Costume Laurel = Bitch
It occurs to me that I have been far too nice lately. And J is away on holidays, which means I either blog or clean. So I'll blog because by jingo I loathe housework. My mother was right and every girl deserves a good wife.
So, costume laurels. We're mean, vile, ghastly people who will criticise your stitch length, mock your alleged doco and then steal your boyfriends all before lunch on the first day of Festival (Pennsic/Canty Faire/big multi-day Drachenwald camping thingy ... what's the one in Sweden?). At least, that's what our press office says. Admittedly we got them cheap from the US intelligence service, so they may not be the most accurate of bunnies, but you've all heard the tales.
And no matter what we do to be helpful, caring, generous teachers of our arts, everyone reverts to the stereotype at the first available opportunity. Two days before I stepped down from the last reign I was at a sewing night with my apprentice marking out my hem and clearly about three weeks behind in my sewing time when a young woman came up to me and said "Oh please, can I ask you a teeny weeny favour?"
I looked at her straight. "If it's for sewing or patterning help tonight, no. I have absolutely no time at the moment."
"But it's for this weekend!" she protested.
I replied, "Yes, me too!"
She mooched off with the expression of "Bitch!"
Which is fair enough, I could have been the sainted lupin and put aside my own work to help her out, except that I AM a bitch and wanted to do something for me. Something else I quite want to do for me is have the following moans about bad costume. But I hasten to add that just because I am a bitchy costume laurel doesn't mean we all are.
It's just me.
And the people who taught me.
And most of my friends, and theirs, and a few of our role models, too.
Aside from that we're all delightful.
WHEN GOOD FROCKS GO BAD
1. Breasts
In general, I'm all for breasts. Pert little ones, soft rounded ones, saggy lived-in ones, even. I've used mine over the years for everything from picking up attractive young folk to storing keys between and resting sleeping babies on (other people's sleeping babies, but they're not fussy about whose breasts they rest on. Actually, neither were the attractive young folk now that I think about it.) They're a handy tool when you need an instant comedy accessory, and a decorative element that has many functional uses.
But in period costume, breasts have clearly defined places. Those places are almost never rolling over the top of your neckline.
I've just been off to look at yet another dress-diary and what is otherwise a pleasant frock has had the neckline lowered by about four inches so that instead of having a nice smooth cone-like demure Venetian profile (as in the doco on the same page), it's all quivering norkage wobbling over the neckline, which is barely excusable when you're twentysomething, but ladies, after thirty, if you can't attract attention without threatening a wardrobe malfunction, then you did not use your twenties wisely.
There are some frocks in Lochac that I can't talk to the owners of when they're in them, as I find myself just staring at their cleavage. Not in the good way where your brain goes to metaphors like marble and adjectives like yielding, but in the bad way, where the metaphors are all down the veined cheese path and the adjectives start at wobbly and get much worse from there.
I know all about making a frock and turning into a fat bastard before you make the next one, and I accept that it can strain bodices beyond where they're really happy to go, but that's why partlets were invented. Or you can pull up your chemise or smock so that at least there's a layer of white linen reinforcing the concept of mystique.
Because if I want to see your nipples, I'll buy you a few beers first, and maybe quote some Sappho.
2. Corsets
While never in the course of human costuming have more corsets been misused for more bad breastage than in the SCA, there is still an important place for this undergarment. That place is the 16th century.
Sure there are some corsetted pre-16th century items. There are even some 16th century styles that actually don't have corsetry. But most of them do, and not always the one type.
So why do I keep reading doco that says, "After looking at the image, I decided that there was no corsetry underneath this frock"?
How many people do you know who have perfectly straight lines from their shoulders to their artificially lowered waistines? That go in little Vs at the front and back? And that make their breasts smooth out into either a straight line or a very controlled curve?
People, if you put on your lovingly made late-period frock and discover that you look a lot more like a shapeless sack than the girl in the picture, then try adding a layer of corsetry beneath and see if things improve. And then refit the fucking frock!
3. Bad fit = ugly
I have garb that is too small for me, it draws horizontal lines across the front and back, creates unsightly bulges and means I can't move my arms. I have garb that is too large for me, it hangs like a sack and lets everyone know that 40 is just around the corner for this little brown duck. I have garb that fits just right and it is comfortable and attractive and makes me look better than I was looking before I put the frock on.
