it's been on a back burner in my mind ever since. Somehow, I stumbled across puzzle mugs in my internet wanderings, and now I feel I simple must have one. But what is a puzzle mug, you say?

According to The New England Antiques Journal, "the puzzle jug, intended for use in inns and public houses as a humorous drinking challenge, is a centuries-old tradition which still survives as a novelty today." A puzzle mug is generally defined by the holes around the top of the mug, thus preventing the drinker to be able to consume his beverage from it in the normal fashion - namely, by just sipping it out of the mug. If the drinker attempts this, he will inevitably spill the contents of his mug all over himself. In order to drink from the mug successfully, you have to use one of the holes in the rim of the mug (generally there are several of these). Because of the nature of straws, you have to cover all the other holes in the rim that you're not drinking out of in order to get liquid to flow to you.

A puzzle mug, circa 1760 (from The New England Antiques Journal). Notice the flower-shaped holes in the sides of the mug, preventing the user from drinking in the normal fashion. To drink, one must sip from one of the holes in the rim while covering all of the other holes in the rim. How does it work? The handle of the mug serves in the same way as a "sippy cup" does. The handles would be hollow, and thus work like a straw, bypassing the cut holes in the sides of the mug. In addition to the holes at the top that had to be covered, there were also sometimes hidden holes in the handle itself that one had to cover.

The most puzzling puzzle mug mentioned in The New England Antiques Journal was one made by the Welsh: "the spouts are actually dummies which serve no function and the key to accessing the contents is a small row of holes disguised by the brown line running around beneath the pierced neck. There are twelve holes in groups of three and in each group two holes are dummies, leaving one hole to be covered. Frustratingly, the working hole is positioned differently in each group and it is difficult to sort out which is which without peering closely and running the risk of spilling the contents at the same time."

Puzzle mugs continue to be a collector's item today, and are very much a novelty item. Apparently the puzzle mug's popularity was starting to wane in the Victorian era (at least that is what I surmise), because during this era paintings of nude women began appearing in the bottom of puzzle mugs. What, you say? During the straight-laced Victorian era? Surprise! Puzzle mugs each have their own distinctive features, but frequently came with sayings glazed onto their ceramic surfaces, such as:

Here Gentlemen come try your skill
I’ll hold a wager if you will
That you don’t drink this Liquor all
Without you spill or let some fall

Or:

In this can there is good liquor
Fit for parson or for vicar
But how to drink and not to spill
Will try the utmost of your skill

I've started looking for one of my own (one that looks period but isn't actually from the 1700s - I don't want to have to worry about breaking it while I'm eventing!) When I find and purchase one, I will post up pictures of my wonderful puzzle mug. Until then, I will have to content myself with drooling over the various designs and styles.

(Again from The New England Antiques Journal - they were one of the few sites I could find online that possessed what seemed to be valid information - they had pictures of mugs to back up each one of their claims/examples)

A Pine Box: Part Two

As promised, I now present to you part two of the pine box. After waiting the day for the individual pieces to dry, we then had to join the side beams together to form the entire sides of the box. Since we were doing all of this by hand and don't yet have the fine skills needed for woodworking, we simply glued the side boards together (instead of cutting a better joining method into the pieces) and then tied them together while they dried. And then we had to wait another day for the glue to dry.

This was, incidentally, an extremely messy project, and there are now dozens of little glue drops all over our garage floor... Oops.

The next day, it was finally time to start putting things together. Erik and I had purchased some mortar nails, because they are cut nails and more closely resemble the square nails that were being used during this time period. However, we couldn't get them to work without splitting our wood, and they were really, really long (over three inches long), so we had to sit and rethink things. We finally came up with an idea to "fake" the nails. We took each nail, laid it flat on the cement, and individually pounded the heads so they would have a square-ish shape to them. When pounding the nails into the wood, we had to pound them in most of the way and then start hitting the heads at awkward angles to create the faceted look that the heads would have had.

The picture is blurry this close, but hopefully you can kind of see the square, faceted look we put into the nails (each one, one at a time... I respect the blacksmiths who had to make nails one at a time!) There were a lot of nails that had to go into the box, because we had to nail the sides to the base, and then nail the sides together, and then nail the outer, "crate beams" to the sides.

Erik's friend Eric was visiting this day, and Erik took a break to go "play," while I pounded away at the box. It was fun watching them in between pounding down nails. After several days of work, rethinking, and lots of bent-headed nails, we finally finished the box.

