• 2663

    Julia and I went to our first miniatures show today, since it was quite close to home.  I don't know whether it was big or small compared to the average show, but there were nearly fifty vendors over sixty-some tables, so that it took us a good hour of exploring to look at everything before deciding what to spend our wodge of cash on.  (I had an envelope with me, on the strict admonition that that was all of the budget!)  I bought this charming basket and filled it with mushrooms from Twin Heart, and the Provence-style plate from Hemy & Laura's Miniatures.  The blue-and-white plate was from a "grab bag" bin at a vendor who didn't put a name on her receipts.  Hemy & Laura unfortunately do not have a website, but they have a range of really lovely decorated porcelain plates.

    2664 2

    Two copper pans — inadvertently similar shapes, but the one on the left was from the dollar bins! (“it’s only a dollar! get it, it’s only a dollar!” I kept hearing Julia murmur to herself as she poked through the bins) — and a mismatched pair of copper tankards, also from the dollar bin.  The pan on the right is from Lilliput Land.

    2666

    A mash-up from the dollar bin, a tall brass pedestal with the original white plastic bowl discarded and replaced with a clear-blue glass globe also from the dollar bin.  It's about as long as my little finger, so rather tall for a mantel tchotchke but amusing, and a lovely color.

    2667

    A set of glass jars from Vegas Airs, to be filled with preserves or some such later, and two tiny crocheted dishcloths from an Italian lady at Vilia Miniature (who also has an Etsy shop).  These are only about the size of my thumbnail! they must be made from sewing thread!

    2669 2

    The big blue jug in the back is from Rhea Strange, and the two brown ones from Itty Bitty Builder/Betty and Larry Herman.  There was surprisingly little at the show that was not the usual general-Victorian-era, but these I think will work well for my Elizabethan house-to-be.

    2671

    A charming hand-woven "rag" rug from Jane Graber, and a pair of (non-working) embroidery scissors from the dollar bin, with Julia's pair of full-sized ones for scale.  The rugs were lovely, lots of different colors available, and I could have happily bought more — this was the smallest one.  Graber also does really lovely hand-thrown stoneware and redware, but apparently sells directly only at shows and by post — so I will start saving up for next year!

  • 2404

    The Renaissance Faire is coming up in April and May, which sounds a long way off unless you need to make some more garb, in which case it’s uncomfortably close.  I am the only one who has a complete outfit that still fits — Julia grew out of hers and into Laura’s, and is now edging her way out of that one, and David never has had period nether garments (no, he just wore some old Dockers!), so since knitting I think will take me the most time, I am going to start on a pair of knitted stockings for him, to go under a new pair of Venetians.

    David doesn’t really have a “persona” since we aren’t deeply enough into Faire-going for that, though I did originally start his garb thinking “Swedish soldier” (since he wants a sword!), but as his green jerkin is a little snug in the arms, I am thinking of re-fashioning it — so I don’t have a definite style in mind for the ensemble, but luckily for me there are only minor regional variations in stockings, if indeed there are many at all.

    There are in fact a number of good and excellent reconstructions of 16th-century stockings available, and one could either recreate a known stocking or cobble together bits from different ones.  This, I suspect, would be the best route since of course a stocking knitted for a particular person would have to be adjusted anyway.

    Being not only of natural fibers, generally wool (and therefore vulnerable to time and the elements), but everyday (and thus not “worth” saving), extant 16th century common stockings are fairly rare, but here are two from the Museum of London —

    Stocking 1 of a pair - 16th century - Museum of London A26851

    One of a pair of stockings (nos. A26851 and 2), found at an archaeological site in Worship Street, Finsbury, EC2.  The stockings are described by the Museum as “knee-length wool” with a vague date of “1501-1599”.  This is obviously a very basic stocking, with little or perhaps even no shaping until about halfway down the foot, where there are a couple of decreases, presumably preparatory to narrowing the toe.  It isn’t clear in the photograph, and perhaps the stocking is too damaged now, to tell whether there is a round toe or a wedge, but apparently both were known at this time.  I suspect that the strange angle of stitches at the heel is a darn, not shaping, but it would be interesting to see the other of the pair to be sure; unfortunately an image is not posted on the Museum website.

    Stocking foot - mid 16th century - Museum of London A13833
    Stocking foot (no.A13833).  The Museum writes, “This skilfully knitted silk stocking-foot is the only example of its kind in England. A highly fashionable garment, it was probably imported from Italy or Spain. It may have been sold in one of the luxury drapery shops in Cheapside,” and gives the gauge as a very fine 18 sts and 30 rows per inch.  They date this “mid-16th century” but allow that stockings began to appear in England during the reign of Henry VIII, though they were rare and expensive at that time.

    This particular stocking foot is clearly related to the “Barnim foot” with its inverted gusset opening from the center bottom of the heel outwards to the toe along the bottom of the foot.  This knitter has neatly edged both the instep gusset and the foot gusset with garter stitches, making a very elegant foot indeed.  The heel appears to be a common heel, possibly even unshaped, much like the Exenterata stocking of 1655.  Interestingly, there appear to be decreases narrowing the heel flap towards the bottom —- would these be meant to pull the heel flap more snugly against the wearer’s foot?  I’m puzzled by the other line of what appear to be holes, running just about parallel to the bottom edge of the foot in this photo — they seem unusually tidy for damage, but I can’t explain them otherwise.

