1790s Goldwork-Embroidered Petticoat: The Swags Are Done!

Here debuts the new bottom-of-the-petticoat. The last stitches went into the goldworked swags last evening, and I sighed a long sigh. That was a pleasant, slow, mosey-speed project, handling tiny spangles and wriggles of purl, and wee gold beads that glowed and sparkled like caught rays of sunlight.

Completed goldwork swags of leaves, abstract flower elements, and bows.

The full petticoat as it stands -- lays -- now.

The full petticoat. It's embroidered all across the front panel,
50-plus inches.

Here's how it looks when hung up. A little more elegant than mashed out on the floor, eh?

The petticoat is meant to hang narrowly down the body.

The spangles, in particular, catch sunshine, and I hope, candlelight.

Checking to see what the elements do when caught by the sunshine.

 On a whim I took out the gown it was designed for and laid it in place. The gown is trained, so the petticoat sits up high in it, reminding me of a doll's dress.

Perhaps I'll do a photo shoot, perhaps...wouldn't it be neat to see how it looks on? I haven't tried it yet!

What's next on the horizon?  A breather from this project, I think. The next phase is to build out the swags with interwoven elements in silk chenille and flat silk (ovalle) thread.

The design is taking shape slowly, but it shouldn't be rushed. Probably a couple of thoughts will be sketched and then mulled and chewed on until one of them, or a combination of them, hits as being right. To help, I am gathering extant examples and designs on a Pinterest 18th Century Embroidered Garments board. [Note years later: I still haven't gotten to that project, and not sure it would be the right idea, anyhow. Too much mixing of colors and materials.]

Meantime, that little sleeveless spencer is calling!

Today I leave you with...

...our crabapple tree, in full blow. Unaccountably it reminds me of the petticoat. It isn't gold, and the blossoms aren't artificially swagged, yet, there is something the two share. A controlled palette? Out and out luxe?

A person can't stay on the philosophical heights too long. Here is a more appropriate ending. That round ball of mostly tummy is Blueberry Muffin, looking super-sized, rolling in joy, or is she just trying to scrape off that heavy fur?

1790s Goldwork-Embroidered Petticoat: an Impromptu Embroidery Frame

Sophia, my impromptu embroidery frame

Last post I promised to show you how necessity prompted me to create an impromptu embroidery frame that supports itself, has a large working surface, and allows me to embroider with both hands at once. Here she is.

Meet Sophia*, a former footstool, now the perfect portable embroidery frame for light, loosely woven fabrics.

KEY NOTE: this will NOT work for stiff or tightly woven opaque silks, because every pin used to attach the work to the frame will leave a pinhole that is essentially permanent, unless somehow you can massage each back into place or hide them with trim.

*Named in honor of a friend's granddaughter.

Making the Frame

How is she made, you ask?

Let me show you.

Get yourself an old footstool. It should have no sharp edges anywhere, no scrapes or dings that can catch at fabric or embroidery. Take off the top so that you are left with just the frame. Then possess yourself of yards and yards of cotton tape (I get mine from William Booth, Draper), or tear up old fabric into long strips and make one continous strip of them.

Now, wrap all sides of the footstool in the tape. Wrap as tightly as you can, and wrap the stool in two layers. You want a tight-but-soft surface into which you can stick long pins to hold your work in place.

Tie the ends of the tape or fabric in place with half knots. Done!



Starting to wrap the footstool.

 How to Use the Frame

Stretch the fabric to be embroidered over the surface of the frame. Then at intervals of an inch or so, pin the fabric to the tape. Smooth and tighten as you go, repinning if neccessary, and yes, it's usually neccessary to tighten a few pins.

In the image below the white-headed pins have secured the work to the frame.



See the white-headed pins? That's where the work is
attached to the embroidery frame.

 Here is the frame at work. I am setting spangles with silk thread. One hand is beneath the frame; you can just see it through the fabric, which is very sheer. The right hand is on top.

In the top left corner I have set the spangles on a needlebook so that I can just pick them up one at a time with the needle. The cotton has a nap so that the spangles sit in place. Purl sits well there too. I'd like to make a velvet dish like goldwork embroiderers used to use, but haven't.

Using the embroidery frame.

