Adventures in Indigo dying.

True Indigo: Indigofera tinctoria

Woad:  Isatis tinctoria

I've been playing with indigo again the last few weeks, getting ready to weave some viking fabric. I'm not an avid dyer. I'm more of a persistent dabbler. I am competent with acid dyes, and happy to use them if I can't get the color of fabric I want. I really enjoy natural dying, but haven't had as much time, or really the motivation to single mindedly investigate it. I tend to dye for a specific end result. I design a garment, research what colors it might have been in at that time and place in history, then find out what dyestuffs they were using in that time and culture, and try to use those if I can get them, and if they are reliable. There are some exceptions. Lichen dyes are not
sustainable, so  I tend to skip to something else for purple. I don't care to work with copper and tin salts with small children in the house, so prefer to use things I can mordant with iron and alum. Dying is one of the oldest crafts in existence, and if you don't care as much about replicating the method exactly, between finds of actual dye plants in archaeological contexts, and chemical testing of dyed cloth, there's a rich historical record. If you're dying to replicate something, it's fairly easy to pick materials, because there's thousands of years of preference to note which colors are light and wash fast, and which give the clearest, brightest colors. Of this historical dyes, indigo and woad are the only reliable source for good blues. As such they're a indispensable part of the natural dyers arsenal, but the process is kind of a lot of chemistry (and has a reputation for being finicky), which I think throws a lot of potential dyers off.

Most natural dyes form a chemical bond with the proteins in wool or silk either because the dystuff itself is rich in a substance that allows the color to bind to the protein (like the tannins in black walnuts), or by the intermediary intervention of a metal salt: alum, tin, copper, or iron. Indigo and Woad on the other hand make a mechanical bond with the fiber, which is why they work so well on cellulose fibers that many other dyes have trouble sticking to. You use a chemical process to shrink the dye molecule and force it out of suspension and into solution. Then you dip your material to be dyed. When you take it out, the oxygen reacts with the indigen, re enlarging the molecule and permanently tangling it in the fiber. The oxidation also turns the dye blue! The process is just really very different from other dye processes: from how you get the dye to a state where it will give a washfast color, to how you actually dye the material (no simmering here! the maximum that you dip the material is 5-10 minutes in a nearly exhausted pot. I've never gone more than five. You get darker colors by successive layers, not by longer processing.)

It's a little like magic really: You pull the skeins out of the dye bath looking like dirty yellow and as the dye drains off of them they turn brilliant blue. It makes me feel a little like an enchantress every time I do it!

Indigo and woad plants don't give up their color easily! You get the indigen out of the plant by a fermentation process. I don't do this part, because it's smelly, time consuming, and requires the ability to keep a big stinky vat at warm temperatures (so stinky that Queen Elizabeth banned the construction of woad dying within a certain radius of her residences). It's not impossible, but I'd rather save my time for something else, and buy the pre fermented powdered product. (Persistent Dabbler.) I've gotten this both from Dharma Trading (who also carries the chemicals you need, and provides great customer support if you run into trouble with your dye vat) and from The Yarn Tree, who sources theirs from a social enterprise in Bangledesh. The Yarn tree indigo didn't dissolve as completely (there were some gritty particles in the bottom of the dye bath), but did seem to give really good color.

This is the best reduction I've ever gotten. Probably it should
go a little more yellow, it's still got a tinge of green to it.
You can see the somewhat mettalic/blue slick on top of the
dye here. I've not completely gotten rid of that ever. I tend to
sort of sweep it off with a paper towel before dying.

 After you have your indigen extracted from your plant, or your powder mixed into your dye bath, you are not ready to dye. What you have is dye particles suspended  in water, what you NEED is dye particles in solution. Indigen is grumpy about going into solution. The process works best at a PH of about 10, which is usually achieved by the application of soda ash. I do this by weight, and then by watching the dye bath, but the clever well prepared dyer can also use ph test strips. Then you use Thioruea Dioxide, added a little bit at a time, with 15 minute waits between additions, to force the dye into solution. The process of forcing the dye into solution is called "reducing' the dye bath. When the dye bath is ready, it will be bright yellow or yellow green and translucent.

This all sounds like it should involve test tubes and lab coats and whatnot, but what it really means is mixing a teaspoon of Thiourea Dioxide into hot water in a mason jar. Bringing your dye bath up to 125-150 degrees F. Adding half the dissolved thiorea. Stirring GENTLY (because oxygen forces the dye back out of solution). Waiting fifteen minutes: checking the color of the dyebath, and repeating pretty much interminably. With or without supplementary and unflattering muttering about the dyepot and/or the life choices that led you to dye with indigo in the first place.

Once it finally reduces you can run test skeins (presoaked) to see how long you need to dip! Never more than 5 minutes in a fresh pot, if you leave it in too long the color won't tend to be wash fast but will "crack" and slough off, turning you blue every time you handle it. these little samples were 30 seconds, 1 minute, and 2 minutes. I ended up dying my first dip 3 minutes, and my second dip almost four, as the dye bath was starting to run down. You can REALLY see the blue oxidized skin over the dyebath here (this was foamy skin because I had let it get too close to boiling) I skim that off with a paper towel, because it's almost oily, and if you don't get rid of it, it coats the fibers on the way into the dyebath and they don't come into uniform contact  with the dye (learned THAT the hard way).

