Coat Series Step 3 - Finish the Front Panels

With 18th century clothing, you do all the hard stuff up front then you piece it all together when you're done. It's a very strange process to modern sewers, who are used to putting the garment together first, then doing all the finishing work.

Diderot describes the process as first completing the buttonholes, then adding the buttons, and finally adding the pocket bags and pockets. This is the best order to follow because it allows you to fit your semi-finished coat after finishing the buttonholes and make any adjustments to the side seams before placing the pockets. If you finish the pockets before the buttonholes, your pockets will not be centered if you have to make adjustments.

Buttons and Button Holes

Contrary to modern sewing practices, buttons and buttonholes should be finished before sewing together the coat and installing the lining. This approach helps minimize the stitching showing on the inside of the coat from the buttons and the holes. If you buttonholes are not functional your lining will be completely flawless. Otherwise you have the option to piece the lining in between the functional holes, or simply cut small slashes in the lining and then secure the openings in place with a slip stitch.

Button Stand Prep

The button side will require the installation of an extra piece of interfacing for the button stand to provide extra support. I covered this in the interfacing write up but will cover it again here.

The button stand piece should be about two times as wide a the button, and it is installed on the right front of the garment. Baste the piece in place from the inside, and sew the outside edge down (you can sew it to the main interfacing piece). After securing the button stand on the edge, you are should sew a tiny running stitch outlining that is seen in many coat on the inside of the coat. The distance of this stitch from the outside of the garment should be the size of the button plus 1/2 inch, giving you 1/4 of space on each side of the button. The finial result can be seen in the pictures.

Draw on the Buttonholes

Draw the line line for your bottom buttonhole only in chalk on your coat. You will then need to draw another 9 button holes on the coat between the bottom button hole and the top of the coat. Depending on your height, the distance between the holes is somewhere between 2-2 1/4 inches.

Although the buttonholes appear to slope when worn on a person, they are actually all parallel when drawn on a flat surface. To easily draw parallel lines, I use a quilter's ruler and tailor's chalk. Getting the proper distance in between the holes may take some trial and error but luckily tailor's chalk comes out when rubbed with a scrap piece of fabric.

After drawing the lines, you will need to mark the start point of your buttonholes (make it consistently  between 1/4-1/2 inch from the edge; I do 1/4 inch), the end point of your buttonholes, and the point marking the end of the buttonhole opening if you are including decorative long work.

A few things to remember about buttonholes:

• Fashionable 18th century button holes are approximately 2.5 times a large as the button. If you have a 1 inch button, your buttonhole should be 2.5 inches long. 
• Although your buttonhole may be 2.5 times as long as the button, button opening average 1.5 times the size of the buttonhole on 18th century garment. That means for a 1 inch button, only 1.5 inches of the buttonhole is open, the remaining 1 inch is closed and purely decorative.
• Not all buttonholes are functional, depending on the period and manner of construction. Only the top four buttons are functional on most 1770's era coats, which means the remaining 6 buttonholes are purely decorative. 

Sew the Buttonholes
I'm not really going to cover the stitching technique, since I'll just tell you the same thing that numerous other people will tell you. Instead, here's a video from Fort Ticonderoga that highlights the button stitch method. The key to a good buttonhole is even stitching and tension on the thread. Don't worry if your first buttonhole looks terrible, they'll start to look good after you've sewn a thousand.

You will notice that Stuart mentions gimp thread. You don't really need to use it for purely functional buttonholes with no ornamentation. If you are doing any sort of long work, I strongly recommend it. It will make your buttonholes pop and look so much better than without. I use colored 18/3 Londonderry Linen thread, which can be purchased from various online book binding supply stores.

I cannot stress this one point enough: DO NOT CUT YOUR BUTTONHOLES WITH SCISSORS! Use a chisel. Even the cheapest chisel from a hardware store is going to work better than a pair of scissors that will stretch your fabric.

If any of your buttonholes are functional, they will be sewn through the outside fabric and the interfacing only at this point. There are two methods of attaching the lining, which I will cover later in the series.

Button Placement

Once the buttonholes are sewn, pin the two wrong sides together to determine the correct placement of the buttons. Mark the placement point for each button in the center of the button stand using chalk. For functional buttonholes, you'll be able to stick a piece of chalk in the opening and make a mark at the center point for the button. For non-functional holes, you'll need to mark the edge of the buttonhole and estimate where the button should sit on the button stand.

If using using cloth-covered or thread buttons, simply sew the buttons in place. If using metal buttons, you will punch holes in garment using an awl then secure the buttons in place from the inside of the garment using a piece of linen tape. The tape will run along the button stand from the inside, then go through the hole to the outside of the garment, run through the button shank, and then go back inside the garment. After running the tape through all the metal buttons, whip stitch the tape in place. 

Check the Fit

The proper tight fir that hugs the body and then tapers after the fourth button.

Now that you have the buttons and buttonholes finished, you need to check the fit. Checking fit is very important because you are going to start cutting into the coat when you do the pockets. If you don't check fit and end up needing to adjust seams after doing your pockets, it will move your pocket flaps off center, and you want your pockets to be centered

Baste all of the torso pieces together and make sure that everything fits properly. It should be TIGHT without constraint. If it fits like a modern coat, it's too loose. Take in or extend seams as required and make the necessary adjustments to the side seams on the fabric.

Unlined Frock

Time to take a breaking from doing things for myself and do something for someone else. A good friend of mine and awesome living historian asked me to make him an unlined wool frock coat. He' super excited about it, and I think I am just as excited. I love the look of a finely tailored (and historically correct) man's 18th century garment, and it's even more rewarding to see someone happy with their garment.

For this project, I'm using a green broadcloth from my friends and Burnley and Trowbridge, who's retirement home I am probably financing. This coat will be a 7.5 inches shorter than a full-length skirt and unlined, which allows you to wear it though the dog days of summer while only being mildly uncomfortable. I often joke that wool is a "not quite" textile. It will keep you warm in the winter, but not quite warm enough. It will keep you cool in the summer, but not quite as cool as you'd like to be.

 So far, I have body interfaced, the backs completed, and the sleeves completed. Next, I will move on to installing the pockets, buttonholes, and then it's onto assembly.

This picture is the basted together body, ready for a fitting, before I tear it all apart again. You know, true 18th century process.

This project, is going to feature, quite a few cool 18th century nuances, including the cape (collar) and pocket flap linings being done in and historically correct serge instead of linen, and the interfacing being done in a manner that is consistent with period garments.