And that's from pieces that all did fit properly at one time or another (mercifully the large ones fit only very briefly. Don't eat all the cakes!) I know several lovely women whose SCA clothes all have terrible fit and who always end up looking like frumps because of it.
It is hard, sometimes impossible to do it for yourself. I'm damned lucky to live near several of the best fitting laurels in Lochac, and I appreciate that not everyone has that luxury. But make an effort. Wear the right support garments, have a clear idea of where the seams should go and how the support should work. Cut your pieces on the correct grain, and find someone who knows what they're doing to fit your basic bodice, even if that means hiring in a mundane dressmaker and talking her through everything at length. (You may want to check the outcome with someone who has a good period eye to make sure that your instructions yielded the correct fruit.)
Once you have a good block that will work for what you want, never gain or lose weight again and you can adapt it a whole lot of ways.
This is really a hard one, and I am so far from perfect when it comes to my own garb because I can't ever believe I'm really this short or this fat, that I'm prepared to be really forgiving until I see stunning fabric cut up and butchered in a travesty of sofa-like construction, at which point I get a little twitch at the side of my mouth. If you can't fit clothing, only buy cheap fabric. It will cause you less pain once you learn what you're doing, and it will be easier on the rest of us, too.
4. Why choose an ugly frock?
Don't get me wrong, I'm all about the kooky frock. I own one of the stupider frocks in the Kingdom – it has many buttons! Wacky hats, I'm there. Hell, I like brown.
But there are also some frocks that are just plain ugly. They have stripes that make you look stumpy. They have padded arses, and enough fabric around your middle to make you look like the Michelin Man. The have big shoulders and big sleeves and more dangly crap than the Olympics. They have detail that draws the eyes to your knees and that makes you look about two feet high and four feet across.
And you should not spend weeks of your life making one of these frocks, for it will not magically suit you. Rather, it will look awful, and so will you.
There's a simple rule of thumb if you're going from a portrait. Does the person wearing the frock remotely resemble you and, if yes, does the frock look good on them? Look carefully. Sometimes you might think "yes, she has my brown hair and pearly skin." but then when you look more closely, you will realise that she also has a body length that is about twice as long and half as wide as it is in reality, which is why that frock makes her look long and lean. The artists just added in extra ribs or neck where they thought they could do some good, or took out a bit of hip. In one painting, there's n ectra leg. It's sort of a period Photoshopping.
Duke Cornelius and Sir Philipe recently related a tale to me where they had been sent images for some garb they had been asked to make, drawn to standard fashion model shapes. Apparently they scanned the shot and Photoshopped it so that it was much shorter and much wider, then sent on the two images labelled The Dream and The Reality. It's a bit of a harsh thing to do to yourself, but it's so much less painful than spending weeks or months making something that will look manky.
Being seduced by a pretty painting and missing that fact that the frock is manky is bad, but much, much worse are the people who choose to make something that is inherently ugly because they like one of the elements. Chaps and Chapettes, you can take that pretty embroidery or lace or colour or whatever, and make a whole new frock out if it. It is, as Gabrielle often reminds me, the Society for CREATIVE Anachronism, and while we horrid Laurels will no doubt giggle at you if you make up something that is outlandish, we will think highly of you if you come up with something plausible.
5. Shit fabric with braid is still shit fabric
I cannot emphasise this strongly enough. If the fabric looks plastic, ugly, vile-coloured, sweat-inducing or creased to buggery in the shop, that's what it will also look like when you wear it as a frock. No amount of pretty braid, pearls or even hand-woven lace will redeem crap fabric.
Buy the nicest, most period fabric that you can afford. And if that's plain wools and linens, they will still look better than shiny shit. Maybe buy a bit less braid if it's becoming a real issue.
6. You probably won't look like the picture
Artists are kinder to their subjects than prepress technicians with the full Adobe Creative Suite. Choose things that appear to look good on your body type, with regard for what the actual fabric looks like against your skin, and then if things are still a bit sub-par, light-reflecting make-up works wonders. Or only go to events where everyone is really, really drunk, steal all their cameras and re-touch all the photos before letting anyone see them.
