Great-great discovery: history and handiwork

The phone call went something like this: “I’m cleaning out my attic and I have a big box of dress-up clothes the kids used to play in. If you want it, come and get it. Otherwise I’ll throw this stuff away.”

Never one to pass up possible antiquities, I scurried on over. I did not find a box of old Halloween costumes and dress-up clothes. What I discovered was a woman’s wardrobe … from another time.

“Whose clothes were these?” I asked in astonishment.

“Oh, mother’s things and probably Grandmother Andrews.”

Stuffed in a cardboard box in an attic … a treasure trove of ancestral attire. Rows of buttons. Metal stays. Delicate lace. Silks and velvets. And the tiniest, most precise stitches I have ever seen.

And they belonged to my great-grandmother. Or possibly my great-great-grandmother. No one knows for sure.

“Do you want them?” she asked.

[Insert hysterical, gleeful laughter coming from a speechless farmgirl]

What do you do with a box full of antique suits, hats, cloaks and skirts?

You grab your eight-year-old and force her to endure metal wires in her side and shallow breathing techniques while you position her in various period-style  poses. And all the while she’s balanced precariously on a stool because although the ancestors were skinny as a rail, they were taller than your eight-year-old.

And after the photos and the positioning you marvel … at the size of the women that came before … and at their handiwork.

This parasol happened to belong to my grandfather’s grandmother. It matched perfectly with this outfit from my grandmother’s grandmother. I wonder if this is a mourning outfit or does the lace mean it was social attire?

The skill to make such a garment … the jacket is lined with stays sewn in by hand. There is an interior placket of buttons, the black neck piece is a separate flap that hooks over the interior buttons. And then the outward row of buttons with the lace trim. Each “layer” is lined. I wonder how long it took to create such a garment?

Looks about like the underwire in my bra. Look at the tiny hand-stitching. And the colorful lining was a surprise!

The interior buttons.

And the outer buttons. The black piece with the tan backing goes across the upper chest and neck. It hooks over the interior buttons, and under the outer layer of black buttons. I cannot imagine trying to sew something like this!

I adore the hem of this skirt with its velvet bands and layers of ruffle.

But this …

… this is my favorite. I love it. I love the color … if I weighed 85 pounds I’d be wearing this everywhere! And not to be inappropriate, but the underarms show signs of perspiration. And I can’t help but think where my great-grandmother or great-great-grandmother may have been wearing this. What was she doing? Was she nervous or warm? Was she working or simply walking in the sun?

Beautiful, metallic buttons adorned with a bird. Ornate. Special. Where did she wear this lovely garment?

I wish I knew.

And where was this worn? A silken lining is rather tattered, but it shows the heavy, warm woolen lining underneath. The outside of the garment is velvet with lovely embroidery and beading. The collar is adorned with some kind of feathers. It’s rather exquisite.

Who? What? Where? When? Why? How?

Never to be answered … but there’s great entertainment in imagining. And there’s a great history lesson in this afternoon’s accidental discovery. One I’m pretty sure my daughters will remember for years and years to come!

P.S. TwinMama, Nashville, GeorgiaPeach & TheTexan: I have something to send to each of you if you want it!