There are also going to be a few surprises that I have not told my customer about yet, that I'm really excited about and will talk about in a future post.

Lamentations of a Living Historian

I don't like to vent, but occasionally I have to. If you're reading this blog, you probably have as strange of tastes in leisure activities as I do, so maybe you'll find this interesting, or maybe it'll piss you off. Here's my vent: Costumers are driving me nuts.

I get it, people like to dress up in clothing that makes them feel something different than how they feel on the inside. Look at any high-ranking military uniform from any historic empire and you will see exactly what I'm talking about. I make and wear historic clothing with for the study and experience of 18th century life, and to hopefully have that occasional moment of true living history. I am a living historian.

The modern people that like to make clothing, whether it be historic, historically inspired, or fictional, only to wear them, are called costumers.

In the past few weeks, I've been at odds with a few costumers with an arrogant yet highly sophomoric knowledge (and attitudes) of the 18th century, history in general, and research. The individuals that I speak of typically are self-declared experts in 18th century reproduction clothing.

They have made such declarations after making a few historic costumes, using modern techniques, by reading a few non-academic books or websites. When confronted with citing sources or constructive criticism to make their clothing better, they immediately deflect and wonder how you, someone not making silk court clothing, would ever challenge their expertise, for you only dress in linen and wool; whereas, they dress in silk.

Ok, so that's a hyperbolic simplification, but it does sum up a few conversations that I've had. If you want to be a costumer and have no interested in historic authenticity, that's cool with me. Please do it away from the living historians so that our inboxes are not commonly getting spammed. It would also be nice, if you would stop giving the general public incorrect information, but I don't think that's going to happen any time soon.

My experiences have led me to create My Two Truths of being a good living historian:

1.  Research is Hard, the Application is Harder, Proper Recreation is Near Impossible, but it will lead to the occasional true moment of existential living history.
2. History is uncomfortable, but confronting the uncomfortable is necessary to understanding and learning from our past. 

Research, research, research. Do it! 

Research is the key thing that separates the living historian from the costumer. It is very easy to watch a movie or TV show, look a portrait, or extant garment, and find a way to make a copy. You could probably find a pattern, fabric, notions, and have a plan to make something that looks like what you're trying to recreate.

Will it be historically correct? Hell no. You did an hour worth of googling. Did you think you'd have a museum quality reproduction? People who have been doing this for decades still learn new things every day. They get this knowledge from studying original garments and reading primary sources on how the clothing was made. I understand that 99 percent of us do not have the ability to perform a hands-on study of an original, but there are plenty of academic books on the breakdowns of experts who have published their findings.

Sorry, but a costuming or coffee table book with no credible or "this is how I do it" is not a citeable source. It may be good information, it may even be the correct information, but levels of research need to be appropriately classified based on bona fide accuracy.

Research is difficult, whether it be uncovering the methods for making clothing, then actually doing it in the style, or cooking on a hearth using an 18th century recipe. It takes a long time to gather all the information, that you can then apply to actually do something with it.

Luckily, museums and universities are embracing globalism and putting vast details on the internet that you used to have to travel all over the world to see and hope that you noticed every detail the first time.

Confront the Uncomfortable and Learn

History is uncomfortable. Humans have been doing terrible things to other humans probably since the beginning of our existence. The time period that I research is full of all sorts of atrocities to 21st century society. There's slavery, indentured servitude, public torture and punishment, execution for entertainment, classism, sexism, racism--you name it, it's there. 

Pretty much every deplorable societal trait that modern society hypocritically likes to think that we've evolved beyond, existed in the 18th century. You can't rewrite it (just as 200 years from now, we won't be able to rewrite the terrible things our society has done or ignored), you have to confront it or else you won't learn from it and truly change it. Unfortunately, a lot of this institutions still exist in this country (slavery being one of them, albeit under a different name)

History is not silk gowns and embroidered suits. If you don't want to get dirty, stick to the conventions and photoshoots, and leave the history to the professionals. 

To Winter Quarters

Now that I'm not wearing all of these clothes and using all of this equipment all the time, it's finally time to get to making some stuff. And the list is long. I have orders for clothing, personal clothing to make, clothing for the daughter to make, and new ventures in becoming a true artificer. If I can get half the list completed before the reenactment season really starts up again in April, I'll consider it a success. Here's where I'm at:

Clothing List:

• Finish Greatcoat
• Finish Linen waistcoat
• Unlined Green Broadcloth Frock Coat (Customer)
• Broadcloth Green Waistcoat (Customer)
• Checked shirt
• Girl's Dress with Leading Strings
• Broadcloth Breeches
• Sheepsblack Worsted Breeches (Customer)
• Make at least another waistcoat

Project List:

• Finish rope bed
• Repaint tent poles

New Ventures:

• Make a 9 hole belly box
• Make a Lyman style pouch

Productive Weekend

I am a glutton for punishment. For some reason I like to do all my sewing with a rapid deadline. We went to Mount Vernon on Veteran's Day, which was supposed to be freezing. Can I start and finish a lady's cloak, a girl's cloak, a pair of girl's mitts, and a wool petticoat in time? You betcha.

Cloaks are not too hard to do generally. They are simple geometric shapes with a few pleats and some binding. What makes it time consuming is if you decide to line them. Naturally, Allie wanted them lined. These beauties are made in red wool plush. The bodies are lined with worsted wool and the hoods lined with silk taffeta. They turned out amazing.

Apparently, I need to read The Handmaiden's Tale because people keep saying cryptic phrases from it, and I have no idea what they are talking about.

I also made the tiniest mitts for the small one from white wool (bad idea in hindsight). Have you ever seen a toddler eat strawberries in white wool mitts? It's not pretty.

And for the cold, dad got... nothing. Luckily it wasn't too bad and I was able to keep warm in a sleeved waistcoat and worsted coat.

The Roaming Tailor

It's not often that I get to travel far. As an apprentice father (I guess you don't hit Journeyman until your oldest is 7?) and generally very involved in everything individual, travel is not something we get to do often. But when we do, we try to fit in everything including visiting at least one historic site. I can't wait for my daughter to be old enough to complain that dad is taking her to another boring history place.

On a recent business trip, I got to stop by a site that I've been wanting to visit for years: The Old Barracks Museum in Trenton, NJ. The site itself was amazing. Gotta say that I'm a little jealous of the amenities in comparison to my usual stomping grounds at Fort Frederick. Ok so not really, it's mostly that I'm jealous that the walk to the bathroom is significantly smaller; visitors are notorious for arriving when your bladder is full. But I am green with at their tailors shop.

