The Matrix of Recreation

I've spent much of the past few months ruminating about how I can improve the ways I combine my research into the projects I create. It's all well and good to be able to make a thing because I have the skills and technical knowledge, but if I'm making things without genuinely good research, I find that later on down the road, I regret the item or I feel salty that I didn't do as much research legwork as I should have.

When we're talking about medieval recreation, there's an understanding that the picture we can paint is never going to be fully accurate or correct. All we can do is aim for our "best reasonable guess" based on credible research efforts. We have to do the best we can with what we have access to. Sometimes what we have access to is incomplete or hard to interpret. Sometimes we really don't know what we're looking at. Sometimes we're working off incorrect assumptions. This is all part of the hobby, and we must accept that we never really know for sure.

We can, however, follow very basic guidelines in our efforts to research and recreate with as much accuracy as possible. We can make sure we're looking at period sources, that those sources are relevant to the place and time we're interested in, and that we understand how to interpret the stylistic choices from that time. Once we have these research habits under our belt, we can get to the heart of why we research to begin with- finding what's likely correct in order to recreate it. Which is when we can use something like my Matrix of Recreation.



The four quadrants of the Matrix define the relative suitability of recreation. This vetting process allows us to determine if the item/process/technique we’re looking at is potentially worth the time, resources & effort to recreate and add to our portrayal.

The Matrix is based on relative ratios between how many sources there are in the period and place we're looking and how many instances we find of the thing we're looking for. For earlier periods, the numbers involved in "low" and "high" are lower as a whole than those of later periods. This could also be true when looking at specific topics. There are more instances of fashion than there are of herbology, for example. So the low and high scale adjusts to these. You chose the numbers you'll assign to them based on what you're researching.

The horizontal axis of the Matrix looks at the body of sources we’ve collected to look for the thing we’re researching, i.e. primary sources. These include visual, written, and extant items from the period and place, such as manuscript contents, structures, paintings, and archeological evidence. While in a perfect world, this would be ALL sources in existence, we know that’s impossible, especially for the layman hobbyist. So we scale this down to what’s most relevant, useful, AND accessible for our purposes. We don’t need to bend over backward to find 40 manuscripts in the rare books department of the local medieval library when 10 reasonably complete, high-res manuscript facsimiles available on the internet will probably do.

The vertical axis of the Matrix looks at the total number of instances we can find inside our collection of sources of what we’re looking for. Crucial to this is our ability to understand what we’re looking for and at, and to be able to interpret the literal and visual languages in use. An understanding of art history, basic manuscript studies, and some idea of how to see like an archeologist are bedrock skills we need to learn as historical recreators. Once we can be more certain that we’re seeing the evidence well, we can count up the instances we find.

Let's look at each quadrant in turn.

Likely: High # of Sources & High # of Instances

When we can collect a large body of sources and find high quantities of the item within those sources, then we're looking at those items that are most likely accurate and useful to recreate. These are the things that feel the most medieval to us because they are easily visible in the historical record. What we must keep an eye on, however, is how these items shift within the Matrix when we take a deeper look. For example, we know that the close-fitting garment we call a kirtle or cote is a likely item in use during the Late Middle Ages, but how it's created and what details it has must be vetted independently. Buttons on the forearms are likely, but embroidery around the neckline may fall elsewhere in the Matrix.

Exception: High # of Sources & Low # of Instances

When we only find a few examples of something within a large body of sources, we're looking at what can be considered either an exception to the rule or potentially a symbolic or fantastical item. We have to be careful that when we chose to recreate things in this category we're clear that they are exceptions. We also have to challenge ourselves not to get into the habit of justifying these exceptions and allow them to dominate our kits and portrayals. A recreation of the exceptions to the rules just compounds upon itself, taking that recreation further and further away from what might be more "normal" or accurate for our period and place. Remember that the typical medieval person across most of the period valued belonging and inclusion with their community over being cast out as different or unique. (For more on this, I recommend The Time Traveler's Guide to Medieval England by Ian Mortimer.)

 

Caution: Low # of Sources & High # of Instances

When the pool of sources shrinks, but within that smaller pool we can find many examples of the item, we can consider these likely but with caution. Similar to a scientific research study, smaller numbers of data sets to review produce less reliable conclusions. There are a number of things that may be going on within this quadrant. The item/technique, etc. may be likely, or it may be a regional thing that only works for certain areas. It may be a stylistic thing or a side effect of the way medieval people kept or recorded the item. Bread, for example, is clearly an item that was used and prevalent in the medieval period but recorded bread recipes are hard to find. So we can make a judgment call here, and be willing to update our item if and when more sources become available to add to our research.

 

Anomaly: Low # of Sources & Low # of Instances

In the final quadrant, we come to those items that 9 times out of 10 we'll want to pass on recreating. These are items that show up rarely in a small pool of sources. In essence, there's little to go in here. For the most part, these things are novelties that may add flavor or interest to our knowledge set, but if our goal is to present as accurately as possible a typical portrayal, these things begin to muddy the water. We may be looking at a one-off choice made by an artist or craftsman due to any number of unknowable factors. We may be looking at someone's idea of a joke. We may be looking at something that we simply can't interpret correctly because we are out of time and context from the original intent. There are times when the anomalies can be the focus of our research to add to our knowledgebase (that 1 out of the 10 times), so the Matrix doesn't discount the usefulness of these items altogether. We simply must acknowledge that what we're looking at here is less likely to be widely accurate.

Sources should be Relevant, Useful & Available

For either end of the Sources scale, remember that we're dealing in relative terms based on the number of relevant, useful, and available sources, and it's up to us to determine the perimeters of that for any individual item we're vetting. We can decide that in order to understand how accurate one item is, we have to limit our sources a bit differently than we might with another item. The example I can give here is that when I went looking for data to write my essay on Early 15th Century Women's Clothing, instead of choosing all early 15th century manuscripts as sources, I outlined a set of specific criteria that limited the sources I would refer to down to what I felt was the most useful and relevant. Number one on the list, of course, was that in order to be considered a source, the manuscript had to contain depictions of women.

How you determine your sources is always going to be dependent on what you're researching and how specific you need to be. If you want to look for "furniture", you're going to look at a larger number of sources than if you were looking for "trestle tables". You're going to limit your sources down to only those that may be likely to show tables.

You have to be careful here, though. When you limit your sources too much, you begin skewing the matrix toward also limiting instances. We can discount viable instances simply because we've put too strict of a boundary around our sources. Therefore, the perimeters of what we use as a source should always seek to include all the relevant and useful instances for the specific thing we're looking for. It's a balancing act.

 

Anomaly, Exception, or Just Plain Wrong?

I think we also need to look a bit closer at the bottom portion of the Matrix- those areas where the number of instances are low. These are the areas where we're treading close to the line between what is and isn't accurate to portray, but also those areas when sources simply aren't available or useful. There are several portions of historical recreation where the data is lacking. If you study a culture that isn't well documented, you'll consistently encounter Anomalies and mostly nothing else when using the Matrix. In these cases, my suggestion is to ditch the Matrix and beware of dragons. You're in uncharted territory.

