Experiment.

A few of my fellow Visual Culture classmates and I are thinking of mounting a small exhibition this May. We are all doing museum/gallery/preservation/object-based theses, and they would dovetail nicely in this exhibition. We have no theme, no set plan; we will know better what we're doing once I survey the collection in a week or two.

Jimena is thinking about making exhibits sustainable (not as in, "we made these jeans out of organic cotton" but as in, "we only use florescent lighting and printed our programs with handmade potato stamps on recycled paper bags"). Lucie is looking at exhibition planning history and exploring its future. Marcella is doing her thesis on fashion copyright law, perhaps not the most apropos this specific exhibition, but has tons of awesome museum administration and research experience that will be invaluable.

I've been thinking a lot about the practicality of mounting whatever pieces we choose. So tonight I decided to try to make a seriously DIY mannequin out of recycled/found materials (gaff tape "inherited" from a show I worked on, a tshirt I've owned forever, newspaper from the paper recycling at work, a padded hanger donated to the cause by my boss) to see if it's a viable choice for this show.

It isn't.

Below, please find pictures of my experiment.
Bodies are so different, unsurprisingly. Especially with more than 100 years difference.

The finished product. Was so engrossed in taping myself into this shirt that I forgot to take a picture of the process.


Stands on its own. Very classical sculpture, especially with the uncut sleeve left on like a cut off arm.



The model, the dress.




Foreboding measurements.



Aaaaaand......mannequin fail. It won't even come close, even with newspaper being squished out and the bodice taken way in. It's a job for another woman. Any tiny friends want to volunteer?

"As Elizabeth Lawrence often said, 'To understand a designer, you have to get into his mind; to understand a dress, you must allow it to tell you what it is all about.'"
--From A Dressmaker Extraordinaire by Betty Kirke.

Also, a very interesting article here. O! The things to learn at the Costume Institute.

Kirke wrote Madeleine Vionnet, full of beautiful photos, observations and, brilliantly, PATTERNS of MV's work. This is the kind of work I want to do, and the challenge of taking patterns from clothing that was not only cut on the bias to begin with but also had been worn, conforming to bodies and shifting shapes over the decades is daunting, but exciting. I feel the same about Marie Anna's clothing; so many different little pieces, and how do you figure the sleeves? I suppose you look at contemporary patterns. Or maybe find Janet Arnold's notebooks? Look for the grain, the grain! At least I'm not dealing with crepe or jersey. And anyways, that's just a fantasy for now....

But the above quotation best describes where I am in my thesis right now. I can read all I want about the middle class and Simmel's contemporary ideas about fashion, but I just need to look at these garments. I'm going home as soon as I can to start that very basic task of cataloging and choosing pieces....so exciting!

Refine the thesis.

Between schoolwork, working six days a week at New York Theatre Workshop (four-show weekends!) and two days of an internship at the Costume Institute at the Metropolitan Museum of Art, I haven't had much time to write here. A lot of work I have been doing with this collection is more theoretical, soaking up information and practices from the CI, reading social theory (my man Veblen) and only gazing at our beautiful pieces from afar.

There is no formal thesis title yet, nor a good solid question to answer with 100 pages of original writing, but there is a concept. I have this incredible collection of things, and I was somehow mentally stuck on attempting to account for each object, and how I would figure out whose items were whose, etc etc. Instead, my advisor sagely suggested I do a sort of "greatest hits" thesis, an examination of exemplary or important pieces (as subjectively chosen by the author), and what they say about the visual identity of a(n upper?) middle class woman in Boston at the turn of the century.

I haven't had a moment to spare to get back to Connecticut and evaluate the collection as a whole, but am very much looking forward to setting aside a whole day to take full stock of what we have. Making lists, perhaps taking measurements, maybe even assigning some sort of numbering system? Definitely taking many photos. Our own little museum! But then the most exciting part, choosing which items to highlight in this thesis.

I have some preliminary choices: a post-maternity dress that I will start to describe later in this post, at least one wool walking suit, something in cotton, perhaps a parasol and hat? And do I include the mourning hat of her husband? Or is that more of an exhibition choice than a thesis choice? We shall see.

So, on to one of the beautiful pieces I have here in Brooklyn. Before Mimi Maternity and A Pea in the Pod, there were.....mothers. Or mothers-in-law....or perhaps sisters or friends? Someone to make you something to wear after the rigors of pregnancy.

The post-maternity nature of this dress is as yet only a guess on my part, for a few reasons.

Although the sleeve shape,

collar style,


and extensively pieced back body place this piece fashionably in the middle of the 1890s,


the shapelessness of the front in a substantially fitted decade leads me to believe this is a nursing gown.

There is an inner lining with as many darts as and similar piecing to those of many formal, boned bodices made for public wear I've examined,


but in this garment the lining is a simple muslin, and is not even turned under at the bottom edge.


There is no boning; this lining is not, as with the public bodices, added to create an understructure for the outside layer, since on this garment the front is extensively cartridge pleated.


In this case, it is to keep the carefully pieced backside tight to the body, in a flattering and fashionable manner. My theory is, then, that the free-flowing front is to hide any body "imperfections" that might have resulted from pregnancy and birth. Although the lining has many shaping darts, I am unsure whether a corset was worn underneath this item. With the presentist prejudices of a modern woman, I like to imagine it was worn without, the lining acting as Interim Corset, letting the body have time to heal and facilitate breastfeeding.

Another presentist reading of this garment would use the side opening as evidence of a post-maternity breastfeeding consideration, but many non-maternity garments from this decade opened similarly. However, the plastron fronts of the public bodices were better integrated, so perhaps there is some small arguing point. The lack of any closure along that side-front opening of this dress allows the lining to become visible, which argues the use of this garment outside the house.

Finally, she could have been breastfeeding in 1894-5, as her son Frederick Adam Mock was born in August 1893.

This beautiful piece is made of cotton, with a muslin lining, and lace around the collar that I assume is also cotton. The buttons are most likely of bone, or maybe wood, although they don't feel like wood. I understand that plastics were not in use yet, although that would have been my first guess from observation. There are metal hooks and eyes attached to the outer fabric to keep the piece together, although few in number. As with many garments in this decade, long, hidden seams are machine stitched, and finishing is done by hand.

More research to be done on contemporary maternity dresses....and any comments and questions are welcome, as always!