I have grown to accept that even if I am once again skinny, I will never, ever be tall enough to look like Mistress Marienna in 14th century garb. Like her friendly neighbourhood pixie, sure! Let go of the dream, embrace the reality. It hurts less.
7. Dress does not equal outfit
We've all seen it, the really well made and quite cleverly imagined frock that still manages to look wrong. Is it the chemise that was made for another frock and doesn't really go with this one? Is it the lack of belt and partlet, despite the fact that the dress is crying out for them? Is it the free-flowing pink locks? Is it the trainers and plastic sunnies?
It's hard to put your finger on the real source of the problem, but somehow, you just can't bring yourself to say "nice frock", even when it is.
(And let's not even talk about furs, pattens, hose, books, gloves, coats and other accessories! Start with the accessories and make the frock later, that way you're guaranteed to look great (and weigh the amount you will when you want to wear it).)
8. Two words: ticky and tacky
Just as for fabric, some beads, braids and other accessories aren't work the money, even if that money is $2. You will impress those in the know far more by creating a beautiful, simple garment than by sticking on a lot of nasty bling.
Okay, so you'll distract Gabrielle for a moment, but then she'll feel bad about herself in addition to not liking your frock as much as she thought she did, and that's just mean.
Hot glue is a grey area, along with invisible thread. If you can make it look invisible and hence fantastic, then most bitch laurels are prepared to buy your argument that it's a reasonable facsimile of glued garb (quite period) and near-invisible fine silk threads (almost impossible to find these days).
9. Bulk is not your friend
Unless you are really skinny, in which case carefully positioned bulk is. Otherwise, think through how many layers you really need in an outfit and how heavy each of those layers is. Once your outfit starts weighing 7kg and above, you're not going to like wearing it as much as you thought you would. Especially in an Australian summer. And the excess baggage is punishing.
You might also resemble a rugged-up toddler and not be able to move your arms, which isn't the best look. If you have multiple layers, make them out of light materials where possible. Trim all seams as much as possible. Stitch or iron all seams as flat as possible.
Be sure that if your garb is making you go out in particular areas, those are the areas you want to be going out in. And for boys, be reasonable on the codpieces unless they are for comedy.
10. Purple unicorns make me very cranky
I'm prepared to overlook this sort of stuff on kids, hell, girls can get away with it until they're about 20. But if you're a 37-year-old woman and you're trying to convince me to take you seriously while you wear a frock with the period equivalent of My Little Pony embroidery with a pink fluffy hat, it's not going to happen. Sorry.
As for the purple, I can kind of cope if you really love St Florian or are Katerina del Brescia, but even then, there are other colours, people, and you would look lovely in them!
Of course, sometimes it is good to break every rule.
So, costume laurels. We're mean, vile, ghastly people who will criticise your stitch length, mock your alleged doco and then steal your boyfriends all before lunch on the first day of Festival (Pennsic/Canty Faire/big multi-day Drachenwald camping thingy ... what's the one in Sweden?). At least, that's what our press office says. Admittedly we got them cheap from the US intelligence service, so they may not be the most accurate of bunnies, but you've all heard the tales.
And no matter what we do to be helpful, caring, generous teachers of our arts, everyone reverts to the stereotype at the first available opportunity. Two days before I stepped down from the last reign I was at a sewing night with my apprentice marking out my hem and clearly about three weeks behind in my sewing time when a young woman came up to me and said "Oh please, can I ask you a teeny weeny favour?"
I looked at her straight. "If it's for sewing or patterning help tonight, no. I have absolutely no time at the moment."
"But it's for this weekend!" she protested.
I replied, "Yes, me too!"
She mooched off with the expression of "Bitch!"
Which is fair enough, I could have been the sainted lupin and put aside my own work to help her out, except that I AM a bitch and wanted to do something for me. Something else I quite want to do for me is have the following moans about bad costume. But I hasten to add that just because I am a bitchy costume laurel doesn't mean we all are.
It's just me.
And the people who taught me.
And most of my friends, and theirs, and a few of our role models, too.
Aside from that we're all delightful.