If, however, you're researching something that is inside the more studied areas of history, the Matrix is useful to help understand if you're starting to go a bit off course. Especially in later periods, when finding sources is less difficult, we might be inclined to believe that we're not encountering Anomalies in our research, but finding a bunch of Exceptions instead. If our source count is always relatively high, the answer is to adjust the focus to make sure that we're not looking at more sources than we need to. This brings the source count down, shifting the scale toward the lower end. So now, when we find an item in this new source pool that shows up one time only we can be fairly certain we're looking at an Anomaly.

The other item that exists down around here as well are those items that are just wrong. Wrong because they are not historical, or wrong because inside the boundaries of our source limitations, they just don't exist. These things don't fall on the Matrix of Recreation because they should not be recreated. I want to point out that this also applies to items that may exist under a different source pool or a different set of criteria, but that for what you're trying to accomplish they don't show up. Let's say you're looking to see if women wore an item worn by men. Your sources should include all sources likely to show that clothing item. The instances you'll look for will be women wearing that item. It doesn't matter how many sources you're using, if instances don't exist, the most likely conclusion is that women didn't wear that item.

Inherently Ahistorical Situations

Layered on top of any process we use to vet the potential accuracy of what we recreate is the nature, goals, and standards of the communities within which we're recreating. While living history groups generally hold authenticity and accurate portrayal as a cornerstone of their organization, there are other groups for whom that is less strict. The SCA, for example, has room for authentic recreation but does not hold it as a core principle. In these types of situations (and here I'll mainly speak through my SCA experience), we will encounter a whole separate layer that we'll call "Community Material Culture". These are the things that have developed in a historic recreation community that belong exclusively to that community and are an integral part of it. In the SCA, that includes the ways in which peers can be visually recognized, items with years of use and history passed from one person to another, and the deep and extensive use of personal heraldry. When we want to be a part of this group, we also must allow room for the group's material culture to enter and exist in our kits and portrayal.

In these situations, if authenticity and accuracy are our goals (which, I would hope is at least partially the case for the majority of people interesting in portraying medieval life), then before we turn to the Matrix of Recreation, we should identify if the item in question is one of these Community Material Culture items. If so, we then must ask a single question: Can I create this item in a manner consistent with my period and place?



If the answer is Yes, you can utilize the Matrix to find the most likely accurate method of creating the item, or to at least understand if it's more exceptional than likely.

If the answer is No, you have two options. You can skip the item altogether and explain to anyone who asks that it's not correct for your portrayal, and that authenticity is important to you. Or you can create the item anyway with the understanding and acknowledgment that it's not accurate for your portrayal but that its purpose in the community is important to you.

 

Caveat Emptor

The Matrix of Recreation isn't meant to be a strict guideline. There are simply too many variables, too many topics, and too many exceptions across the board for it to fit all circumstances of historical recreation. It will break down under certain perimeters, and since you must use your best judgment and set your own relative scales, you can always bend it a bit to your will and justify your choices no matter what if you really wanted to. I hope you don't, though. I think it works its best as a gut-check. A quick way to understand if you're on the right track and headed in the right direction.  

---

I'm a big proponent of self-evaluation, and since I developed this Matrix out of a sense that I, myself was veering off course, I feel like a great way to close this out is to offer examples from my own kit for each of the four quadrants. These are projects that I have created and/or designed that I'm now going to review in retrospect in terms of where they fall in the Matrix of Recreation.

Likely: Open Hoods

Long-time readers will not be shocked to see the open hood as my pick in the Likely category. We can find examples of open hoods throughout the entirety of the Late Middle Ages in the Franco-Flemish region. There's still a lot of nuances to their styles and usages through that period (a 1460 open hood is wildly different from a 1350 open hood), but there are many sources we can use and many instances within those sources, making the open hood a likely accurate item in my wardrobe. Of all the open hoods I've created over the years, I feel that my light pink hood, though perhaps a bit too pale in color, is the best, with the correct weight, shape, scale, and liripipe length.

Caution: Buckled Turnshoes

As a Late Medieval recreator, I find that the Caution category is quite rare (within the things I'm researching). There are so many useable and accessible sources that it's unusual I come across something that falls under the low source/high instance quadrant. One item of mine that does seem to fall here, however, is shoes.

Undoubtedly, women wore shoes, but the style of the shoe they wore is where caution comes into play. When we condense all the sources available for women's shoes specifically, we're not left with much, especially compared to the sources for men's shoes and for women's clothing. Women's footwear was often left out of depictions because it was concealed, and we have very few ways of determining what extant shoes or shoe pieces belonged to female feet.

That said, when the chance for a shoe to show up on a women's foot is present, there's a shoe to be seen. When I reviewed the shoes depicted in my collection of women's manuscript depictions, I discovered that black shoes that covered most of the forward top portion of the foot with a very slight point were those most often painted on the women in my class range. Beyond that, however, I had to turn to non-gendered shoe pieces in the extant record to determine anything more. I ultimately opted to design a shoe that covered the majority of my foot with a buckled strap to keep it tight. This is a best guess with a healthy dose of personal preference, that I feel is what we can call cautiously possible in terms of authenticity.

 

Exception: Woman's Belt Pouch

Recreators like bags and pouches because our hobby tends to make us mobile, and without pockets, bags are the next best thing. Which holds true for medieval people as well. Pouches themselves are not exceptions and there are hundreds of examples in my period (high number of sources). Filtering for women's use of pouches, however, the number dwindles to a low amount. I took the time to locate every instance of a belt pouch I could find in my manuscript depictions of women research, and there were a total of 14. So while it's not incorrect to have a belt pouch, and I made every attempt to create a pouch in line with the style of those I found, wearing that pouch is an exception to the rule, and should be done in moderation.

Anomaly: Square Hood (worn on a woman)

Anomalies can be hard to accept, especially after we've created the item. Most of my choices in recent years have steered me away from this quadrant, but that is not always the case. The square hood, or hunting hood, is a specific style of hood with straps under the arms, rather than the more traditionally-seen cowl draped over the shoulders. There aren't a great number of examples of the square hood to begin with. In my original research I primarily found depictions of the square hood on men, but there was one effigy of a woman with a hood that looked similar. This, along with my own (probably vain) desires to be cool and have one of these hoods led me to make one. I have used it quite often since, and it's a favorite piece of mine. However, I have to admit that with only one source pointing toward the possible use of this hood by a woman, it's an anomaly that creates a less accurate (even if cool) portrayal.

I hope the Matrix of Recreation helps you steer the course as you build your kit and persona. Remember that we're all learning as we go, so give yourself margin to have Anomalies and Exceptions, to navigate Cautions, and of course to celebrate your Likelies.

[Please feel free to share the Matrix, but be sure to include the link back to this post so the explanation can also be read!]

