Over and Under: An Exhibit Story

A panoramic view of the temporary exhibit "Over and Under: Accessories and Undergarments of the Early 1800s"

Each year Jefferson Patterson Park and Museum, where I work, hosts an 1812 event. It used to concentrate on the War of 1812, but this year for the bicentennial we decided to include more about daily life in 1812 to appeal to visitors interested in more than the battles. As is always the case with museums though, we were trying to expand our focus without over-extending our budget, so we were trying to do as much as possible in house. Based on past success with a temporary exhibit on clothing, I thought that some of the early garments in my collection could make a little exhibit that would help flesh out the event.

The introductory panel just explained what the overall theme was and a little bit 

about the language used to discuss the time period.

My collection of clothing and purses is mostly from the 19th century, but I don't have a lot of things that date before 1840. When I pulled the early items that I do have, they fell into three categories: purses, undergarments, and sewing tools that I borrowed from my mother's collection. It didn't easily lend itself to a unified theme, but we came up with the idea of "Under and Over" so that we could focus on things that went under clothes, or over them as decoration and accessories.

With some extra show-stopper items loaned by Mary Doering, a fellow collector and a friend, we put together a neat little display if I do say so myself. Not only did I get to include family pieces in the exhibit, but I also  dedicated the exhibit to my grandmothers who both passed away last year. The Julia Waterman shift was a highlight because we had oral history to include with it.

The exhibit closed at the end of October, and I've returned my mom's sewing tools and Mary's contributions, but I took so many pictures that the display can live on here. So now I'll let the images and captions speak for themselves.

The first section of the exhibit talked about how ladies employed their fancy sewing skills to embellish clothing in the early 19th century. 

The objects in the "Over the Top Adornment" section included sewing kits and tools from my mom's collection, and a ca. 1830 dress from my collection with elaborate tambour work on the skirt.

   

The next section, "Bare Essentials" discussed undergarments and other accessories of propriety, 

like caps and stockings. Julia Waterman's shift was included here.

We had two caps in the exhibit, both of which 

were made of lightweight cotton with lovely

tambour stitching as decoration.

From Mary Doering's collection, this section included some real rarities, including a corset stamped with its owner's name, a hand carved busk, a "figure enhancer" that once strategically stuffed a corset, and a pair of chenille embroidered garters (below) that say "Halte la, on ne passe pas" which means, "Stop there, go no further." Worked into the embroidery is a picture of a guard dog holding a gun. Hilarious, no? 

Other undergarments included my hand-knit stockings with the date "1819" on them, and a pair 

of pockets from Mary's collection that tied at the waist under a lady's skirt.

The last undergarment in this section was a man's shirt, ca. 1825. We also sneaked in a top
hat with a padded carrying case, complete with compartments for hat care brushes and tools.  

And finally I put together a case of purses, including a man's tobacco pouch and several miser purses. This section explained how the narrow skirts of the early 19th century made it problematic to wear full pockets as undergarments, so the purse moved outside the skirt and became a venue for ladies to show off their sewing and needlework skills. Most of these purses are knotted or crocheted with beadwork.

This tiny early 19th century coin purse is one of the purses that my grandmother and I discovered in Nanny's closet when I was a little girl. Grammy gave it to me then, and I've treasured it ever since.

And finally, in honor of my Grammies, I included their beautiful senior pictures.

Stockings Unstumped!

One of the best things about living in the greater D.C. area is that there is an unbelievable wealth of curatorial expertise here. I know a few people who study costume, so I sent out my stocking inquiry in case one of them could tell me whether the socks were hand knit or frame knit. Fortuitously, a friend of a friend had been to some sort of gathering where frame knitted stockings were a major topic. My friend, Mary Doering, and her friend, Carol Kregloh, and I had already planned to meet up for a "costume party" (we brought old clothes to study and then we went to an exhibit of paintings with period costumes), so the right person arrived in my network of connections at the right time. Mary is a collector who uses her costumes to help small museums install clothing exhibits, and she also teaches courses on costume for the Smithsonian's decorative arts program with George Mason University. Carol is a costume specialist at the National Museum of American History, and she has a vast mental library of clothing knowledge, including a volume on the history of socks. 

Carol Kregloh's expert hands show me what I need to know to recognize how the stockings were made.

The raised rows of stitches are knit, and there is no seam allowance. This rules out frame construction.

Detail of the edge finish on the stocking.  

Here's what I learned: The stockings are completely hand knit. Frame knit stockings have a seam where they are sewn closed, not knit closed. If my socks were made on a frame, they would have a seam allowance where the two sides met. The line of stitches on my stockings that looks like a seam is not a seam allowance, and it is knit, not sewn. I think Carol said that the raised stitch line was used to help with row counting, though I'm not sure I fully understood that part. As for the inscribed date "1819", both Mary and Carol were of the opinion that this indicated something commemorative. For example, the stockings may have been made especially for a wedding. They told me the date is really rare. Rare is good. Happy me!


I am so grateful. Both Mary and Carol were so generous with their expertise, and of course I'm grateful for having received the gift of the stockings in the first place. With this kind of support, I'm hopeful that I can really put my collections to good use.  

Stocking Stumper

One of my mother's quilting buddies recently gave me a clothing collection she accumulated over the years. She is more interested in quilts and sewing tools, and her children are not into the old clothes, so I happily accepted this gift. More than happily, actually- I seriously can't believe my luck. Sometimes I find myself giddily hugging this stuff like toddler with a new teddy bear. I contained myself as best I could when I went to pick the collection up because I didn't want to seem greedy, and I knew I didn't do anything to deserve a whole collection falling into my lap. Now it's mine though, and words don't really describe how I feel. Picture someone with a stupid grin, hands clasped at her chest, hopping from foot to foot a little, and making a high-pitched noise that sounds something like, "Squeeeee!" That's me. Because the day I can afford a pair of knit stockings dated "1819" on my collecting budget is unlikely to ever arrive, and yet I have some! There are other exciting pieces, too, but I'll feature those later.

These stockings are on my mind lately because my museum, Jefferson Patterson Park & Museum, has a War of 1812 event and we are putting together a little exhibit on clothing and accessories that will include the stockings.

The stockings have integrated reverse knitting that reads, "S. B. 1819"

As we think ahead to exhibit text, there has been a little debate about how they were made. I know nothing of knitting or knitting history, but my colleagues do. One thinks that the stockings were knit by hand for personal use, and she bases her assertion on the construction and the presence of the initials "S.B." and the date 1819. Another colleague says there was an active home industry, especially for stockings, where the knitting was done on a frame. She feels that it would be easy to custom-order the personalized stockings from a professional. Since these were purchased from an antique dealer in Pennsylvania, there's little hope of determining who S.B. was, so our best chance for learning more is to look into stocking manufacture trends in general.

Overall view of the foot.

This detail shows the connection of the heel and calf area, as well as the zig-zag pattern knitted into both sides of each stocking.

I figure that if you can tell whether stockings were made by hand versus on a frame, this side seam connection  may be the key. Then again, maybe hand-made and frame-made stockings have the same kind of seam. I hope to find out.

The toes have been mended several times over. The mends appear to be period rather than recent.

I'm equally enamored of the stockings no matter how they were made, but I enjoy exploring the history. Anyone out there have specialized knowledge of 19th-century stockings to share?