My Summer Spent Caring for Textiles
By Anni Reffsin
In the early spring, I came down to Washington DC to visit my Aunt. I mentioned to her that I had read about a local conservator in the Washington Post, named Julia Brennan. Shockingly, my aunt said Julia was in fact, her neighbor. “Why do you want to work with Julia? You’re in school for costumes,” my aunt asked. “How does conservation apply to theater?”
My answer came easily: “I would love to work with Julia because she works on upholding the integrity and longevity of textiles. Conservation applies in a relative way to costumes. We try to maintain the original intent of the costume designer, and apply certain methods to minimize the wear and tear a show may inflict,” I replied.
This was an auspicious trip. In July, I began my internship at Caring for Textiles. Lauren, one of the associates, gave me a sewing evaluation to see my handiwork. Once satisfied, Lauren presented me with my first project—Frederick Douglass’ quilt. My first conservation treatment lessons were about the application of protective netting or tulle overlays onto fragile and damaged areas. During the two weeks that I worked on this quilt, I had to adjust my perspective of textiles. With theatrical costumes, one works with the designer to help them realize their concepts and maintain their design. With conservation, one is a spokesperson for an object, its historical significance, and its legacy.
What is the conservator’s responsibility with a blood-stained suit?
A Talbots suit came into the Studio. It was covered in dried blood.
I panicked that day. Not because of the blood on the women’s Talbots suit, but because of the gravity of how brave this individual had been to survive a bombing. The suit was now part of someone’s legacy—that of an American Ambassador. To best display it, an archival dress form was customized. Julia and Lauren worked on shaping the dress form with various paddings. I created arms for the mount.
Holey Flapper Dress!
Julia had me work independently on a 1920’s embroidered net flapper dress. When I wet cleaned this delicate garment, I learned the effects of acidity, dirt, and light on textiles. The dress was then placed on a dress form so that Julia and Lauren could determine how to best support the garment. I created a prop slip for the 1920’s dress. It’s considered a prop because it’s not the original slip, nor does it intend to be. The net of the dress had a multitude of holes, which needed support. A combination of conservation net and crepeline were used to repair the bodice of the dress. However, the skirt’s hem needed crepeline support throughout. The hardest part of conservation was hand stitching almost invisible thread with almost invisible fabric to support this holey textile. I now wear glasses.
Two days at the Smithsonian…
Back to school; Not a final goodbye…
Next week I will be in a car moving into my final year at the State University of New York at Purchase College. My senior year will be a series of “goodbyes” and “keep in touch.” I know this much, my time at Caring for Textiles is not a final goodbye. I will keep in touch, certainly. Ultimately, the legacy of my experience here will be on my ability to apply it to my future endeavors.
We are all connected, woven in the universe, with a single stitch of thread. Every time I sew, I pay homage to all the individuals who have supported me. Julia, Lauren, and Kaitlyn are now part of my meditation.
Ode to Lani – Her Sewing Box of Memories
On May 16, 2018, my mother in law, Lani Kline, died peacefully at the age of 91.
During her last days, she gave me her vintage sewing box — a big pink wicker chest…on legs!
Lani wasn’t a big sewer, but her mother made all of her clothes, and the box is filled with sewing treasures and bits of Lani’s story, dating back to her 1940’s Texas days.
A stocked sewing box is like a biography…we carefully excavated tray by tray, exploring little boxes filled with old 1920’s silk on wooden spools, tiny black metal hook-and-eyes, metal zippers, and four of the tiniest little silver thimbles that could have only fit her mother’s delicate fingers.
And buttons, what buttons! Big—I mean BIG—1950’s wooden buttons designed to turn heads on a large houndstooth jacket, cloisonné cherry blossoms from 1960’s Japan, sparkly diamonds and 1960’s bright pink and orange bling buttons. And, of course, lots of mother of pearl. Tumbling through my fingers, I sorted them into heart shapes and piles, by color and type, each button begging to tell the story of the lost dress, or suit jacket, or re-made party dress, and the many trips around the world that brought them back to Lani’s box.
The box is a tribute to Lani’s love of bright colors, always coordinating her ensembles with just the perfect earrings and necklaces, her passion for collecting small treasures like fine buttons, and her loving memories of her own mother.
I am grateful to have this 3-generation sewing box in my conservation studio…and I know Lani has many more stories to tell.
The Bobbinet Blog, or “Tulle Tales”
By Julia Brennan and Kaitlyn Munro
Recently I met my lovely friend Claire Chen, who was wearing a gossamer tulle skirt, which fluttered around her like a butterfly. It was enchanting, so was she, and my curiosity about tulle was stirred. I started noticing the tulle explosion everywhere …… in the fashion magazines Chanel, Dior, Mango, Topshop, H&M were vying for romantic coverage of their blithe poufy creations. Familiar from childhood mostly as ballet tutus, or that stiff white net of my 1960’s Holy Communion veil, it is, in fact, a most important and compelling fabric in my everyday conservation profession………as the nearly sheer material we use as a protective overlay to treat damaged fabrics. My relationship with tulle net is in fact very formal and prescribed.