Then dye! It pays to be careful here, you want to stir as little as possible and allow as little dripping into the pot as possible. Basically anything that will introduce oxygen is to be avoided. I pull the skeins out, let them stream into the pot, with the tip of the skein basically touching the pot, then wring them out over a second pot, and hang them on a line to oxidize fully. When I'm totally done dying, I pour the oxidized dye from the pot I wrung the skeins into back into the indigo vat. I ALWAYS do the actual dying outside. (another thing I learned the hard way) because drips are basically unavoidable, particularly as you need to spread the wet skeins out to contact the oxygen, and the drips stain most things. (I'm typing with blue fingernails at the moment....) Also it smells like boiling rotting plants.

Spread out to oxidize! straight indigo, indigo overdyed over Weld, and the bright screaming yellow is weld. 

 Once your dye has oxidized it can be sent back in for another dip if you want darker results, or even a couple more dips. Then you have the normal post dye routine: rinse, wash with syntrhapol (I use the Dharma brand) to remove any un bonded dye (so your fabric doesn't turn you BLUE). then rinse till the water is clear, and I send it through the spin cycle to speed dying. A retayne soak can be used right after it comes off the pot, I've done it in the past. I didn't this time, I don't have enough data from using the dyed material to know if this is worth it yet.

Finished dye (mostly finished. I decided some of the indigo skeins were blotchy/lighter and sent them in for another dip. also that one noticeably yellow green skein got re-dipped)

Things I learned: you have to tie indigo skeins far more loosely than you do simmering type dyes. you're depending on rapid, even dye absorption into the fibers, and evidently ties that are loose enough for simmering dyes, are tight enough to leave light spots on indigo skeins.You can't throw the whole lot in at once like you can when you do simmering type dying. anything RESEMBLING crowding in the pot means that you get light spots. I ended up finding that two of these skeins at a time was just right. You don't want to stir in a way that folds in oxygen, but you do want to kind of, swish the skeins back and forth under the dye to make sure that the dye has penetrated the interior of the skeins. Keep some thiourea dioxide dissolved in water handy and watch the color of your dye bath if you're doing a lot of dying. if the color starts to go green? Add some thiorea, and wait ten minutes for it to settle. It's worth how much of a pain it is in consistency of color (the green means that dye is oxidizing and therefore becoming unavailable to bond with your fiber, so in addition to removing dye from the bath on the skeins, you're making some of it unavailable, so your vat start unexpectedly producing a much lighter shade.) . The good news is, even my blotchy skeins came out pretty well after another trip through the pot, so most problems are non fatal if you're erring on the side of light, rather than dark.


The best news is, once you've got your vat going once, it's more amicable to keeping going. you can store it in a sealed bucket, stir it every so often, and it will last for months! if it's getting light, add some more indigo powder mixed into water, and as it oxidizes you add more thiourea to reduce it.

This is just me fuddling through the process with the aid of the dharma dying tutorials, plus troubleshooting help from the dharma staff. there are entire books devoted to indigo dying (Dharma sells a couple that look interesting), and if you want to be more than a persistent dabbler, that's probably a good investment! 

Embroidered Viking Kaftan

I decided last fall that I wanted to finally make myself a kaftan, and not only that, but I wanted to make a nice Kaftan, not just, fling something together as quickly as possible so I have something to wear. I have a shawl, I have a square plaid cloak, I can keep warm adequately at most events, but a kaftan is another layer, and more convenient in a lot of ways than a folded shawl or cloak.

while men's jackets, wrapped and belted in the style found in Hedeby, or in the case of Birka, fastened with buttons, are extensively (for viking garments) documented, women's Kaftans, or long coats, are not even a little. There are instances at birka, where silk loops, of the kind used to fasten a garment, have been found in a brooch positioned below the breasts. There was a hemmed piece of wool found running over the edge of a tortoise brooch. That and worked silver bands around the wrist area, not obviously associated with a serk, and decorative bands possibly associated with a lower hem, are about the the sum total of the evidence. Figurines are, notoriously, difficult. Women are shown wearing large triangular wraps which obscure the upper half of the clothes, leaving which layers are which at the bottom, debatable at best. But, considering the existence of a similar men's garment, and the practicality of another layer in a cold climate, it's not a far leap.

The presence of the single closure under the bust, the partially covered tortoise brooch, along with the practical difficulties of closing a garment over bulky brooch and beads, and the impracticality of covering your knife, keys, needle case, etc with a garment, argue for a sort of scooped cut away neckline, going around the broochs. This allows for the continued display of beads, and makes it possible for the chatalaine items to fall over the outer garment, thus remaining accessible. Some argue a high neckline could have been allowed to fold open, and while this is certainly possible, the shaped neckline of the hedeby mens coat, and the fact that the one fragment found over a tortoise brooch was hemmed, not folded, argues some against this.

The general consensus then, is that this was a long sleeved, calf length at least garment, with a scooped neckline, possibly trimmed with silk, held closed beneath the breasts with probably a Trefoil brooch threaded through loops. I will fully admit that this is the shakiest of all the viking garments in terms of evidence for it, and that building a full fledged garment from the very miniscule facts we have is questionable at best. Some people decline to admit such a garment even existed! But, my previous arguments about practicality stand, and I decided to make one anyway.

