I Resolve to be Historical

I've never been a big one for resolutions. In fact, there's only one past resolution that I made that I really remember. When I was 15 (about to turn 16) I resolved to get a date for the prom. All of my friends were juniors and seniors, and I was a lowly sophomore. Thus, I literally spent a couple of hours on the phone one night with a friend, scoping out potential dates. Did it work? Yes. Did it last? Heck no. He dumped me when he left for college.

Anyway....

This year, I'm resolving to be more historical. Historical? Yes, historical. But what does that mean, you might ask. Does it mean I want to be old? Will I be dying my hair gray? Petitioning the AARP for membership? Purchasing a pair of white stretch pants? (My mother swears that all old ladies wear them.)

No. At least not anytime soon. I mean, I may wear old lady hats to church, but I'm still only 25.

My goal, instead, is to revive some old traditions and crafts in my own life. Things that people used to do.

1. I'm going to host more dinner parties. At which I wear dresses. (Oh! The shock of it!)

2. I'm going to try to teach myself how to crochet lace. Lace for pillow case edges. Lace for doilies. Maybe even a few thousand feet of lace to go on the edge of a crinoline. (Yes, I wear them. And someday, I'll blog about them.)

3. I'm going to write more notes. Real notes...the kind that require stationary, a pen, and a stamp. (Gasp!) You know, the things Grandma used to get in the mail?

4. I'm going to polish my silverware - the kind that's actually made of silver - and use it. (Ooohhh....)

5. I'm going to crochet myself a sweater. Really. I bought the yarn (on sale) last night. IF it turns out, I'll post pictures when I'd done.

What about you? Can you bring a little history into your life? Maybe you should resolve to use Grandma's china a bit more. Maybe you'll wear a (gasp!) dress (with complimentary hat) to church next Sunday. Maybe you'll bust out great-aunt Gertrude's knitting needles that are languishing in the sewing room closet. What you do, be sure to do it with a bit of historical flair.

Christmas Eve Dress

This year, I've enjoyed a relatively calm December. Sure, there were cookies to bake, presents to wrap, and cards to send. But compared with the last three Decembers, when I was busy taking final exams, writing papers, and completing 10 long take home finals, this year was great. No tears, no temper tantrums (grad school brings out the best in everyone)...in fact, I managed to act like a (mostly) mature adult.

In fact, things were going so well, that exactly one week and two days before Christmas Eve, I decided that I need a new project. And not just any project....a new Christmas Eve dress.

That doesn't sound that bad, right?

Well......

It could have been worse.

I started with a basic pattern (New Look 6723) for the dress. Just a little green number. And I even had the fabric! But then, I decided that it needed a jacket. So, I took a retro pattern (Simplicity 3748) and lengthened the jacket sleeves a bit. Then, I decided to add braid to it. I mean, really. Who wants to make a plain, simple, uncomplicated jacket?

But then, I looked at the pattern again. Without too much work, I thought, I can make this look even better! How about making the skirt of the dress cream (the same fabric that the jacket's made of), and then making a green overskirt to go over it? It'll be very chic - in a 1950s sort of way. Because, really, who doesn't want to wear two skirts when one will do?

So, I made the dress. The jacket. And then I started working on the overskirt....

Three period movies, a few choice words, and a bit of angst later, I finished it. And I still had over 24 hours left before the Christmas Eve service!

Here it is. And yes, I realize that the teal walls of my kitchen don't do much for the outfit. My kitchen happens to be the brightest room in my house. Sorry!

Oh, and by the way...the white skirt IS supposed to be a bit longer than the green overskirt.

A Merry Little Christmas

My husband has a talent for finding amazing antiques. Every year I wait for Christmas with great anticipation, eager to find out what treasure he managed to uncover in the last 12 months.

This year, my favorite gift was some accessories for my china. I've long wanted small sets of personal salt and peppers ever since we first got these dishes.

Here they are - complete with small pepper shakers (these still need to be polished!), salt dishes, and teeny spoons.

And the best part? The shakers and dishes are British! How much more pretentious - er, historical - can you get?

Mid-Century Modern Giveaway

Apparently I'm missing the boat. Have you noticed that lately everyone seems obsessed with mid-century Modern stuff? Liz and Mabel love it. Mod Girl (obviously) loves it. Mom at the Sweet Nest seems to like it. Gosh, before I know it, Pioneer Woman will be furnishing her cattle ranch in mid-century Modern.