Tulle net is an important part of our daily conservation activities…
…but meanwhile, tulle is popping up all over!
So, what is the story of tulle? And, what is the difference between tulle and bobbinet?
The story starts with bobbin lace, its net-like structure, painstakingly handmade, by interlacing threads over and under. More mechanized methods started in the 16th c with ‘knitting’ or stocking frame machine. In the early 1800’s, in the UK, a Mr. John Heathcoat, studied the hand movements of bobbin lace makers and replicated them into a new invention—the bobbin net machine. The term bobbinet refers to the machine made net fabric that we use today, and is also known as tulle.
Today, I purchase conservation 100% nylon bobbinet from an ingenious man who is still using the same 19thc machinery and the exact same “knitting” process. Mr. Lawrence (aka Dukeries) sells bobbinet and other fine tulles to the conservation trade, as well as to lingerie and costume sectors.
The name ‘tulle’ originates from the French city of Tulle, (turf of politicians Chirac and Holland). Here, around 1700, the French began to knit a fabric with hexagonal meshes, similar to a honeycomb. Later, Queen Victoria wore meters of fluffy WHITE tulle bobbinet as her wedding dress, establishing the tradition that continues today. What’s a wedding dress without tulle? In the 19th c, designers like Worth started layering it underneath skirts, adorning the outside of dresses, and draping it over hats, shielding a woman’s face like a fashionable veil.
Ballet dancers adopted fluffy sculptural accent skirts called ‘tutu’ – immortalized by Degas’s sensuous pastels and the statues of the single dancer…..The NGA Washington DC, has the original wax and clay statuette, with a silk tulle skirt (Five layers!) This is the only little dancer that Degas had his physical hand in making. There is the possibility that the extant tutu is indeed the one Degas exhibited in 1881. Or to learn more about the sculpture, explore this link. The Metropolitan Museum of Art, NYC, recently replaced the tutu on their Degas bronze dancer with a gauze fabric…this fascinating conservation project can be seen here.
Today tulle is a global industry; made of silk, cotton, wool, polyamide, polyester, lurex; it comes soft, stiff, sparkly, ‘invisible’, elastic, chemical free, and in hundreds of colors.Tremendously fun, versatile and dramatic, the uses for tulle are endless, from Mardi Gras floats to mosquito nets; you can flock it, print on it, laminate it, dye it, stitch it, crunch it.
* “Because I could not stop for Death –
He kindly stopped for me- […]
The Dews drew quivering and Chill –
For only Gossamer, my Gown –
My Tippet – only Tulle –”
—Emily Dickinson – dressed for immortality
You can contact Dukeries directly:
Lawrence Taylor, Managing Director, Dukeries Textiles & Fancy Goods LTD
T: 0115 9816330; F: 0115 9816440 | [email protected]
Great and Good Friends: March 21 – June 18, 2018
New Exhibit Features Julia’s Restoration Work
Great and Good Friends: 200 Years of U.S.-Thai Friendship
Julia has been working both in the US and Thailand as the textile conservator on an exhibit called Great and Good Friends: Historic Gifts between Thailand and the United States, 1818-2018 that opens soon at the Queen Sirikit Museum of Textiles, Bangkok.
Take a look at her work and the highlights of this incredible exhibit — including this gorgeous ceremonial gold robe.
Rite of Passage: Preparing textiles for storage
by Lauren Klamm
Padded, stuffed, tied down, encased, or rolled, much time and energy is spent on devising the best way to keep beloved garments and artifacts safe for the next generation. Particularly in museums, objects will live most of their lives in storage, so proper packing directly prolongs the life of any artifact.
In many ways, the preparation for storage is turned into a religious ceremony, a rite of passage, as textiles transition from being worn or displayed to entering long-term storage. One such “ceremony” is described at the storage for Haute Couture house Balenciaga, as the conservation team prepare another masterpiece of couture for storage:
In this space, these humble garments are transmogrified—from contemporary clothing to preserved specimens. The archive team discusses how to stabilize specific pieces: for instance, by running threads from waist to hem to support dresses with unusually curved skirts, which threaten to buckle and distort if they’re not held in place. Those that can be laid flat, are — in one coffin, billows of tissue cosset one of Gvasalia’s evening dresses, a silver strapless style in a sequin-embroidered fabric created by the Swiss textile company Jakob Schlaepfer. Matching boots are stored in another room devoted to modern accessories. The Sisyphean task of the conservation team is to ensure Balenciaga’s clothing — past, present and future — survives, even as time conspires against it.”¹
Each piece is unique and each presents its own challenges for storage; there is no one size fits all method. Tried and true principles of storage consider the type of textile, the material of the textile, its condition, size and the storage space available, and then the best materials.
From preserving haute couture to great grandmother’s sampler, archival and acid free materials are essential to the life of the piece. No brown cardboard here!
Boxes are constructed so that the artifact is not squished; today’s creases and wrinkles can become tomorrow’s splits and shreds, so they are carefully supported with either the softest or crispest tissue.
Custom padded hangers allow stable garments to be stored hanging.