So pretty! We made it so the "crate beams" extend beyond the edge of the box, so that they help hold the lid in place. And the final test...

And it fits perfectly! Yay! I was so proud of our box that I actually made Erik carry it into the house and put it in the living room so I could look at it.

I'm very pleased with the way it turned out and feel that it isn't a bad pass for a sea-crate kind of box. It's likely that a box similar to this would have held rations of salted ham (and when I say salted, I mean the box was full of salt, and the ham was buried in it). Erik says that by the time our rations of salted ham reached us out on the frontier, we likely would have thrown away the meat and kept the salt. This box could have been reused by us after using up the ham and/or the salt.

The box made it's debut event at Fort Wayne last weekend. It was SO handy, and hid the cooler very nicely. We were sleeping on the second floor of the fort behind our fly, and if we hadn't had our box, we would have been forced to trek up and down the stairs every time we needed something out of the cooler.

In addition, just like we'd hoped, the box makes an excellent bench, shelf, and table. We'd done what we could to make it sturdy enough for sitting, and after last weekend, our box really showed that it could do all of those things. I'm pleased as punch with it, and learned a lot from the project. Total, the box was around $45-$50 for materials. We probably could have purchased a box for $50 or $60, but we couldn't have gotten one built just the right size for our cooler, and we wouldn't have learned nearly as much (or had as much fun!) if we had bought a box. Hopefully this box will last for years of our re-enacting careers.

A Pine Box: Part One

Yes, the time has finally come when it's simply necessary for our unit to have a cooler at events. Not mandatory, because it would be possible to eat just dried meat and fresh veggies and fruits, but we're choosing to go with the option of being able to have some tasty meat dish roasting over our fire (and since we know a little more about germs and bacteria than the people of the 1750s, we're going to play it safe and keep our meat in a cooler).

However, being the passionate re-enactors that Erik and I are, we didn't want to just bring a cooler along and cover it up with a blanket. We wanted it to be securely hidden. Thus, the pine box was born. We chose pine for two reasons - firstly, it's cheap, and secondly, the Rangers are from (and spent a lot of time) "up North," where coniferous trees abound. Thus, pine seemed like the sensible option. The one thing we did not do before starting this project was to do a detailed research of boxes of the time. We knew they'd have several boards making each side, because plywood and particle boards weren't really an option during the time, and we wanted to make it look sort of like a crate, because the Rangers spent a lot of time on boats traveling on the rivers.

With these two goals in mind, we measured our guaranteed "Five-Day-Cooler" and headed to the lumber yard. We finally chose a variety of boards, loaded them up, and headed home.

The wood sitting in our garage, waiting for us to get started. We began that night with cutting the boards (by hand-sawing them) to the right lengths. Erik did the sawing, and I sat nearby and filed/sanded the edges down a little in order to avoid rough edges and splinters. After finishing several pieces, I stacked them up to the cooler - and realized we'd made a terrible mistake! We'd forgotten to account for the fact that when a board says it's one inch by six inches, it's actually more like 3/4ths of an inch by 5 1/2 inches. Fail! We had to go back to the lumber store the next day and get "1x2"s to put around the top edge so we'd have enough room for the cooler.

The next day, after buying more lumber and getting it cut and filed, we went to the next step - adding linseed oil. Linseed oil was used during the 1750s in order to make the wood a little more water resistant and to add just a little bit of a polished look to the wood. It's really not very noticeable at all, and doesn't really change the color of the wood. Erik had the great idea of lining up all our pieces on boards so we could conveniently "paint" all of them with the oil:

One thing about linseed oil: It is flammable, and even combustible! The rags can actually burst into flame if you're not careful with them, because of the large amounts of heat that come off the oil as it's drying. We didn't have any rags burst into flames, but I could feel the heat coming off of them! We had to wait another day for the linseed oil to dry. This is a good break point, so I'll return next time with Part Two: Joinery and Assembly!

Digression: Historic Fort Wayne

While this blog is intended to be for 18th century tangible things, I couldn't help mentioning where I've been the past few days. Over the weekend the hubby and I participated in a historical re-enactment at Historic Fort Wayne in Indiana. The re-enactment was of Fort Miamies during the Seven Years' War. Technically, the English and French didn't fight against each other at this fort. What did happen was that Hazen's Company of Rangers (our unit) came down from New France to tell the inhabitants of Fort Miamies that the war was over and the English had won. The Rangers then made a December trek all the way down to Fort Ouiatenon to tell the French there that they were the losers.