My SCA Origin Story

If you asked me to point to the first thing I can remember that made me go, "ooh, Middle Ages," I'd have to say it was Disney's animated Robin Hood. Robin and Marion were foxes. Prince John was an immature lion. There was a catchy, buddy-themed opening song that I remember to this day. Friar Tuck had a limit of patience. Sir Hiss was (and still is) my favorite character.

Fan art I did recently of Sir Hiss from Disney's Robin Hood.

Some Things I'm Not Authentic About (Yet)

I'm often told at events some variation of the compliment that people admire that I don't slack off too often on my medieval appearance standards at events. While that's true, it has struck me that there are a handful of things that not only do I not really do all that authentically, but also I haven't really given too much thought to trying to be more authentic about them.

Post Gulf Wars Project List

One of the great things about going to a week-long event is being able to come out of it with a list of things to work on or improve. I have found that there are deficiencies in my kit that I can only really become aware of by putting it to the test. Coming out of Gulf Wars, I have quite the list of projects, primarily in the areas of my recreation I haven't put much thought to in recent years, or with things that require investments I've found it difficult to commit to. Many of the things I talk about below will require funds that it will be some time before I have. Others are relatively easy fixes that will be added to my running list of current projects.

Where and How I Store My Garb

I'm a garb horse, as you have probably figured out. While not every garment I've made for myself is still around or currently being used, I've still got a lot of clothing in fairly regularly event rotation. Add in headdress, shoes, and accessories, and there's a fairly sizable amount of stuff that needs a home.

Over the years, as my garb collection has grown, my solution for storing all of it has changed. There was a time, many many moons ago, when everything I had could fit in a smallish plastic tub. As I gained more garb, I went through phases where my stuff had no "home", which made things super frustrating when I wanted to pack for an event. Now, my garb and other personal kit items are stored in specific places, and finding things (assuming they were put away) has gotten a lot easier.

A Post in Which I Talk A Lot

One of my selfie outtakes from Pennsic.

Since I haven't been able to work on any of my own projects in the past few weeks, I've been doing more thinking about the lessons I learned from this past Pennsic. Last week, I mentioned that my new chemise needed some revisions. As I continued to think about that, and about what projects I wanted to take on next, I came to the realization that I had learned so much more from Pennsic then I had previously realized.

Through the Paces

Two weeks ago, I packed up nearly all of my garb, went camping at Pennsic, and put my kit through its paces. It was hot, rainy and muggy. In order to get through the week, I had to mostly use my older garb- the linen dresses I'd packed along with two of my lighter-weight wool dresses. To make the most of it, and to convince myself that it was okay to use these older pieces, I used my new chemise when I could, and I made a plan for how to mix and match what I packed.

Pratfalls

I'm deep into a pile of projects, most of them for others, and I'm being challenged to sew in a style that I have had very little recent practice with. And I keep getting things wrong.

I call these "pratfalls".

In comedy, a pratfall is when the comedian does something dumb or humiliating, usually physically, in such a way that it generates a laugh. More specifically, it's when a person falls on their butt. It's not intellectual humor About as far away from that as you can get. But it makes us laugh. There's something about certain types of physical humor that we just find funny.

Most of the time when we are sewing, the mistakes we make are dumb. We sew two left arms. We shift something an inch away from where it should be. We continue to stitch on our sewing machines long after the bobbin has run out. We forget, we misplace, we measure once and cut twice. And these things happen to everyone. Well, most of us, anyway. Certainly those of us who are distracted by all the other things in our lives.

The simple fact is that dumb mistakes happen. By framing them in the rubric of humor, however, it's easier to let them go, and not hold onto them as proof of our flaws, or badges of failure. If I didn't look at the mistakes I've made over the past two days as pratfalls- falling on my butt just to pick myself back up again- I'd be wallowing in self doubt and misery at this point. And nothing would get done.

I laugh instead of cry, even when the mistakes pile up. They aren't a reflection of my skill or abilities. They are instead mini lessons in humility, which I could certainly use more practice in. And that's exactly the point of the pratfall.

Back to Formula

When I look back at last year, I'm really satisfied with what and how much I made. It was certainly a productive year. Not everything made its way on the blog, but I made 4 dresses (here, here and here), 4 hoods (here and here, then a green linen one I never photographed, and a black wool one for a friend), a fighting doublet for my Laurel (which you can see here), a new shoulder bag, a brick stick coin purse for a gift, a pair of black wool hose I started years ago, and an embroidered tunic for my husband. Good times, good times.

This year, I expect to be much less outwardly productive, though I think the pace I set for myself last year is a good one, and actually works well for me. The problem with that is that I blow through my material stash. In some ways that's good- I like shopping for new fabric, but it certainly puts a damper on getting projects done!

Since I have this great excuse to fill my fabric stash back up right now, I also have the perfect excuse to go back to formula.

I've been building on my dressmaking experiences one over the other since I started making my own garb 6-ish years ago. Iteration is my modus operandi, and I'm always looking at what I've made asking the question "what would I change if I did this again?" Back in November, I was confronted with a fundamental downside to going about things that way. Once I found something that worked, I moved on to other issues, but stopped evaluating that thing to determine if it really was still working, or really was the right thing to do. If it worked at the time, I moved on.

A few years ago, I made a lightweight, sleeveless fitted garment with a center front lace to wear as my bottom layer. It's a chemise on steroids. I call it a "short cotte" because it's only knee-length. This was before the Lengberg finds became common knowledge, but the ideas those bras have spawned is the same- an undergarment that does most of the support work, easing up on the load of the first cotte layer. When you have a large chest, sometimes it's just easier to get dressed when everything is already somewhat tamed.

My problem is that I feel really uncomfortable being out in public, among friends who like hugging me, without a bra. As a buxom girl, growing up in the Madonna era, bras were an important right of passage, and have become a habitual part of the way I move about in this world where gravity is king. It's weird to not wear one. So the extra support of a modern bra has really helped me feel at ease in my garb, physically and mentally, as I learn more and more about getting the support of my garb correct.

But it's a crutch, and has provided me an excuse to move on to improving the fit of all the outer layers. The bra/short cotte combo works. My outer garb fits relatively well as a result. But it's not right, and more importantly, I can do better.

So "back to formula" means getting rid of that crutch. I've learned so much in the years between when I decided to stop looking at my bottom support layers as an issue and now. It's time to admit that I never really solved the issue. It's time to iterate my underwear.

Looking ahead, the projects you're going to see from me this year are significantly less glamorous, and considerably more personal. Improving the ways I deal with chest support, through re-evaluating my layers and the way they fit and work in tandem, is my priority. Once I have a handle on that, I plan to create a brand-new "body block" pattern to further improve upon the successes of the symmetrical pattern I created at the end of 2014. Also on tape is set of sleeping garb based off male clothing of the 14th century consisting of a linen shirt, wool tunic, braies (or shorts), and hose with garters. I mentioned those before and I'm really keen on having those before the camping season starts this summer.

In addition to all this, a long-standing research project into the depictions of women in early-15th century French manuscripts is underway. I have already discovered some interesting things that I had overlooked in all these years of studying this period. I'm excited to share my findings with you through the coming months.