Having set my hand to the plow, so to speak,  I looked through my woolens, determined to use one of the larger pieces. I had a large peice of very soft grey, in a very pretty color, that I've been using as a mantle since the beginning of my little viking adventure more than three years ago. It had been in my mind to upgrade it into a kaftan for some time. But grey is very boring for a viking. They weren't much for undyed wools, and from chemical evidence liked flash and bright colors. Besides, the grey would have made a kaftan of scanty length. I also happened to have a chunk of heavy orange in plausible madder, which I quite liked ,but was too heavy, and too small to do almost anything with. That and the bag of wool threads my mom had given me, in shades of orange and red (originally intended for a color wheel that she never completed), sparked an idea: I would embroider the grey, to give it some flash, and then border it with the orange.

Of course there is the usual difficulty about large scale embroideries on viking garments, which can be argued ad naseum. I decided that I didn't care if it wasn't the purest interpretation of a garment already based on slightly dodgy evidence, and went for it. Animal themes are common in what embroidery we have remaining from the viking era, as well as in their artwork. I looked a lot of images, and decided to render a pair of my favorite birds, ravens, on the shoulders of the garment. I took the shape of the raven from a carving showing Odin with one of his birds perched on his shoulder (9th century rune stone from the isle of Mann), embellishing it from several brooches in raven form.

I particularly loved this little brass piece. it was listed as a horse harness ornament, but I was unable to find a specific date, or location for it. I loved how all the feathers had different textures in the tail. I decided to use different textures in all of the tail and wing feathers of my ravens, and try to use stitches to imitate textures found of pieces of raven jewelry.

I cut the kaftan in a very basic style similar to the hedeby coat. Straight fronts and backs with a sloped shoulder, with a center back gore, and side gores to provide fullness in the skirts. Since it's desireable to have the over layer slightly open in the front to display any decorations on the smokkr below, and since the coat didn't need to wrap like the hedeby coat, I did not use a split front gore. The sleeve has a slightly shaped head, and a underarm gusset, Because of fabric shortages the sleeve is a bit wodgy. The gosset is long and tapered at one end to give me more upper arm room, because I could fit that on the fabric I had, but not a wider upper sleeve. Considering the extremely funky piecing we've seen on some extant pieces I am going to call this totally period. Then I turned all the edges under, and whip stitched them down to finish the edges, using modern cotton thread in a matching color of grey. on a nice thick wool, it's easy to pick up the threads on the inside without your stitches showing on the outside.

I traced half of the upper back into my big sketch book, and drew one of a pair of ravens. The very vertical pose of these ravens makes them ideal to use across the shoulders, because they fit very nicely. The scale worked out so their tails end right above the tip of the back gore. Since they're not attached to odin's shoulder, I interlaced the toes for a little extra detail. You will notice the feet are staggered as in perspective view, but the same size. That's a typical feature of this period of art. I originally was going to use the curled beak you see on so many of the brooches to echo the curled toes and the swirl on the wing, but decided, as period as it is, i just don't care for it that much, and went back to the simple beak from the isle of mann carving.

Transferring it onto wool was, as usual, a lot of fun. wool is a super huge pain. I ended up measuring and marking reference points, then drawing the ravens on free hand with a fine tipped sharpie marker.

I chose to use chain stitch for the outlines. I worked the ravens on the cut out back piece before putting it together both to ensure I had enough embroidery thread to do the outlines all in once color (since I was working in a limited supply) and because then I didn't have to wrangle the whole coat around  I did not use a hoop for any of this work.  Although a hoop can be an invaluable tool, I don't generally care for using one in the first place, and particularly dislike it when working on wool. There are some situations in which it's unavoidable, but the way I work a lot of my outlining stitches make it somewhat counterproductive.

With the ravens outlined, I started on putting the kaftan together. My original plan was to use a decorative stitch both to construct and embellish. I had used van dyke stitch to construct a hood for Kitten earlier in the year, and it had both gone quickly and looked pretty. Since I was using one of the cousins of that stitch for this I decided to work it the same way. I ran the first half of the center back gore, from the point down. The ends didn't line up. This was odd, but I decided I hadn't measured correctly, and started the other side, working from the point down as well. This time the OTHER edge was longer. This was clearly not an issue of mis measurement. I laid the piece out flat on the floor, and the issue was clear to behold: the stitching was pulling up one side of the work as I went. Since I had worked both sides tip down, one seam had pulled up the gore, the other side the back of the kaftan. it was terrible and rumply, and steaming wasn't going to solve it. At this point the whole thing went into bad project time out for a few months.

Once I was over sulking and wanting to kick things. I took out all the stitching I had done, carefully, so I could re-use the wool thread (remember limited thread and no way to get more!) and (grumpily) basted all the seams. Then I went back and worked all the seams in the decorative stitch. It was really hard to get this as even as I wanted it to be, and I'm still not entirely happy with the outcome. I love the look of the stitch but don't love how un tidily I ended up working it.

Working the decorative stitch is a two step process.

I finished all my tails by the simple expedient of working a few split stitches on the seam allowance then running the tail under a short ways.