Heavy uniforms, fragile quilts and large textiles, often require the construction of a padded insert or pillow. Formed to fit the inner dimensions, it gives a firmer and consistent support, rather than piles of crushed up tissue.
How do you store a super fragile flat textile that cannot be folded, rolled or padded….and that needs to be stored long-term and displayed one week per year, without handling? Create a custom mount that doubles for storage and display!
Watch this video to see the choreography involved in packing a ‘50’s couture Dior gown.
Footnote:
¹ Fury, Alexander. “Excerpt: In Fashion, the Beauty (and Challenge) of Looking Back .” New York Times, 18 Sept. 2017, mobile.nytimes.com/2017/09/18/t-magazine/fashion-house-archives-inspiration.html?referer=https://t.co/PNVPexzvkw.
No Thread Left Behind
Scraps: Fashion, Textiles, and Creative Reuse: A New Exhibit at the Textile Museum
By Lauren Klamm
Before you throw out those old bits of fabrics, torn shirts or worn out blankets, take a trip to Scraps: Fashion, Textiles, and Creative Reuse (now through January 7, 2018) the new exhibit at the Textile Museum at George Washington University. The show highlights three designers, Reiko Sudo of Tokyo, Luisa Ceves of Milan, and Christina Kim of Los Angeles, who are transforming how the fashion industry treats traditionally discarded materials. From a torn sari to the tangled inner casing of a silk cocoon, nothing is wasted.
Old and worn clothes often seem easier to just throw away, but reinvestment, not only in the textile itself, but also the craft of making clothing, could have world-impacting consequences. In 2010, the EPA estimated that the US alone discarded 13.1 million tons of textiles, a shocking 11 million tons of which made it into landfills!¹ From the space it consumes to the chemicals off-gassing into the soil and air, textile waste is a major issue. Reducing and eliminating this waste and changing the way we look at these old clothes could have a great impact.
Showcasing three distinct and innovative methods, Scraps details the processes of each artist and how they not only turn trash to couture, but how they are filling a need in our ever eco-conscious society.
Environmentally and technologically innovative, this exhibit is also inspiring to anyone who has struggled to find a use for that itty-bitty slice of beloved fabric that just can’t be thrown away. You have been officially warned, this exhibit may make you keep every last piece of fabric you own!
1. Wallander, Mattias . “Why Textile Waste Should Be Banned from Landfills.” Triple Pundit, Triple Pundit, 2 Jan. 2012, www.triplepundit.com/2012/01/textile-waste-be-banned-landfills
Gloriously Blessing the Baby…and Restoring the Glory to the Gown
Over the years we have cleaned, conserved, and repaired hundreds of historic christening dresses. Each one is different, short or long, tiered or sheer, embroidered or laced, pleated or smocked – each with its own family stories. Most have very yellowed ‘bib’ areas from sweet milky spittle, and often a host of rips and tears…..it seems that no matter how big the babe is, parents must squeeze the wee one into the family gown.
In the galleries that follow, you can see some of the typical stitch repairs to these gossamer voile dresses…
Recently, I was in Denmark for the ICOM CC Triennial Congress, where I stumbled upon this precious painting of a christening. I’ve never seen a painting of a christening, much less one with such exquisite detail of the gown, showing the tactility of the white cotton, as well as the significance and tenderness of the ceremony. Here, in a sparse 19th c Danish Lutheran church, a small group of loved ones gathers around the child. The painter makes the glimmering white dress the center of the canvas, accentuated by the visual pause between the child and the minister.
Like a mirror, this painting reinforces the importance of my preservation work.
Perhaps the baby in Ancher’s painting above grew up into this darling little girl, stitching by the window…
The (Good) Eyes Have It
Good eyesight is one thing, but enhanced stereoscopic vision? That’s sharp!
New visual neuroscience research from the University of California, Berkeley supports one thing that Julia already knew: good eyesight is an asset in working with textiles, practically a pre-requisite for the job. But, as this recently released data reveals, dressmakers and those, like Julia, who work closely with their hands are likely to have a super power: an enhanced “ability to accurately perceive depth and distance between objects — to see in 3-D.” Read the article & research, featuring Julia, here.
Field Trip: Williamsburg, Virginia
We visit “Printed Fashions: Textiles for Clothing and the Home”
By Kaitlyn Munro
Lauren and I recently returned from a fabulous trip to Colonial Williamsburg (Virginia) to attend the symposium, Printed Fashions: Textiles for Clothing and the Home. We were honored to present a paper “Burn Out”, about a range of conservation techniques for stabilizing damaged 18th century printed textiles. There were many wonderful papers and so much important research presented on the history of these vibrant textiles. In conjunction with the symposium, a new exhibit celebrates Colonial Williamsburg’s impressive printed textile collection, including some never before displayed pieces.
You, dear reader, have plenty of time to check out the exhibit yourself since it will be up for two years!
We also had the chance to explore Duke of Gloucester Street where we popped in the weaver shop.
Finally, you can’t visit Colonial Williamsburg without taking silly pictures in the stocks!
If you would like to learn more about weavers in colonial America, visit this site.
Read more about “Printed Fashions: Textiles for Clothing and the Home.”
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