Since there were no actual historical battles at Fort Miamies, our goal was to interpret a "standard" weekend of battles and camp life. My brother and I played duty calls on our fifes for the soldiers, all of our unit participated in the battles, and our lovely ladies of the camp cooked the meals we'd worked out for the weekend. In addition to the battles, we also participated in some drilling, which included a very entertaining bayonet drill. Generally, a good time was had by all. We're an extremely young unit and have yet to learn a lot of the finer details of managing a camp, but we're getting there. Here are a few pictures from the event - and I promise I'll return you to your regularly scheduled program in my next blog!

Rachelle and myself working on batter for pound cake for the Saturday night participant potluck. Unfortunately, we still have a lot to learn in matters of cake-making over the fire... Oh well, live and learn! We were proud of the fact that we at least tried, and that we used a period recipe (just eggs, flour, butter, and sugar).

Rachelle seems to be enjoying her newly established role as a Camp Mother just a little too much, much to James' chagrin!

Ruth slaving over a hot fire in order to provide the rangers with a delicious lunch.

We put a chicken in one of the dutch ovens to boil - and left it there for about five hours. When we pulled it out, it was literally falling off the bone. Hubby Erik carved it up nicely for us - what a feast!

The boys set up an impromptu tomahawk target and had fun with some practice. I tried once or twice, but was feeling much too awkward in front of everyone to actually have fun doing it, so I decided to wait until I've had some practice at home and can throw with confidence before I try in public again! I enjoyed taking a few quick pictures of Luke (above) and the others, however.

Our set-up for the weekend - we were sleeping in the building directly behind our fly, so the fly was the only outside set-up we had for the duration of the event. You can tell by the random scattering of dishes that we don't yet have proper places for things in our camp. Luke (left) and Gerret don't seem too concerned about the mess, however.

These lovely ladies were just too pretty not to take a picture of - as you can see, I'm in the back practicing my ninja ranger guarding techniques. :-P I was also promoted to the rank of Sergeant at this event (Erik came up to me and said "Guess what, you're the sergeant now, so go to the sergeants' meeting." Oh. Okay then), so I'm now Sergeant Bob instead of Private Bob, at least for the time being. My musician duties are such that I probably won't have that rank for long (the sergeant was responsible for keeping the men in line, etc, and since I have to march with the musicians and not with our rangers, I can't exactly be there keeping them in line).

P.S. The camp box that Erik and I just completed worked wonderfully at this event. I'll talk about its construction in my next blog - stay tuned!

More On Paniers

As promised, I did more research on paniers (or panniers - the names are used interchangeably), and was extremely pleased with what I found. According to this Glossary of 18th Century Clothing Items, there were several types of paniers (which was mentioned in my last post), and each of the types of paniers have different names.

Hoops started in England (not in France, as I assumed because of their French name), "during the 1710s and were cone-shaped and, it seems, not always full-length. Depending on the source, they were introduced to France in 1718 or 1719. Soon their shape changed into a huge dome, spreading equally all around, which gave cause to much amusement (caricaturists) as well as consternation (church).
"The dome quickly decreased in size and flattened in front and back, then flattened even more into a broad oval. Around the middle of the century, the panier was divided into two baskets, one over each hip, and still later received pads on top so that it reached the elbows. Other developments are half-length paniers with flounces round the hem, and a short, wide and boxy panier that only reached to mid-thigh. In the 1780s, paniers vanished altogether and were replaced by pads." (Glossary of 18th Century Clothing Items)

 The "short, wide, boxy paniers" that theoretically were predominantly British, (as is this pair).

This revelation highly pleased me, as it appears that the mid-century paniers were the separate-pocket type, which is what I made. Yay for that serendipitous occasion! The Glossary also included several terms for the specific types of paniers. I've copied them over from the Glossary.

panier a coudes - paniers with an oval dome shape

panier janseniste - A short kind of panier, stiffened with horsehair or hoops, that replaced the long, heavy paniers of the first half of the century. It is sometimes identified with considerations.

criarde - an early kind of panier, or its ancestress. Being made of gum-stiffened fabric, sometimes involving leather and cane in its construction, it gave off a screeching, squeaking sound in movement. First used by actresses to add volume to their costumes, it is thought to have been adopted as the earliest kind of panier.

a bourrelets - flaring paniers

a coupole - dome-shaped paniers

considerations - A short, small kind of panier, sometimes identified with the janseniste, sometimes with what in English is called pocket hoops: Two small "cages" of calico or linen with each three rows of boning in tunnels, slightly flaring, attached to a waistband. One sat over each hip, so they were also called "false hips". Both had a slit at the top into which a pocket, also attached to a waistband, could be hung. But as the pocket hoops were closed at the bottom, they could also be used as pockets in their own right - hence the name (this is what I have).