I can work just about anywhere with this frame: at a table, with it set on my knees on a chair, or set on my legs when sitting on the floor. The rest of the petticoat just floats around the frame. I am careful to keep the area clean, and watch for affectionate cats who want to lie on my efforts!

Background

When I found the footstool years ago, it had a plywood top slapped on with brads, and a thin foam pad glued atop that, and the fabric cushion was missing. The footstool body was clearly handcarved and had a nice patina, and I was sure that some DIYer had put the skinny top on it, so I snapped it up at a garage sale price and brought it home, intending to recover it myself. Life intervened, and it lived for years holding books and sweaters in half-hidden locations.

Enter the goldwork petticoat project. You should know that had I wanted to embroider this petticoat from the get-go, I'd have embroidered the fabric panels before making up the petticoat. That was the usual MO, then and now. I'd have used a version of the classic rectangular embroidery frame, as seen below in Diderot's Encyclopedia. The broideress sitting in the right of the plate is working on a man's waistcoat. For those interested, you can read Diderot's description of the various types of embroidery in his encyclopedia entries.

Brodeur, plate from Diderot's Encyclopedia.
Image courtesy what appears to be an EU project;
cannot find About Us page on the site. 

You can get embroidery frames today, but they are very expensive, and as you can see in the plate, one has to stitch tapes to the edges of the fabric and stretch the fabric with cords into a drum-tight surface. Not going to do that with a finished petticoat, am I?

On this project I had first worked with an embroidery hoop, but such hoops limit your working area and will not work for continuous motifs like swags...you can't smash goldwork into the side of the hoop without utterly destroying it. No go there!

Then I used a square frame that Dad made me ages ago to make thread table mats with. I wrapped the sides with cotton tape, and pinned the petticoat to it. It worked okay...that's what you see in previous posts, but the work area was small and I couldn't get my hands underneath since one hand had to hold the frame. The frame didn't fit into my old floor stand with clamp, either, and besides that thing is ugly.

So, noodling about, I remembered master embroiderer Robert Haven telling me he made his own frames, and Norah from Nashville's antique hoop stand all wrapped in tape that I saw last fall at a tambour embroidery class, and I ached for something pretty, something with grace. And bethought me of the forlorn footstool. The rest is now history.

If you are interested in traditional embroidery frames, they are out there. There are all kinds at verying price points, but before buying, I'd be sure to read up on them, at length. Some work better than others, and many, I'd say most, are not meant for the large expanses of fabric costumers use. See Mary Corbet's Needle 'N Thread for details. She is my current favorite Web source for things embroidery and she does careful reviews.

1790s Goldwork-Embroidered Petticoat: Progress and Candy Colors

Working with the afternoon sun behind me...before the
embroidery frame eureka moment.

Hack, bellow, cough, cough, couuuuggghhh, stoop down the hall to find another set of tissues, breathe hard and shallowly, feel elephant walking on the chest. Stop in the middle of the hall to rest. Ardently desire to sit down, no, to lay down, and remain prone all day. Call forth reserves from heaven knows where to attend to the boys and to do what must be done. Food unwanted, sleep fitful, memory hazy and task followthrough iffy...oh, I only filled the steamer halfway? Huh, I was sure it was full. Thank heaven for a loving husband and mother and kind family.

That's been life with viral pneumonia these last days, but now I am on the mend. So, such a pleasure it was, this afternoon, to sit and work embroidery once again. Curte was a sweetie and let me sleep today, taking the boys after church to his parents for the afternoon. They were treated with my pasta Bolognese upon their return as deep thanks.

At this point the goldwork swags across the bottom of the petticoat are halfway complete, and the design for the chenille and flat silk embroidery that will interweave with the gold is underway.

Then too, in a fit of make-do creativity, I invented an embroidery frame that allows me to work easily with both hands on each side of the work, so very helpful when couching purl and simply essential when laying silk ovale -- a filament silk thread with low twist that when satin-stitched, creates the incredible glow and glorious rich color of many an eighteenth century embroidered piece.


Progress Report

Ta-da! Here is what we have so far...okay, actually I've done an additional motif since.

