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Tudor Gown
It was a massive project, and risky, but I think it was the impossible odds that originally inspired me. I had just two weeks before July Coronation, and I wanted to hand-sew an entire gown. Could it be done? I sat at the kitchen table, pondering this new, impossible project. It would be a different kind of gown - more like the pictures, it wouldn't require hoops, would lace up the front with a stomacher, and wouldn't take forever to put on. It needed to be elegant, since I was now part of Princess Nadezhda's retinue, but it also needed to be practical. The idea had been developing for some time, so I had a basic idea of how the gown should look. I had already created a basic body block from my measurements, using suggestions from The Renaissance Tailor, so all I had to do was create a pattern using the body block.
Ten Days Later
The first fitting a relief. I had worked tirelessly for nearly two weeks, putting aside everything else in my life for the project, and now my time had run out and the gown had to come together, no matter what. I was leaving for the event in just a few short days, and I had no margin for error. I didn't want to repeat 12th night, forgoing sleep for a week just to sew on a dress, so I had been carefully pacing myself, and bracing myself to leave the gown behind if it wasn't finished in time. But all panic dissolved as I wrapped the dress around my body and checked the mirror. Even in pins, it was just how I'd dreamed. The bodice silhouette was straight and square, while the skirt flowed smoothly from the waist in fluid folds to the floor where it spread into a modest train. The sleeves fit comfortably, and needed hardly any adjustments. I drew a deep sigh of relief. Still on track.
Time's Up!
A gentle breeze played with the curtains, and kept the room tolerable in the stifling summer heat. I was sitting quietly in a corner of the couch, stitching the skirt to the bodice. My eyes kept drifting shut, lulled to sleep by the warm breezes and monotonous stitching. Suddenly I would awake with a start, and realize my fingers had fallen idle. All I wanted was to curl up in all that fabric and sleep for a week, but I knew there wasn't time. I was leaving for the event in the morning, and I wasn't even packed. I shook myself awake again, and tried to ignore the throbbing pain in my fingertips, where the needle had stabbed through so many times that it didn't even bother to bleed anymore. All that was left, besides attaching the skirt, was adding trim to the neckline and stomacher. The project finale was so close I could reach out and touch it. If only my poor, exhausted eyes and fingers would cooperate. Finally, in my drowsiness, I realized the seam was finished, and I was tying off. I cast the gown aside with renewed energy and gathered up the trim that needed to be attached. I would barely have time to finish the embellishments and one more fitting before the event. The chemise/smock still needed to be hemmed around the neckline, but that could be done in the morning, in the car. If I worked fast, the gown would be wearable by the time we arrived.
Costumer's Guild Contest
I knew my friends and family were expecting me to enter, but I couldn't face the idea of losing. I had won first place at 12th Night in the novice category, so the chances of being lucky twice in a row were slim. Since I had already won Novice, I would be forced into Intermediate, which is very crowded and competitive. If I entered, it would be for an opportunity to chat with the judges and get feedback, I decided. I wouldn't even hope for or consider winning, so the disappointment in losing sting so much.
Missing Envelope
All afternoon and the following evening, I felt sick about the contest. I had entered, and had chatted with the judges, but couldn't help worrying. The judges hadn't seemed impressed at all, and I crawled away with my tail dragging. They had asked hard questions, and quizzed me mercilessly about my techniques. One of the questions in particular caught me off guard. It should have been easy, but in all my flurry of preparation, I had completely forgotten this detail. Color. Why had I chosen that color, and could I document it? My brain froze and my heart sunk. For a moment I couldn't remember anything. Why had I chosen that color? Somewhere in my muddled thoughts I could vaguely remember a purpose for the color, but in that instant, I drew a complete blank. After mumbling like an idiot, and making a fool of myself, I finally remembered. The color was unintentional! I had purchased what looked black at the store, which is easily documentable, but after the first washing, the dark color relaxed into a brilliant, deep blue. I tried to explain, but felt like a child making bigger and bigger excuses, and should have stopped while I was ahead. I was also feeling wretched without documentation. The judges were gently scolding me for my lack of preparation. Without documentation, they couldn't compare my work with the original, and wouldn't know if I was accurate or not, unless of course, they were lucky enough to have studied Tudor and Elizabethan techniques and art. I had known this, too, and it was unforgivable, but at this point all I could do was apologize. The contest was the first thing on my mind the next morning. I dreaded seeing the judges' notes. My pride was already bruised, and I hadn't even seen the results. I dressed quickly and ran to the Arts and Sciences Pavilion. Roanne came with me for moral support. She had entered a dress, as well, and I was immensely proud of her. As a surprise, she had sewn her first dress, at the same time I was sewing my gown. She never breathed a word, until we were at the event and she came out of her tent fully dressed in a long, flowing yellow gown and surprised me with it. I was thrilled, and talked her into entering it into the contest as well, at the Novice level. Now we stood sorting through the envelopes on the table, searching for our names. It's a tradition in competitions like this to allow the contestants to take the judges' notes home, even if you didn't win. It's a good way to get feedback on your work. I found Roanne's envelope in the Novice stack, but couldn't find mine. I frowned and my heart thumped heavily in my chest. For a brief moment the irrational thought crossed my mind that the judges had been so disgusted with my lack of preparation that they just pitched mine in the trash after I left. It was a horrible moment, but taking a deep breath, I reined in my overactive worry-center and forced myself to think clearly. If my envelope wasn't among the results, where else would it be? I glanced down the table and my heart stopped. Three little wooden boxes marked the prizewinners, and three envelopes with stars scribbled in the corners lay waiting to be claimed. Did I dare look? I knew I would be crushed if got my hopes up, and then didn't find my name there. But it would be even worse if I didn't look at all.
This is the moment where I'm supposed to throw everything in the air and scream for joy, but I just stood there and stared dubiously. The faintest gust of wind could have knocked me over. I picked up the envelope and reread the name. I was vaguely aware of Roanne talking excitedly, telling me to believe it. I ripped the envelope open, and scanned the judges' notes. As I had expected, there were notes about the lack of documentation, and suggestions on how to organize. But the scores were high, and there were lots of words of encouragement, too. I grinned sheepishly. If I could give the judges a prize, it would be for their perfect poker faces. They never let on for a moment about the scores. I'm impressed. And if I ever play Poker, or Mafia, I definitely want them on my team! The gown wore through the rest of the weekend beautifully, and even survived a tumble in the wash. What a rewarding project. Of course, now I have to wade through all the stuff I put off for two weeks, but at least I have something to dream about while I work, like, hmm, red would have been better... French sleeves... wonder if the next one should have a longer train...? ~ * ~ More Info Details and Materials Used ~ Instructions for Drafting Sleeves ~ The Chemise Story by and about Brooke Revere,
known in the SCA as Lady Adele Fontane, July 2003 |
So,
shaking like a leaf, I walked over to the prize boxes and scanned for my
name. And there it was, "Adele Fontane" under ADVANCED!