WHEN GOOD FROCKS GO BAD
1. Breasts
In general, I'm all for breasts. Pert little ones, soft rounded ones, saggy lived-in ones, even. I've used mine over the years for everything from picking up attractive young folk to storing keys between and resting sleeping babies on (other people's sleeping babies, but they're not fussy about whose breasts they rest on. Actually, neither were the attractive young folk now that I think about it.) They're a handy tool when you need an instant comedy accessory, and a decorative element that has many functional uses.
But in period costume, breasts have clearly defined places. Those places are almost never rolling over the top of your neckline.
I've just been off to look at yet another dress-diary and what is otherwise a pleasant frock has had the neckline lowered by about four inches so that instead of having a nice smooth cone-like demure Venetian profile (as in the doco on the same page), it's all quivering norkage wobbling over the neckline, which is barely excusable when you're twentysomething, but ladies, after thirty, if you can't attract attention without threatening a wardrobe malfunction, then you did not use your twenties wisely.
There are some frocks in Lochac that I can't talk to the owners of when they're in them, as I find myself just staring at their cleavage. Not in the good way where your brain goes to metaphors like marble and adjectives like yielding, but in the bad way, where the metaphors are all down the veined cheese path and the adjectives start at wobbly and get much worse from there.
I know all about making a frock and turning into a fat bastard before you make the next one, and I accept that it can strain bodices beyond where they're really happy to go, but that's why partlets were invented. Or you can pull up your chemise or smock so that at least there's a layer of white linen reinforcing the concept of mystique.
Because if I want to see your nipples, I'll buy you a few beers first, and maybe quote some Sappho.
2. Corsets
While never in the course of human costuming have more corsets been misused for more bad breastage than in the SCA, there is still an important place for this undergarment. That place is the 16th century.
Sure there are some corsetted pre-16th century items. There are even some 16th century styles that actually don't have corsetry. But most of them do, and not always the one type.
So why do I keep reading doco that says, "After looking at the image, I decided that there was no corsetry underneath this frock"?
How many people do you know who have perfectly straight lines from their shoulders to their artificially lowered waistines? That go in little Vs at the front and back? And that make their breasts smooth out into either a straight line or a very controlled curve?
People, if you put on your lovingly made late-period frock and discover that you look a lot more like a shapeless sack than the girl in the picture, then try adding a layer of corsetry beneath and see if things improve. And then refit the fucking frock!
3. Bad fit = ugly
I have garb that is too small for me, it draws horizontal lines across the front and back, creates unsightly bulges and means I can't move my arms. I have garb that is too large for me, it hangs like a sack and lets everyone know that 40 is just around the corner for this little brown duck. I have garb that fits just right and it is comfortable and attractive and makes me look better than I was looking before I put the frock on.
And that's from pieces that all did fit properly at one time or another (mercifully the large ones fit only very briefly. Don't eat all the cakes!) I know several lovely women whose SCA clothes all have terrible fit and who always end up looking like frumps because of it.
It is hard, sometimes impossible to do it for yourself. I'm damned lucky to live near several of the best fitting laurels in Lochac, and I appreciate that not everyone has that luxury. But make an effort. Wear the right support garments, have a clear idea of where the seams should go and how the support should work. Cut your pieces on the correct grain, and find someone who knows what they're doing to fit your basic bodice, even if that means hiring in a mundane dressmaker and talking her through everything at length. (You may want to check the outcome with someone who has a good period eye to make sure that your instructions yielded the correct fruit.)
Once you have a good block that will work for what you want, never gain or lose weight again and you can adapt it a whole lot of ways.
This is really a hard one, and I am so far from perfect when it comes to my own garb because I can't ever believe I'm really this short or this fat, that I'm prepared to be really forgiving until I see stunning fabric cut up and butchered in a travesty of sofa-like construction, at which point I get a little twitch at the side of my mouth. If you can't fit clothing, only buy cheap fabric. It will cause you less pain once you learn what you're doing, and it will be easier on the rest of us, too.
4. Why choose an ugly frock?
Don't get me wrong, I'm all about the kooky frock. I own one of the stupider frocks in the Kingdom – it has many buttons! Wacky hats, I'm there. Hell, I like brown.
But there are also some frocks that are just plain ugly. They have stripes that make you look stumpy. They have padded arses, and enough fabric around your middle to make you look like the Michelin Man. The have big shoulders and big sleeves and more dangly crap than the Olympics. They have detail that draws the eyes to your knees and that makes you look about two feet high and four feet across.