Unfortunately, David, the resident tailor at the Old Barracks was not in the day that we visited, but after shooting the breeze with another one of the staff Asher (who is pictured and awesome by the way) he was kind enough to give me a peek into their tailor's shop.

The shop is fantastic. They have many original items including a tailors yard, multiple pairs of Gambia shears, geese, you name it. The thing that I was most jealous of was the natural lighting. The shop is set up to provide the most natural lighting through two large window that blast the entire room with light. You could truly work a full 18th century work day. The two tables inside provide adequate space for all sewing needs. It's a testament to efficient use of limited work space.

We were so impressed that my daughter tried to take home a souvenir in the form of an original pair of Gambia scissors. She has a penchant for stealing scissorsm, and was caught moments before the act in the picture to the right. David, if you're reading this, no need to inventory your scissors; she didn't take them.

The shop at Fort Frederick is still being built, and I can't wait for it to be done. Based on pure design limitations of the barracks, we'd never be able to get that much light into the shop, but I can't wait until the room is finished and I can have my own little fiefdom. Though I may have to worry about small children trying to steal my tools.

Mid Century Double Breasted Coats

I like weird fashion in case you haven't noticed. I've always had a slight obsession with anything double breasted because I find them interesting in how they look, how they're made, and everything about them. The civilian double breasted frock coat seems to have evolved out of the military coats, which were double breasted and worn open to display the distinct regimental features. In fact, the civilian coats seem to use the exact same patterns as the military variations with the addition of some fashionable components found on civilian coats.

Another style of double breasted coat, called the "Pea Coat," and mostly associated with sailors, is also referenced in numerous runaway ads. Although a double-breasted coat in existence in the mid-18th century, this is not what I'm talking about here. The pea-coat is a utilitarian short coat that does not include the stylings of a frock, including the skirts, and side and tail pleats. The pea coat simple terminates at the base of the turnbacks and includes none of the elegant features of the frock.

There are a few surviving examples of 1770s style double-breasted coats, and many examples as you get closer to the beginning of the 19th century, when the style became more popular, but the mid 18th century double breasted civilian coat seems to be rarer than than later in the century. Still there are various examples that can be seen in artwork from the aristocracy, middling, and poor classes.

For the most part, the pattern of the coat seems to mirror mid-century military regimental coats. The visible difference in the civilian variation is appears to be the pocket shape and and sleeve cuff which tends to vary for more fashionable or utilitarian purposes. 

Cuffs are pictured to be in the overly large justacorp style, a fashionable folded over cuff, and straight and mariner cuff. Pockets appear to follow the same variation from the most utilitarian rectangular pattern to fancier pointed shapes.

As a whole, the coat turnbacks seem to follow the same form of the military counterpart with the turnbacks not extending the full length of the front and transitioning to single breasted for the last button or two. The also appear with plain buttonholes or with embellesments that appear to be some for of lace.

The skirts also vary based like military variations being both short and long variations. The referenced caricture of Sir Thomas Robinson is very interesting in that the color of lining of the skirts varies from the turnback color.

The turnbacks also appear to vary in style. They are styled in both the same and complimentary color as the coat itself depending on the wearer.

 The wear itself also seems to vary depending on the person. Coats are pictured worn in with the turnbacks secured or worn loose in various image.

 Overall, this is a very interesting garment that seems to vary in any which way that it can. As someone who has an affinity for interesting clothing, and enjoys making them even more, I have a feeling that this garment will be going on my winter sewing list.

Little Details, Big Difference

The third most frequent question that I get asked when doing living history is "why does it look like that guy is wearing a costume, but you look like the real deal?"

The top two questions, in case you were wondering,
are: "Are you hot?" and "Where's the bathroom?"

Living historians are prone to not giving the general public they deserve for spotting things that are off. No, they probably are not going to realize that your coat is made with 10 stitches per inch instead of 14, or that it's not died with pure indigo. But they can always tell when something doesn't quite look right. I'm not talking about blatant farberism here i.e. tennis shoes instead of accurate footwear, Levi's instead of jean cloth, tourist hats instead historically accurate hats. I'm pretty sure even the History Channel can spot those inaccuracies 😂

The general public will notice when someone's impression does not quite fit in with the rest. They can also tell a great impression from a good impression. We, as living historians, need to self educate and self regulate to improve the overall impression of the group. Little details do make a big difference. There are a few things small improvements that I would suggest to take a passable or good 18th century impression, and turn it into a great one.

Cuffs and Sleeve Buttons
There are fewer things more frustrating and time consuming than sewing a proper 18th century shirt, which is probably why it's not done often. The seams are long, they should all be felled (yay double sewing!), seam allowances are tiny, and it's all for something that no one is really going to see. There is parts that people will see though, your cuffs.

It's a pet peeve of mine to see people walking around with big honking sleeve cuffs and giant buttons closing them. Not only is it not historically correct, it just doesn't look right. Most sleeves cuffs were thin, closed with sleeve buttons (cuff links), and were adorned with this decorate stiching that is colloquially called "The Stitch."

The Stitch is frustrating, it is is time consuming, but it will take your shirt up many notches. To accomplish it you pull a single thread lengthwise 3/8 inch into the arm band, then you fold lengthwise 1/4 inch in and do a back stitch were you pulled the thread catching 2-3 threads every time. Then you fold the band in half, pull another thread 1/8 inch from the fold and do it again. Complicated right?

I'm not saying redo you entire shirt that people are not going to see, but if you replace you ridiculous looking cuffs with properly stitched cuffs, it really brings your impression to the next level and people will admire your great attention to detail.

Glasses: Leave them at Home
Both my vision and my wife's vision sucks. I wear contacts, she wears glasses. There are many vendors who sell "reproduction" spectacles that are close, but can be made better with some small alterations, to being 18th century accurate. What is not accurate is near sighted persons wearing them all the time. Look at period images, even of Ben Franklin, and you will not see people walking around wearing spectacles. If you wear glasses normally, invest in some contacts for events, it will be more accurate than any reproduction spectacles that you can find.

Overlooked Modern Jewelry
This is a weird one. Many people think about more obvious jewelry choices (don't wear your best Run DMC dookie chain), but they forget about the easily overlooked pieces like modern engagement rings and wedding bands. Maybe it's because I noticed one time and now cannot unsee it, but I immediately notice when people are wearing modern wedding bands. I would suggest investing in a Poisie ring or a simple silver band to make sure you don't stick out like a sore thumb.

