I hope no one smells a rat

Hello readers! A forewarning that this post will be very picture-heavy — I kind of go crazy when pouring over historical fashion eras.

I have decided that the mid 1950s in Britain is my favorite fashion era. I think this might be due to the fact that it is more "wearable" to me than other eras (this also applies to shirtwaist house dresses from the 1930s/early 40s). I love Regency dresses, but I can't actually picture living my every day life in one. The same applies to 1790s Anglaise dresses (which I adore). However, I could see myself wearing this to church:

This apron could be a daily affair:

Probably a bit more 40s, but still adorable.

If you can't tell, I've been watching Call The Midwife. I know I'm late to the party, but this series is so fun. I am loving all of the outfits, accents, and characters. It's probably not for you if childbirth makes you uncomfortable, however, as there is at least one birth in every episode. It isn't graphic at all, though, and nothing is shown besides occasional bare pregnant bellies.

Strangely, there is a deplorable lack of screen captures available, which is unfortunate because I loooove all the scenes of Jenny cycling through Poplar because there are so many lovely ordinary day dresses and aprons that I could see myself living in. You'll just have to check it out yourself. :)

Funnily enough, the only other time I've seen Jessica Raine, she was playing another 1950s British gal, equally stylish though quite different:

Sigh. I love this era. My other fashion period of which I'm consistently fond is the late Edwardian period. This can also be represented by a series I came late to: 

The first season of Downton Abbey has some really delicious Edwardian frocks (the really only delicious thing about the series, actually).

Prepare yourself for an onset of pictures, because I get a wee bit out of control when I see a white lawn tea dress.

I especially like the afternoon gowns from this period because, as I said in regards to 1950s frocks, they seem more "wearable." Not that it would be normal to wear one of these, but they seem so light and casual, as though one could relax while wearing one. By the start of World War I, the s-corset shape had fallen out of fashion, so one probably would be more relaxed than in previous years. 

I love the soft sailor-collar on this one.

This dress is a reproduction of a 1914 pattern:

This one is a little bit earlier — probably 1906-ish. Not quite so wearable but oh-so-elegant.

I also have a thing for the walking suits of the time.

Don't you love old fashion photos?

And naturally, old fashion advertisements.

It's so fun to think of having a dress just for traveling.

Though the afternoon wear is my favorite, I couldn't write an exposition on Edwardian garments and not mention the evening gowns.

I didn't use to like square necklines, but I really love it in this period.

You might wonder what exactly has brought on a wave of research into Edwardian fashion. And perhaps feel a bit of curiosity as to the meaning of the title of this post. Well, readers, I am playing Eliza Doolittle in Pygmalion. I am certainly excited about playing a heroine from one of my favorite musicals, but I may or may not be more excited about getting two use two smart little hats which have long languished in my collection. 

Well, "little" really only applies to one of them. The other is a straw hat with an 18-inch diameter, which has to be held on with a hat pin. Which means, of course, that I have to have a suitably voluminous hairdo to stick it into. As I mentioned in a previous post, I recently cut all my hair off my hair. It used to go to my waist, the perfect length for period hair styles, but now falls just below my shoulders. I do not regret my decision to chop it, but what's a short-haired girl to do when she wants an elegant Gibson look?

Doesn't this look good enough to eat? The lighting, lace, and locks are all so soft.

Just what the Edwardians did, of course! Hair rats to the rescue. I do not, of course, refer to small, beady-eyed creatures that make frightening noises. The fact is, despite pictures like this, many women did not have ample hair to create the kind of giant creation which every lady aimed for. Backcombing helps, of course, but it cannot do everything. This is where hair 'rats' come in: a small roll which hair can be wrapped around to bulk up the style. There are little foam rolls one can buy, but one runs the risk of the roll peeking out. The simplest and best hair rat is simply a coiled ball of one's own stray hairs (this will enable it to blend in perfectly). There were even special little crocks with a hole in the top to poke in hair during the collecting process. Alas, I have no hair receiver, but I am in the process of collecting loose hair to make a small rat to add volume to my style. 

The directions I read specifically warned readers about broadcasting the information that one is collecting hair, as it may be slightly disgusting to some. Here I am, posting about it on the internet, which is the exact opposite of concealment. However, I would remind you that if you own anything made of wool, it is composed of someone's collected hair. Furthermore, my hair rat will simply be placed with the rest of my hair. I'm not going to do anything truly nasty with it, like making an embroidered decoration. (Sorry, I shouldn't have put that image in your head. But it was a thing, back in the day. We can't cover up history's mistakes just because they offend our sensibilities.) 