And you should not spend weeks of your life making one of these frocks, for it will not magically suit you. Rather, it will look awful, and so will you.
There's a simple rule of thumb if you're going from a portrait. Does the person wearing the frock remotely resemble you and, if yes, does the frock look good on them? Look carefully. Sometimes you might think "yes, she has my brown hair and pearly skin." but then when you look more closely, you will realise that she also has a body length that is about twice as long and half as wide as it is in reality, which is why that frock makes her look long and lean. The artists just added in extra ribs or neck where they thought they could do some good, or took out a bit of hip. In one painting, there's n ectra leg. It's sort of a period Photoshopping.
Duke Cornelius and Sir Philipe recently related a tale to me where they had been sent images for some garb they had been asked to make, drawn to standard fashion model shapes. Apparently they scanned the shot and Photoshopped it so that it was much shorter and much wider, then sent on the two images labelled The Dream and The Reality. It's a bit of a harsh thing to do to yourself, but it's so much less painful than spending weeks or months making something that will look manky.
Being seduced by a pretty painting and missing that fact that the frock is manky is bad, but much, much worse are the people who choose to make something that is inherently ugly because they like one of the elements. Chaps and Chapettes, you can take that pretty embroidery or lace or colour or whatever, and make a whole new frock out if it. It is, as Gabrielle often reminds me, the Society for CREATIVE Anachronism, and while we horrid Laurels will no doubt giggle at you if you make up something that is outlandish, we will think highly of you if you come up with something plausible.
5. Shit fabric with braid is still shit fabric
I cannot emphasise this strongly enough. If the fabric looks plastic, ugly, vile-coloured, sweat-inducing or creased to buggery in the shop, that's what it will also look like when you wear it as a frock. No amount of pretty braid, pearls or even hand-woven lace will redeem crap fabric.
Buy the nicest, most period fabric that you can afford. And if that's plain wools and linens, they will still look better than shiny shit. Maybe buy a bit less braid if it's becoming a real issue.
6. You probably won't look like the picture
Artists are kinder to their subjects than prepress technicians with the full Adobe Creative Suite. Choose things that appear to look good on your body type, with regard for what the actual fabric looks like against your skin, and then if things are still a bit sub-par, light-reflecting make-up works wonders. Or only go to events where everyone is really, really drunk, steal all their cameras and re-touch all the photos before letting anyone see them.
I have grown to accept that even if I am once again skinny, I will never, ever be tall enough to look like Mistress Marienna in 14th century garb. Like her friendly neighbourhood pixie, sure! Let go of the dream, embrace the reality. It hurts less.
7. Dress does not equal outfit
We've all seen it, the really well made and quite cleverly imagined frock that still manages to look wrong. Is it the chemise that was made for another frock and doesn't really go with this one? Is it the lack of belt and partlet, despite the fact that the dress is crying out for them? Is it the free-flowing pink locks? Is it the trainers and plastic sunnies?
It's hard to put your finger on the real source of the problem, but somehow, you just can't bring yourself to say "nice frock", even when it is.
(And let's not even talk about furs, pattens, hose, books, gloves, coats and other accessories! Start with the accessories and make the frock later, that way you're guaranteed to look great (and weigh the amount you will when you want to wear it).)
8. Two words: ticky and tacky
Just as for fabric, some beads, braids and other accessories aren't work the money, even if that money is $2. You will impress those in the know far more by creating a beautiful, simple garment than by sticking on a lot of nasty bling.
Okay, so you'll distract Gabrielle for a moment, but then she'll feel bad about herself in addition to not liking your frock as much as she thought she did, and that's just mean.
Hot glue is a grey area, along with invisible thread. If you can make it look invisible and hence fantastic, then most bitch laurels are prepared to buy your argument that it's a reasonable facsimile of glued garb (quite period) and near-invisible fine silk threads (almost impossible to find these days).
9. Bulk is not your friend
Unless you are really skinny, in which case carefully positioned bulk is. Otherwise, think through how many layers you really need in an outfit and how heavy each of those layers is. Once your outfit starts weighing 7kg and above, you're not going to like wearing it as much as you thought you would. Especially in an Australian summer. And the excess baggage is punishing.