On the outside, here on the blog, this year might seem slow and quiet as compared to last year. Far fewer finished projects and fancy photos, and far more technical details and behind-the-scenes ministrations. But be assured I will continue to share all that I can without giving you too many embarrassing details. Because we all know Google search absolutely loves those.

I'm looking forward to this year and this working plan. I'm excited about starting over now that I am not a beginner anymore, and to being more confident in not only my abilities to sew dresses that work, but in my knowledge on the topic. It should be more good times ahead.

Taking a Moment in the In-Between

Last weekend I attended the Known World Costuming Symposium, an SCA event that invited all those interested in costuming to come and connect with each other. The day was full of classes, on a wide range of costuming topics, but the best part of the day for me was meeting others who share my interests who I would typically not have had a chance to meet.

These types of events, which happen in different formats throughout the year, are also great occasions to pause and evaluate. I come away from symposium experiences thinking deeply about where I am in my personal journey, and about the projects I choose to fill my time with.

This year, I have been a maker. Productivity and inspiration have definitely been on my side. So much so that I no longer have a fabric stash to tap into. Which is both odd and relieving. But I'm going to take it for what it is- a moment "in-between".

It rarely lines up like this- that I've got no projects weighing heavily on the to do list, while I'm also feeling particularly introspective. It's nice to actually have the opportunity to stop and think about what should be next, and not just grab the next thing that happens to be on the pile.

I want to celebrate this time to think, research, plan, and of course build my stash back up. I've got reading to catch up on, such as working through a translation of Le Ménagier de Paris I've put off for several years. I've got a research project I love, but have barely worked on. I've got projects in progress that I need to make the hard call on weather I will finish them, abandon them, or let them sit a while longer.

I think that capturing these types of moments, rather than pressuring ourselves to get on to the next thing, makes it possible for us to improve in a different way than what practice can offer. I am reminded, yet again, of what Maya Angelou told us:

Source

You've got to give yourself the chance to know what "better" is on occasion.

Some Projects That Pennsic Added to my Pile

I like long events. Having now attended two in one year after an 11-year drought, I've decided that week-long events are the way the SCA should be experienced, at least once. I'm sure some folks disagree, and there are certainly pros and cons, but I learn more, enjoy more, and connect more when I'm immersed long enough for the cares of the mundane world to fade into the background. And I don't walk away from that experience unchanged and unchallenged.

I like having the opportunity to put my kit through its paces, and identify the areas in which I can do better, or add something. I'm happy to report that I haven't had anything fail on me, so repairs aren't on my list. For the most part, I'm seeing gaps that need to be filled, or things that are working just fine, but could be replaced or supplemented. As we move into the autumn event season, now is a great time to add these things to my project pile. Here are just some of the things I have in mind to work on:

It gets cold at night.

The numero uno thing on my list after Pennsic is better sleeping garb. I typically think of the whole pajama thing way at the end of planning, and end up tossing in a weird collection of yoga pants and t-shirts and a few random linen shifts that have been floating around for way too many years. It works, mostly, until the temperature drops below 50F. Then I'm freezing, wondering which dresses I can throw on quickly, and wondering why I didn't pack that second bag of blankets. I was cold at night way too often, and it really was the worst part of the whole week. Granted, another body in bed helps, so camping alone is partially to blame here, but it would be kind of awkward to knock on the neighboring tent at 1:00 in the morning and request some body-warming snuggles. At least, I don't think my camp mates would appreciate that sort of thing....

So on the last night in camp, I identified that I had two issues that can easily be remedied with, I hope, the same solutions. First, I'd like to have plausibly accurate garb that functions as pajamas so that I'm not randomly grabbing mundane or ill-fitting stuff. Second, I'd like said pajamas to offer me warmth options to better handle the variable temperatures of the night.

Over on the Age of the Cotehardie Facebook group, I asked if anyone had researched pajama solutions in keeping with the 14th or 15th centuries, and the TL:DR answer was "not really". At this time, most women depicted in bed (which is actually a pretty rare image from what I've seen) are visible only from the neck up. When they are out of bed but undressed, they wear a smock- a white, short, long-sleeved garment equivalent to a man's shirt- and a cap (or even their full fashionable headdress, because why not?). The idea tossed out in that Facebook discussion, to which I agree, was that women at that time didn't generally hang about before getting dressed or after undressing, so intermediate layering options like a dressing gown or robe were not necessary. In fact, a man seeing a woman not in a gown was pretty uncool. So much so that in the image below from De casibus (BNF Fr. 226, fol. 98v), the women are humiliated by being ordered to show their smocks.

I think a simple wool smock is a great solution here. In fact, I think layering a linen smock under a wool smock, and adding warm hose and a cap is an especially ideal solution. If I'm feeling particularly spunky, I could also add a pair of braies (which wouldn't be exactly correct for me as a woman, but no one need know, and my easily-cold butt would thank me.) In this scenario, I'd have the ability to add a layer over the linen if it's cold, or remove the wool layer if I warm up in the middle of the night. The bonus either way is that when I exit my pavilion in the morning, or to shower, or in the middle of the night when nature calls, I'm "dressed" and not ruining the atmosphere with mundania.

This doesn't at all discount the probable need for more (or heavier) blankets, but I'm willing to bet that having warmer, better pajamas ends up being a bit psychosomatic, and I get a better night's sleep even if I'm still a bit cold. Currently, I have this wool in mind.

Only having one option gets boring.

I use my linen canvas pilgrim bag every time I'm at an event, and so at War, I used in daily. It's a signature piece for me, really, and it's been well-used in the relatively short amount of time I've had it. I love it, and while it could use some interior pockets, I'm really thankful to have it. It functions as a walking day camp, and at large events when it could be hours before I return to my encampment, having everything I might need for the day right there at my hip is really convenient.

But I got bored with it. It may be that it's a creamy white, and so it stands out. It might be that I put just a few too many things it in on occasion. It's probably most likely that I'm not really keen on becoming a one-trick pony. I don't want a single piece to become so ubiquitous in my recreation that it becomes comically predictable. I know that I like having a bag, so it really comes down to having more options.

Detail from folio 25r of Heures de Marguerite d'Orléans (BNF Latin 1156B)

It didn't take me long to decide on the type of bag to make (two examples in the image above). What took the longest was choosing a color. I gravitate naturally toward blues, but I was worried that a blue bag would be boring in a different way; in that "of course Edyth is wearing a blue bag" way. Friends on Facebook offered suggestions, and I was encouraged to match the source image I found. Eventually, I settled on a crimson red wool, which is pretty close to the source on the woman above, but suitable to my personal tastes. And not blue.

I'll save more details on this project for when I actually start it, but having a second option for a shoulder bag is one of those small improvements that seem to matter a whole lot. Besides, it gives me a chance to improve upon my last bag, and improvement is always a good thing.

I came home with a much longer list that two two things, and some are easier to remedy than others, but these two feel the most important to me right now. They'll need to wait for a bit while I clear my work table of some time-sensitive projects for friends.

What about you? Have you discovered anything lately you could improve or replace in your kit?