In between running the seams I worked on the ravens, being sure that all of the colors of thread used in the seams were also represented in the embroidery on the back. I used a feather texture worked in cloister stitch, a couched lattice work, spiraling split stitch on the lower beak, and bayeux stitch on the upper beak. I needed one more texture. I decided to run a series of tall and short osberg loops down the last feather to recreate the stamped circles used on a number of the brooches.

The first step of osberg loop stitch: pin all those loops!
(so many pins)

The bodies of the ravens looked empty and sad without any fill, after I'd filled in the feathers, so I used spirals to loosely fill in some of the upper bodies and sort of flying wedges of couched thread in the spiral of the wings. Again, textures taken off pieces of raven jewelry, which had knotwork or circles worked to fill in the bodies or portions of the body.

Finished ravens! 

Once I had run all the seams on the body, I had to attach the trim to the bottom. I had cut wedges and rectangles that continued the shape of the pieces of the main coat, I sewed them together and felled the edges down with white wool handspun.

 I sewed the seams with the allowance to the outside, trimmed the grey down short, and turned the seam up over the body, where I basted it down. I covered the seam with a couched down whip cord braid.

Then I hemmed the coat with a herringbone stitch, which shows neatly on the outside as a parallel row of straight stitches. This is a documentable period technique. Actually it's the only documentable period use for herringbone, as much as we vikings love to use it over seams on the outside for the fancy.

Whip cord braiding in progress with my
improvised bobbins.

Then I edged the front opening with bands of orange, and the neck edge with orange cut on the bias, which used the last scraps of the orange. I had enough cord to cover the raw edge of the bias wool with couched cord, but whip stitched the front edges down with white wool. That made it "finished not done" and wearable in time for Edlvatten's Winter Thyng which seemed like a reasonable debut. I'm now making more whip cord braid to finish edging all of the orange, and maybe run another line around the bottom somewhere, maybe with some decorative doodles. I'd also like to embroider some rondelles around the bottom, but have to figure out the exact design for that, so this project is on the back burner for now!

Of course no images of me actually wearing the garment seem to exist, but I did get some nice ones of it in outside light to share with you. It is a lovely sweepy flowy thing, and I do enjoy wearing it. It's also VERY warm. With the addition of my mittens and hood I am warmer than in a mundane outside jacket wearing it! And of course, for a really cold day I could add a cloak on top of this, plus wool stockings under my gown and possibly nallbound socks over them and under my turnshoes for outside wear.

Purple Smokkr

About a year ago, I aquired a lovely piece of wool twill, in a color I like to refer to as "plausible purple," with the intention of making myself a second smokkr, of the un-pleated variety, to expand my somewhat scant wardrobe. My black pleated smokkr is, at this point, more than three years old, and has made the rounds of many, many events. It's beginning to show some wear, and to be frank, I do get a little tired of wearing the same thing all the time. With the massive rush to get us ready for camping events last year, I did little to expand my own wardrobe, aside from necessary new undergowns and fighting gear. But this winter  I wanted to add a couple nicer pieces to my wardrobe, made properly, not in haste and out of absolute panicked necessity. With a kaftan and a second smokkr, I would be set for any events for the next few years, until my old things started wearing out at least. It would be a relief to just not have to worry about my own garb, and be able to focus on keeping the gremlins in clothing that actually fits.

As far as historical reference, I could go on at great length, but that would be reinventing the wheel, instead I would like to direct your attention to these two fabulous articles by Hilde Thnumen, who has gathered all of the primary source material, translated as necessary, and discusses the conclusions that may be reached at length. I cannot do better.
Viking Apron dress: Smokkr
 haithabu smokkr interpretation

Silver-gilt Viking pendant, Oland, Sweden,
6th century

I am going to be basing my reconstruction on the Haithabu smokkr, which is closest geographically to my persona's residence in what is modern Scotland, and on this wonderful little figurine, usually interpreted as a Valkyrie. I love the surface detail of the braided decorative bands. although this figurine seems to be wearing a separate trained garment over the top of her smokkr (we assume it is a smokkr, although we cannot see the turtle brooches) the slightly trained silhouette seems to be a theme among the figurines, and, as I find it graceful personally, I have maintained it in my recreation.

I started out by pinning the wool around my bust, to a comfortable tightness. that gave me a measurement of 41 inches (without seam allowance) separating half to the front, and half to the back, and adding seam allowance, gave me two panels of 21" Measuring down from where the top of my smokkr sits now, to where I wanted it to start to flare, gave me a measurement of about 8"

Then it's a matter of fitting the pieces onto the available fabric in the most efficient way possible. there are a number of hypothosized layouts for the fitted style smokkr, and you can make one work for almost any size and shape piece of fabric. I made the first cut with the front and back, then unfolded the leftover square to make the side gores. I did not curve the bottoms of the side gores because I wanted a train effect, the longer, diagonal side will go towards the longer train side. This also keeps the front relatively flat while flaring the back out, which matches with the shape of existing figurines.

