SCA: Do Not Open Until September

 Something else that happened at KAS over the weekend: I gave a good friend of mine a birthday present: 

This is a Skjoldehamn style hood, made of linen, machine-sewn, with a thin tablet-woven band around the hood opening and bottom edge. 

My friend Ivar saw my blue and brown hood last fall and expressed a wish to have a similar one, so I made this blue and red one for him in June, and I’ve been dying to tell you about it ever since - but it was a surprise, so I couldn’t say anything yet. I haaaate keeping susprises a secret! 

Here’s a closer shot of the trim; it’s 
the Oseberg 12L1 pattern again

I’m just pleased that he loved it. More than that, the look on his face when he realized that I was giving him a birthday present was priceless.  Ha! 

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So there are TONS of events coming up in the next couple of months, and I’m working my butt off on new things, and I hope I’ll have lots of photos from the events for you. More soon! 

SCA: Ansteorra Kingdom A&S 2024

WHEW, Kingdom A&S is finally over.  I’ve been preparing my entry for the competition off and on all summer, and I was soooo nervous about going. But it went well, and I’m glad that I went. This was my first KAS in ten years, and only my second one ever! 

I entered a couple of tablet-woven bands, of course. I spent the summer researching two designs and then learning to do the one that was new to me, then doing test weaves and finally creating each one over and over again until I was happy with how they came out. 

The first band (top) is the Oseberg “narrow band” (12L1, Oseberg ship burial, 9th century), done in wool crewel thread. The original was made of silk, but silk is a little out of my budget, so I used wool since it’s a historically accurate alternative.  

The second band (bottom) is a pattern from Gaigovo Barrow no. 1 (Russia, 9th century), also done in wool, like the original band.  While the Oseberg band was easy to do, this one was a bit tricky: it’s a split deck pattern, which I’d never done before, and with the way the wool kept sticking together, it was kind of a huge pain in the butt.

And here’s a pic of my display on the table at the event, with all the largesse people left on the table for me: 

I have absolutely no idea how I actually scored - somehow I managed to make it home without my scoring sheets, and I have no idea how to get copies of them. But that’s okay: this competition, for me, was about stretching my boundaries and putting my art out there, and I feel great about having achieved both. I also got to sit down with both of my judges and my shadow judge, and talk about my entry and about weaving in general, and overall it was a very positive and encouraging experience. 

There was also music and dancing, catching up with old friends, and making new friends; and the whole day was just so much fun.  I’m really glad I went, and I’ll definitely do it again next year.  

SCA: Experiments In “Viking Wire Knitting”

 I learned a new thing! “Viking wire knitting” or “wire weaving” is a method of making chain out of thin metal wire that goes back to at least the 5th century as far as I’ve been able to figure out. It’s been hard to find real documentable research on the craft online; apparently it’s also called “trichinopoly” chain and there are examples of it from the 5-8th century in the British Museum as well as from the Spillings Hoard from Sweden. 

My first wire chain, made of 28ga silver coated brass wire. 

I made a piece long enough to get a bracelet and necklace out of, and finished them off with random bits from my jewelry making stash - the cone ends on the necklace are too big for the chain, but they’ll do for the time being. 

The chain is made by looping the wire around a wooden dowel, and then drawing the finished result through a draw plate, which I made out of a piece of scrap wood, until it’s the right diameter. I think I could have gotten mine thinner, but I was worried about breaking the flimsy brass wire. 

Mr. Darcy apparently thought we were making a cat toy. 

Hooray for learning new fun skills! I now have a silver bracelet and necklace to wear with my kit; and I can’t wait to try this again and try out different methods of looping the wire. My chain is a single knit, but you can do double or triple knit, and there are all kinds of colors and types of wire to play with. 

SCA: Wire Bead Separators

Here’s a silly little thing I did last night: wire bead hangers for my Viking “festoon” necklace strands (I hate the word festoon, but that’s what everybody calls it).  I was shopping for bead/necklace separators on Etsy, and then I thought…I bet I could make something for free. 

I wanted to be able to wear my strands singly or layered, depending on what I’m wearing, so I re-strung each strand and attach each end to a little metal ring. Each strand can now be hung on the wire hangers, one at a time, or in pairs or all three at once. 