Chapter Three: In Which Edyth Gains a Family

It might help to read Chapter One & Chapter Two first.

In the Middle Kingdom (and I'm sure other Kingdoms), a student is like a man-at-arms. There's an agreed associate between Master and student, but it's not formal. On the books, I was a student for 9 months. In reality, it had been clear to both of us fairly early on that something more formal was going to happen. Even better than that, we agreed pretty quickly that we wanted to go about it a certain way. So here, at the end of my tale, is how I became an apprentice to Master Cellach McChormach.

Interestingly enough, as he and I discussed what an apprenticing ceremony might be for us, we agreed that it would be best done as a business transaction. So yes, I'd spent all this time realizing that being somebody's apprentice wasn't just all business, but there we were, agreeing to start the whole thing off that way. It made a huge amount of sense to us, though. First, apprentice contracts are period. Second, an apprenticing is a civil relationship, so an oath like what would be done for a squiring felt out of place.

Period apprenticing contracts are interesting things. They dictate what behaviors each party would be allowed and/or required to do, both in the relationship and as people just living their lives. Women apprentices, for example, were often expressly forbidden in their contract to marry. And most medieval no-no's (like gambling or engaging in lewd behavior) were also highlighted as things not to do under contract. The contract is worked up twice, on each side of a single sheet. After signing and sealing, the contract is cut apart in a zig-zag or otherwise uneven line so that the two piece could be matched back up to prove their authenticity if needed. This jagged cut was known as "indenturing", so a contract of this type (and the relationship it dictated) could be referred to as an "indenture".

We asked my mom, THL Elspeth Clerk, to create the contract for us. Unlike most extant contracts, we liked the idea of a simple illumination in the center, so she created (knowing it would be cut) a vine band centered on a blue stag (a charge on His Excellency's device).

For the sealing, I created a silk fingerloop ribbon in my colors, and he made sealing wax using beeswax and frankincense. A simple die created for coins acted as his seal.

Border Raids, on May 16th, was wet. It rained on the way there. It rained when we started setting up. It rained during the battles. It even rained into our car. This wouldn't have been a problem, except that the contract was sitting (we thought safely) in the backend. Which was steadily turning into a puddle as the rain trickled through a crack in the roof. The scroll case could have been waiting for us anywhere else in the car, and would have been fine. But no.

I'm very proud of everyone involved in the discovery and rescue of the document. Nobody panicked or totally lost it. The scribes on duty that day came to our aid, drying the contract and pressing it to keep the wrinkles at bay. I'm so thankful to them and their quick thinking. And I'm so proud of my mom for everything she did to create the scroll and for not crying when she discovered it's state.

Comfortable with the fact that we at least still had a contract to sign, even if it was damaged, here's how the ceremony went down:

Master Cellach started everything by explaining what we were going to do and a bit about the use of indentures in period. It was important to us both that when we were in the moment of actually doing the apprenticing we weren't mixing mundane explanations with period practices. So when he finished with the information, he requested that we all shift our minds to being medieval.

After asking me if I was ready to proceed, I requested that the contract be read out loud so that our witnesses would know what it was we were about to agree to. He was adamant that he should read the contract rather than the printed text (still taped to the back), even with the damage. I have to give him props for that. Here's what the contract says:

"This indenture witnesses that Edyth Miller of Fenix places herself in apprentice to Master Cellach macChormach of the Middle Marches to learn what arts as she may and to serve him after the manner of an apprentice from the 14th day of the reign of Ragnvaldr III and Arabella III, and she shall not be released save by word of one of the said parties, or through her attaining mastery of her craft. During which term the said Edyth shall strive to be an eager and dedicated student to learn and further her craft and shall serve the said Cellach as master in all things lawful and honest, well and faithfully, courteously and diligently to the best of her power. She shall honestly and obediently bear and hold herself both in words and deeds towards her said Master and all his with dignity as a good and faithful apprentice ought according to the custom of the Kingdom of the Middle during all the said term. And the said Cellach shall keep the said Edyth as his apprentice and shall freely teach that which he knows, provide guidance and support in her endeavors, treat her with dignity and respect, and for her fidelity and all and singular aforesaid covenants on her part shall protect her from those who might do her harm. In witness whereof the aforesaid parties have set their hands."

Our wording differs from the period contracts in that we treated in more like an oath. We did not include specific behaviors (like me getting married) or things that he had to provide (like fabric or clothing). We like it this way, since it was much more comfortable for us to sign it, knowing that we weren't agreeing to anything we had no right to demand from each other.

After reading the contract, he asked me if I was still in agreement with it. Essentially, he was asking if I still wanted to be his apprentice. I agreed.

Using pen and ink (dip-style nibs), we signed the two sides together. Nobody got close enough to photograph our signatures. Which is a shame, really, since I'd been practicing.

I'd been wearing the ribbon I made on my arm, so I removed it and explained to our witnesses that the ribbon was to act as my authentic mark in place of a seal. I folded the ends of the contract up to protect the signatures. Then I cut the ribbon in half and threaded it through slits already cut into the contract. The wax had been melting over a candle up to that point, and was ready to be poured over the ribbon and pressed with the seal. It did have to sit a moment, but it dried pretty quickly.

While the seals set up, he proceeded with the markings of my association with him. First, since I don't typically wear belts (full disclosure: I had been wearing a belt all day before changing to keep my skirts out of the mud), rather than giving me a green belt as a symbol of my apprenticeship, he had made a green wool open hood for me. (Which is totally awesome.) For the days that I didn't wear the hood, he gave me a brass and enamel badge made in the style of a period funerary badge. It is a green belt encircling his livery of blue and white lozengy. This was made by Lady Faydwynn Randve. (And is also totally awesome.)

About the time I was getting my ribbons into place, Their Majesties joined us. With the seals set and carefully lifted from the tiles with a butter knife, Cellach asked His Majesty if he would do us the honor of indenturing the contract. Using a pair of period scissors, he cut the wavy indenturing line. This left one half with the body of the stag and the other with the stag's head upside down.

With the contract indentured, and gifts given, we concluded the ceremony. Hugging and applause all around.

His Majesty said it best later on in a Facebook comment. "A period ceremony, bringing friends together, making family, and everyone enjoying the experience. THIS is what the SCA is about. Thank you to all who were present."

My heart has been so full. I see this hobby not only from a new perspective, but with a new family by my side. I am no longer afraid. My ego has come to accept and understand that I'm not better than needing help. And I have gained so many new friends that I would have never known if I hadn't reached out. I have a partner I am inspired and encouraged by, and I am ready for the road ahead. However long, and wherever it may take me.

(Photos of the ceremony are courtesy of Countess Vukasin of Lozengia and Lady Marissa von Atzinger.)

[Disclaimer: This is my story and my perspective. I'm sharing it because you, dear reader, are my friend. It's not meant to be taken as advice. It's simply my testimonial.]

Chapter Two: In Which Edyth Obliterates Her Comfort Zone

If you haven't already, please read Chapter One first.

