'Tivo the Tailor
May. 3rd, 2007 07:30 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
altivoSewing. Some of you will remember that project I started with a study group last fall, where we each chose a garment design, then decided on the appropriate fabric to make it from, and then wove the fabric by hand. I finished the weaving some time ago, but have procrastinated the sewing for as long as possible, almost too long. Now I have to finish it.
My design is based on Folkwear's Missouri River Boatman's Shirt, and is intended for wear at historic recreations such as Civil War re-enactments. The pattern itself was created after extensive historic research, based on six samples in the Missouri Historical Society collection and period paintings by George Caleb Bingham (1811-1879.) I like the loose fit and open neckline, as well as the historic authenticity. I imagine Mark Twain and his fellow river rats wearing this shirt, and that's the kind of historic link I enjoy.
However, when you come right down to cutting and assembly, it's a surprise. I'm utterly amazed at how much men's shirt design changed in the hundred years from Bingham's time to when I was first learning to sew. Men's shirts have not changed much in America since the late 19th century, but they were apparently quite different before that. As I get into the assembly, I understand some of the reasons. This shirt is not as severely tailored and fitted as what we get today (even in cheap ready-to-wear) and there are good causes. The front and back are actually a single rectangle of fabric. The neckline is a T-shaped slash that is finished by yokes and facings, with gathers at the collar. The sleeves are likewise simple rectangles with no taper, gathered at the sleeve cap. It has a free flow and lots of fullness, but it also has fewer seams to sew and no curves. If you were sewing by hand or on a treadle sewing machine, this makes excellent sense. There is also plenty of extra fabric in the long tail that could later be sacrificed to make patch material for repairs. Folks expected practical clothing to last for years. They couldn't afford to just throw it away and buy new if they got a hole or tear. It has little gussets and reinforcing bits at points of tension that should enhance long wearability and keep seams from tearing out under stress. In spite of all that I'm willing to bet that the total number of stitches required to assemble it is less than half the number found in a modern man's shirt with tapered fit, button plackets, and full length sleeves.
Photos will follow once I'm done with it, hopefully before Tuesday when the project is due. The weekend should have been enough time, but I've promised to help with the annual spring bird count on Saturday and we expect a load of hay on Sunday. Tomorrow night we're going to hear the Elgin Symphony. Procrastination is bad, 'Tivo.
My design is based on Folkwear's Missouri River Boatman's Shirt, and is intended for wear at historic recreations such as Civil War re-enactments. The pattern itself was created after extensive historic research, based on six samples in the Missouri Historical Society collection and period paintings by George Caleb Bingham (1811-1879.) I like the loose fit and open neckline, as well as the historic authenticity. I imagine Mark Twain and his fellow river rats wearing this shirt, and that's the kind of historic link I enjoy.
However, when you come right down to cutting and assembly, it's a surprise. I'm utterly amazed at how much men's shirt design changed in the hundred years from Bingham's time to when I was first learning to sew. Men's shirts have not changed much in America since the late 19th century, but they were apparently quite different before that. As I get into the assembly, I understand some of the reasons. This shirt is not as severely tailored and fitted as what we get today (even in cheap ready-to-wear) and there are good causes. The front and back are actually a single rectangle of fabric. The neckline is a T-shaped slash that is finished by yokes and facings, with gathers at the collar. The sleeves are likewise simple rectangles with no taper, gathered at the sleeve cap. It has a free flow and lots of fullness, but it also has fewer seams to sew and no curves. If you were sewing by hand or on a treadle sewing machine, this makes excellent sense. There is also plenty of extra fabric in the long tail that could later be sacrificed to make patch material for repairs. Folks expected practical clothing to last for years. They couldn't afford to just throw it away and buy new if they got a hole or tear. It has little gussets and reinforcing bits at points of tension that should enhance long wearability and keep seams from tearing out under stress. In spite of all that I'm willing to bet that the total number of stitches required to assemble it is less than half the number found in a modern man's shirt with tapered fit, button plackets, and full length sleeves.
Photos will follow once I'm done with it, hopefully before Tuesday when the project is due. The weekend should have been enough time, but I've promised to help with the annual spring bird count on Saturday and we expect a load of hay on Sunday. Tomorrow night we're going to hear the Elgin Symphony. Procrastination is bad, 'Tivo.