Alright, that's it for now. I have my other tips and tricks that can take your impression up a notch, but I think that I've done enough venting for now.

More Hat Details

Here are a few details for the finer points of this hat.

In theses first picture you can see where the ties to keep the hat cocked go through the brim and into the crown. The ties are made from 1/4 inch worsted tape, which forms the very prominent "11" shape that you see on the front and back of the hat.

I set the bottom hole for the 11s 3/4 inch from the bottom of the hat, and the top hole 2 inches above the bottom. The 11s are about 1 1/4 inch apart from each other. These are my measurements, but you can change them depending on the look you are going for.

To cock the sides, I tack the brim to the crown with a few stitches in the middle of where I want the brim to stay. I mark my holes and then punch the holes with an awe. Thread from the inside bottom to the outside of the brim then back in through the top to the inside and tie with a square knot. Leave some extra tape if you plan to take out the 11s at any point.

Much of the same is done with the back of the hat to make the fantial. Many of the extant hats that I have seen do not have the top part of the worsted tape for the fantial returning back into the crown. Instead the worsted tape at the top of the fantail only goes through the brim, and the tape is tied inside the crown at the bottom part by the brim.

If you follow this method, you may find that the top of the fantail pulls away from the crown. To make sure everything stays in place, I hid a few stitches of black linen thread under each of the 11s higher up on the crown. You can see the stitches with the worsted tape pulled aside in the second picture.

The lining is made from a rectangular piece of simple linen the circumference of your head plust 1/2 inch, and about 3 1/2 inches wide. The lining will not go all the way to the top of the crown so that you can undo the worsted tape if you choose to create a fantail on sunny days. If you don't want to have that option, you can take a piece of linen to the lining on the top of the crown to give you felt some extra protection.

Fold over 1/4 on one of the long sides and finish the raw edge with a whip stitch, then sew the strip into a band using a 1/4 inch seam allowance. Next, fold over 1/4 inch on the remaining unfinished long edge and ease the lining into place and sew in with a whip stitch. You do not need to go through the entire hat, just enough to keep everything secure.

The cockade band is simpler than you think. This one is made from 1/2 inch worsted tape that is simply tied in place to the 11s and hooked to a pewter button.

First, decide where you want your button to be, untie the worsted tapes cocking up this portion of the brim, and then sew the button to the brim securely. You need to make this nice and tight or the button will move and throw off the aesthetics.

Cut a piece of tape that is longer than you need and tie a knot on the inside of the brim to make a loop that will go around the button and under the worsted tape that is between the brim and crown of that hat. You can see where the band goes in the last picture.

You will need to experiment the the length of this band because you want it tight, but still loose enough that you can undo the button and insert a cockade without affecting the brim shape. It's very tempting to make the band loose, but if you do that the button won't look right, and your cockade will not hold a nice shape and turn into a sad piece of fabric attached to your brim from lack of pressure on the center of the of it.

My Hat is Has Three Corners

My last attempt at hat making was a (somewhat) failure. Mostly because I did not have the right tools. My second attempt at hat making was a roaring success, but that's not to say that didn't make plenty of mistakes and learn a lot. Here is my finished hat.

Unfortunately, you can't just go rolling out and making a hat overnight because it does require one specific tool to make a historically accurate 18th century hat: a round had block. No one makes them any more because your head is oval not round, so modern hats are blocked to actually fit your head. I commissioned a hat block from a local wood turner that fits my head, and I could not be more impressed with the craftsmanship. Here's his website: dougsturnings.com

You're going to need a few other things to make a hat other than just a block. You will also need:

• A wool or fur felt capeline (the one pictured is a shorthair fur)
• A big piece of plywood (I think mine is 24 x 24 inches)
• Staple gun
• Thin rope to tie the crown seam (I used 1/4 inch linen tape)
• Tea kettle
• Iron and spray bottle
• Shellac (clear stuff)
• Denatured alcohol
• Cheap spray bottle you are willing to throw away
• Natural fiber paint brush
• Hat brush, shoe brush, or something like it
• Scissors
• Tailors chalk
• Plastic wrap
• Quilters ruler (optional)
• Hat styling materials (worsted tape, buttons, cockades, etc.)

 Step 1: Block the Hat

Blocking a hat is not actually as hard as it seems. You just need the right tools and some patience. Other than the hat block you may actually have all the tools you need in your house already. To before you block the hat make sure that you have you plywood and stapler handy and wrap your block in plastic wrap to prevent damaging it from the heat and chemicals.

To block the hat, heat the interior of the cape line with steam from a boiling tea kettle until is is malleable. Then put the capeline over the hat block and pull down until it sits firmly against the hat block and distinctly makes the crown. After that you need to tie something around the bottom of the crown to maintain the shape and create a crisp transition seam from the crown to the brim.

Next, you are going to stretch the brim. Remove the hat and block from the stand and place it on your plywood. Using a water bottle and iron, soak portions of the capeline and then iron them to make the brim malleable. Stretch the brim by hand and staple the edges to the plywood. I try to get the brim at least 5 1/2 inch wide from the crown. You may have to repeat the process more than once and pull out a few staples to get the brim fully stretched to where you want it. I use A LOT of staples in this step because wool/fur will shrink and then you will have to do this all over again.

Once you have the brim stretched. Heat the spot near the crown and push the tie down as far as you possibly can to get a crisp seam on the crown. I used a clothes pin to help push down the tie. Once you're happy, let the blocked hat dry for at least 8 hours. The finished product should look something like this.

Step 2: Stiffen the Hat

Stiffening the hat is the easiest but worst step in the whole process. The period recipe for hat stiffener is a mixture of shellac and denatured alcohol. I use 2 parts (clear) shellac to 1 part denatured alcohol. The easiest and most efficient way to apply the mixture is using a spray bottle and then brushing it into the blocked hat. No need to remove the hat from the plywood, just spray that bad boy down with a bunch of the stinky stiffener until its saturated and then brush it in. Wait at least 8 hours to make sure it's dry, and then assess the stiffness to see if it needs another coat. 

If it's good, remove the staples and spray the underside of the brim with the stiffener and brush it in again. After you've spray it down, put the hat back on the plywood and staple it back down. If you don't do this, the brim will curl in as the stiffener drys and then you will have to iron your hat brim to get it flat again. It smells gross, so don't forget this step. Wait at least 8 hours, and your hat should be dry and stiffened.