I don’t know what kind of wire this is; I’ve had it in my jewerly kit forever. It’s flexible, but strong enough to hold up to the weight of all the beads, so that works. 

they’re not evenly matched, but that won’t show
once it’s all put together 

SCA: The Hand-Sewn Viking Project, Part II

The second part of my hand sewn Viking outfit project is the smokkr, or apron dress: 

I searched high and low for the right wool, learned a lot about fabrics I almost never use - and then I learned that it was going to be prohibitively expensive to use the wool I wanted for this dress.  So I ended up using a wool "stuff" fabric I had in my stash instead: it's a lightweight diagonal twill, and very smooth, almost like a suiting but not as slick or thin.  On the suggestion of a friend, I ran it through my washer and dryer a couple of times to felt the fabric a bit, which made it thicker and softer, and got rid of the little bit of sheen it started out with.  It’s not perfect, but it’s just fine for this project, which is basically a test-run for a more serious version of this dress that I might make next year. 

Anyway, the pattern for this  dress is the basic three-panel-and-three-gore pattern that the entire SCA uses, which, as near as I can tell, the pattern we use was designed by Carolyn Priest-Dorman (SCA name M. Thora Sharptooth, East Kingdom) in 1993 as a 9th-century Danish apron dress.  FWIU the pattern is based on a combination of viking artwork and on archeologists’ renderings of proposed designs for the garment which were based on grave evidence. 

I went a step further and created a pleated front for this dress, in the style of pieces found at sites like Køstrup and Kaupang.   The exact method the original owners of these garments used to pleat the fabric is not known; I had never pleated anything before so I used the simplest method I found, which was to baste the fabric, draw it together, and then whipstitch over the pleats to hold them in place.  It’s a little uneven, but I think not bad for a first try. 

I finished the top of the dress in two ways. Firstly, because I forgot to hem the top of the dress before I pleated the front, I ended up using a binding strip made of herringbone linen scraps that I had in my stash, which I dyed green.  I then applied a thin tablet woven band to the top edge of the dress between the two brooch loops over the bust. There is evidently some confusion over exactly how this was accomplished on the original Køstrup dress; the band was either suspended between the loops or it was attached to a vegetable diver fabric backing which has since rotted away leaving only the wool band in place. I opted to attach my band to the loops at the top, and whip stitched it to the top edge to help keep it in place. The band itself is cotton and was woven specifically for this project. 

For the shoulder straps and front loops, I used the same fabric as the body of the dress to create a thin double-folded tube, whipstitched closed on the side, following Inga Hagg's sketches of the loops found within the tortoise brooches at Birka: 

Hagg, 1974

I used period stitching methods on this whole dress, like I did for my serk. I used a backstitch for the primary construction seams, a running stitch to attach the linen binding at the top, flat-felled the seams and whip-stitched them in place, and then folded the lower hem and stitched it in place with a herringbone stitch (Inga Hagg's "Osenstitch"): 

Hagg, 1984

This dress has its problems, to be sure. I deviated from my inspiration pieces in areas like fabric choice, and in the use of an edge binding at the top. This was my first time hand sewing an apron dress, hand sewing on wool, and creating pleats/smocking.  Overall, though, I’m pretty happy with the way this turned out, and I can’t wait to wear it with my new serk when the weather cools off a bit! The whole dress took approximately 21 hours to make, including the weaving. 

Whew! Next project! 

SCA: The Hand Sewn Viking Project, Part I

For the last couple of years, I've been paying special attention to finishing my machine-sewn garments by hand as much as I can.  Usually I do the long construction seams on the machine, and then hem everything by hand; and I've made several small things - hats, bags, etc.- completely by hand, for the practice. 