This dress could very well have "considerations," otherwise known as "pocket hoops" (dress from the 1750s), which is what I used for my dress (see my earlier blog on paniers for a picture of my pair).

So, now you know even more about paniers (like you needed more superfluous information rattling around in your brain, right?) I'm pleased to know more on the topic - now when I'm wearing my dress and people ask about the shape, I can explain how it evolved through the different periods and became the pocket-hoops that I wear.

Nails In The Coffin

My husband Erik and I just recently finished (sort of) a pine box. Our re-enacting unit has grown large enough that we've decided to start cooking for ourselves, instead of going out and mooching from the other units. Erik and I are very intense about re-enacting and being period correct, but we're willing to sacrifice a small amount of correctness for the sake of our health. Hence, the pine box. We made it especially so that it could hold and hide our cooler. As I said, we're intense about re-enacting, but if we're going to have any fresh meat with us, we're going to play it safe and keep it in a cooler.

I'll be adding entries and pictures about the making of the box soon, but first I want to talk about nails. We don't really think about them all that much these days. You go to the store, you buy them, you use them. They're small, cheap, and handy. They're also relatively easy to make in this day and age. However, this was not the case during the 1700s.

Up until the tail end of the 1700s, each nail had to be painstakingly hand-crafted. Originally from RICS Building Conservation Journal, "For nail making, iron ore was heated with carbon to form a dense spongy mass of metal which was then fashioned into the shape of square rods and left to cool. The metal produced was wrought iron. After re-heating the rod in a forge, the blacksmith would cut off a nail length and hammer all four sides of the softened end to form a point. Then the nail maker would insert the hot nail into a hole in a nail header or anvil and with four glancing blows of the hammer would form the rosehead (a shallow pyramid shape)."

(from: Glasgow Steel Nail )

As you can see, this was no easy task! The blacksmith had to shape his metal into square rods, and then cut off sections and draw out the metal until it formed a point at one end - and then he had to manually form the head. Nails of this time were square, and really held things together well. The heads of these nails would be square-ish, and would have the pyramid shape described above. Here are a few pictures of period nails:

(Pictures from The Harp Gallery)

Square nails actually have a much better hold than round ones (round wire nails weren't made until the end of the 1800s). It's no wonder every village had a blacksmith! I read somewhere in my perusings that when a family moved, they would often burn down their old house in order to retrieve the nails from it, which gives you a good indication of how valued nails were during the time period. At the end of the 1700s, nails were being cut from sheets of steel, which made them much more rectangular. A hundred years after that, steel wire was introduced and the modern nail was born. Although much, much cheaper, the modern nail just doesn't have the same holding power as a good old square nail!

For a comparison of nails, check out this Historic Preservation Research post by The University of Vermont.

P.S. Antiques dealers and historians alike use our knowledge of nails to help identify the time period of pieces of furniture. If a piece of furniture was constructed using cut nails, researchers know that this piece was most likely made some time during the 1800s. Neat, huh?

Panniers: The Making Of

Panniers - from the French word "panier" meaning "basket" - are basically just that - baskets. They're sort of giant basket-pockets that hang on each side and make your hips look really big. It was cool to have huge hips in the 1750s. If you had big hips, you could make good babies! Now, because most women don't have hips that span several feet across (seriously, check this out), something had to be used to make those huge hips.

There are a few different methods, from what I've read and uncovered, of making panniers One method largely resembles a hoop skirt, except flat in the front and back. This type is apparently the "French" style. Another method is much more angular, and only goes down to the tops of ones knees. This type seems to be of English descent. The third option is "pannier pockets," which seem to be the simpler version of panniers. I'm not entirely sure how historically accurate the pannier pockets are - they seem to be accurate, but I have not read anything yet either proving or disproving them. I'll update as I find more information.