This covers have of the front of the petticoat. It was common during the era to decorate just those areas which were to be seen. Gold and silk were expensive, for one thing: such a petticoat, executed in the types of gold then available (meltable for cash!) was a garment for the haut ton. Second, goldwork is in relief, and the tiny metal threads are easily disturbed and stretched or pulled: even couched well, tiny sharp ends of metal can catch at fabric and be pulled. Why subject precious embroidery to such treatment in the sides and back where it isn't even seen under the gown atop? Even so, I think I have some 55 inches to cover in total, so I am but 20-odd inches along.

The Next Step: Silk and Chenille Embroidered Swags to Interveave with the Gold

Yes, yes, some months ago I claimed that the next part of the embroidery process would wait for another year, buuuuut, this project is such fun that other plans -- excepting that spencer! -- puh, I blow them away until this treat is done. After all, I embroidered for years before ever realizing costuming existed. Working it is like a fun afternoon with an old friend.

So what's the design? Augh, I mustn't tell you yet; it's a surprise. Okay, so actually only the concept is clear: an interweaving of small floral swags into the goldwork swags. The central plan is a take-off from the man's waistcoat pocket that produced the goldwork swags, but filled out with ideas from drawn patterns kept at the Victoria and Albert for petticoats. The tone, the feeling? The lightness, airiness, spareness of the Neoclassical 1780s, which held into early 1790s, according to Eighteenth Century Embroidery Techniques, a few extant examples, and fashion plates.

Floral swags were popular in chenille and silk embroidery throughout much of the 18th century. Here's a sleeve from a mantua, 1775-85, from the Victoria and Albert.

Mantua sleeve 1775-85, Victoria and Albert

Luscious, rich, 3-D!

Here's a man's suit pocket, chenille mixed with goldwork, 1760-1769. A little heavier in style, but the best I can find for the hour available to spend on this particular post. My old computer died, taking with it a few months of collected images and research that I'd not had time to back to the cloud server. What a horror!



 

Man's suit pocket, Victoria and Albert

 Finally, a duck of a muff, 1785-1810, from Colonial Willilamsburg, in chenille, spangles, bullion (purl) and paint, on gauze. Here are sprigs swagged into a repeating pattern.

Muff, 1785-1810, Colonial Williamsburg, 1958-25. Historic
Threads exhibition

Tempting Candy Colors

Probably because it's Lent and sweets are off limits, some colors just make me dream of food, especially petits fours and Easter cookies. Feast your eyes on these and see if they make you hungry. Yes?

You are looking at Au Ver a Soie silk ovale from Hedgehog Handworks, on the left, and silk chenille thread (fine), from Hand-Dyed Fibers.

You can get an idea of how low twist, how glossy that filament silk is. It will form minute satin stitched blossoms. The chenille, which will be couched down, is very thin, the color rich, light-catching, and just bewitching. I want to pet it.

So there we are. Wait, you say, if you're not fatigued already, where's this fancy new embroidery frame?


That, my friends, is for next post. Sleep calls.

1790s Goldwork-Embroidered Petticoat: Progress Report

Slow but sure progress has been made on the goldwork-embroidered petticoat. A quick look.

I've added two more complete swags in check purl, flat spangles for the bows, and cupped spangles with a tiny transparent gold-colored glass seed bead nested into each one. Beads were used, if not copiously, at this period, for a little extra color. In the original there is a cupped spangle with a tiny piece of purl nested into it: I went for the gold beads instead for a change.

You will see I've made progress in learning to backstitch down spangles on the bows. The leftmost bow at the top of the first swag was improperly done, while the second and third were done as they should be. A properly backstitched spangle shows the thread on both sides of the spangle, so it's held down on two sides. That means the spangle is flat...it doesn't flutter like the spangles on the leftmost bow do. Less shine, but sturdier. It was popular to either add a length of purl to the backstitch to hide these threads or to couch passing thread down atop the threads, but many pieces do not show this extra step, and I have opted here for the simpler effect.

Today I leave you with something silly. Christopher and I folded laundry Monday morning. After folding some pants and napkins on his own, the boy hit on a new way to get the laundry out of the basket.

Whoops-on-purpose!

1790s Goldwork-Embroidered Petticoat, Back at It To Ease Stress

For those of you for whom messing with teeniney, wee bits of beadlike wiggly wire, minute spangles, and small motifs stresses you out, read no further, for your blood pressure may rise.