The moment in which I became a student didn't happen at the event that day. As I said, reality can be ill-timed. For a variety of reasons, we were unable to reconnect later in the day to have an actual talk. But in retrospect, that was undoubtedly for the best. My request was out there, hanging in the air for him to consider, and that was exactly where it needed to be. If I'd gotten an immediate yes, I would have been outwardly happy, but inwardly concerned that he was throwing due diligence to the wind, completely negating how much work I'd put into the whole thing up to that point.

In reality, the moment I became a student happened that Monday morning, through a Facebook chat. I hope you can appreciate the irony there.

Some Laurel/student relationships start off as friendships, or at least comfortable familiarity with each other. This new relationship was not one of those. While he and I certainly knew each other, we could barely have been considered personal acquaintances. I'd only ever known him as a Peer. First as a Knight, then Royalty, and finally as a Laurel. And as Chapter One likely told you, having a Peer like that in my circle had been unfathomable to me up to that point.

The honest truth was that, while I was looking for a relationship that was friendly, I really did not expect that an actual friendship would be a part of it. It was enough for me that I liked him as a person (as much as I knew him) as well as a Peer, and that I held him in the greatest respect. In all my thinking through the act of finding a Laurel, I'd only ever seen it as a business transaction. Two partners working toward their goals in tandem.

One by one almost immediately, however, I saw the barriers that separate strangers from friends breaking down between him and I. As in introvert with a capital I, having lived so long under that rock of isolation, I would never have thought myself capable of leaving the comforts of my home and family to spend a weekend in a strange house with a person, a Peer, I still barely knew. But in January, I did exactly that. I talked, listened, laughed and shared. Topics ranged all over, not just about the business of being his dependent. And the more we talked, the weaker the hold my comfort zone had on me.

I'd heard it said before that the relationship between Masters and their dependents, when it was right, was like a "mystical connection." I think that sounds like hokey, new age drivel, but I found myself saying things like "it feels right", "it's weird that we didn't know each other sooner", or "it's going so well." So it may be hokey, but it's apparently true. Under circumstances like that, friendship has no choice but to blossom. At the same time, isolation and worry begin to be replaced by confidence. The barriers begin to become transparent all around. Between Master and student, person and Peer, stranger and stranger. As I gained a friend in him, I looked for friendships with others. I became more comfortable with looking past coronets and medallions, and not waiting to be introduced to people I wanted to know.

A turning point happened for me in March. I was camping with a group other than the Midrealm at Gulf Wars, so after settling in on the first day, I walked over to the Midrealm camp to see if I could be of any assistance. I wasn't, but while I was standing there, I saw three guys I could introduce myself to. One of these guys was a Duke. Without a single shred of anxiety or fear, I introduced myself to him.

The rock I'd been living under? Blown to smithereens. Over the course of the week, as I was introduced to other Peers (and people in general), I wandered so far away from my comfort zone, I wouldn't have been able to find it again with a GPS and a search dog.

Now, I'm not saying that my all my fears had been obliterated. Socially awkward, introverted people will always have moments when they worry about saying the wrong thing or looking like a fool. The difference for me at this point, however, was that I was among friends, and I was realizing that I always had been.

As all these barriers were disappearing, I opened up to my Laurel in deeper, more meaningful ways. And he to me in his own way. The word "comfortable" barely covers it. Through this process of moving from pride and fear to the humility of a new friendship, I had never felt so much at home and in love with this hobby. Being able to openly connect with a person whom you admire and respect, and to be free to laugh and cry with them, look them in the eye and admit your faults, and care for them in ways you can't put into words, without judgement or pressure from anyone, is an amazing experience that very few avenues in life offer us. And there is no possible way I would ever have been able to experience that if I was still clinging to the comfort zone of pride and fear.

With a friendship established, then, and hearts full of joy, it was time for both of us to take one more step.

Tomorrow, read the amazing conclusion in Chapter Three: In Which Edyth Gains a Family.

[Disclaimer: This is my story and my perspective. I'm sharing it because you, dear reader, are my friend. It's not meant to be taken as advice. It's simply my testimonial.]

Chapter One: In Which Edyth Faces Her Fears

Over the next three days, I'm going to share a story with you. And it starts like this:

In October of 2014, I did something pretty scary. I approached a Laurel about becoming an apprentice.

For months prior to that, I'd started to think differently about the SCA and my role within it. For years, I relied on the belief that if I asked someone further down the road for help, it meant that I was giving up. I would be giving up my independence, and completely throwing out the window my ability to reach my goals on my own- to earn them under my own merit. This line of thinking, which was really just my ego taking the lead, had left me feeling alone, ostracized and even afraid. I was gripped by "Peer fear", to an awful degree. By buying into the mistaken belief that accepting friendship and association with anybody with the slightest hint of influence would damage my "self-reliance", I was only making things worse for myself. I was living under a rock, and it was cold and lonely, and the farthest place from The Dream I could get. I was ready to get out from under the rock. I was ready to find out what I was missing.

Eventually, I realized that finding a Laurel and seeing where an apprenticeship took me wasn't sacrificing anything. If the Laurel was right for me, and if I was clear about my goals, then my independence wouldn't be stomped out, and instead of simply earning my goals by myself, I would have a coach to help me reach them, and a cheerleader to keep me going. I would have an advocate, and a sounding board, and in at least some small way, a friend.

So right away, I knew what I wasn't looking for. I wasn't interested in being swallowed up in somebody else's household or overshadowed by their personality (or even the story of their own SCA journey). I didn't want someone that would dictate or direct me toward their own goals instead of mine. Or for what they thought were my goals but really weren't. I didn't want someone I would always feel inferior to, or someone I was never perfectly comfortable around.

And right now, you're reading these things and going "Who would want any of that?!" And you're right, but part of the journey out from under the rock was to recognize these things as fears. By listing them out for myself, I could see how ridiculous they were, and at the same time arm myself against settling for any of them.

Part of the process for me, you see, was getting over a fear I didn't want to admit- the fear that I was worthless, and that I would be forced to settle because none of my top picks would want me as their apprentice. I had been in or around the SCA for 18 years by that point, an active in my local region and kingdom for 12 of them, and no Laurel had ever approached me in all that time. No one came to me and said "Hey, I think you've got a lot of potential, and I'd like to help you reach your goals." Or even anything remotely like that. There's an interesting dichotomy that happens when ego and low-self-esteem collide. I don't recommend it. It's ugly and jealous and sensitive to even the most innocent slight. And it's absolutely no way to play in the SCA.

There is no single journey. No "one true path" to attaining your goals. At some point, I had to look in the mirror and remind myself of this. So what if I'd never been asked by a Laurel to be their apprentice? There were thousands of reasons that would happen, and not all of them were bad. Could it have been because I was already on the right track, and doing quite well on my own as it was? Or that people assumed I was already a dependent? That sort of stuff happens all the time, so why shouldn't it have possibly been the case for me too?

