Mystery Prezzies Solved!

I received a package today from the Embroiderers' Guild in the UK. I was instantly suspicious. I didn't order anything, it's not my birthday (though Mother's Day is coming up) and the books were too clearly for me. Additionally, I had been looking at one of the books - on Assisi work - online a few weeks ago, and decided against it in favour of saving up for a more traditional one.

The typical modern Brit block lettering of the address label was no help; everyone from my ex-husband to the latest confirmande at church writes that way (I have been chided for stubbornly maintaining a 19th C. Spencerian script, chided because people 'can't read it'.) The signature on the Customs declaration was no help either. The postmark - East Molesey -just sounded like something out of Wind in the Willows. I asked my family, who either are very good actors (possible) or were genuinely ignorant (I favoured the former.)

I stared at the address in despair and confusion for a while (for if I bought these items I should like to know it when the charge comes in.) Ah, middle age! What did I come in here for? I stared at the address some more; hoping it would deliver up its secret message to me, like a ciper becoming clear and obvious. Apt. 41 Hampton Court Palace, Surrey. At last, the penny dropped: I have a friend travelling in the UK, and before she left she mentioned that she was going to Hampton Court and would look at the embroideries there on my behalf.

The books are these:
Assisi Work: a New Approach by Maggie Phillips;
Ladies' Dress Accessories[19th C.] by Eleanor Johnson;
101 Celtic Spirals and 101 Celtic Borders by Courtney Davis

The last time anyone sent me anything from Blighty (apart from my former suitor, bringing over jars of Marmite foraged at Tesco's in the middle of the night), it was a picture postcard of Ellen Terry by G.F. Watts from the Tate Gallery, from my dear Lady Washinton, because 'it looks like you.'
It takes so little to make this old-fashioned girl swoon!

The Dress

Pictures do not do this va-voom dress justice. The lace has sparkly stuff on the inside, which adds just a hint of bling (perfect for those mirror ball dancefloors), and the silk shines through in the light. It is spectacular.
And in it, my dear Bridgie looks as fab as her grandmother and mine (who were and are dishy.)

I'll be seeing you in all the old familiar places.....

Casalguidi

I have ordered a new book today, after nearly a year of no new needlework books, and it is Casalguidi Style Linen Embroidery by Effie Mitrofanis, which is back in print.

I first encountered Casalguidi in the Embroiderers Guild. Someone brought in an illuminated letter for our group project in purple hand-dyed variegated Casalguidi. I was enchanted by the stitch, being a fan of stumpwork, which it resembles. I admit that, as an embroiderer, I like the look of 'art' embroidery, with unstructured shapes and wild colours - for other people's houses. I would only make something like that for a gift for someone I was sure liked the style. After looking at some pretty 'rich and strange' Casalguidi work in needlwork mags, I chanced on the 'real thing', the old style, which was of whitework.

Here, my traditional embroidery-loving heart went 'Ah....' For it is a style full of familiar whitework stitches, worked on a ground of pulled thread (four-sided, or 'nun's' stitch), with double buttonhole bars, bullion knots, detached buttonhole, as wells as the woven bars, picots and other fillings familiar from Reticella work.

It is not an old technique, dating only from the late 19th century, during the general revival of Italian needlework; but it was very popular up through the 1920s and 30s, especially for bags, as can be seen in the photo cover of Miss Mitrofanis' book. There are the most wonderful bobbles and fringes! All traditional to Casalguidi.

So there is another sampler in my future, as well as a technique to add to the store for liturgical garments.

No Idle Hands - A Beginning

I begin this new blog from my Franciscan site, Fioretta to spcifically discuss needlework projects of every kind, as well as modest dress.

This is from Fioretta:
My daughter St. Brigid's prom dress is finished (a lovely 1950s cocktail dress of black chantilly lace over sapphire blue dupioni silk), likewise the theatre project, so what did I do with my first day off in weeks? Went fabric shopping! JoAnn's was having a sale on calico, so I got enough stuff for some work skirts, a blouse, and a day dress. This was needful for several reasons: my one good black skirt has become too ratty to wear to work; I need a day dress in something besides wool; I have one longsleeved blouse. Also, I am at the stage in life where age is beginning to catch up with me, in terms of a changing figure. Nothing in the shops fits all my requirements for modesty, fabric, and price. Nothing fits at all - it's either all size 2 or 22, made for stick figures or the, er, Zaftig. I fall somewhere in the middle, with a British figure that American clothes have never fit (greater hip to waist ratio.) Because of this, I have always made my own clothes, or worn vintage things, but I have had nothing new in a long while.

A couple of years ago, I was dismayed in looking at present sizes in shops. HOW did I become a size 4? I haven't been a size 4 since I was 14 years old. Now, according to the standard sizing, I am a 12, but in the shops it's an 8 or 10. I'm confused! I notice, in looking at vintage dressingmaking site (see title links) that the sizes were much more reasonable, and not everybody was a size 0. The smalled waist was a (corsetted) 22 in 1917, the largest a (corsetted) 40, with the hip measures being 36 and 58 respectively. Real people! As one sees in all those vintage photographs.

In the event, I have made up one of my favourite Edwardian skirts in a nice charcoal grey, in what might be described as 'low calf length'. I'm looking forward to the rest, all in acceptably earthy colours.