Step 3: Cut and Style Your Hat

Now it's time for the fun part. Styling your hat. Although they may look like the brims are round, most cocked hats do not have round brims, they are slightly oval. The front and backs of my hat are 5 1/4 inches and the sides are 4 3/4 inches. You'll have to play with it to figure out exactly what you are gong for.

My suggestion is to start big, trim slowly, and check your progress by mock styling with your hands as you go along. Mark with tailors chalk because it is easy to see and comes out (somewhat) easily and use a quilters ruler for easy distance marking. I also use the quilters ruler to mark where the front and back of the crown starts, which helps with marking the pattern for the hat shape.

Once you like your hat shape, use a brush to get all the tailors chalk off and to generally pounce your hat. Once that's done, tack the brim in place with a few linen stitches so that everything is place while you're styling.

My method to styling is:

• Bind the brim if you're doing that
• Tack the brim in place
• Mark and punch holes for ties on fantail and sides, then tie the brim in place with the worsted tape.
• Sew in linen lining and sweat band (you could do this before doing the worsted tape but I find it easier to push the tape through the hat without the lining in the way)
• Sew on button for cockade. 
• Tie cockade band tape to binding tape and hook over button. 
• Insert cockade

Step 4: Wear Hat

If you did it right, or mostly right, you should get an awesome looking hat like this that custom fits your head. I gotta say that I'm addicted. This hat was not hard to make and looks amazing. I may have created a monster 

Hat Deconstruction

Nothing quite lets you know that you're in 18th century territory like the cocked hat. They are so easily recognizable and awesome to look at. They appear deceptively simple to make to get the distinctive "tricorn" look.

I had always assumed that the hats were all blocked and then had the brims cut an equal distance from the crown. Then the hat was folded into the respective shape. Not the case. Though some styles of cocked hat may be shaped that way, the prevailing styles appear to have a non-round rim.

The two prevailing popular styles that I have come across are the Ramillies, which could be described as a balanced cocked hat with a moderately sized front and fantail that matches the sides, and the Nivernois, which appears to be cocked high in the front and back with narrower sides.

I'm going to start making my own hats, so I needed to do a little research, so I recently deconstructed a cocked hat that I had made for me by a hat expert that I was less than pleased with because it was not blocked correctly with a round block.

I started by removing the cockade, vertical cording holding the cocked sides and back in place, and then cut all the stitching. Taking out all of that work revealed that though the hat would appear round, it is in fact oval. The brim measures 5 1/2 inches at the front and back, and is 4 1/2 on the right side, and 4 inches on the left side. I always thought the sides of the hat were not even! If I try to recreate this style, I will have the front and back 5 1/2 inches but the sides will be a consistent 4 1/2 inches. Unfortunately, this hat is most likely fundamentally done. I will reblock and see what I can salvage, but it may just be a plain bowler looking hat.

It's really a shame. Other parts of the hat were well constructed, but the core of the hat was bad. It also felt like it had no stiffening in it whatsoever. Myself, and many others in the hobby are becoming disenchanted with the hat makers out there both in quality and timliness, so let's hope this hat making experiment goes well. I am picking up my hat block tonight and am super geeking out about it. More on that later.

Coat Refurb Progress

It's starting to become a coat again. The project to refurbish my 1770s broadcloth coat to make it more historically accurate is progressing nicely and the (mostly) unlined body is complete.

In my last post, I had just finished attaching the buttons and sewing the button holes on the front panels. Since then, I have sewn new pockets and attached them, lined the skirts of the back panels with China silk, sewn hooks and eyes in place to close the front, and attached the front panels to the backs completing the torso of the coat.

I've also cut all the visible lining in China silk. Most surviving coats are either lined with either silk or some form of worsted in the visible parts and some form of cheap fabric in the back. This is the first time that I've worked with China silk and it is very interesting. The stuff is slippy to no belief so it makes tracing, cutting, and pinning a frustrating adventure. It's a very flexible fabric though, so maneuvering it in place is fairly simple.

Next up, I will line and attach the sleeve cuffs, and attach the sleeves. Then it will be time to do the cape (collar).

Coat Series - Step 2: Set the Interfacing

The interfacing is, without a doubt, the most important part of an 18th century coat or waistcoat. It keeps everything where it is supposed to be and makes sure that your front panels stay erect and do not sag under the weight of fabric and buttons. At minimum, you will need to interface the front edges of your coats, but you should also interface the pocket flaps (and sleeve flaps if you are doing a mariner cuff). 

For your interfacing, you will need pre-made linen buckram, or you can make your own from cheap linen fabric. I make mine because it ends up being cheaper in the long run, but it does add a delay to your sewing process. I'll cover making buckram in another post.

Placing the Interfacing

Where interfacing is placed in your coat depends on the fabric that you are using:

For Linen, Worsted, Silk, or Cotton

If you are using a fabric that the edge will fray on i.e. linen, worsted, cotton, etc. your interfacing will be cut the match the edge of the garment and will be set back from the edge of the fashion fabric right tracing seam allowance line. I use 1/4 inch seam allowances, so my interfacing is 1/4 inch from the edge of the fabric. The key is that when you fold the fashion fabric back over the interfacing, the crease forms the finished edge of the panel.

For Wool Broadcloth

If you are using a fabric that will hold an edge i.e. wool broadcloth, the outside seam of your fashion fabric will not have any seam allowances and will be left raw. If you cut your interfacing piece to match the true edge of your garment, you risk that the interfacing will stick out once finished. You will need to trim about 1/4 inch off the outside edge of your interfacing piece, and place it 1/4 inch from the edge. You will lose a tiny bit of stiffness on the edge of your garment, but it will be made up for with the underhand stitch that you will run later to join the lining to your fashion fabric.

Securing the Interfacing

Before you can do any actual sewing, you need to do some pre-sewing to make sure that your interfacing does not shift and is sewn in flat so that your garment does not come out looking lumpy. This pre-sewing is called basting, and it is meant to keep everything in place. 

Basting is essentially a less stabby version of putting a ton of pins in your garment to keep everything from moving. The nice thing about basting is that it keeps everything in place perfectly without constantly stabbing you and it makes your garment very portable to work on because you don't have to constantly worry about where all the pins have gone. The bad thing is that it takes a while to do, and you will eventually pull it out.

Basting is a simple process. You are simply sewing a very spaced out running stitch down the length of your interfacing to secure it. You run your basting stitch though the fashion fabric and buckram for a few threads, then you space the next stitch about an inch or more apart. You want to use a thread that is light and that you can easily see.