For those who find doing very precise, small-scale work actually relaxing, you may find the below a bit fun.

Do you remember the goldwork-embroidered petticoat I made last summer? The one with little sprigs all over it in a variety of motifs? Here it is as worn in August.

As a first effort, it is nice, but...it needs more work, for a couple of reasons.

First, a look at it laying flat in decent but night bright light reveals a lack of brilliance. The work is executed only in spangles and purl. Spangles are flat sequins; purl is tightly wrapped gilt (or 2% gold, for those with more cash) wire, formed into long hollow tubes.

Now, some fashion plates and originals, for example the pretty French 1790s muslin in the Napoleon and the Empire of Fashion exhibit (which spaces its motifs on the upper part of the dress), or the dress from the Met, below, do widely space their motifs. That was the effect I was going for initially. However, because the motifs are composed more of faceted purl than of spangles, the shine factor isn't as high as I'd like it to be.

Metropolitan Museum of Art, accession number

1995.5.5.

Second, I am not happy with the motifs that outline leaf shapes, but leave the interiors blank. I've looked at a lot of extants since designing the petticoat, and so far as I can tell, only very tiny sprigs are made with their leaves barely outlined. In spriggy designs, purl leaves of any size are usually filled in with the purl running obliquely. Here's my silly drawing:

If you have a copy of 18th Century Embroidery Techniques, and look at the goldwork section, you will get a better drawing:}

Third, the bottom of the petticoat lacks a transition between the spriggy motifs and the fringe. Sure, some dresses were just sprigged, but I like the versions with a wide repeating band of embroidery about the bottom, especially when the motif is composed of swagged floral motifs. By 1800, swags weren't as hot as they'd been earlier, but they were still about, and I like swags, and don't get to have swaggy fun very much, so I want swags here. Want to see 1790 swagged petticoat emvroidery designs? Check Gallery of Fashion (enter the periodical name into the search box). Also search for "embroidery designs" on the Victoria and Albert museum site. There aren't overmany actual embroidered petticoats extant, at least that I can find.

Fourth, Christmastime, and the state of having young children, is stressy, so that some some sort of quiet release, some quiet place to retreat to that has nothing to do with Christmas Preparations or Productivity, becomes a Restorer of Balance. Some activity in which the brain can focus on something pretty, and for which the creation process is somewhat repetitive but does command the conscious mind almost 100%. Something that can be taken up and put down in a moment. Embroidery is perfect for that, and sparkly embroidery in the depths of short days is perfect.

Enter a rework.

After all, I've put too much work into this petticoat to chalk the effort up as Learning Example #1 and move on. With each motif consuming upwards of 20 minutes, you do the math in terms of hours, and I am betting you would rework the piece if it were in your hands, too.

So, What Changes to the Petticoat Lie Ahead?

Fill in the leaves, of course. That means snipping off some of the old motifs and redoing them. Second, add a band of embroidery to the bottom.

You can see the tentative first results of both below.

Here is a shot of the position on the petticoat that I am working on: the center bottom. I have set the embroidery hoop over a sprig in the bottommost row of the sprigs, and under that I have started a swag that will be some 5 inches high. There is actually a decent amount of room between the sprig motif row and the fringe. That's what will be filled in.

The design is a row of swags made of a rope of tiny leaf sprigs all done in purl, and tied at the top with bows in spangles. At the middle of each swag, a second spangle-and-purl bow with tassel tails dangles. Underneath, a second set of swags, this time in silk chenille and silk embroidery thread.


The design is a take off of a pattern in a pocket of a man's waistcoat, found in 18th Century Embroidery Techniques in the goldwork section, and is roughly the same dimensions, perhaps a little larger. I'd show you the original design but since Gawthorpe Hall hasn't posted an image of it, and the only images I have are in a copyrighted book, sorry, guys.

You are looking at a motif in the bottommost row of the sprigs, and the first bow in a series of swags.

Now for the detail shot.  Mmmm. Needs work. Let's examine what is going on.

What's the deal with the sprig motif riding so close on top of the bow? A bit of explanation. I did that work before deciding to add the swag motifs, so yes, off it will come, to be repositioned higher. Thankfully, the silk-cotton voile weave is widely spaced enough to allow redos without leaving holes, and all of the sprigs were freehand-embroidered...there is no drawn pattern on the fabric.