Now it's time to level up, and try sewing an entire outfit by hand for the first time. This will eventually be a complete (female) Norse outfit (generally 9-10th century); for now, I'm starting with the serk, or underdress. 

lower hem meets side seam

The fabric for this serk is 100% linen (very light weight, 3oz), and the thread I used is 80/3 linen in a color as close to matching as I could find. The fabric is near-white, bleached linen.  For accuracy, my linen could have been left natural (unbleached and undyed), but I'll be honest with you, I look awful in the beiges and pale taupe shades of natural linen - those tones make my skin look green. There is some evidence of dyed linen serks, but not just a whole lot of it, so I wanted to steer away from using dyed linen for this project. That left me with bleached linen, which is a historically correct option, albeit one that might not have been worn by *everybody*.  Most people would probably have used undyed, unbleached linen (in cases where they used linen at all, but that's a whole different discussion).   

The pattern for this serk  is a basic tunic such as the ones found in Greelqnd and the UK: a rectangular front and back, rectangular sleeves, square armpit gussets, and triangular side gores to widen the skirt.  The neckline is a wide round one, with a deep keyhole slit in the front.  I made the sleeves a bit longer and wider than I usually do so that I could roll them up when I needed to. 

I used period stitches throughout the garment.  I used a backstitch on the long seams for strength and stability, and then flat-felled each seam with a whip stitch.  The hems were folded twice and then secured with a herringbone stitch:  

Inga Hagg's "Osenstitch" (1984) 

I pre-washed my linen fabric in hot water to shrink the fibers and soften them; after I was done sewing the serk I washed it again to shrink the thread and tighten up the seams.  I like add a little bit of cheap, sulfate-free hair conditioner to my washing machine when I wash linen, which makes the fabric SUPER soft and comfy.  

Overall, I'm pleased with how this sewing project turned out.  It didn't take me as long as I'd feared it would to sew this entire garment by hand - about 14 hours (spread over about three months).  The thing that took the most time to was the sleeve under seams and armpit gussets, because I put them on inside-out the first time and had to take it all apart and redo it. 

here, have a neckline instead

I do feel like my hand sewing improved on this project.  It was easier than I thought it would be, and like I said, it was faster, too.  By the time I finished this I was ripping through the sewing like it was nothing, and my stitches got smaller and more even the more I worked. My one complaint is about the thread: my waxed linen thread felt like sewing with dental floss, and I hated the feel of it. I think next time I do this I’ll order a finer thread.   

The next phase will be to create a new smokkr (apron dress) to go with this underdress. But that’ll be it’s own post. 

Regency: Blue Floral Wrap Dress

My latest Regency creation: 

This is a wrap-front dress made from LM’s (#129) Spencer pattern, to which I added rectangular skirt panels like I did for my velveteen pelisse last year. I also widened the neckline a bit, and shortened the sleeves to 3/4 length. The fronts close with cotton twill tape ties, which are hidden by the white sash wrapped around the waistline. 

The fabric is from a set of cotton sheets I had in my stash. The floral pattern isn’t 100% period, but it’s close enough, I think. The lace itself is polyester, found on Etsy and trimmed to make the design work for this neckline. 

The dress took me just a couple of afternoons in late July to put together, but I had to wait for the lace to arrive in the mail, which took two weeks, so I just finished it today. 

I added a little button placket to the back, just so the back wouldn’t be totally plain. Nom-functional, but cute! 

This was originally inspired by this dress of Elinor Dashwood’s in Sense & Sensibility 

Other inspirations include: 

From Galleries of Fashion, 1796

Henri-Pierre Danloux, unsure of the date

unknown fashion plate

This project was a nice breath of fresh air in the midst of what has been an absolutely insane summer for me - I’ve been working my butt off in just about every possible way. SCA event season starts up in a month, and I still have a lot of preparation to do for all of that - I really needed a break to work on something utterly frivolous to rest my mind a bit. I love this dress! 

Final note: the newly-refitted dressmaker’s dummy was fantastic to use for this project. I was able to size and drape and fit this dress wholly on the mannequin, and it fits *perfectly*.  Granted, this was a very simple pattern, but it was a good test run for the “new” dummy and I’m very pleased with how it went. 

Regency: WTF??

 I found this fashion plate on Pinterest today: 

It linked back to a Flickr photo album labeled “1807”, but there was no other information about this plate, and an image search on this picture turns up exactly nothing. 

I mean…are those patch pockets?!? What?! More information, please! I’ve never seen such a thing on a regency dress before!