I cannot stress this last part enough: to make sure that everything lays flat, do all bastings on a table keeping the garment as flat as possible. You will not realize it at the time, but the fabric is moving constantly if you try to baste with the garment in your hands. The result will be that your panel is lumpy and you have to start all over again.

To make sure that everything is secured in the right place, I pin the outside of the interfacing in place, then baste down the edge until everything is secure, and remove the pins.

Next, I turn the piece over so that I'm looking at the fashion fabric. I then do a series of bastings on the right side of the fashion fabric, moving across the interfacing to ensure that the outside of the garment is flat and that it is properly lays flat across the interfacing.

Finally, I turn back to the inside of the garment, and baste the inside edge in place. The final result looks something like the picture above.

I know this seems like a ton of work for nothing, but your garments will come out looking much better for it.

Sewing the Interfacing in Place

Now that you've done all this prep work, it's time to finally sew the interfacing in place. For linen, silk, worsted, or cotton: fold the outside edge over the interfacing and secure in place using a whip stitch. There is no need to fold over if you are using broadcloth; simply whip the outside edge of the interfacing in place. In either method try to avoid stitches coming through your fashion fabric.

To secure the inside edge, you will be using a zig-zag stitch, which is also called a herringbone stitch. Here is a video on how it's done. 

This fancy little stitch works much better than a whip stitch because it draws everything in tight and it will make sure that your interfacing does not move at all. This is a strange stitch because it moves backward. Your needle will be pointed in the opposite direction from the direction that you are sewing. You get no points for big stitches here, try to only catch a few threads for your zig zags. Historic garments show about four of these per inch.

When doing this stitch, one point of the zig-zag goes through the interfacing only, and the other side goes through the fashion fabric only. Make sure that you only catch a few threads on the fashion fabric to show as little thread as possible. I keep my outsize stitch so that it nearly touches the interfacing, and the inside stitch is about 1/4 inch into the buckram. 

Extra Interfacing for Coats

M. de Garsault and Diderot talk about putting an extra layer of interfacing running the length of the buttons on coats. Although, some see this as an optional step, I see it as a must to provide extra stiffness behind the weight of the buttons.

The period documentation calls for using "stay tape," which I think may be a mis-translation from French, because I could not imagine using 1 1/2 inch or wider linen tape to make a interfacing strip for my buttons. I also don't know where to find linen tape that wide. I personally have not seen linen tape used to back buttons in period garments, so if you've seen it: send me a picture!

Securing the button backing is much easier than the large interfacing. You do not need to do the whole whipping and zig-zagging to put in in place because there are other stitches coming later that will overly secure it.

To secure the button backing, I simply do a basting stitch using a back stitch at the securing points instead of a running stitch along each edge to make sure nothing moves. There is not need to go through the fashion fabric at all. Simply run the back stitch through both layers of buckram and call it a day.

Ending

Your interfacing is finally secure. Huzzah! I know that it's tempting to pull out all the bastings right now, but don't do it. You put all that hard work into it, and it's giving your garment a little extra security. 

Coat Series - Step 1: Cut Your Pattern Pieces

I toyed with making this a pre-step. In the end, I decided that pre-treating your fabric and cutting your pattern is actually very important to your finished product and can affect the overall garment and should be included as a step unto itself.

Choosing a Pattern
There are many various patterns out there from a few vendors that do a good job. My advise: you get what you pay for. If you are looking to make a costume, go ahead and buy a pattern from a company that makes costumes. If you want to reproduce 18th century clothing, buy a pattern that cites its sources.

You can also create your own pattern using any of the various books I've mentioned in previous posts. You can find a multitude of tutorials on how to blow up a book patterns through a simple google search, so I won't go into it here. A friend of mine uses an old overhead projector to display the pattern on the wall and then traces onto pattern paper based on the required size.

If you want my two cents, I'll let you know what patterns that I use.

Selecting and Treating Your Fabric
The most fun, yet stress-inducing part of sewing is choosing the fabric. Use natural fabrics that are suitable for your impression. Avoid synthetics as much as possible (a small percentage occasionally can't be avoided in some wools). Before going out and buying that fancy silk brocade, decide who you are going to be portraying and what that person would be wearing.

Honestly, silk sucks. It doesn't breathe as well as linen and wool, and you can't do immersion laundering on it either. My two cents, linen and wool are your best friends. They are suitable to most classes and are generally durable fabrics. Linen is great in the summer for cooling and can be washed by hand or in your washing machine (if you're confident in your stitching). Wool regulates the body temperature, lays great, and is very easy to work with.

**As I rule, I do not fully immerse my coats for washing because it removes the stiffness from the buckram. I will spot clean the outside or odorous parts, and, if required, replace the lining to rid the smell.**

If you plan to wash your linen garment, wash your fabric before cutting the exact same way that you plan to wash your finished garment and hang to dry. Linen will shrink a bit, but not that much. I do not wash wool, but if you think that the color will bleed from your body heat, it's a good idea to soak your wool in hot water and then hang dry to remove that excess dye.

Tracing Cutting Your Pattern

None of my pattern pieces have seam allowances. I draw them on myself at 1/4 inch to be more consistent with extant garments. Modern patterns use 5/8 inch seam allowances, which is too big for the 18th century (you can use whatever seam allowance you want; it's really your preference). Not only that, but outside edges of wool broadcloth garments should be left raw and have no seam allowance in the 18th century fashion. Here is my pattern process:

For Linen or Worsted Wool (Fabric that Frays)
1. Lay out fabric in folded in half length ways (making a long, thin rectangle)
2. Trace the true pattern pieces pieces using tailors chalk, charcoal pencil, or heat erasing quilter's pen, etc. starting with the large pieces of the body, then the smaller pieces.
3. Add 1/4-inch seam allowance to all sides of true pattern pieces.
4. Pin all pattern pieces and cut
5. Repeat for the lining

For Wool Broadcloth (Fabric that Does Not Fray)
1. Lay out fabric in folded in half length ways (making a long, thin rectangle)
2. Trace the true pattern pieces pieces first using tailors chalk or a charcoal pencil starting with the large pieces of the body, then the smaller pieces.
3. Add 1/4-inch seam allowance to only the inside seams of true pattern pieces. Any seam that is not joined to another i.e. lapel seams, skirts seams will be cut at the true pattern piece line.
4. Pin all pattern pieces and cut.
5. For the lining: Repeat steps 1 and 2, but at Step 3 add 1/4 inch seam allowance to all sides for the lining. Pin and cut.