    So I have thought and thought and changed my mind any number of times — Carnamoyle?  Gunnister?  Johan III?  Barnim?  English?  Swedish?  Anglo-Scandinavian? Scottish-Anglo-Irish-Scandinavian?? — but David is off on another long trip at the end of the week, and I’d like to have a good bit of the first stocking knitted before he leaves, to make sure I’m on the right track shaping-wise, so I’m going to cast on right now ….

  • Sontag 1

    I’ve gathered here numerous period photos of sontags and maybe-sontags, and some not-quite-sontags, as part of my research as I knit one for myself.  I remember some historical costumers sighing over the fact that all of the sontags they saw at re-enactments were knitted to the same pattern, again and again, but it’s pretty obvious from these photographs that there must have been as many different versions as there were knitters, so that unless the modern knitter is actually re-creating a period pattern, there is no reason why you need to stick to the basketweave one from Godey’s.

    The version worn by the lady above might be knitted in a honeycomb stitch, to which she has added a two-color crochet edging.  She also appears to be wearing fluffy netted sleeves.

    Here are three original patterns —

    1860sontag

    the earliest one from the 1860 Godey’s,

    1861 godeys sontag

     another one from the next year’s Godey’s (1861),  (A “habit-shirt” was a sort of dickey, or as Chambers’ dictionary has it, “a thin muslin or lace under-garment worn by women on the neck and shoulders, under the dress“, which sort of makes sense but not quite here, as of course the sontag is worn over one’s dress.)

    1862 petersons sontag

    and a third by Mrs. Weaver, in Peterson’s Magazine of 1862.  The two Godey’s patterns are very similar in effect, especially with the faux ermine trim (!), but the first one will result in a definite U-shaped piece, while the second will give you a V-shaped piece, since you not only start with only five sts but you also don’t cast off any sts at the back neck.  There is no mention at all in the second one of closures, whether ties or button.

    Mrs. Weaver’s is different yet again, as while she does use the U-shape (which would certainly sit better on the wearer’s neck), her front points appear to be a little squared off, and at least in the illustration don’t wrap around the wearer’s body.  She is unfortunately rather non-committal about how one secures it, which might explain the solution of these two ladies —

    Sontag 4

    Sontag 11

    which appears to be to simply to tie it together with a cord over the wings at one’s waist.

    Sontag 10

    The photographer has with his highlighting unfortunately obscured the details of this lady’s sontag, but it has a very similar crocheted border to that of the lady in the top photograph, though here the shell stitch is in a single color.

    Sontag 12

    This one appears to be entirely crocheted, but is not perhaps strictly a sontag either, since the ends don’t seem to go all of the way around the wearer’s waist and attach to the back of the garment.

    Sontag 13

    This lady’s sontag has a deeper and frillier border than most, which make it come further down the upper arm than the previous ones.  Her ties are also longer than the others, but also end in pom-poms.

     Sontag 14

    This lady has chosen a very striking three-toned stripe for her sontag.  It’s too bad that her arms are in the way, as it looks like the points of the sontag end in the front, presumably with ties that wrap all of the way around and back to the front.

    Sontag 2

    This is I think the most “famous” example of a sontag now, as it’s the one you see most often if you Google “sontag bosom friend”.  It appears to be entirely crocheted, and unlike the 1860 Godey’s pattern, has ties that wrap all of the way around and back to the front.

    Sontag 3

    This lady’s is quite vivid with its checked two-color pattern!

    Sontag 5

    This is the only one I have seen that does not have a contrasting border.  It’s too bad the image isn’t bigger, as it looks like she might have used a ripple or feather-and-fan edging.

    Sontag 6

    This lady shows up in a collection of sontag photographs, but I don’t think it really can be called that, as while it is clearly related, it doesn’t wrap around the wearer, who has instead attached it at the neck, perhaps with a chain, and left the points to hang free like a short tippet.

    Sontag 7

    Sontag 8

    I am not sure that this can really be called a sontag, either, as it doesn’t wrap around in the same manner.  This looks to me like she heard about a sontag and thought it was a good idea, but hadn’t seen the illustration.  (Or perhaps made it according to the pattern in the book and found out, like so many of us do, that it was too small, and just made do.)  I do like the lacy border, though!

    Sontag 9

    Oh, I wish this image was bigger!  It looks very like the Godey’s basketweave.  The “wings” on this one are rather short, perhaps not even making it to the wearer’s side — which is just what the 1861 Godey’s one does, where “the ends cross over the bosom”.