What about how rough the floral sprig leaf looks when executed in purl?

• First, I haven't laid the purl obliquely enough. Have to redo it.
• Second, close up, purl often looks rather imperfect, as if it just won't sit where you put it. In fact, it is hard to manage purl. First, you have to cut each piece before you lay it, so close measurement is important and tough to achieve. Second, no, it won't lay down easily: it is wire, and likes to bing-bong around, and only couching stitches hold it in place. All but the best of the best trained professionals had those issues, and so purl easily looks wonky and heavy up close. Don't believe me? Have a look at All That Glisters Goldwork, in Stitch with the Embroiders Guild. Look at the purl laid on top of the spangles on this German 18th Century professional example. See how it wanders a little? Okay then. Makes me feel better. Plus, practice will help.

What about the band of swags at the base of the skirt? What's the design, and what's going on with the elements?

• The design must be drawn because the design success depends on consistency in the pattern repeats.  Here you see the bow tying up two swags.
• The bow:
• The spangles are backstitched in place, and overlap heavily. However, guess what. I backstitched them backwards. Each thread should lay of the part of the spangle that is not covered by the spangle before. That helps the spangles lay flat and in place. Oops. I had no directions on how to do it, other than that I knew such lines of spangles were backstitched. Another lesson learned. The only pity is that riding free as they do now, the spangles reflect a lot of light. Pooh.
• The spangle at the center of the bow is overlaid by a piece of purl. 
• The original laid a line of purl atop the spangles, but I found that this addition diminished the brilliance of the spangles so much that I left that element out of the design. Spangles were often left plain.
• To the left of the bow, the beginning of a purl-and-sequin leaf swag: the central stem and each set of leaves are of purl only, each piece of purl strung and attached like a bead, and then couched down. Each leaf set is divided by a cupped spangle filled with a tiny piece of purl. 
• To the right of the bow, you can see the penciled design.

Since goldwork was usually accompanied by silk embroidery, another phase of this project may be to add some small floral motifs in yellow and cream among the swags, again per the original. The original had more naturalistic color, but some designs were very restrained in color use by this date, and did not aim at naturalism. I won't touch that for at least a year. Meantime, I can still wear the petticoat!

So that is what I am doing this season, and into January. It should be a pleasant process and even is now, right in the learning phase.

This Evening, I Leave You With...

A cozy wintertime scene. The boys playing with their Legos under the gardener's bench in the family room. Little ones like corners and hidey-holes. Do you remember?

1790s Goldwork-Embroidered Petticoat: 1795 Full Dress Ensemble in Cream Silk: Part 2

The goldwork petticoat

Are you ready for the petticoat? I am so excited to have made it, even though I discovered it needs more embroidery. This is part two, by the way, in a series about the 1795 Full Dress ensemble I made for this year's Jane Austen Festival in Louisville. (See part 1.)

The petticoat is embroidered in goldwork, described below. As a first experiment in this type of embroidery, it went well. Now to add motifs to those already there to give the effect more ooomph. I am looking forward to that. It's the kind of work I adore. Yes Mom, I can hear you laughing: as a child seed beading and making minature furniture were favorite hobbies.

I love the cumulative effect of the goldwork: shine and sparkle, depth and dimension. Also elegant: none of this is flashy the way an all-over, pavee treatment might be.

In fact, a second experiment is in the works: I took last year's petticoat and am experimenting with a combination of silk embroidery, couching with gold passing thread, along with the techniques you will see below. The pattern comes from Luxus und der Moden (yes, Sabine, that pattern from earlier this year!) That project is a long-term one that may take a year or so to complete.

Constructing the Petticoat

The petticoat is made of a silk and cotton blend from Thai Silks. The fabric has super drape and the perfect amount of sheerness, and the weave is tight enough for good looks, but loose enough to permit ease in embroidery.

It is constructed in the manner traditional to the 18th century as a whole. Should you wish a tuturial, you cannot go wrong with "The Standard Eighteenth Century Petticoat" on A Fashionable Frolick or from Costume Close-Up.

About the waistline: this petticoat has the 1795 higher waistline. In this dress, the petticoat is held up by small loops buttoned to the stays: four loops in front (two to each side of the center stays closure) and three in back. You could also hold it up by pinning the tape waistband carefully to the stays, or with straps. There is some argument concerning the use of buttons and loops in the era, but I opted for it anyway.