You might also resemble a rugged-up toddler and not be able to move your arms, which isn't the best look. If you have multiple layers, make them out of light materials where possible. Trim all seams as much as possible. Stitch or iron all seams as flat as possible.
Be sure that if your garb is making you go out in particular areas, those are the areas you want to be going out in. And for boys, be reasonable on the codpieces unless they are for comedy.
10. Purple unicorns make me very cranky
I'm prepared to overlook this sort of stuff on kids, hell, girls can get away with it until they're about 20. But if you're a 37-year-old woman and you're trying to convince me to take you seriously while you wear a frock with the period equivalent of My Little Pony embroidery with a pink fluffy hat, it's not going to happen. Sorry.
As for the purple, I can kind of cope if you really love St Florian or are Katerina del Brescia, but even then, there are other colours, people, and you would look lovely in them!
Of course, sometimes it is good to break every rule.
posted by Miss D at 11:23 pm
10 Comments:
3. Bad fit = ugly
I have the same issue. Some stuff that's too small, some that's slightly to big, and a bunch I tried to make by altering old patterns without properly refitting them even though many years had passed, as had a lot of weight.
I've seen some of the most beautiful stuff made from the most gorgeous material, but it just doesn't fit. at all. And it's a travesty.
BTW, I do actually really appreciate your feedback when it comes to costuming. I mostly feel bad becaseu I KNEW I wasn't doing things correctly, and went gaily forward anyway, and was then "caught" so to speak. As I knew I was doing things wrong in the first place, I likely shouldn't sulk so much. :(
But you aren't a bitch. Many of these things are entirely reasonable thoughts! In fact, most of them are! It's amazing how much nicer an outfit looks when you put together some apropriate headwear, period (or period looking) shoes, and some jewelry/other acessories. It stops looking like dress up at that point, and starts all coming together.
You have not been too nice lately. I recently had to declare you "worst Laurel ever" due to a complete lack of gold stars for your long suffering apprentice and smackings with whiteboard markers.
Of course, you have many other fabulous qualities (including brutal honesty, which let's face it is needed these days) that make you my favourite Laurel (even when being "worst Laurel ever" - apprentices need some perks) and if anyone else declared you to be a bad Laurel I'd have to smack them down.
You're a bad bad Laurel!
May I have my smack now?
You know, I totally understand the setiment, even if I'm probably one of the offenders.
So long as next time some twonking idiot plays a Loreena McKennit CD at their event for background music, everyone looks the opposite way when I promptly take them out...
But then, I'm no Laurel...
Oh, and that photo is brilliant! All it needs is sparkles and prancing unicorns around the hem!
Deense, your stuff isn't as badly fitted as you think, even with the seams o'bulky, it's still not that bad. And while you can't see it in this shot, the reverse part of the neckline has gold sequins hot-glue gunned to it and the tiara has flashing LEDs. It was a very special evening all round. Thanks, Stowe!
Wenchi, I hear you! Also, in The Highwayman by LK, is it just me and Bethan who think that he's a bloody idiot for throwing his life away after his girly has already sacrificed herself? Surely it would have been better to go off and study medicine or something so that there was at least a point to her untimely doom.
And Ant, yes, I am evil. But it was your own fault for bringing the whiteboard marker and duct tape. I went looking for stars again today, all the silver in the world, but not a gold one to be seen. I'm going to have to try the internet, soon.
Elfboy, if she smacks you, you won't be sitting down for a week. I have Lochac's best armed girly apprentice. And my other apprentice can kill with just a look.
Gold stars seem to be readily available down here. I can get some to give to you to give to me :)
Elfy - I would fear Apprentice 2 far more than me. You know I'm just going to hit you. There's no telling what the quiet one will do.
Finn, I nearly choked on my water at the vision of you hurling yourself across a floor and crash tackling some poor person.
Tee-hee.
its all about education isn't it? I take on board what you are saying as a complete and utter novice and go arggghhhhhhh! Having challenged myself to make a lovely florentine gown over the uni break (soon please god soon!!)
I will try and be good - besides a smack is not always bad..
knäcke is the Swedish war you're thinking of. The war over which side of your crispbread should be buttered, the flat or the holy...
and I think you look just spectacular as you are - there's too many of us 14th C types around anyway.
/Marienna
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