I'm not really a Modern kind of girl. I think of the stuff is pretty snazzy....like the marshmallow sofa Herman Miller made. (For any of you who live in or near Michigan, the sofa is going to be featured in an upcoming exhibit on Herman Miller at The Henry Ford in Dearborn.) In general, though, I don't go for it. A lot of modern furniture is too....well...plastic. Literally. Who wants to sit in a glorified plastic bucket?


But I can appreciate Modern from a distance. I appreciate the snazziness factor with modern. In fact, if I ever lived in a mid-century ranch (it happens to the best of us), I might even buy a piece of it someday. If nothing else, it would go nicely with my 1950s wardrobe that I seem to be building.


Since everyone else in the world seems to love it, though, I figure that I should probably learn something about it. After all, don't we all need tips on where to place those extra dinette carts that reside in our kitchens? So, a couple of months ago at my favorite used book source, I picked up a copy of the Better Homes and Gardens guide to home decorating c. 1955.


Even for me, it is deliciously fun. I love the little cartoon people at the beginning of every chapter. Aren't they cute?

And I love the 1950s version of Colonial Revival! Hilarious! Apparently is you stick an eagle above your mantel, the room becomes insta-colonial.




(For those of you who aren't familiar with the colonial revival movement, it began in 1876 with the Philadelphia Exposition. It was a return to what we perceived to be historical American house and furniture forms. The movement lasted, in one form or another, for a century. I like to think of it as an excuse to put an "olde fashioned" spinning wheel in every room of your house.)

Back to the book. The best part is that they had two copies. For a $1 each! So, I bought both of them. And, I kept one.

The other one? That's for you. Yes, even the yous that lives in Australia. :)

Here's what I'm going to do. I'm going to host my first ever blog give away. Here's how it works. Leave me a comment and a way to contact you. (You may do this on the blog or on facebook, whichever you prefer.) I need at least ten people to participate, please. On New Years Day I will randomly select one person. And that person will become the proud owner of the other BHG guide to 1950s decorating. I'll ship it to anywhere.


Then, you can buy your very own carved eagle, hang it above your mantel, and declare your living room Better Homes and Gardens certified mid-century Colonial Revival.

(Please note - Carved eagle not included.)

Brigadoon

When I was in second grade, my mother decided that it was time for me to begin piano lessons. I had always wanted to learn to play, as I come from a family of musicians where everyone seems to do something - sing, play the piano, serve as church organist, or join the band. Thus, at the age of about seven, I began taking piano from a woman named Mary Lou.

I loved my lessons from the beginning. I didn't always love to practice ...and I didn't love the look that Mary Lou was known to give. But I loved knowing that someday, if I practiced enough, I might be able to play like Mom or Aunt Olive.

Mary Lou introduced me to many things....Werther's candies, Claude Debussy, and non-parental guilt. But there was something else I discovered at her house, besides how to run my fingers along the keys. From her, I learned about Brigadoon.

Brigadoon was Mary Lou's Christmas village, made up of hundreds (no, that is not an exaggeration) of houses, churches, stores, carriages, sleights, people, and one small cemetery. It began with a few thatched cottages in the early 1980s. Then it grew to include a bevy of shops and inns, even the Olde Curiosity Shoppe. And with the buildings came people....dozens of people selling flowers, lighting street lamps, and carrying rabbits on a stick.

She named the village Brigadoon after the musical. In the movie, Brigadoon is a Scottish village that appears out of the mist once every hundred years. Her village appeared once a year, in the month of December. Sure, it wasn't quite the same concept, but no one minded.

And Brigadoon didn't just randomly show up one morning. When I was older, I was invited to help Mary Lou and her granddaughter set up Brigadoon, a marathon task. We would go over Friday night after school, order a pizza, and set to work carrying piece after piece down the stairs and into the living room. I lived in fear of falling or breaking a piece. That would have earned me the look of all looks...I'm sure.

Once the buildings were downstairs, we'd try to remember exactly where each one sat the year before. With the help of pictures, we'd arrange the buildings on several levels of shelving, beginning in the fireplace and working out and down. We covered the shelves with quilt batting, and stuffed snowbanks made of cotton fluff between the buildings to hide the cords.