About the length: The petticoat length is to the bottom of the anklebone, so that I would not trip when dancing.

Given the fabric's sheerness, I was able to finely gather the fabric to the waistband. First I folded over the raw edge to just over a half inch. Then I divided the entire circumference into quarters. Then, separately for each quarter, the fabric at the top was gathered twice, each gathering row separated by about a half inch. Then I pulled in the gathers, spaced them evenly, and whipped the valley between each gather separately to the cotton tape waistband. The whip stitches nip just a over an eighth inch of fabric at the top, and the gathering stitches are left in to help hold the gathers in place. This traditional treatment keeps each gather standing straight and unsquashed and allows it to pivot on the waistband for freer movement.

The Goldwork Embroidery

"Fortune", a Directoire-era French ensemble, featuring
a dress with goldwork embroidery.
From Napoleon and the Empire of Fashion.

The petticoat is embroidered in goldwork, using a combination of flat spangles, purl  (bullion) frieze, bullion fringe, and "pastes" made from vintage rhinestones from Bumbershoot Supplies, a supplier in Oregon who has been most kind.

Goldwork had been popular at least from the seventeenth century, and would remain so until the fashion appears to have mostly faded sometime in the nineteenth century. Goldwork allowed the wearer to sparkle and gleam and "show" to advantage. It was a feature of Afternoon Dress and Full Dress; it would have been in poor taste to display gold in Undress, so far as I can discern.

Goldwork was usually, though not always, professionally done, and ranged from expensive to staggeringly expensive. The threads and spangles and foils were of real gold or gold plus a base metal, and there was a fashion for taking apart goldwork and melting it down for the gold. It still is expensive, one reason that I have used it sparingly.

An example of a sprig motif on my petticoat.
This one has a brilliant attached. The brilliant will soon
be surrounded by a circle of purl.

If you are interested in the subject, you'd do well to start with Gail Marsh's 18th Century Embroidery Techniques, which explains the workshops, the materials, the methods, and shows actual examples, in enough detail that someone with a little embroidery experience can latch on to it and go forth -- with care. Online, Mary Corbett's Needle 'N Thread has really useful posts on goldwork projects, as well as reviews of relevant books.

I spaced the sprigs using one of several Gallery of Fashion plates that specify embroidery in gold, but more sparingly than most pictured, too sparingly, as it turned out. I have not found gold-sprigged extant petticoats to date, and only one dress in the Napoleon and the Empire of Fashion, a Directoire dress of similar date, is sprigged, also sparingly, but it also has a heavily embroidered motif at the bottom.

Working the Embroidery

The embroidery process is pleasant. It is slow, yes, but the planning of the motifs is fun, and executing them, while exacting, has scope for creativity, for one never knows exactly how the purl will lie, and if it moves on its own to a different position, sometimes that position is more artistic than the planned version, allowing creativity and inspiration some room. This is dynamic work.

Another example of a sprig motif. The flower stamens
are composed of a central spangle, upon which have been
sewn bits of purl. Each stamen is started by pulling the
thread up through the spangle's center hole, threading
the purl bead on, and then pulling the thread to the
back of the work again near an outer spangle.

The sprigs include three basic motifs, all based on motifs that appear in pages 39-54 of 18th Century Embroidery Techniques.

They are made with gold frieze and spangles rescued from a cutter Indian garment. That garment was also terrifically hard to find, for there are few out there that I would feel okay cutting into.

Another sprig sample. My thumbnail gives you
an idea of the sprig's size.

The frieze, a gold-coated wire, wound very tightly in a squared pattern to enhance sparkle, is of the Indian Sadi variety and is a little looser than European frieze. To apply it, one cuts the wire to the length desired, and then threads it like a bead. I used gold-dyed Ver a Soie silk "Paris" thread from Hedgehog Handworks, an utter joy to work with. I would recommend only silk for a project like this; it is very strong.

Anyhow, to start a motif, one pulls the needle from the reverse of the work, threads on the frieze, than plunges the needle back through the fabric. Very short lengths will lay flat, but longer lengths need to be couched down at intervals to hold them in position.