I found directions from Picture Perfect Panniers online, which was very handy, as I didn't really want to have to wait for a pattern to be shipped to me. This was the main impetus behind choosing the pocket pannier style. Additionally, having huge pockets like that really tickled my fancy. I just had to make them. I chose a white linen in the middling range of fineness, and got to work.

 The website's directions made pockets that went down past my knees. This didn't seem very efficient to me, so I developed my own pocket dimensions based on my somewhat petite size. I then cut out the pieces and started sewing. Also, instead of using bias tape to make the casings, I folded the fabric to make casings.

The pannier in this picture is very nearly complete. I used wire coat hangers as boning - not the most historically accurate, but better than a lot of other options - and finished up my giant pockets. The hardest part was closing the side of the pannier after I'd added the boning. As a postscript to this project, I added cotton ribbon down the sides because the wire coat hangers were poking through the rather loosely-woven linen. I would NOT recommend coat hangers to others. Plastic is actually the most closely resembling modern material to period boning.

After I was finished with the panniers, I put on my chemise, stays, panniers, and a skirt over the top to judge the effects. The first snapshot is the result of that endeavor (ooh, silhouette!), while the picture beneath it is of the completed panniers (prior to adding the cotton ribbon down the edges).

I See London, I See France...

While it's true that those from the 18th century did not wear underwear as we know them, underwear - at least for the 18th century woman - constituted a large portion of the clothing items worn.

Every 18th century woman had two basic pieces of undergarment - a chemise (or shift, if you're English) and stays. The chemise (pronounced sheh-MEES) was a woman's nightgown, underdress, and basic, everyday garment. A woman would wear her chemise constantly, both night and day. The chemise was the "panties" of the 18th century period. Shifts or chemises would usually be made out of linen, as that was the most common fabric of the time (the cotton gin had not yet been invented). The fineness of the linen was determined based on one's social class. If you were a higher class citizen, you could afford a finer linen.

And for a bra? How about something roughly the dimensions of a tank top, but with whale-bone inserted all the way around? This article - known as stays, or jumps if they're without boning - was also a staple for the 18th century woman, just as a bra is a staple for most of us modern women.  This garment also would have been made out of linen, although it would have been a much coarser and heavier linen than that used for a chemise or shift. Stays helped define a woman's waist and bust, and provided support for the conical figure that was highly desired during the time period. Although stays sound scary, I actually prefer my pair over modern undergarments! Stays provide excellent support for your back, and give those of us with small busts a little extra "boost"! The downside? They lace up the back, so you need assistance donning them (even poor women would not have been expected to dress all by themselves).

There is one other undergarment piece that was more or less optional. Known as panniers, these "giant pockets" helped provide women with the large-hip look, which was extremely popular for the time (the bigger your hips, the easier you could birth children). Panniers - from the French word "panier" - would have been constructed of linen and had channels sewn through them. Boning or reeds would then have been added to the channels, thus making  sort of half-baskets at each side of the woman's body. The best part about panniers? They really are giant pockets, which can be reached by slits in the woman's dress or skirts. You can fit everything but the kitchen sink in these babies!

An Introduction To Me

Greetings!

Allow me to take this opportunity to introduce myself a little before you join me on my adventures. I'm a young housewife from the midwest who thoroughly enjoys history, particularly that of the 1750s and 1810s. Now, this does not mean that I can tell you the dates surrounding the Siege of Louisbourg. I've never been good with dates and names, and can barely even recite the years during which the French and Indian War (or Seven Years' War) occurred. I'm terrible with memorization - but give me something tangible, like wood, or fabric, or sheets of music, and I'm completely mesmerized. I love learning about fashion of the time, or about what nails looked like in the 1750s (and how they were made).

I am a historical re-enactor. I've been going to events in period garb since my parents dressed me in a chemise and took me to my first event at nine months of age. At the age of thirteen I made the hobby my own by sewing all my own clothes. The next year I got involved in a junior fife and drum corps, and I've never looked back. After nine years of spending almost every fall and spring weekend at events, I don't know what I would do with my time! I've spent time in both the English and French camps, and have in the past few years been striving to further develop my knowledge about tangible things - things I'll be able to remember!

I do other things in my life, of course, but this blog is one dedicated to my projects, discoveries, and research involving the wonderful world of history. I have two completed projects that I will be adding shortly (an embroidered waistcoat and a sacque-back dress), as well as two more projects that are currently in the works (knitting and woodworking!), so please join me, follow along, and discover the wonders of the eighteenth century!