So for months, I'd allowed myself to think through all of this. I day-dreamed with myself about what being out from under the rock might look like. I ran myself through what-ifs and how-comes and why-nots. I had a list of 5 potential Laurels I could ask, ranked in an order, and I vetted the crap out of it. I've never done so much due diligence in my life. That sounds ridiculous to me now, but all that "process" was part of what we can call my rehabilitation- my progress from being scared and alone to being ready to ask for a partner.

I use the word "partner" deliberately, because though all this vetting, I realized that I wasn't just looking for a mentor or teacher. I was looking for somebody who would treat me like an adult, take my perspective seriously, and respect that, with 18 years under my belt, I had already accomplished a great deal. Someone who would celebrate the ways in which we can learn from each other. A partner is a person that recognizes that we're in this together, and rank is really the only thing that separates us. A good partner wants you to be their equal and for the rank barrier to go away.

By April, I'd worked it all out. I had one name on my list that survived the vetting, and I was incredibly confident that it was the right choice for countless reasons I'll keep to myself. But there was still one thing to overcome. Peer fear.

I remember dozens of times between May and October in which I pulled up the chat window on Facebook, and hovered over that one name for minutes at a time. On a few occasions, I actually wrote something, like "Will you be going to Such-n-such Event this weekend? I'd like to have a chance to speak with you if you have time." Then I would stare at it. My hands would shake and my heart would pound in my chest. Warm all over; butterflies. If I've ever come close to an anxiety attack, those moments would be it. It sounds so ludicrous. I wasn't doing anything incorrect. It was good business, and a perfectly acceptable way to go about it. If you've never understood Peer fear, I don't expect this to make sense. For those of you that do, however, I'm sure this is all too familiar.

During this time, I felt the ticking of the clock. Every moment that I wasted by not reaching out was taking me one step closer to going back under that rock. I put pressure on myself to continually answer the question, "What are you so afraid of?" The answer was always the same. I wasn't afraid of changing my course and going in a new direction, nor was I afraid of what being someone's dependent would mean for me. I was afraid of rejection. I was afraid of "no". I was afraid of making a fool of myself. And there really isn't anything to do with that answer but to get comfortable with it. To be alright with the "no" or with saying something stupid. Qué será, será.

That day in October was a pretty weird day, with bitterly cold weather, and a laid-back schedule that reminded me so much of my earliest events- when people gathered in garb to experience something magical together without worrying about how well they fought, or how good they looked. I had just finished my double "midwife" apron, and man was I glad for the extra layer. I was also glad my mom and I had gone by ourselves without any of the kids, especially when it began to snow briefly in the middle of the day. We spent a lot of the day huddled together on the ground by the list field, or tucked inside the lodge near the fireplace.

You know, day dreams and what-ifs only get you so far. They can help you get past fear and pride and all the things holding you back. They can help you recognize what you want and how you want it to happen. But reality is better. Hands down. Reality is not perfect (at least not always). It can be cold, and awkward, and inconveniently timed. But that moment when you take the step off the ledge can only be experienced one way.

I took that step. "I would like to be your apprentice, if you would consider it." No forewarning. No preamble or prologue. A big spoonful of hot soup in his mouth right when I asked it. And I didn't fall into the abyss of rejection. Instead, I heard four words that immediately felt like a hand reaching out and a hug around my soul.

"I would consider it."

Stay tuned for Chapter Two: In Which Edyth Obliterates Her Comfort Zone.

[Disclaimer: This is my story and my perspective. I'm sharing it because you, dear reader, are my friend. It's not meant to be taken as advice. It's simply my testimonial.]

What My Wardrobe Taught Me at War

Last week, I had the enormous pleasure of attending Gulf Wars, a multi-kingdom SCA event in Mississippi. This was the first week-long event I have been able to attend since Pennsic 32 in 2003, and my first real vacation in that same amount of time. My husband and I left our children with Grandma and ventured south for a much needed break to recharge our batteries and have an adventure.

Since the event was a full week, I knew this would be a great opportunity to put my garb collection to the test. I spend so much time sewing garment after garment, but I rarely have the chance to see how they all work together to form a functioning wardrobe. The weather reports and predictions of my friends indicated that the option to layer linen and wool was a good one to have, so I packed up every dress I have that currently fits. In addition, I packed up just about every headdress and hat I had that was remotely correct for those gowns.

View from our pavilion.

It turned out that wool was not really the ideal choice for the week. The temperatures ranged between the low 70's in the mornings to the low 80's by lunch time. And the constant threat of storms from Wednesday on mostly just manifested as humidity, especially in the early evenings. It was not the expected weather.

I did my best to mix my items in ways that worked for the weather, but also worked for my plan that day. For instance, on Wednesday morning, I taught a class on headdress, so I wore my horned veil, which I wore with the navy wool dress and orange linen underdress. On Thursday, I was teaching German Brick Stitch, so I wore my hair in braids paired with my German pleated kerchief. My ginger dress and blue day dress gave me a generic 15th century look that mostly worked with that.

I never touched the heavier wool dresses I brought, but all the linen got play, sometimes more than once. The ginger dress in particular needs more attention once it's clean. That linen has more stretch than the other pieces I've gotten from Fabrics-Store, and the higher humidity (and therefore more moisture around my body) seemed to exploit that. It needs some very careful adjustments to compensate if I'm going to get more use out of it over the summer.

My overall assessment is that I'm happy with what I was able to put together given the unexpected weather. I was able to combine pieces appropriately, and on the two days that involved wool, I felt that I'd made good choices to stay cool, both in the headdress I wore and in making sure I had a fan or stayed in the shade. I'm not disappointed in any of my pieces, even the ginger linen.

There are some things, however, that this experience has pointed out to me.

First, I need more lined linen dresses. The red rose dress, which is heavy linen lined in the bodice with linen, was more comfortable than the two single-layer middle-weight linen dresses worn layered together. I wore the red dress twice- once on Tuesday with a veil, and again for court on Thursday evening paired with my black wool open hood. If the linen was not quite as heavy, and layered throughout, I could see that very easily working as a standard summer uniform.

I don't really think there was anything wrong with my push last year to use more wool, and I'm not giving that intention up, but the hot weather last week was a reminder that the climate that we play in is not always a medieval climate. I may explore my options for silk blends or tropical-weight wool, to avoid an over-reliance on linen, but I need to be willing to compensate for the heat and humidity while still maintaining my period and persona. I have a gorgeous green linen waiting in the wings, and have every intention of using that for my next dress.

Second, I was able to determine some of the missing pieces in my wardrobe in terms of the period that my persona covers. Along with this, I can see that there's a disconnect between the headdress I tend to favor and the outfits I like to wear. These are actually two separate things, but they compound into a larger issue.

On Friday, I attended a 14th Century Deed of Arms (which was awesome to watch) and it made me realized later that I'm lacking options for portraying that last decade of the 14th century that I very specifically included in my year range when I finally settled on a persona. Since the one 1390's dress I have, the Grandes Chroniques wool dress, was too hot to wear, I wasn't able to accurately portray a 14th century look. (As a side note, it was actually completely coincidental that I was doing anything 14th century that day- I'd forgotten about the Deed.) The closest I could do was to pair my laced-front pink wool dress with my 14th century open hood. For my persona in general, this was incorrect, but more importantly, that style of hood would not have been worn with a fitted dress. They simply don't line up that way. And that means I wasn't taking my own advice by mixing the two styles. Certainly I had fair reason, but this was a great opportunity to identify a point on which I could do better.