When we were all done, we'd turn off the living room lights, plug in the cords (chains of eight of ten buildings per plug), and pray that we didn't trip any fuses.

And it was magic.

Today, I have two pieces of Brigadoon - a music house, which lived in Mary Lou's piano room (it didn't match the official Dickens pieces), and a small group of choir boys. She willed them to me because they reminded her of the choir robes my grandparents donated to out church when I was little.

Every year, I unpack the pieces with care, a bit misty-eyed. Because I miss Brigadoon, and the wonderful woman who made it appear.

Christmas Cookies

I come from a family of bakers. My great-grandparents actually owned a bakery at one point. They sold bread, cookies, cakes, and other sugary delicacies. It makes me sad that today, in many parts of the country, the old bakeries are gone. Instead, we buy birthday cakes and donuts from the nearest big box store or gas station.

In my house, we eat homemade baked goods. I don't claim to be an expert...I'm still a bit scared about the thought of frying donuts or making croissants. But I do churn out a good number of cookies, breads, and the occasional cake or pie.

Production goes into overdrive, of course, at Christmas. Today I made eight loaves of cinnamon bread for my and my husband's co-workers. It was pretty tough to not cut into a piping hot loaf fresh from the oven...but I knew that if I did eat any, I'd be up until midnight tonight baking a replacement loaf.

Tomorrow, or probably Monday, I'll be baking another round of Christmas cookies. Here's the recipe for one of my favorite cookies. Please excuse the fact that there is no picture of the cookie...I ate the last one this morning before I thought to photograph it!

Christmas Balls

1 c butter
2 tsp vanilla
1/3 c sugar
2 tsp water
2 c all-purpose flour
1 c chopped pecans
red and green sugar

Cream butter and vanilla; add sugar, creaming the mixture until light and fluffy. Blend in water. Stir in flour, mixing well. Add pecans. Shape into 1 inch balls, and roll in red and green sugar. Bake 1 inch apart a cookie sheet at 325 for 20 minutes. Cool before removing from pan. Makes about 2 1/2 dozen.

A Castle in the City

We stumbled upon this lovely bit of architecture in November during our Thanksgiving trip to Pittsburgh. I found the picture the other night when (finally) looking through a few of the several hundred pictures my husband took on the trip. I was immediately taken by the house, which looks so regal. It stands tall, wearing its rough cut stone so proudly.

By the way, if you think this house looks British, you're right. I would classify this as part of the Jacobean revival movement that took place in the late 19th century. Victorian Americans liked to imitate their British cousins. Unlike a British country house, however, this old-world imitator sits on a narrow city lot.

When I look at this house, during this time of year, I can't help but think of the Victorian tradition of telling ghost stories at Christmas time. Ghosts? At Christmas? Of course! Don't forget Dickens' "A Christmas Carol", or my personal favorite, "The Turn of the Screw", a story told at a Christmas gathering. How I love to spend an afternoon up in that turret, a copy of Henry James' classical psychological thriller in my hands.

A Pittsburgh House

For my feeling about this house (circa 1890, I'd say), please see the title of this blog.

Movie Palaces

As anyone who has ever met me, or read my blog, knows, I like old stuff. Old houses. Old churches. Old people. Old books, clothes, hats, recipes, dishes, salt and pepper shakers....the list goes on.

A few years ago, I found something new (that's old) to love.

Movie palaces.

Heard of them? They are the theatres that were built in the 1910s, 20s, and 30s by fabulous studios in which they showed fabulous films to fabulously happy people. Kids who loved cartoons. Women who loved sappy romances. Men who loved (in a very masculine way, of course) war movies and westerns.

Because, really, who could go to one of these places and not be happy?

Some movie palaces were old vaudeville theatres that were upgraded for first silent films, and then talkies, in the early decades of the 20th century. We once had one of these in the town in which I grew up, and then some IDIOT decided to burn it down. Thankfully, there's great interest in rebuilding it.

These theatres were awesome. Spectacular. Gorgeous. Most of them defy architectural classification. I've been known to spend more time staring at the walls in these buildings than I do actually watching what's happening on the stage/screen.

Unfortunately, the city in which I now live TORE DOWN or badly redeveloped all such lovely theatres. Stupid people with no foresight.... But there are a few gems in cities that aren't too far away, so I frequent those instead, dragging along the people I love.