18th Century Coat Series: Introduction

I'm pretty free with information. For some reason, those in this hobby don't seem to be. I'll tell you anything if you ask though. I often get asked how to actually make clothing step-by-step in the period method, and how it differs from modern sewing other than doing it all by hand, so here it is straight from the horses mouth. In this series, I plan to take you through the basic steps on how an 18th century coat or waistcoat is made in the period method, including the steps and stitches used.

In case you want to do your own research, or you think I'm full of crap. Here are the sources that I use for my methodology:

Art du Tailleur by Francois Alexandre Pierre de Garsault (1767)
Encyclopédie, ou dictionnaire raisonné des sciences, des arts et des métiers by Denis Diderot (1771)

The Cut of Men's Clothes: 1600-1900 by Norah Waugh (2015)

Costume Close-Up: Clothing Construction and Pattern, 1750-1790 by Linda Baumgarten and John Watson (1999)
The Workman's Guide to Tailoring Stitches and Techniques

Mid-18th Century Frock Coat

Here's my first attempt at a mid-18th century frock coat. If you've read any of my other blog posts, you will know that I'm a fan of/glutton for speed sewing. This was probably one of my most insane endeavor to date. A start to finish (including making the buckram for the body pieces), unlined frock coat in 6 days. By then end of it, I was exhausted, but it turned out well enough and was functional.

All and all, I think that it turned out well enough. There is nothing fancy about this coat at all. It is part of my impression for the Artificer Tailor at Fort Frederick. This is a simple, unlined linen work coat that is perfect for summer wear. There are only 12 buttons (10 on the front, 2 on the side vents) and include 10 partially cut 2.5 inch buttonholes with 1 inch, cloth covered buttons.

The fabric is this really enticing color of brown that shifts between brown, green, and greyish tints depending on the lighting.

 I still need to make a few minor adjustments to it for it to be truly done. The skirts for the vents need to be tacked in place so that they don't flap about everywhere, and the interior seams need to be zig-zag stitched in place to prevent fraying. Other than those few minor details, I claim mission success.

A British Regimental Tailor

History is absurd and full of hilarious anecdotes if you just look close enough. Enter Samuel Lee, a name that I ran across researching tailors enlisted in the British army. He was a solider, master tailor, and first POW of the American Revolution. The story of Samuel Lee is an interesting one with an ending that makes you scratch your head and wonder "what were they thinking?"

Lee was a career soldier, born in London, who first came to the colonies with his unit the 18th Regiment of Foot (Royal Irish) in 1767. He was first stationed in Philadelphia until 1768, and then would spend the next five years at various positions in the American frontier. In 1773, he returned to Philadelphia. In addition to being a solider, Lee was also a tailor. By 1773, he was named master tailor of his regiment. A lot of what we know about artificer tailors in the British army comes from a court case that Lee gave witness for in 1774. 

A grenadier of the 18th of Foot is seen on the right from an 1851 paining by David Morier

In 1774, Lee gave testimony for the crown in a case against another tailor in the regiment John Green, who was on trial for false testament for saying that their Captain called the Chaplin a "buggerer." 

In the court proceedings, he is described as a solid, obedient soldier who was hard of hearing. The anecdotes of the other regimental tailors describes a scene of chaos and disobedience, often to the point that armed guards were placed on the tailors to ensure that they finished their work. The Captain describes the tailors as lazy and sloth to do their work. If you actually read the proceedings the tailors are not lazy at all, they're just working on private commissions instead of working on the regimental work that they're going to get paid for anyway. It's pretty funny to read, and I can imagine the spun up red faced officer in court describing the shop.

In 1774, Lee and his regiment were sent to Boston, and the grenadier company would be dispacted as part of the raid on the Concord powder magazine that would turn into the famous Battles of Lexingon and Concord. While in Concord, Lee was posted as a sentry while other soldiers searched for military caches in the area.

Maybe it's just me, but posting someone as a guard who has been described has hard of hearing in a court of law is probably not a good idea. Indeed it wasn't, as a minuteman by the name of Sylvanus Wood "snuck up" on Lee and relieved him of his weapon. He was then marched to Lexington as the first POW of the war.

By some accounts Lee was a deserter. Other hypothesis think that he was first wounded then captured. The Royal Irish actually listed him as dead in their after action reports. Lee would spend time as a POW until he was eventually released and set up a tailor shop in Concord. He would wed Mary Piper in 1776 in Concord, and remain there until his death in 1790 at the age of 45.  

Pattern Hack: Cut Off Those Seam Allowances

Two posts in one day. What am I thinking? Perhaps I'm not and that's why I'm taking the time to pontificate more than my usual amount. This pattern hack is simple, terrifying, but will make your clothing so much better. Cut the seam allowances off your pattern pieces. Just do it!

Modern patterns usually call for over large 5/8 inch seam allowances, which is way too big compared to the tiny seam allowances on original garments. Costume Up Close mentions that a study of seam allowances showed that most were somewhere between 1/8-3/8 inches depending on the garment. I split the difference and go with 1/4 inch. To achieve this, I trace the pattern piece, add the seam allowance, then cut.

If you are confident in your exactness of tracing, you could always trace each piece twice in opposite directions. The traced lines then become the stitching lines for the pattern pieces. Then all you have to do is guesstimate the seam allowance but cutting about 1/4 inch outside of the lines.

The other reason that I completely cut off the seam allowances is to accommodate making garments out of wool. Period wool garments typically have raw wool edges for the outside parts. Meaning, the broadcloth edge is not folded under like you would do with linen, cotton, or worsted. Why? It saves fabric and it shows off that your broadcloth is of a quality that it will not unravel. Trust me, nothing looks quite as sexy as a raw edged wool garment.

When using broadcloth with a raw edge, you have the added complexity of remembering which seams are part of the body and need a seam allowance, and which are the raw edges and do not. Trace twice, cut once.

Buttonholes and Distractions

 This is how I roll. Start one project, make decent headway, then get totally distracted and do something else. This is (somewhat) one of those cases. I've been working to make my green broadcloth frock coat more historically accurate, and I made pretty decent headway on it last week. Unfortunately the process involves almost completely remaking the coat.

So far I've torn the coat apart, cut off the edge seam allowances, re-attached the interfacing, and finished the button work. 1770's buttonholes are a thing of beauty if done correctly. They are thin and long--about 2.5 times the size of your button. This coat has 1.25 inch buttons, so these buttonholes are 3 1/8 inches of non functional beauty. Paired with the deaths head buttons, this coat is starting to look awesome.

I still have lots of work to do before it's done, but it's starting to look like a coat again. Naturally, though I took one step forward, so I need to take two steps back.