Anyhow, I am very excited about wearing my favorite hat being in Pygmalion, and will forget to post try to post an update about my final wardrobe. In the meantime, tally-ho!

Love,

P.S.  Since turning sixteen I've tracked my age according to a Jane Austen heroine. I have now reached the age of Lizzie Bennet.

Such a Sister, Such a Friend

"I have lost a treasure, such a Sister, such a friend as never can have been surpassed,—She was the sun of my life, the gilder of every pleasure, the soother of every sorrow, I had not a thought concealed from her, & and it as if I had lost a part of myself."

-Cassandra Elizabeth Austen, writing to her niece Fanny after Jane's death

In case you didn't know, college life can be very busy. Currently I'm waiting for a pot of water to boil (and thus bound to the kitchen but forbidden to stand by the stove, since, as you well know, a watched pot never boils), so I have a stolen minute to write this.

No matter how busy I am, though, I like to read a little before bed to put my brain to sleep. I rarely read more than a few pages a night, so I go through my bedtime books fairly slowly. I started Jane Austen's Letters, edited by Deirdre LeFaye, on October 10 and finished at the end of March. This isn't truly indicative of my speed in reading, however, as of course there were some nights I read something else. These nights increased as I neared the end of the book; I like to finish things but I did not want to be done with Jane.

(The water has now come to a boil, but I must remain to watch it and be sure my eggshells do not boil over. Yes, eggshells. I am making homemade calcium powder to make tooth paste.)

It would be grossly unjust to pretend I know Jane Austen the way Cassandra did. However, in at last finishing this volume, knowing I have now read every word the dear creature wrote (which remains to us, anyway), I cannot but feel in some small way that I've lost a friend. For months I read a letter before bed nearly every night, feeling comforted after the stress of the day that still Jane was there, with her good sense, frank humour, lively wit, and deep affection for her family. 

Her kindly notes to her young nieces were delightful. She wrote that she was "quite tired of so many children" and recommended "the simple regimen of separate rooms," yet she doted on her many nieces and nephews. She wrote to Fanny and Anna as though they were sisters and treated her younger nieces, such as Caroline, as though they were adults. And imagine getting literary criticism from Jane Austen! As an Aunt myself, two passages stuck out to me:

"Now that you are become an Aunt, you are a person of some consequence & must excite great Interest whatever You do. I have always maintained the importance of Aunts as much as possible, & I am sure of your doing the same now."

(Letter to Caroline Austen)

"His having been in love with the aunt gives Cecilia an additional interest with him. I like the idea,—a very proper compliment to an aunt! I rather imagine indeed that nieces are seldom chosen but out of compliment to some[284] aunt or another. "

(Letter to Anna Austen Lefroy, regarding Anna's novel)

I laughed out loud many times and frequently identified with her concerns. As she lamented that her handwriting was never as small or as neat as she could wish, or that too-perfect heroines made her feel "sick and wicked," I wanted to tell her, "Me too!" 

I love Regency clothing, the manners, and the old British idioms. I'm drawn to Jane Austen's novels and other writings for all those reasons, but also because of the "me too" feeling one gets while reading. No, I don't spend my days taking country walks, writing letters and changing for dinner. But it is absolutely delightful to read a 19th century novel and to encounter the same human emotions, desires, idiosyncrasies, and disappointments as those found in 2019. Two hundred years removed, I feel more of a kinship with this woman than with any of my classmates. 

Projects and end of an era

Well, on Tuesday I went back to school. College is not my favorite, but I've had a long, lovely break. In the past five glorious weeks I've been...

Researching. Since watching Vaxxed in 2016, I have been researching vaccine safety and efficacy. Someday I will be able to sit down and write a post about this issue. At the moment, I have so many thoughts and pieces of research wanting to burst out of me that I'm not even sure where to begin. All I can do is to implore you to research this topic, whether you're old, young, liberal, conservative, a parent or a monk. Googling "vaccine safety" is insufficient. There are excellent studies out there, but unfortunately you can't trust other people to find them for you. I suggest starting with The HPV Vaccine on Trial, a thoroughly well researched book which puts the information in your own hands.

Enjoying. Unusual amounts of snow, plant sojourners in my room, and Jane Austen's letters. (I pretend she is writing just to me.)

