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.