With the rough seams sewn, I popped it on. I had the usual problem in the back, and had to take a large pinch out. I have an extremely curved lower spine, and it makes for a funny fit for almost all the basic layouts. One of the advantages of the pleated front smokkr is it alleviates this issue. I will probably have some horizontal wrinkling on this dress almost no matter what  I do, although cutting the back top down some helps, as does not trying to fit it tightly through the waist, which would be unflattering on me at present anyhow. with it on inside out I placed pins for the darts at the front, and also for the loops to hang my brooches from.

although I did run the long seams by machine, it was easier to run the very narrow darts (no more than a quarter inch at the widest!) by hand. Although the original piece, the ridge appears to have been set to the outside, then covered by fine braid, I had an oopsie here, and went on autopilot and put them to the inside. This is incorrect, however I plan to cover them with braid, so it will not be obvious.

Then I overcast all the seams by hand with contrasting thread, which is a period approved method of seam finishing.  I used blue DMC floss, since my ball of blue linen has gone walkabout. I'm not... entirely thrilled with the results. it's not as tidy as I'd love it to be, although certainly it's just as tidy as the overcast stitching on the dart of the extant garment.

 A number of the smokkr fragments found have been lined, or faced, with linen. It's impossible to know whether they were fully lined or not, since no full length garments have been found. because I ended up cutting the back of my smokkr down quite fat to make up for my curved spine and prevent unsightly wrinkles, I had a long bias edge from brooch to back. I wanted to stabelize this and keep the weight of the gown and pulling it on and off, from distorting the edge, so I used a partial lining of a natural colored linen. I also used this linen for the bottom brooch loops. Linen is actually more common, particularly for the hidden lower loops, than wool on extant smockkrs, probably because it wore better. I sewed the long hidden seam by machine again, doubling seaming it along the armpit/back portion.  Then flipped it into the inside of the dress, hand top stitched with purple wool, and used threads pulled from the selvedge of the linen to whip stitch the loops, and hem the lining down to the shell of the smokkr.

Fragment from Sarnanger b 10722 showing corded hem

Then remained hemming. I had my imagination caught by a fragment of twill, edged with a cord overcast with woolen thread. this seemed tidy, and like it would give the hem a beautiful shape. According to the article about the find (Thnumen covers it in her paper about smokkrs) it's a braided cord, whip stitched over with a two ply thread. I extrapolated that the cord was probably wool, since it still remained, although it could have equally been linen. I had wool, so I braided a 3 strand cord. The easiest way was to baste it to the edge of the smokkr, which kept it even, then overcast it with 2 ply wool, as seen in the fragment. you can see that the stitches are close, but not crowded. I attempted to recreate that, as well as the scale of cord/fabric. Of course I ran out of thread with an small section left in the center front. I was left with a few options. I could use another color to do the front section of the hem. I could undo the braid for the darts and use that thread to finish the hem, then make different braid, or I could find a way of decorating the front that hid the block of missing hem. Number one would have been the most historically accurate, and in the end, the least time consuming. Of course I chose the less historically accurate, more difficult, and super fancy option, and decided to make the front block purple, and root an appliqued tree into it.

My original plan had been to tablet weave wide trim and apply it in horizontal bands like on the valkyrie figurine. That plan is completely authentic and documentable (by viking standards) The new plan was less historically proveable. We do know that the vikings did use applique, the Osberg ship find included a wool gown with blue animals applied to the hem. Valkyrie figures show bands of decoration on skirts, but there is not real evidence for large scale blocks of decoration of this type. Even so, I liked the idea so much I ran with it. the best tree image I could find, was this one from a church in sedestal (for people with so many trees in their mythology, they sure didn't use tree images that much. Or my google fu for viking stuff has gotten weak), it's 12 century, so later, but the art has the proper shapes. I loved the acanthus like tree leaves. Acanthus shaped embroideries were part of the Mamman find, which is 10th century, so I felt the use of acanthus shapes was not out of context for my persona.

Also at Mamman was a embroidery showing two beasts (perhaps leopards?) facing a tree in the center. This was a common motif in oriental textiles of the period, which we know the vikings had access to, particularly from the pskov find that Thnumen goes over in her articles. It is thought that this motif was a reproduction of that style of artwork. Working from this base, and digging through my wool stash, I decided to use an appliqued tree with two Eastern Tygers facing it. Making my dress both a reference to the extant embroidery finds, and a nod to the east kingdom.

I drew the tree onto some aqua wool, and pinned it onto the gown. and then I started basting. And basting. And MORE basting. Followed by stitching it all down. I used small whip stitches, spaced out slightly. I've seen this technique used on early surviving applique pieces, and it was the most apt for the material I had to work with. The wool was more loosely woven and less fulled than is ideal for applique, so the edges required more stabelization, and I needed to cover more of the edge to keep the applique from just tearing out of the stitches.

That done, I sketched a quick Easter Tyger, slightly simplified to be more in line with the style of the mammen embroideries, and the extent oriental textiles. The extreme detailing of the EK tyger is much more in line with later artistic styles, so I just dialed it back a bit while trying to keep it recognizeable.  I cut that out of a gold wool skirt that I had for upcycling (moth holes) and pinned/basted it down. and by baste I mean overcast the edges with very tiny whip stitches to keep the little points from flying apart when I tried to applique around them.

Then I couched blue cord around the Tygers. Technically the Eastern Kingdom Tyger is blue on a field of yellow, but this looked good, and was still a nice nod at the East.