On Thursday, my mom and I went to see White Christmas at the Michigan Theatre. Before I gush about the building, I have to tell you that White Christmas is one of my very favorite movies. I love Vera-Ellen...how she dances....those outfits she wears. The skirt she wears when she's trying to get Danny Kaye to agree to an engagement...ooh! What I wouldn't give for one of those...

But how do you make White Christmas even better? Show it in a gorgeous theatre.

I swooned. I laughed. I almost punched the old ladies sitting behind us who commented on every third line of dialogue. And when it was over, I clapped, as I'd been wanting to do after every single dance number. I've never done that before at a movie.

And as we were about to leave, I suddenly realized where I get it all from. There stood my mother, just outside of the entrance to the women's restroom. And what was she doing? She was craning her head, trying to see the fantastic plasterwork at the other end of the hall.

I love my mom.

Handmade Memories

I love Christmas. I love it when the world is white and clean, covered in crisp, bright snow. I love baking Christmas cookies - the same ones I made with my mom as a kid - and eating way too many of them. I love putting up the decorations. Trimming the tree, assembling the creche, assembling my tiny village.

Christmas, as we celebrate it today, is a relatively new holiday. Sure, Christians have marked Christmas, the birth of the Christ Child, for nearly 2,000 years. But many of our modern traditions - Santa Claus (based on the real St. Nicholas), Christmas trees, and many of our carols, didn't really come to America until the mid 19th century.

My maternal grandmother and grandfather were born in 1911, which was after the technical end of the Victorian era. Queen Victoria died in 1901. The culture born out of her influence, however, lingered in America for some time after. Some historians argue that the Victorian era in America did not truly end until the outbreak of World War I.

Thus, as children, my grandparents celebrated Victorian Christmases. To me, as a child, a Victorian Christmas didn't sound like much fun, because the Christmas tree didn't go up until Christmas Eve. Trimmed in handmade paper chains, perhaps a few strings of dried fruits, nuts, and popcorn, and other homemade ornaments, the trees were simple. But their magic was the same.

When I was a child, I learned to carry on the tradition of handmade ornaments. Some, like this clothes pin Santa, were the result of organized art projects. I made this little guy in 3rd/4th grade Sunday school.



This ornament was a gift from my high school choir director. It's actually a cookie that he baked himself and decorated. Every year I hang it up and wonder if the other Madrigals still have theirs.

I think my mom made this one, if I remember correctly. It's tiny - only about three or so inches tall, knit by hand. Needless to say, it will be awhile before my knitting skills reach this level.

Even though my tree is artificial (I'm allergic to fresh pine trees!) and covered in electric lights, I like to think that the Victorians would approve of the homemade ornaments on my Christmas tree.

Syntax Struggles

I do not claim to be a master of the English language. My husband serves as the resident grammar snob at our house. I do, however, have a thing for words. Particularly words that persist throughout history, but have absorbed different meanings throughout time. I'm often amused, and occasionally appalled, by the confusion people seem to have with the multiple meanings associated with these words.

Oh, and I'm pretentious enough that I like to spell a few words the old way - i.e. catalogue, saviour, etc. I like to think that by adding those extra letters, I'm preserving history in my own weird way.

But, I digress.

Back to those words that change meaning over time. This afternoon, I finished a book called "Talking to the Dead." Chronicling the life of the infamous Fox sisters, three mid 19th century Spiritualists, the book provides some decent information about the Victorians interest in death and the afterlife. Depending on who you ask, the Spiritualist movement consisted of one of two trends.

1. Mediums achieved contact with the spirits of deceased people, and, using their gift for intercession, communicated messages from the spirits to their living family and friends.

2. So-called mediums (read: charlatans), with the help of magicians' tricks, mirrors, magic lanterns, wires, and "spontaneously" floating mahogany parlor tables, tricked people into thinking that they could communicate with the dead.

The Fox sisters - Maggie, Kate, and Leah - are considered seminal figures in American Spiritualism. Each claimed, at various times, to have the ability to speak with spirits ranging from close family members all the way to Benjamin Franklin. Interesting.....

As their movement grew, a new term was coined. People who believed in the power of mediums and after death communication were called Spiritualists. Their movement (some call it a religion) was Spiritualism.

