Accessories at the Kearny History Museum: Part 2

In this part of the accessory series, we'll be examining the objects displayed with the 1894-7 Corded Silk Gown.

This brown velvet hat is one of the few pieces in the Kearny History Museum that comes with an exciting provenance. It is decorated with fine brown plumage and a bird's head. The bird is unfortunately missing its right "eye." The crown is turned up in back. All over the hat, the velvet is gathered to produce a textural effect.  Along the rim of the crown, the velvet has worn away. The hat has a fitted lining made of disintegrating black cotton.

Look at all that dust, eughh!

Note the threadbare velvet.

Disintegrating black cotton underneath the hat helps hold the hat on a head.

The black beads in this purse are woven into the purses structure. It is not lined, but there is evidence that there was once a silk lining that disintegrated. The purse closes with a large snap, but one of the snaps is missing. A bit of white rope is fastened to the handle of the bag, presumably to help secure it to the mannequin's hand. I tried to remove the white rope, but it was tied so tightly I was afraid that I would harm the bag. Inside the bag was an embroidered white linen handkerchief. Faded, with multiple stains and tears, I'm unsure if the hanky is period or not, but I suspect that it is.

The beads of the purse have a black-brown shimmer.

I suspect that those bits of purple/brown material might be the remnants of a silk lining.

Very detailed embroidered motif.

I'm not too sure how those huge gaping tears came to be! I was afraid to wash it due to the fragility of the material.

I believe these black gloves date to at least the Edwardian (early 1900s) era. They have a bit of stretch/give to the them, and they appear to be machine made--just look at that machine sewn hem at the wrist! I soaked the gloves in cold water, and after just a few minutes the had a noticeably brown tone. After several more soakings I still wasn't able to get the entirety of the staining out, and I fear that part of the discoloration is fading from excessive exposure to light. The gloves are too small for the mannequin's hands; someone had removed one of the mannequin's fingers to help accommodate the gloves, but I popped off another finger for some extra ease.

Regardless, I think the accessories really "make" this display. I've arranged the accessories the way they were originally placed, as from a stylistic point of view their initial placement was visually pleasing and effective in creating a "scene."

Before washing the gloves. This staining could also be fading from excessive light.

1894-7 Corded Silk Gown with Later Alteration

This gold corded silk gown  is very interesting in terms of dating and construction. The seamlines on the bodice indicate that it is clearly from the 1890s (1894-7 is a more specific estimate), but the display card and the neckline decoration are plausibly from 1903. It is likely that this gown was refashioned to fit in with changing styles; this was a popular practice for hundreds of years, as clothes that grew out of fashion were either refashioned to the new style or the material was scrapped and used for something else. Waste not, want not! Centuries of women were recycling their mother's and grandmother's clothes before it became the fashion norm (I'm talking to you, Etsy!).

I asked around the fashion history blogosphere for some insight on this dress, and surprisingly, almost everyone agreed that the bodice was on backwards! I never would have guessed until it was pointed out to me, but now that I've noticed it, I realized that the sleeves in this position show the center seam and there is too much fullness at the front of the sleeve--the old museum crew really did put this bodice on backwards!

The gown has large, full cape-like sleeves, trimmed in a matching black lace. 

Large water stain on one of the sleeves.

The bodice fastens in front with hooks and eyes. About 1" of the fabric overlaps to disguise the closure. This is the closure viewed from the back--when the bodice was on backwards.

Further proof that the neckline decoration was a later alteration: the cream fabric and black lace have been merely basted in, and the edges weren't even cut neatly or turned under. Looks like a pretty quick fix-up.

Note the rusting on the bone casings. Bodice is lined in brown cotton.

The armscyes have been left with raw edges and basting stitches.

Stitches securing the c. 1903 bodice alteration.

The skirt is pleated in the back to a cotton waistband. There is a large triangular godet in the back of the skirt that gives the skirt fullness and dramatic sweep. The waistband doesn't appear to have a closure; there are no buttonholes or stitching, no evidence of hooks and eyes. The waistband is held shut with a huge safety pin, which was tugging and tearing the fabric (the skirt is very heavy). After removing the bodice, the original color of the skirt is visible. Although it hasn't suffered too much from the sun, the gold silk has lost its original luster. The skirt is lined in yellow cotton. It is trimmed with a wide swath of black lace that also might've been a later addition, since the lace stops at the left thigh and the raw edge was neither cut neatly or turned under.

