Come stitch on the jacket

Friday August 8 – Monday August 11

Friday September 12 – Monday September 15

Friday September 26 – Monday September 29

Wendy left a note in the comments. I was too distracted by the news that done does not mean done to listen to the explanation of what exactly the funny wrapping is. Debbie explained this morning that it is an under-over-wrap-around the horizontal lines of the ceylon stitch. Debbie compared it to a straight-line spider rose type thing; Penny said that maneuver is a stitch used in tapestry weaving. Speaking of Penny, she’s answered the Earl Grey tea cupcake question for us:

Hi there! The Earl Grey cupcake has the tea as an ingredient. Originally, the recipe called for green tea powder, but Emily is a big fan of the Earl of Grey tea combined with chocolate, thus the cupcakes. The recipe comes from the bookVEGAN CUPCAKES TAKE OVER THE WORLD by Isa Chandra Moskowitz and Terry Hope Romero.

Linda H came all the way from Pennsylvania to work on the jacket this weekend. Here’s a picture of Linda pointing out one of the motifs she worked, a butterfly.

Linda brought some of her needlework for show and tell, which was today. Here’s a picture of some of her stitching, which will be part of a beautiful needlework accessories book.

Linda was inadvertently part of a very rude awakening I had today. Wendy was showing her some of the frames, and pointing out what remains to be done. I had thought that the plain worms were stitched in ceylon stitch, like this. Ceylon stitch period. Stop. Done.

So Wendy was saying, “and then the worms get this funny wrapping thing.” And I said, “The Fancy Worms.” And Wendy said, “No, the plain worms.” And she started telling Linda how the wrapping is done. And I said “The Fancy Worms. The plain worms are done.” And Wendy said, “NO. The Plain Worms.” “WHAT?” So apparently the plain worms are NOT DONE. They need wrapping, like this. And I am getting used to that idea.

A couple of updates – Robbin explained in the comments that Laura didn’t have a name tag yesterday so we gave her a spare. Her grandmother’s name is Irene so she picked that one.

I ran into the interpreter whose stays Lacey altered over the last couple of days, and she was all appreciation. Her stays fit so much better and she is much more comfortable. The only problem now is her waistcoat is too big! We can fix that – over her next weekend.

We started our anniversary embroidery session today. This weekend last year was the first time embroiderers gathered together to work on the jacket. There’s been a lot of water under the bridge since then, not to mention a lot of orts.

Here’s a picture of Wendy showing JoAnn where the 3-D pea pod pieces will be sewn, eventually. I started working on one today, and am not thrilled with how it looks. Everyone else thinks I’m being extraordinarily fussy.

Here are Astrida (background) and Debbie (foreground) talking over some aspect of the embroidery with Wendy. Debbie is a new friend – I met her a few months ago when she came to work on the jacket the first time. Astrida is an old friend. Years and years ago when I was a new tailor with the Wardrobe department, Astrida used to drive down from the Portsmouth, NH area to volunteer on Saturdays. Way back then wardrobe was in our old office, extremely tiny and like a rabbit warren – several itty rooms connected like a maze. It was part of an old dairy barn. Anyway, no one else was in on Saturdays and the phone almost never rang, so we had lots of time to talk. Time passes and life moves on; I hadn’t seen Astrida in years before this morning. Another gift of the jacket – bringing old friends back around.

Today was Emily’s birthday. She is 19 whole years old. Penny made her a special a plate of special vegan Earl Grey cupcakes with yummy chocolate frosting. The candles say “Happy” instead of “Happy Birthday” because I and my tiny brain bought the wrong box of candles. I accidentally bought the “happy retirement” candle assortment. Ooops.

Here’s Emily’s first project this summer, a cassock for an interpreter portraying a sailor on Mayflower II.

When I sat back and looked at that sentence I realized I’ve opened the proverbial can of worms. What is a cassock? What makes this one particularly for a sailor? What is a non-sailor cassock? Where is Emily? Who is that behind the cassock?

Let me see what I can do. Cassock in the early 17th century seemed to refer to rather a lot of garments, including one that’s part of a priest’s vestments, something that soldiers wore, and any of a number of loose upper-body garments that were as long as the hip or thigh or even the knee. These last ones were worn by working men and maybe sometimes women. More questions than answers there.

This sailor’s cassock is based on one in a woodcut by the 16th-century Italian Cesare Vecellio labeled “the English sailor.” As you can imagine, a picture with a label is a precious commodity in historical dress research. We happily make these for our Mayflower II sailors. Not-sailor cassocks are also loose-fitting upper body garments, but the sleeve is a uniform width from armhole to wrist, not wide at the armhole and narrow at the wrist as here. The non-sailor cassock, also called by the wardrobe department “landsmen’s cassocks” (totally modern nomenclature) does not flare at the waist and often has buttons at the neck. These are based on images from memorial brasses as reproduced in one of the Cunningtons’ books of costume (they did a bunch, father-daughter team; I think the one I’m remembering is their 16th century costume one).

And I tried for a week to get Emily, the cassock, and the camera all in the room at the same time while simultaneously remembering to take a photo and finally gave up in disgust. The sailor needs his cassock, and he’ll get it tomorrow morning. The cassock-holder is one of our soon-to-be child volunteer interpreters, in for a fitting today.