About a month ago, while portraying a refugee at Fort Frederick, friend of mine suggested that I contact the Fort to see if they would be interested in adding tailoring services to their collection of living historians. After a month of ironing out the details, I'm pleased to announce that I am officially the Artificer Tailor at Fort Frederick! Huzzah!

I will be at all the 18th century events for the remainder of the year, and will continue with new programs in 2019. I am very excited about this opportunity, and have all sorts of great plans and ideas that will be happening at the Fort.

First thing is first: I need an 1750s ensemble. All of my clothing is more appropriate for the 1770s. I could get away with 1760s with some of my waistcoats because extant garments did show a few examples of shortening panels in the 1760s, but I have nothing that is remotely 1750s. Looks like I'll be whipping something together in six days.

I would love to be able to make both a coat and waistcoat in six days, but it just isn't happening. Luckily for me, there are many mid-century images of working men wearing only a short coat with no waistcoat. Looks like I'm going for that. I am making a simple brown, unlined linen short coat similar to the one in this picture. Time for some speed sewing. What could go wrong?

Pattern Hacks: Do Your Research

Before you can even start, you should do your research. I don't mean month and months of it, but you should have a basic understanding of how the clothing is constructed. Here's a little secret, techniques varied from tailor to tailor in the 18th century so there are various correct ways to do something. Find what works for you. I am going to suggest three books. I have more in my library, but these are what I would call my must reads.

My Book Suggestions

For a breakdown on garments, I suggest reading Costume Up Close by Linda Baumgarten. The Forward section related to construction and stitching is probably the most useful three pages that you will run across. The analysis of the garments is exceptional from a deconstructionalist perspective. My only complaint is that the pictures are black and white, so not much detail can be gathered from the images.

For actual period instructions, check out the translated section on the tailor from the Diderot and d'Alembert Encyclopedie. This is a fantastic source for garment construction. The text not only instructs in clothing construction, but also the cutting and fitting portions of tailoring. The language is a bit confusing if you are unfamiliar with 18th century instructions and terms, but the the instructions are straight forward.

The final book that I suggest is the Workman's Guide to Tailoring Stiches. It's not the most user friendly book, but the stitch details and instructions are fantastic. I put this one last for a reason because you should read it last. After absorbing the information from the other books, this book shows you what stitches to use to put it all together.

My Museum Collection Suggestions

The second part of your research is looking at original garments. Several museums have massive collections of 18th century clothing, but only a few of them are looked at in fine enough detail as I would like. I want to see the inside, up-close-and-personal details on all of the clothes that online collections cannot provide for each item. The collection of Colonial Williamsburg and the Victoria and Albert Museum provides a good breakdown of materials used in each item, and they occasionally provide the detailed images that I desire for some of the items.

Other good sources are The Met, Los Angeles County Museum of Art, Royal Ontario Museum, and of course check out Larsdatter.com and 18th Century Material Culture for a consolidated offering of original garments.

Pattern Hack Series: Introduction

Alright, so new (to this blog) idea. Let's hack some patterns to make the resulting garment more historically accurate. American Duchess does it all the time for ladies clothing, but I don't know of anyone doing it for men's clothing, so I will. I've lamented a few times with my wife that I wish there was a men's equivalent to The American Duchess Guide to 18th Century Dressmaking because men's attire is so much different in construction than ladies but equally as confusing if you don't have the experience. Ultimately, I'd love to write one. (Maybe if I write loud enough someone will offer me a book deal?)

So what the hell am I talking about? Pattern hacking? What is that?

There a few good patterns for creating 18th century clothing out there. You can typically tell the good ones because they cite the original garment that it is based from. The pattern pieces provide you with all the requisite pieces to reproduce a period garment. The problem is that the vast majority of instructions given for most patterns follow modern clothing construction and do not follow the 18th century process. The purpose of this series is to show you what I do to use those pattern pieces to make a more historically accurate 18th century garment and leave you looking Macaroni AF.

Coat Pocket Placement and Buttonholes

Pocket Placement

An unfortunately often overlooked detail in reproduction 18th century clothing is the placement of the pocket flaps, button hole and buttons. This detail, though small, can really make or break the look of an outfit. Most spectators would not know if your clothing was made out of inaccurate fabric, is cut incorrectly, or is of the wrong decade, but if your pocket is in a weird place they'll be able to tell that something is up.

Pocket and button placement is actually fairly simple. It should follow a straight line. If you draw a line from the bottom most button(hole) to the top of the side vent, the top of your pocket (or at least the top corners) should be right on that line. You can see that illustrated on the pattern to the right and again on the picture of the coat front that I'm redoing (pardon the terrible looking pocket flap; it's part of what I'm redoing). The same guidance is true for waistcoats. 

I have seen far too many frock coats and waistcoats that look absolutely wonky because the pockets are either way too high or way too low. It may be a small detail but spectators notice. It has nothing to do with knowledge of historic clothing. The logical symmetry just looks off and people take note.

Pattern Hack: A Note on Button Holes
I have a love/hate relationship with buttonholes. I love how a finished, properly placed buttonhole looks, but I hate sewing them.

In Art du Tailleur, M. de Garsault instructs that buttonholes be spaced about two inches apart on coats and waistcoats, which is a good general guidance. Most extant frock coats have 10 buttonholes, so you may find that spacing your buttonholes exactly two inches apart gives you with extra space between the top hole and the collar. I found that spacing the holes 2 1/8 inches a part gives me perfect spacing for 10 buttonholes. I came to that conclusion after plenty of experimenting, which can be seen by the various chalk marks on the coat front.

Drawing the button holes is fairly simple if you have a quilting ruler with a grid pattern on it. Once you have the first hole drawn, you simply draw the next one parallel to it 2 1/8 inches above it. Keeping them parallel causes the buttonholes to angle in relation to the curved lapel as you move further up the body. I find that most commercial patterns place the bottom button hole correctly, but they lose the proper spacing as you move up the torso so using this method creates a better looking coat front.

Another detail that is overlooked in reproduction patterns is the size of the buttonholes. They are too short. The pattern that I use calls for 3/4-1 inch buttons and then has lines for 2 inch-long buttonholes. In the 1770s, a fashionable gentleman's buttonholes would be about 2.5-times the size of the button. I am using 1 1/4 inch buttons on this coat, so the holes are 3 1/8 inches long. I'm gonna look Macaconi AF when this thing is done!

In a later post, I plan to cover my method for doing long work buttonholes, but I think that I'll leave it here for now.