The mannequin's posture is very strange; her hips lean forward and she doesn't have much of a derriere, so the weight of the skirt pulls up the hem in front. Whoever displayed this dressed devised an interesting (read: ineffective and weird) support system: a dirty blue polyester shirtdress folded up and attached to a rope cord that looped around the mannequin's waist. This was covered with a large piece of packing paper stapled to wide grosgrain ribbon, also tied around the waist. As you can see from the photos, this technique did nothing to imitate the posture and body shape of an 1890's woman and the skirt was woefully unsupported.

The dingy shirtdress. At least wash your clothes if you're going to use them under antique garments! (Don't use them! Use only archival-appropriate materials when storing or displaying antique garments!!)

I sewed the waistband closed, to avoid further damage and pulling on the waistband fibers from that huge safety pin. I used rolled up wads of acid-free tissue paper to fluff up the mannequin's behind but to no avail--her posture is so bad that the skirt has no choice but to lift up in front. The worst part was that this showed the mannequin's rusting pink-brown stand and feet. I tried my best to clean the crud off of the stand, but that only chipped off more paint, revealing an even worse color underneath. To solve this, I took a length of black felt (which I found lurking in the back room) and arranged it under the skirt to 1. simulate the appearance of a petticoat/ underskirt 2. not be as horribly distracting to the overall look of the dress. I also used wads of acid-free tissue paper to simulate the support of petticoats and fluff out the skirt around the legs. I cleaned up the whole mannequin, vacuumed the wig, put the bodice on the right way, and the look of the display was already improved.

The sleeves drape much better now. You can also see where the delicate black lace trim abruptly ends.

The bodice looks so much better this way, but sadly the fading becomes more visible where the edges previously lapped over each other.

I wasn't able to fasten all of the hooks since I didn't want to put too much force on the fabric.

The dress was accessorized with a brown velvet hat topped with a bird's head, black knit gloves and a black beaded handbag. The black gloves were streaked with dust (or possibly fading). I soaked them gently in water, and each soak turned the water murky brown. I wasn't able to totally clean the gloves, but at least this is an improvement.

Before washing the gloves.

The rope attached to the handle was tied so tightly I was unable to remove it. It may have been to help keep the purse on the mannequin's wrist. The purse is stuffed with a torn, delicate embroidered silk handkerchief.

The final look with the accessories.

Why You Shouldn't Display Antique Textiles Underneath A Huge Skylight

Part of my unrest from viewing the Kearny History Museum's permanent fashion exhibit the first time around stemmed from the fact that the dais on which the garments are displayed is stationed right beneath a skylight of the same size. Although this seemed like a reckless choice to me, I do understand that with the "flow" and layout of the museum, the exhibit makes spatial sense to be placed there. However, this skylight could have had its windows painted in, as other equally-monstrous skylights in the library had been. And, it also doesn't help that the whole museum is surrounded by tall windows, only half of which are covered with blinds.

Can skylights get any bigger than this!?

Light damage can be incredibly invasive, though if you aren't aware of it and don't look for it, you might not notice that it has occurred. That is, you might have to look between the pleats or folds of a skirt to see the contrast in color. However, light damage isn't always so subtle...

Take this display of an 1860's crinoline, c. 1905 wool bodice, and possibly mid-20th century petticoat (firstly, not only is this arrangement extremely anachronistic, it was also awkward due to a piece of fabric wrapped around the crinoline but left open in back to display the crinoline...). The mid-20th century petticoat beneath, originally a bright coral, had faded to milky white where the striped fabric "skirt" exposed the crinoline.

So much going on in one photo: the plastic "grass" of the display, the cage crinoline, the faded mid-20th century petticoat, the striped decorator upholstery fabric camouflaging as a skirt...

That streak of brown is actually dirt. The same dirt particles were found on the plastic bag covering the dress form.

Light damage can also be virtually invisible to the eye until we take a closer look. This c. 1905 black velvet and black wool bodice is an interesting example; the black wool has faded to a dull olive green, and I only realized that the original color was black when I read the description card. Unfortunately, I don't have a picture good enough to show this (but I will soon!). Light damage isn't only harmful to a garment's color--exposure to light can actually weaken fibers, and this may be the reason behind the silk shattering both on the delicate silk lining of the bodice and on the decorative silk piece that covers the décolletage.

To cover up some of the silk shattering on the collar of this bodice, someone had wrapped a piece of wide black velvet ribbon around the collar and decorated with a brooch. When I removed the ribbon, I realized the full extent of the damage on this small subject; where the ribbon had overlapped, it retained it's original color, but where it was exposed to the sun, it had faded to a dull, dirty brown.