Regarding the comments – I’m with you, Margaret, on the not-seeing-the-columbine thing. For a minute I sort of thought if you turned the stitched one upside down….but no. I think that’s why I’m so fascinated with the columbine motifs.

Thanks, Marjorie, for the compliment on the Needle Arts article. It was all Cheryl’s (the author) good work. I saw it but didn’t have a chance to read it. Penny showed me the copy Cheryl asked the EGA to send us – it’s full of excellent pictures and hopefully it’ll encourage a few more people to join us in the stitching.

This came from Wendy this morning, for which I was most grateful, as there is A Great Deal of Stuff happening here and my camera is at home.

Jill,

Here is a photo of some of the Foxgloves in my garden, they have gone crazy this year, flowering everywhere and about 4 1/2 feet tall almost 5 feet – I’ve got 2 colors going , only remember planting the purple so I’m not quite sure where the white ones came from but I love’em!

Since there was debate when the first Foxgloves were stitched on the jacket about whether or not they really looked like the real thing I thought I ‘d send the photo along because I think they do!

Wendy

I was among those who, at the time, couldn’t see a real foxglove in them, but I do now.

Also blooming in my garden are two kinds of columbine. I see them as purple and purple & white, but the color of the plain ones could be called dark blue. They look dusty, but it’s pollen. The pollen this year seems to have been extremely heavy and when I took these photos it hadn’t rained for several days.

Gerard, whose 1633 Herball we consulted the other day about pinks, also has an entry for Columbine. He says that each sprig of the stalk brings forth “one floure with five little hollow hornes, as it were hanging forth, with small leaves standing upright, of the shape of little birds. These floures are of colour sometimes blew, at other times of a red or purple, often white, or of mixt colors, which to distinguish severally would be to smal purpose, being things so familiarly knowne to all.” The name columbine comes from the Latin word for dove, columba, and the OED says that the flower “has some resemblance to five pigeons clustered together.”

While I was taking the pictures last week I wondered if my columbines are modern hybrids, and they may be; they were here in the garden when we bought the house. But Gerard’s description and his engravings match my flowers pretty well, especially if you think the purple might be called blue.

In an email, Melinda asked if I was familiar with another 17th century herbal, one that has separate and detailed entries for gillyflowers, carnations and pinks. I’m not, in fact I didn’t recognize the name (and now can’t remember it), but I will definitely try to find a copy and I’ll let you know whatever of interest I turn up.

I think the stitched columbines are definitely of the “mixt colors” sort.

I wanted to show you some live pinks in my garden, before they “went by.” I almost missed them; we had an obnoxious heat wave here last week which shortened their bloom time as well as my ambition to take pictures of them. Yesterday was cool and lovely, though, so here we are.

First a clump of pale pinks in situ. In the 1627 English Village these are also called gilloflowers or gillyflowers, soft “g”, so of course they’re my favorite. They have a wonderful spicy scent. They don’t last long as cut flowers, though.

I checked the Oxford English Dictionary Online and a facsimile of the 1633 edition of John Gerard’s Herbal looking for some information on pink the color, pink the flower, and carnations. According to the OED “pink” meant a small boat and a small fish before it meant the color between red and white. Interestingly, though, the earliest reference to pink as a color had to do with a yellow color, not what we call pink now: 1634 H. Peacham “your principall yellow be these – Orpiment, Masticot, Saffron, Pinke Yellow, Oker de Luce, Umber.

The OED’s first reference to pink as the color between red and white is in 1669. Of course the OED isn’t infallible, and they’re recording the first use in writing not in conversation.

As early as the 1500s pink meant a decorative hole, cut or slash in a garment. Sometimes a different color of cloth showed through the pinks. Remember pinking shears? Which were so much more used before sergers became common.

That kind of pink, like pinking shears, is how the edge of the petals of these flowers look, which is probably why they were called pinks rather than that they were the color we now call pink. Every time I try to connect the dots in words between the jagged edges of the flowers, their color, and the color between pink and red it is a hopeless muddle. But I’m betting you know what I mean.

Anyway, Gerard in 1633 has an entry called “of Clove Gillofloures” and a separate one called “Of Pinks, or wilde Gillofloures”. He’s got an illustration of the “great double carnation” under the first heading, along with the double clove gilloflower, the white carnation, the blue or deep purple gilloflower and the single gilloflower or Pinke. Under the second entry he’s got illustrations called single purple pinks, single red pinks, white jagged pinks and several more: purple, white, wild, dwarf, mountain, and leafless.

My garden has a second variety with a dark red stripe at the base of the petal. These ones really put me in mind of the stitched pink on our jacket. I got both plants from the Plimoth Plantation horticulture department’s spring plant sale a few years ago. The horticulture department (as you might expect) specializes in rare and heirloom varieties. Nowadays pinks belong to the dianthus family. And that’s probably more than you wanted to hear about pink!

Here, courtesy of Wendy, is a photo of the stitched columbine motif. In my opinion, it is the wackiest of the motifs on the jacket. It sort of resembles a columbine to me, but not much. And it looks crazy. Several columbines were embroidered this session; Norma B from Connecticut stitched this one.

It not only has the first bit of green GST on the jacket, but it also has blue, and pink, and red GST, not to mention a little plain pink silk. It’s the kitchen sink motif.