Yet another sprig motif.

The spangles are then backstitched in place. Because I used so many spangles and this was my first project, I opted for the vintage non-metal spangles from the Indian cutter garment. Real spangles are expensive, but they do have a far superior shine and weight, and for an important garment, I'd save up and use them instead. Dream on, Natalie. Berlin Embroidery carries them, as does Hedgehog Handworks. (I used my small batch on the reticule).

For the pastes, I threaded a spangle on a long piece of silk thread, holding it with a half knot, applied a 4 mm chaton rose foil-backed glass rhinestone to an individual spangle with glue, set it in place, then threaded one end in a needle, plunged that thread to the back, pulled the thread loose, threaded the other end of thread, and plunged that through. Finally I tied the spangle on with a surgeon's knot to hold it fast. Each paste should be surrounded by a ring of purl to help hold it and hide threads: I have yet to do this. (Edited August 1: the surgeon's knot is not enough to hold the pastes in place. Several have come off. I am experimenting with gluing the threads closed. Not gluing the pastes to the fabric, mind, but the thread tie ends.)

Back in the day, pastes would have been of foil-backed glass too, and glued to a spangle or pasteboard base, but the base would have holes around the edge to sew the paste down, and of course the glue used would have been different. In future I may use cardboard, as it will hold the pastes flatter.

A sample of an individual spangle-purl combination.
Exciting, eh?

Individual spangles were sprinkled over the surface. To attach them, I used the traditional method of stringing first a spangle and then a tiny piece of frieze on the thread, and then sewing both on by running the thread back through the hole. Each is attached separately, for connecting threads would show through the thin fabric.

The Fringe

My petticoat is sprigged, as described above, in a band to above the knees, and then set with a fringe to flutter intoxicately at the feet, which it did, in fact, do very well.

The fringe is stritched with large stitches of doubled, waxed thread such that the fringe stops a bit above the hem so that the wearer will not damage it.

This way of positioning the fringe is found in an extant Italian 1795 round gown in the Kyoto Costume Institute Archives; see the detail below:

Image courtesy Kyoto Costume Insitute.

Bullion fringes are very hard to find and it was several months before some bits surfaced locally. They are indeed of gold bullion and are heavy. The fringe is attached to a "lace" threaded with flat gold wire known as plate. The entire fringe was very tarnished and the tarnish proved unremoveable (on a test piece), so it lacks the gorgeous gold color of a fresh piece. I decided that the effect was so important that a mix of tarnished and untarnished elements in the skirt would still work.

Following an extant example, I will be threading a spangled row above the lace header in the future.

The reverse of the fringe, showing the stitches that attach it
to the fabric.

A Delicate Product, Slow to Make

Two giant caveats about goldwork, aside from the expense:

• It is very delicate. The purl frieze is superfine metal wire. The ends, which are barely visible to the eye, have a tendency to catch on fabrics and can pull them. Worse, once caught, if the wire is pulled, it will uncoil and can never be coiled up again. A few good pulls and you are well on your way to a garment which must be redone.
• It tarnishes. Gold threads and spangles, these days anyway, have base metal in them. They must be kept out of sunlight, and you should avoid touching them while working with them as much as possible, and always afterwards. With good care, the garment being kept well wrapped in muslin and kept in the dark, tarnish can be kept away for some years, but eventually the gold will lose its gleam. This is ephemeral art...

Despite the small size of each motif, each one took about 25 minutes to complete; there are four rows of about eight motifs each, plus the individual spangles are individually attached, and the fringe laid. Therefore, this experiment showed me that goldwork is not fast work, by any means. I noted that my speed increased only a certain amount with experience. In contrast to plain sewing, in which there are usually expanses of repetition, this sort of embroidery requires close attention and much picking up and putting down of scissors, spangles, and pieces of purl, much shaping and laying with tweezers and pins and the like. It's fiddly, and speed can only increase so much. Also, mistakes cannot be hidden; you either live with them or redo your work.

(Edited August 1) Despite all this, I am doing more goldwork over time. First, am already adding several more rows of  motifs in between the current sets on this petticoat; these rows feature two new motifs. Someday, maybe Napoleon dress referenced above? Again, dream on, but in the middle of wintertime, one motif at a time, what a nice, bright yellow sunny interlude.