Reading. As I mentioned two years ago, Christmas puts me in the mood for old-fashioned British mysteries. This year, it was Georgette Heyer's A Christmas Party (appropriate) and No Wind of Blame. I also worked on (and continue to work on!) Les Miserables in audiobook form and Hard Times, my first Dickens book to read in print. In the nonfiction department, I loved Beyond Colorblind by Sarah Shin and The Fine Art of Small Talk by Debra Fine.

Hanging. Since writing this post, I've had to expand to a larger bookshelf (it happens to the best of us. You can never have too many books). And since that changed the look of that wall, I eventually (18 months later) decided, with advice from my home design consultant (AKA my mother), to rearrange/update my paintings. Gertrude, the disapproving white peacock, will now preside over the bed. To make room for her, The Tempest will be sold. Two silhouettes (Anonymous Gentleman and my dear Miss Austen) will now keep watch over the bookshelf wall.

Exercising. Somehow this exercise-hating girl turned into an exercise junkie. Almost. In mid-2018 I started using Fitness Blender and over the summer discovered strength training. Being able to follow Kelly via video really helps me to stay motivated through a 30- or 40-minute workout; plus the calendar feature satisfies my list-loving, box-checking nature. I have started adding in HIIT workouts once a week (or per month, if I'm really honest). I still feel like something the cat dragged in afterwards, but I hate it slightly less than regular cardio. (Strength training, though... don't get me started. I love it, man.)

Listening. My most important musical discovery in the last month was Michael Bublé's Christmas album. Some of my favorites + a person whose voice is like butter... but why try to tell you about it? Have a listen yourself. 

As always, I really enjoyed playing and listening to traditional Christmas carols, especially featuring the violin. (Interestingly, in the 2016 post I mentioned this same genre and linked to a beeaautttiful I Saw Three Ships version.) I've also rediscovered my love for folk songs, most recently 'Land o' the Leal' and 'Buffalo Gals.'

Knitting. In the past month, I've made two baby hats and started one blanket. No, no one in my life is expecting. I just find baby things easier to complete and more fun. Tomorrow I'm going to drop off this adorable panda hat and mitten set. The mittens were done within 40 minutes (not counting the duplicate stitch to add the paw detail). I enjoyed this project especially because it was simple and quick, but forced me to learn three new skills: casting on in the middle of a project, picking up stitches, and duplicate stitching. The hat pattern can be found here, but I applied the paw idea onto some thumbless baby mitts for a newborn.

Mending. Working 30 hours a week in the summer + a busy fall semester worked together to create a large mending pile. From socks to jeans to a lunch bag, I was finally able to finish some sorely needed mending.

Gluing. Hot glue has been a constant in my life since mid November, when my mom, middle sister and I created a Harry Potter themed tree for a fundraiser. I had great fun making wands by creating hot glue shapes on wooden skewers, then painting and mod-podging. My greatest triumph (which, alas, I do not have a good photo of) was The Monster Book of Monsters. First, I made a small box out of cardboard (thank you once again hot glue), covered it with a piece of fake fur, and painted the sides to look like book pages. A set of fake teeth, cut to fit, were added, as were fake eyes. A title sticker (only one of many pieces that my printer father did for us) and a braided leather strap completed the creation.

After the tree was donated, I decided I wanted to finally finish another project which has languished in my closet: a gourd fairy house. Being an avid Tolkienite, I felt that it ought to resemble a hobbit house. Which, naturally, entailed painting the front door emerald green and installing a gold doorknob.

A view through the front door.

It is a very small and simple house, consisting of a front room/study/kitchen, a tiny dining room/parlor, and a loft. The furnishings are for the most part natural — a mushroom serves as a built-in stool, the dishes are made from acorns, and a leaf comprises the pillow.

Through the right window to the parlor, set for tea.

Looking in the left window to see the sink. 

Other details you might notice are the lace curtains, the sink made of a shell, the letter box with party RSVPS, and There and Back Again lying on the desk. (Not pictured: a cuckoo clock by the door and a painting from a bottle in the dining room.) Though spending time on a fairy house with no practical purpose felt a little childish, I enjoyed the quiet detail work and look forward to displaying it in my children's nursery (which will be literary-themed, of course).

Cutting. My hair! I was eight years old the last time I cut my hair. I went home and cried in my parent's bathroom, and regretted it so much that for eleven and a half years I only got trims. Until January 2, 2019, when I cut sixteen inches off.  There was definitely some mourning the day before, but I am pleased to announce there were no tears after the fact this time.

Baking. Dozens of muffins, luscious peppermint brownies, delectable gingerbread biscotti, spicy pfeffernusse, and scones of various varieties, all accompanied, of course, by copious amounts of tea.