Today, the Spiritualism movement still exists. But so does something else. In order to disassociate themselves from modern organized religion, an increasing number of people claim to be "spiritual, but not religious." I've even heard these people describe themselves as believing in spiritualism - in the "I believe in something" sense, not the "I believe in talking to dead people" sense.

I can't help but smile mischievously at the use of this one word - spiritualism - with two very different definitions. I might even laugh out loud. Because what do I picture when I hear such a declaration?

That same person running from his living room screaming due to the fact that his coffee table has just began to levitate.

1960s Cape

I bought the fabric for this piece back in early October when I made my first (of many, I hope!) trip to a fantastic store called Yoder's. Located in the middle of Indiana Amish country, the store has a fabulous selection of fabric. It was heavenly. I'm sure I probably embarassed my mother-in-law as a fondled the wools, stroked the brocades, and audibly exclaimed over the corduroys.

Sigh.

Needless to say, I'm saving up my dollars for a return trip next summer.

When I bought the fabric, I wasn't sure what I was going to do with it. I did know, however, that I needed something to go with a rather bright turquoise dress that I made last winter, for which I could never quite find the right accessories.

And then, one day, my mother-in-law made a comment about a cape that she made for herself back in the 1960s.

Ding ding ding!

The turquoise dress was a 60s reprint pattern, so I knew exactly what to do. I soon located another vintage reprint pattern with a cape, and set to work.

This morning, I wore the fruits of my labor to church. I ratted my hair for some volume (I'm not good enough to have the bubble look figured out yet), added light brown boots (no white go-go boots), and was thrilled when a friend told me that I had the 60s look down.

Historically Inaccurate Christmas Quilt Block

Here's my latest quilt block that I pieced together this afternoon. It isn't for a full quilt (who has time for that sort of thing in December?), but just for a table runner.

I have to admit that I'm a bit amused with myself that I'm posting a quilt block made of all new, purchased Christmas fabrics on a blog that's supposed to be about history. I can't imagine any 19th century (or before) woman making blocks out of brand new fabric that was printed for a holiday...particularly Christmas, which historically was not a huge celebration.

Oh well.

I like it, though, and the pattern is a variation on a traditional block. And, after all, quilting is a rather historic past time.

(There - did I justify the post?)

An Old Fashioned Christmas Present

Tomorrow evening a little boy who is not quite two will get a Christmas present from us. Here's what it looks like.

Just a scarf, a hat, and a book about a tractor who becomes friends with a baby cow. Nothing that beeps. Nothing with lights. Nothing to assemble. Just a scarf, a hat, and a book.

Made with love, selected with care.

A simple gift.

An old fashioned gift.

Those are always the best.

A Posh Hotel in Pittsburgh

Thanks to my husband's ability to find great hotel deals, we spent our time in Pittsburgh at a beautiful early 20th century hotel in downtown. Known as the William Penn Hotel (now owned by Omni), it was designed in the Classical Revival style, also known as a variation on Beaux Arts.

This style came into fashion first in 1893 with the construction of the famous White City in Chicago for the 1893 Columbian Exposition. It reflected a rather sanitized version of Greek and Roman architecture....particularly because all of those now white temple ruins in Europe really weren't white originally! But, oh well.

The Columbian Exposition, with its pristine white buildings, brought America into the city beautiful era. Instead of growing our cities rather haphazardly, planners, architects, landscape architects, politicians, and local philanthropists began to put serious time, money, and effort into the appearance of cities.

The interior of the hotel was very classic - high ceilings, arched windows, crystal chandeliers, deeply colored rugs, Roman (rounded) arches, and a gorgeous coffered ceiling. Beautiful in a classical, elegant sort of way.

A surprise, however, was to be found on the top floor. Next to the ballroom (left unlocked! thank you, negligent staff!) was another darker, sexier treasure. A smaller room - a lounge, it was probably called - all done in Art Deco. Dark lacquer walls, gorgeous ceiling mural, and enough geometric hardware to give it real class. The unfortunate thing about this room is that it was dark and the walls were glossy...not good for photos.

Standing in this room for a moment, I imagined women wearing drop waist dresses with bobbed hair, beaded headbands, and long cigarette holders. You could almost smell the smoke and the Prohibition gin.

And in the middle of it all was this chandelier...a great example of Art Deco swank.

Don't you wish you could travel back in time and live in that world for a moment?