With the embroidery done, and thoroughly steamed (Even being careful it gets a little lumpy while you're working it) all that remained was to baste the braided trim (six strand braid in two colors like
in the Haithabu fragment) over the darts, and make the shoulder straps. Although there are plenty of examples of Smokkrs with both the upper and lower loops out of linen, I decided that I preferred the look of the matching straps, and made the upper straps/loops out of a remaining scrap of purple wool.  these were whip stitched down to the lining with my newly found blue linen thread, and my new EK Smokkr was done! and in plenty of time to wear to Birka. Of course Birka then didn't go as planned due to car trouble, and I missed the fashion show and only got to wear my new getup for a little bit. I did however, get to wear it with all my other fancy for walking into court at a part of my friend's pelican procession this weekend at dancing fox. I had the privilege of being the person who got to put together all the bits of his regalia cloak (it was a group project which a lot of hands worked on), and they asked me to carry it into court, which was a surprise and an honor! so I was happy that I had my new fancy EK Smokkr to wear. Now I just have to get an eye bleeding gold Serk to wear under it!

Of course there are no actual pictures of me wearing it in which you can see the garb.
Edited 4/19/18 to Add: Someone took a picture of me in it!

A couple final notes: because it's more fitted through the body, it makes my serks shorter! ACK. So I will at least make my fancy court serk to wear with this longer. Also, this lay out doesn't lay as gracefully across my back as I would like, due to the previously noted curvature of my lower spine. I think I need to add a small center back gore to alleviate this problem and make the gown flow gracefully from top to hem. Possibly I could also flip the center back pieces so the angled edge is at the center back, and the straight edge at the side back and get a similar effect, although that would effect the side flare (which I like) some.  As it is cut, there's a little wrinkle lump in the small of the back now, and there's not much I can do about it. I'm going to take the gown to my mom's and put it on inside out and see if with another set of experienced hands I can somewhat sort the problem, but alas, the only real solution is to put at least a small gore into the center back seam. Again, the pleated front smokkr doesn't have this problem. it's actually much more modest in fabric use as well. It's interesting the things you discover about fit while doing this sort of reconstruction work. I wonder if one of the reasons for the pleated fronts was because it provided good fit with less fabric. We'll never know of course, but it sure is fun to speculate! 

In search of Armor: Breastplate and tunic

With my kidney belt finished I moved onto the last remaining piece of my basic armor (not counting legs and helmet, which I'm still using loaner.) Over the kidney belt and rerebraces, I wanted to wear a plain short sleeved linen tunic. From what we can extrapolate from grave finds and art work, vikings did wear a sort of standard geometric tunic pattern, although they sometimes did shape the sleeves and armholes (as I do in my Serks). For this I decided to just keep the standard roomy "T" shape The loose sleeve is very easy to move in, and the more awkward drape isn't something I'm concerned about all that much when I'm wearing armor anyhow. Since by this time we were on final approach for pennsic, I just needed to get it done so I could get out of what i Had started referring to as the "hedgehog armor."

 I had bought blue and gold linen for this purpose several months ago on an excursion to a fabric warehouse, Indigo for the body, gold from the trim. I trimmed the sleeves, neck, and hem with the gold,  and covered the join to the body with a couched cord. The couched cord is found on smokkr fragments found in birka (1) although not used exactly in this way.

This is the most basic design in historical sewing, very fabric efficient because it's all squares and half rectangle triangles. I did flat fell all the seams for comfort and strength, and I made the under arm gusset much larger than I do on my normal garments, just to give it that little extra ease and make it easier to move in, and easier to get on and off over partial armor.

I also tried a new thing with the bottom trim. It's curved so it's a bit tricky. if you cut it in a long shaped strip, it's wicked inneficient use of fabric. lots of waste. If you cut it in pieces to match the ends of the gores, it's a lot of seams, and hard to get all the seam points matched up. If you make it straight and let it hang down, it hangs super weird and looks funny. So I cut a long straight strip, sewed it onto the edge, flipped it up to the outside of the tunic, and turned the edges under. Now I had an upper edge that was bigger than the garment. So at each seam along the side I took a small dart in by hand, from the edge of the trim to the top, shaping the trim evenly to the garment. The darts look like an extension of the garment seams, and the trim lies flat and smooth. I joined it to the body with a couched cord. The down side is that it makes 2 layers along the bottom of the garment, which is more wasteful. But on the other hand it weights the hem and makes hang very nicely. I think on balance it was a successful experiment, and I will repeat.

For the breastplate, I drafted a pattern from my gambeson, which was already patterned to wear over my breast band, which binds my chest flatter than a modern bra. I cut it out of stiff paper, because I didn't have cereal boxes big enough, and taped it together. Then I cut and shaped until it fit well over gambeson and breast band, leaving a little ease for the tunic. Instead of a seam directly over the shoulder, I used a long flat piece along the shoulder with an extended tab over the top of the arm. This both eliminated a seam at a pressure point where it could potentially cause discomfort, and gave me a place to rivet my spaulders.

I cut the breastplate pieces for medium weight leather for the sides, and heavy leather over the chest. This isn't to protect my chest as much as it is to protect my collar bones, sternum, and upper ribs. In my few months fighting, it's not super common to get hit on the chest, although that may be partially a function of preferring to fight sword and shield to other forms, but most blows seem to come down onto the shoulders, where they get deflected by the spaulders. Why then do I bother with anything past a heavy collar to protect your collarbones and support the spaulders? Aside from the occasional odd ball shot that was meant for your face but landed on your chest instead, a couple of the guys in my practice have a nasty hanging shot that comes in behind your shield and lands thumpingly on your sternum. In addition to that, when I do eventually take up forms that don't involve a shield, my whole upper torso becomes a prime target until I learn to block.

