Great Western War through the Ages, High Middle Ages

I think that if I hadn't chosen late 15th/early 16th century Italy as the time and place for my SCA persona, I would have probably decided to be 14th century. There's something about 14th century cotehardies. They're quintessentially medieval.

I've made what I call faux-hardies in the past - garments that look like cotehardies, but are basically built like a t-tunic, with no built in support. And I've made fitted cotehardies for other people. But I've never made a true, 14th century fitted cotehardie for myself, until now. And I see what all the fuss was about. They're kind of awesome.

I'm going to include a few construction notes and pictures here. The under-cotehardie is a dark green, heavier weight linen. All the support for the dress is built into this layer. Because linen stretches slightly, and because all the support for this gown is built into a single layer cote, you must account for the stretch while fitting. Otherwise, you'll get partway through a day and find that the fabric has relaxed, and things are no longer as supportive as they were that morning... Not a good feeling.

I started with my usual Gothic fitted dress pattern and cut out the four panels of the dress, two for the front, and two for the back.

Pin together the bodice of the dress on the back and side seams, to the point where the gores start. Also at this point, sew a strip of fabric as facing to either side of the front opening, make your eyelets. Then put on the dress and lace it up. Wear it around the house for 15-20 minutes to allow the linen fibers to warm up from your body heat and stretch. Then remove any slack from the side seams and pin them further in. Unlace the dress, straighten up the pins and make sure the lines are straight and symmetrical, and repeat the process. Here is the dress in the middle of that process, with pins in the side seams.

And here's what I ended up with. Along the edge of the fabric is where I originally though the seam line should be, and the pin line shows where the seam ended up.

Then, continue with the rest of the dress. You need four gores. Here's a trick my friend Daisy showed me on the most efficient way to cut gores. Cut a strip of fabric the length your gores need to be and the width of your fabric.

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Fold it in fourths like an accordion.

Then cut this diagonally.

You end up with three whole triangular gores, and two end pieces, which you can sew down the middle to make a gore.

And here's the sleeve pattern I came up with. I think sleeves are my least favorite part of sewing these types of gowns. I'm so accustomed to detachable sleeves that I find it especially trying to have to match up the sleeve cap with the armsye.

I put self-fabric buttons along the arm from the elbow to the wrist. They're fitted enough that I have to unbutton the last couple of buttons to get the sleeve over my hand. Also, because of the fit of the dress, when I put it on, I have to mostly lace it, then let the fibers warm up and stretch for a few minutes before I can lace it all the way closed.

The blue overgown used the same pattern, but with a tiny bit more ease in the side seam, as this layer didn't have to be supportive. It buttons up the front, and the sleeves end just above the elbow.

I also made detachable tippets - they fasten around my upper arm with a hook and eye. I usually hide the strap under the sleeve of the blue overgown. And I'm wearing the gown with a simple white linen barbette and veil.

Pictures!

Here I'm showing off my tippets...

And here you can kind of see how the tippets attach under the short sleeve of the blue overgown.

And I just had to share of picture of this lady from the Romance of Alexander. She and I share a similar color scheme.

Men's 14th Century Cotehardie and Hose

I've been wanting to learn to sew for men for a while, as I want to be a more versatile seamstress. Thankfully, I found a willing costuming victim. This is a mid 14th century men's cotehardie with separate hose. They're based on a variety of paintings from that era.

The body linen layer consists of a shirt and braes, both made of white linen, using the rectangular construction method. The shirt consists of two large rectangles for the front and back of the body, two narrower rectangles for the sleeves, triangular arm gussets, and triangular gussets in the sides. A finger loop braided cord ties the center front slit together. The braes are made with two rectangular pieces, one for each leg, joined with a square gusset in the center. The braes are "belted" with a drawstring waist.

The hose are made out of medium weight, navy-blue linen. They are cut on the bias, to give them a little bit of extra stretch. They are separate, and point to the drawstring at the waist though an eyelet sewn to the top of the hose. As near as I can tell, period hose were either footed or stirrup-ed (much like 1990s women's stirrup pants), but Andrew requested neither of these, as he generally wears his non quite period, but still awesome, tall Native Earth boots with them.

Over the hose goes the cotehardie. This is made of a medium weight burgundy linen. The pattern was draped on the wearer. It is finished with a number of hand made self-stuffed buttons, which close the center front, and the sleeves from elbow to wrist.

Here's a close-up of the buttons:

And here's the whole thing, with the belt included:

Here are some lessons learned from this sewing adventure:

1. Men are shaped differently from women. It's okay for the body to be slightly loose. I've made too many fitted women's bodices, and my mind had a hard time shifting gears.

2. Measure both arms. Andrew's sword arm is a little bit bigger than his shield arm. On the original mock-up, I measured only the left arm. And the left arm fit well, but the right arm was too small.

3. Bias cut linen is very stretchy. After sitting in the hose in the car for a couple of hours, then walking around at an event, the hose stretched so much that they almost sagged a bit. Pointing them up a little more tighly seemed to mostly fix this. The next day, the linen had relaxed back to its original size.

4. Mark the hem after the cote is belted. I marked the hemline, then trimmed off the excess and hemmed it. Then, Andrew tried it on with the belt, and it was a little bit short. Not too short, but shorter than I had intended it to be. But he assures me that it's fine.

Thanks to Andrew for being my costuming victim and patiently putting up with my learning curve. I hope I didn't stick you with too many pins.