    In summary, the definition of a sontag or “bosom friend” seems to be a U- or V-shaped piece which lays over the wearer’s shoulders, with the wings being long enough to either just meet at the waist (with straight ends) or, far more usually, to wrap around the waist, sometimes to the extent of meeting at the center back.  Strings or cord of some sort are usually used to secure the wings, with those that are long enough being secured also with a button where the points meet at the back.  There is always some sort of edging, often crocheted but sometimes knitted (perhaps also with a narrow crochet edging); the edging is usually in a contrasting color.  The crucial element of a sontag, if you want to be a stickler (and don’t we?!) seems to be its U- or V-shape, otherwise it is a variant of a hap or similar shawl (triangular or square folded cross-wise) that wraps around the waist and ties at the back.

    (I doubt, by the way, that it was ever called a “bosom buddy”, which I have seen lately.  The word “buddy” first appears in print, according to Merriam-Webster, in 1850, just a little earlier than the sontag shows up, but I suspect that it would have been thought too slangy for ladylike use.  The phrase “bosom buddy” first appears, according to Dictionary.com, in the 1920s, much too late for the sontag.)

  • 2223

    This is the Khotan No.25 miniature carpet from Meik and Ian McNaughton's wonderful book Making Miniature Oriental Rugs and Carpets.  I started this all the way back in August, as it happens.  It has been almost finished for quite a long time, but I ran out of one of the colors and had to wait for another skein, and I didn't block it very well the first time and had to do it again, just at the last before I sewed down the hem.

    2206

    I still didn't get it quite true, so I need to be sure to block a piece really severely before working the edging next time.

    This was actually a very tricky chart, and it took me some time to stop confusing the colors in those stepped medallions!  The wools themselves had a little more difference between them, luckily.

    I noticed not very far into working it that the colors in the photograph of the finished carpet were noticeably different from what was in my hands, and so I decided after some internal debate to change the background of the center section from the lightest wheat-colored shade to a cream in my stash.  Unfortunately what looked like cream in the ball turned out to be putty (Appleton's 988, left over from the Holbein carpet), so the finished carpet looks neither like the original colors should nor the slightly-off illustration in the book, though it is not unpleasant, to be sure.  I just think the putty doesn't play quite as well with the wheat of the border as I had hoped.

    2220

    I also switched out the "dark" wheat-ish shade (903) for the medium one (766) on the border — the 903 is quite auburn, and I liked the more-brown one better.  By the way, this is how far you can get with one skein of each color —

    1382

    so I would recommend two skeins of the 766, certainly if you are going to use it for the border instead of 903.  (This photo shows that I was going to use the "hemming row" trick, but after working the Wm. Morris one, I realized that the finer gauge on this carpet would make it considerably trickier, and as I'd already decided that the hemming row isn't really necessary with an edging stitch, I went ahead and worked it without hemming.)

    2227

    I managed the McNaughtons' edging stitch much better this time, though I think it doesn't have quite the same handsome braided look that the long-legged cross-stitch does, as the "braid" is nearly on the underside.

    I did work the fringe a smidge too short — it's like cutting your hair, that when you smooth it down you think "there!" and after you cut it, it bounces back a little, so I need to be sure and keep this in mind with a wool fringe!  This is two strands of wool, without "fluffing" the strands with a pin afterwards.

    The finished measurements on 28-count Monaco canvas are 6 1/4 in. x 3 1/2 in. (16cm x 8.75cm), not counting the fringe.

    The McNaughtons write of this 20th-century design, "The carpets of East Turkestan, now part of the Chinese province of Sinkiang, show some Chinese influence in their decoration, including the use of muted colours, as in this example. The details of the design, however, show a clear relationship with both the Caucasus and Anatolia in the geometric stars and the decorative Kufic border."  I can read neither Kufic nor Chinese, but the border pattern has a strongly Chinese look to me! so it's fascinating how it manages to convey both at the same time.

    2237

  • The old favorite "Ding Dong! Merrily On High" arranged by Charles Wood, performed by London Contemporary Voices.  Hope you've had a merry Christmas!

  • The German carol "Joseph Lieber, Joseph Mein" sung by Anonymous 4 (the women) and New York Polyphony (the men).  A gorgeous performance, like angels.  Want to try it at home?

  • One of the most achingly beautiful songs of all time, this is Tomás Luis de Victoria's "O Magnum Mysterium" sung by The Sixteen. 

  • One of my most favorite of American carols, the early-19th-century Appalachian "Brightest and Best", set to words by the English bishop Reginald Heber.  Because it's a folk hymn, there are many versions around — this one is not quite the same, but close to the melody of the one performed here.  I've sung an arrangement by my choir director that is also wonderful.  The open harmonies and the slight drone in the low parts just get me every time. 

    I love the idea that you could just get together in someone's living room and sing this!

    Here is a version of this melody from Folk Songs of the Southern Appalachians as Sung by Jean Ritchie —

    Brightest and best

    and one arranged for hammer dulcimer, if you're lucky enough to have one lying about.

  • What is Christmas without choirboys in pleated collars?!  Here are the boys of the St. Paul's Cathedral Choir singing "The Carol of the Bells" and larking about a bit behind the scenes!

  • "Up Good Christen Folk and Listen", sung by the Choir of King's College, Cambridge.  I included this song the last time but the video has disappeared, so I'll post another one, as this isn't a particularly well-known carol, especially in the US, but I think it deserves to be.  It's a bonus, therefore, that this one has the sheet music on it!