I pre punched small holes all along the edge of the breast plate pieces with my awl, then sewed them together with waxed leather thread (which is actually a sort of very fine braided cord) I then went back over the stitching the other way, making the exposed stitching look like a row of X's. This involved the use of pliers and a hand pad. I didn't want to punch the holes too large, but in hind sight I should have made them a little larger, because I broke two needles gripping them with the pliers to yank them through.

I didn't want to super water harden this piece, because I just didn't think it needed to be rigid, and I wanted some flex in thesides for ease of movement (although the way I patterned it I think I could have made it of kydex and still gotten complete range of motion.) but it did need to be shaped, and stiff. So I put on my gambeson, wrapped myself in saran wrap to protect it, then put on an old t-shirt of my husband's to simulate the bulk of the tunic. I submerged the breastplates in almost boiling water for about 20 seconds, until the edges had JUST started to shrivel a little, Then put it on, and stretched and formed it into shape. I wrapped it on with a giant ace bandage until it had cooled. Then I put it over a pillow so it would hold it's shape while it dried.

I attached a piece of suede for the back and shoulders (This will be covered by my scale mail drape, so it not only doesn't need to be rigid, but it's preferable that it not be) and added ties to one side so I could get in and out. Then I took it to a friend's house so he could help me drill holes in my stainless spaulders and I could rivet them on. I also wanted the advice of a more experienced armorer (I have so little experience it's not funny, he's been making armor for something like 20 years I think.) for the most effective placement of the spaulders. He actually decided I should put them on upside down, they fit my narrower shoulders better that way, and higher up than is totally standard. He also advised me on the best way to pad the inside of the spaulders, so that the ends and edges don't dig in when I get a direct hit. I wouldn't have thought of that until I'd been hit once, so I'm thankful.

And it was done! just in time for a shake down cruise to pennsic. I do NOT advise this course of action. ideally you should try your new armor at a few practices to work out any wrinkles, but I was determined to be rid of the heavy, uncomfortable loaner breastplate for pennsic and it's long days of field battles. So I packed an extensive repair kit, crossed my fingers, and jumped in at the deep end. Thankfully, it had no problems. It survived trial by fire with flying colors! I was deeply thankful for the padding in the spaulders a couple of times. It was light, mobile, and comfortable. The only down side of the shorty breastplate I found in a week of fighting is that in some positions spear to the ribs can miss both belt and breastplate and nail you. That happened once and all the air exited my lungs in a whoosh. Heck of a shot by the spear. I also want to get the drape done before I do another round of melee, because pole arm to the back on padding only kind of sucks (although that wool padding is surprisingly effective. I got pole armed to the back a couple times and I was sure I was going to have big old bruises, and didn't.)

              

Waiting to tag back in at the
allied champions battle. I still
look silly.
Photo by James Pallack

My probationary household member tabard almost
completely covers my armor, which actually improves
the look for early period.
Photo by James Pallack

and a gratoutious shot of me with some of my hopefully someday household brothers, mustering on the field.
 Fighting with these guys is a joy and an honor. I hope to continue doing it for a long time.
Photo Credit: Charla Kinzel

                                                                                                                                                                       





1) Orignal source: Hägg, I. 1974. Kvinnodräkten i Birka: Livplaggens rekonstruktion på grundval av det arkeologiska materialet. Uppsala, Archaeological Institute. ISBN 9150600028
translated in this excellent article about smokkr. 

My gloveing journey: A pair of armored gauntlets

 When I started loking at women's armor for inspiration, the first thing that I was really attracted to was a set of thigh guards and vambraces made from soft leather with sewn channels for metal strapping. I looked and said: "That looks like boning channels, I can do this!" So I designed these gloves with attached vambraces, based on a pair of Wisby style gauntlets I'd seen on pinterest. Essentially the pattern is like any other cuffed glove, although the cuff is longand fitted. Articulated finger backs for full gauntlets are far beyond my current skill and budget, but it should be theoretically possible to remove the vambraces, attach armor to the gloves, and then reattach the vambraces. Maybe I'll even figure out how to make the articulated fingers myself at some point (or more likely my husband will)

I decided that I'd use up my giant pile of good quality leather scraps on these gloves to save the limited funds for other armoring projects, and because I kind of liked the patchwork look of it (this is one of those "I saw a thing once upon a time and it stuck in my brains" ideas). It certainly makes my style very personalized, if not really Historically accurate. But the historical accuracy of a set of gauntlets for a viking persona is debatable at best, so I decided to go with making something fun for myself.

I started by making a cardboard pattern for the vambrace, and taping it onto my arm until I got a good shape with coverage up to the elbow but the ability to flex my arm. I really like cardboard for patterning things that will be stiff, because you can tape it on and see if it needs to be trimmed because it's bidning/jabbing/etc. Then I traced that onto a piece of butchers paper, and started laying out scraps to fit, and sewing them together. It's a bit tricky, because you don't want to cut a seam, so you can't just sew it all together into a big square then cut your patterns in the traditional way, but I managed to piece the outsides of a pair of vambraces in an evening.