I actively avoid falling into the "make all the things" rabbit hole that us costumers often find ourselves in, but the reality is, I need more things. They need to be right though, and not just another piece. Last week was an invaluable tool to show me why that is, and what "right" means for me and the persona I'm trying to give justice to. It's not about finding just any piece or outfit in my period and going for it. Instead, it's about assessing whether or not it's correct for me, works in conjunction with what I already have, and fits a gap. So the action item I gave myself to get started on this point is two parts. A) Separate my headdress into two categories- those I use for demonstrations and classes, and those that are actually correct for Edyth. Those that are specifically for classes can be pulled out from my "regular" wardrobe, forcing me to create new headdress that are accordingly correct instead. B) Locate at least one outfit from the 1390's that's right for my social station and can be rendered appropriately in a light-weight material.

Finally, there are some pieces that I've known I needed, but continued to put them off because they didn't seem necessary in the context of just going to day events. Specifically, I need to reassess my supportive layers. Currently, I use my linen short cote as a supportive piece under those items that aren't all that supportive on their own. The only real exception is my red rose dress. Unfortunately, I only have one short cote. It did a lot of airing out last week. The other issue was that the short cote still has no sleeves. I'd planned on attaching white linen sleeves before we left, but I'd put it off. On Thursday, having white sleeves showing on my arms would have been more appropriate than my bare forearms. These types of "back end logistics" seem so trivial in between weekend events, but they really can make or break your efforts toward a more correct look. At least one new supportive cote with sleeves is most definitely in order.

Gulf Wars helped me see the gap between what I know to be correct and what I have. It's not a huge gap, thankfully, but as I move forward in my personal challenge to focus on what's accurate on a more specific level, it's a gap that can and should be closed. In the coming weeks, I'll share more about the pieces I now feel I need.

In case you missed it, I shared my daily outfits on Facebook last week. I really enjoyed showing you my outfits each day, and I hope that those of you that followed along found it fun and inspiring.

I also want to thank those of you that stopped me to say hi (even briefly) or attended one of my classes. It means so much to me to know you're out there, watching me take this journey, and I can't thank you enough for the support you give me just by reading.

A Pinkie Promise

I had planned to share with you my completed Ginger Linen dress today, but just as I was finishing that up, I had a bit of a change to my plans. Plus, it's too cold to be wandering around outside in just a single-layer linen dress to take pictures, and I don't have a suitable interior picture-taking spot at the moment. So even if I was going to share the finished dress with you today, it would have been in bits and pieces, rather than the full photo shoots I normally do. Which would have not been cool, really. I can, however, share this little teaser of the neckline with you:

While I was completing the finishing work on the ginger dress, I decided to pull out the navy blue wool I originally purchased 6 years ago. I had intended it to be used for my now-defunct Garb Quest project, but at the time I still had so much to learn about dressmaking that I feared ruining the piece. I carefully folded it and preserved it as if it was a precious document, and had gotten it into my head that it was the most valuable piece of material I had. Which was a load of bull that I fed myself out of a lack of confidence.

So I pulled that sucker out, ran my hand over it, remembering why I loved it so much (it's so wonderfully soft), and washed it. We hung it up in the shelter in our backyard to dry, but then it rained, then it dropped below freezing, and eventually 2 days later, the wool came back in, only to be draped over our living room furniture to finish drying. If I'd still had any inkling that the wool needed to be preserved, it had been tossed out the window and fed to the possums by that point.

We turned the heat lamp on to prevent the wool from freezing overnight.

To me that was a lesson. Authentic materials (or at least authentic fibers) are costly, and they can tend to feel like investments that must be protected. But the reality is that we purchase these things not just to use them, but to LEARN to use them. Mistakes are always going to be a part of that process. Instead of fearing that a beautiful piece of cloth might be ruined by our ineptitude, we can embrace the opportunity to learn how to deal with any mistakes we may or may not make, and stop allowing them to hold us back. I bought that wool all those years ago to turn it into something. Whether I'd done it then or now, it would still teach me - there's always something new to discover when you're on the path of learning a skill.

So, back to my original point. I got the blue wool ready, and decided that I wanted to try to make a dress with it for the next event I was attending. I was still on the fence about it, though, since there were at least three other projects that needed my attention first. But while I was contemplating this, with the hem of my ginger linen dress still waiting to be completed, a friend started messaging me.

She needed some prompting to help her get back on track with a dress that had been waiting around to be completed for several months. If I had to guess, I'd say that she already knew she needed to get on it, but she needed that other voice to back her up. I was more than happy to oblige. We continued to chat, and then realizing that we would both be attending the event at the end of February, she suggested that we should pinkie promise to both have complete, new outfits for the event.

Now, I'm not sure how pinkie swears work in your circles, but in mine, a pinkie swear is serious business. It's a contract of trust. My husband reminds me when we pinkie swear that a broken pinkie promise means a broken pinkie. And I really like my pinkies. So when I decided to swear on my littlest finger, that's something I don't take lightly.

Since I was very close to completing the ginger linen dress, and the washed wool was waiting to be cut, I sent her my digital pinkie swear, and the deal was struck.

from The Queen's Book (BL Harley 4431), circa 1414, fol. 178

I had already tagged the navy wool to be a component to my Manuscript Challenge outfit, so I needed to figure out how to do it so that it would work has a middle layer. In the challenge outfit, the navy dress is worn under the gray outer gown, as a cote/kirtle. But in order to make the dress for Candlemas, to wear over my ginger linen dress, I need it to function as an outer gown on its own merit. 

Since the ginger linen dress has long sleeves with buttons at the forearms, it makes sense to wear the navy dress sleeves up, to expose the ginger dress. But the navy dress sleeves also need to be able to work down. The solution I have come up with is to make the navy dress sleeves with three buttons at the wrists. The buttons can be undone, and the sleeves loosened enough to roll up to show the dress underneath. The effect will be identical to the rolled-up sleeves spotted in French manuscripts from the first 3rd of the 15th Century, such as this example from The Comedies of Terence:

from The Comedies of Terence (BnF MS Latin 7907 A) circa 1400-1407, fol. 8

This also means that the wool dress won't have any lacing, since it needs to be a fashionable outer layer when worn over other dresses in this rolled-sleeve manner. But that's something I do anyway, since lacing is mostly not a viable option for anything but the lowest supportive layer on me. (Which is what I would wear under the wool dress when wearing it with another outer gown. My supportive short cote is one such bottom-layer option.)

So I'm going to skip sharing the finished Ginger Linen dress with you until I can share the entire new outfit next month. I'm sure you don't mind missing out on photos of me freezing my butt off today if it means you get to see something worth the photo shoot later on.