Watching. Besides the old Christmas favorites, over break we watched three movies which were new to me: The Man Who Invented Christmas, Castaway, and Saving Mr. Banks. All three movies were very different and very delightful. (Not quite as well-liked was The Remains of the Day. I did not feel the ending had resolution. The addition of one line would have reformed it for me.) Emma Thompson is just an amazing actress, and it was fun to see Tom Hanks in some different roles as well.



After such a wonderful break, it's hard to go back to the constant busyness of school. It is so easy to step into a mindset of complaint when I think about college. There have been some very real frustrations, and I do legitimately feel that I learned more when I was homeschooled (I certainly enjoyed it more). I enjoy being around people, but it is exhausting to be so often gone from my home or too busy to see my family.

But I also have much to be thankful for. When I received a scholarship to this college in spring 2017, I praised the Lord over and over for His provision. I have a great job cleaning an office — in addition to working a few hours a week at a preschool, with 50 people under the age of six who constitute my best friends on campus — which allows me to graduate debt free.

In addition, I feel closer to the Lord than I ever have before. My first year of college was hard. I don't mean academically. I mean being in a secular environment five days a week which constantly whispered, implicitly if not explicitly, There is no God who cares for you. I quickly realized that without the Body of Christ, living in a God-cursing world is very, very difficult. Even once I was able to get into a Bible study at my church, I struggled with feeling alone or unheard by God. I am so thankful the semester ended when it did. I wasn't thinking suicidally or considering leaving the church; but I was in need of a detox from the foolish rhetoric preached day in and day out at school. Over the summer, I had the necessary time to examine my heart, pour over the Bible, and remember the One who cares for me, who is nearer than a brother, who has a husband's heart for me.

The fall semester had difficult moments as some of my classes examined issues of homosexuality and I had to be in very dark places. But it was different than my first year. In all the hard times I knew that the Lord is unchanging, that He gives us laws only to bring freedom, and that He is present and loving.

When I constantly complain about this season of life — which in reality, is really very short anyway — I dishonor the One who regulates time, who provided this scholarship, and who made my life. Besides the fact that it doesn't bring me much joy, either. It may be a stretch to say I'll ever love my university or that, at this point, I want to love my university. But I am tired of living in a state of dissatisfaction that dishonors God, when I could live by gratitude. I have made this resolution before — to be thankful and stop complaining about college. Now, I nervously post this to the Internet, because even if only two people read this, saying it "aloud" gives me a measure of accountability.

It's good to be writing again, dear readers. I would love to hear how you spent your holidays.

Unto Us a Child is Born

I have a weird habit. (Some would say I have a problem). Though I am not pregnant and it is almost impossible that I will be for several years to come, I really love reading birth stories. Particularly the birth center and home birth stories, since ideally I'd like to have my five or nine children at home. I get a strange pleasure out of hearing all the gory details about a complete stranger's childbirth experience. The best birth story is several pages long, describes each stage of dilation, the noises made during contractions, who was present, etc.

Contrastingly, the most boring birth story I read was about two paragraphs and went like this: "I went in for my 40 week appointment and I was already dilated. So I got some lunch and drove leisurely to the hospital. I didn't want to feel anything so I immediately got an epidural, so then I barely felt it when I had to push for 40 minutes, and had the baby a few hours after entering the hospital." Umm... No condemnation if you had a baby with an epidural. Pain in childbirth is a brutal thing. But, I'm sorry, that was the most boring birth story I've ever read.

When the Bible tells of the birth of Jesus, even less details are given. It merely says in Luke 2:6-7 that "[T]he time came for the baby to be born, and she gave birth to her firstborn, a son." We aren't told how many hours Mary was in labor, whether anyone was present to encourage her, or what weight the baby was.

I don't know about you, but this little sentence seems inadequate to describe the struggle and miracle that is childbirth. Yet, perhaps the very lack of detail serves to highlight the fact that, no matter the experience, the important part of the story is always the baby. C-section or home birth, if there's a baby at the end it doesn't really matter what came before. Particularly so with Jesus.

The Bible doesn't tell us the gory details of Mary's birth experience, but it does tell us the good news: Unto US a child is born! Not just unto Mary or Mary's family. First prophesied by Isaiah, and then repeated by an angel to the shepherds, that a child, a Son, is born to us, Lord and Messiah at his very birth. The most spectacular birth story can't compare to the majesty of who this Baby is.

Glory to God in the Highest, and on earth peace to men on whom his favor rests!