I had a lot of "help" from Kitten. Who wants to be involved with everything.

I drafted a basic glove pattern, and fit it with a
felt mockup. I must finally be getting better at this, because this time around I only had to do one mockup, and only two small changes. I'm still having trouble getting the amount of ease in the fingers right: the thumb was snug and the two middle fingers were about a quarter inch loose, I slimmed down the fouchettes to correct that problem, and traced out a final pattern. I'd also forgotten to center the thumb on the palm side of the first finger again, but that was easily set right. I then proceeded to trace a clean copy, and cut it apart into bits so that I could piece it from scraps without having to either a) cut the seams or b) ending up with a continuous line of stitching across the knuckles, which I thought would be awkward looking. I taped the fouchettes to some of the fingers to give my one piece to cut out instead of two, carefully overlapping the seam allowances so that the pieces would be the right size.

When I was done putting all the pieces together I was left basically with a standard glove that had the

fouchettes put in already. Remaining was the thumb and the final finger seam. Typically I do that final finger seam on the treadle machine to expedite things, but because of the way the fingers were pieced together I decided to just bite the bullet and do it by hand.

with the hands and vambraces all together I was ready to splint the vambraces 

I used metal intended for welding sourced from the hardware store for my splints. My husband cut it and rounded the edges, and then I painted it with 3 layers of rustoleum. Why would I do that? because I'm going to sweat all over these things regularly, and they may not dry out as quickly as I'd like. Rust will ruin these from the inside out in very short order. I wish I could have found aluminum from my splints, as it would have been lighter, and rust proof, but this was what I could easily source locally, and compared to the arms I'm currently wearing, it's light as a feather.
  

With the metal ready, I sewed boning channels into my canvas and lining, and inserted the splints. Awesome lining fabric is leftover from a quilting project. I decided NOT to pad the lining, as I'd originally considered, but rather to pad my gambeson underneath, with the idea that separate layers will dry more quickly. The padding will protect my arm from the splints. If this seems like an aggressive amount of protection, it probably is, but I watched someone get their forearm broken a few years ago, and I'd rather wear something a little heavy than have that happen. Melee is a hot mess, and sticks fly everywhere. With my smaller frame, a misplaced or mistimed chop from a great weapon would be all it would take. Maybe eventually for tourney I will decide on something lighter.  I put the leather on top of the splints, and bound them with suede using my trusty treadle machine. Then I sewed on buckles and straps.

about this time I decided to try and incorporate hardened demi gauntlets into my design to save me from wearing a pair over the gloves. I had already made a cardboard pattern and mockup for these, and I decided to get rid of the cuff, and rivet the hand direct to the glove itself before attaching the vambrace. I felt this would streamline the dressing process and save me from the dread demi gauntlets. I'd been through 3 or 4 different loaned pairs (in varying shades of "doesn't fit") and didn't much care for any of them.

I cut the gauntlet pieces, sewed them together, and water hardened them. To shape them over my hands I put on the gloves with a pair of surgical gloves over top of them, to protect them from the water. Then I slapped the hot wet leather right onto my hand, covered it with a piece of plastic wrap, and taped it to my hand with athletic tape. I left it taped to my hand until it was thoroughly cooled, then took it off very gently, and tied it gently around so that it wouldn't fall out of shape as it dried. Once it was dry, I quick riveted it to the back of the hand. Then I sewed the cuff onto the hand with a stitching awl. This seam can be undone easily should i manage to get articulated hands for these gauntlets.

The bottom of the wrist seam is left un sewn. This allows for better mobility in the joint.  The leather strap across the palm keeps the hardened plate from flapping.

The gentle curve down over the knuckles gives me better coverage without limiting my mobility. You don't want any squishy bits sticking out of your shield boss or hilt basket, and i prefer a smaller hilt basket. so thumb and hand coverage is key. 

With the basic gauntlet done, I needed make a floating piece to cover the space between hand back and splints,  that would help protect my wrist and make sure I passed inspection. I needed to do this without limiting my mobility. which is a pretty tall order. One of the more senior fighters that I was complaining to had the excellent idea of attaching a small wrist plate with elastic to the sides of the glove. I went back to the cardboard for a trial run and found that a blobby crescent sort of shape, if given a little stretch, covered the questionable chink in my armor, and didn't bind up on my wrist. I cut it from leather, wet shaped it, and attached it with elastic tabs. 

the finished right glove. complete with wrist guard. 

elastic tabs mounted on rivets through the hand plate give the wrist guard some flex. the curved up shape keeps it away from my wrist and allows a pretty full range of wrist motion. 

from the top you can see that the floating plate gives complete coverage of the gap between the splinted vambrace and the hand plate. I wore the gloves for several weeks without the wrist plate, and got hit in the wrist a couple times without issue, but this way they will consistently pass inspection. The extra protection for the wrist is no bad thing either I need my wrists for sewing. 

For the record, this is the stupidest way to make a glove EVER, and I could have made 3 pairs of regular gloves, maybe more, in the time it took me to make these. But I love them so much I totally don't care. Sometimes, since I have to be aggressively practical in most of my mundane life, it's just nice to break out in impracticality in some way!