Sunday, October 15, 2017

Largely About Largesse

Largesse examples from the Citadel of the Southern Pass,
in Ansteorra.  

The original meaning of largesse is, coins thrown to the populace on some great occasion, such as a wedding or a coronation.  E.g., during the wedding of Mary Stuart to the future François II (1558):

This is the best screencap I could find,
and it ain't great, but it's Col. Brandon
with a fistful of coins he's about to
throw to the crowd after his wedding.
(Sense and Sensibility, 1995)
"Then the heralds cried for a third time "Largesse!" and threw among the people a great number of gold and silver coins of all descriptions, as Henrys, ducats, crowns of the sun, pistolets, half-crowns, testons, and douzains.  Such a rush and outcry among the people followed, that nothing was ever heard like it, as they precipitated themselves one upon the other...During the offertory, pieces of gold and silver were again thrown among the people, in token of liberality and largesse."  (Lives of the Queens of Scotland, Agnes Strickland)

In the SCA context, though, it's taken on a meaning closer to the idea of tokens or gifts of favor (not favors, per se; I have a different rant about those)--a way for the Crown (or local barons, for that matter) to give an attaboy-in-passing, so to speak, outside of the formal awards & orders context, for any reason that moves them: you did them a service, you did something cool, they like your display or your performance or how you comport yourself on the field--any ol' thing.  This is a Great Idea and very medieval and I love it and I want to contribute to it.  But I have been perennially stuck on "how".

Disclaimer: I have some personal madness here; particularly I want to note that this madness is entirely personally-applied, and I do not have any mental wharrgarbl about anyone else's work or contributions but my own.

Very broadly speaking, it seems to me that there are two kinds of largesse; "high-end" (bigger or more expensive or more painstakingly crafted) one-off creations that might be given, for example, as gifts to other royalty; and the more, and understand that this is not said with any degree of denigration, "mass gift" items which are smaller and less expensive of money and effort to produce.   I haven't really been thinking about the high-end largesse, since I can barely keep up with my own big projects, but I should like to contribute to the other kind, the more so since there's more of a need for those.  But where I get stuck on is, what's appropriate for me to do?  For my craft, nearly everything I do is a hefty time investment, and I can't produce items quick enough to be useful in this context.

Well, let's cut to the nubbin of it: of course I could...if I wanted to machine sew / use non-period techniques / make other compromises.  For instance, one of the obvious items I thought of is to make small "relic"-size pouches.  None more medieval!  So appropriate, 
Relic purse from the Abbaye
de Saint-Maurice d'Agaune
and even useful!  Right the hell in my wheelhouse!  And you'd think, pretty quick to make...and you'd be right, generally speaking...but I have a bug up my butt about tablet-woven edges, and I'm still slow AF on that, so it'd take me an inefficient amount of time to finish even one, let alone several.  Is this stupid?  Will the recipient notice, or know, or care?  If my king gave me a nice little pouch to say "attagirl", would it bug me if the sides were sewn instead of having a tablet-woven edge? I'm pretty darn sure it wouldn't.[1]

I guess the core question is, what's the right balance between purity of work vs. actually producing things?  I am comfortable with that line for the various things I'm making for me, because I'm the only person it affects; but for largesse, it affects the honor of the Crown and the happiness of the recipient, neither of which I want to trifle with.  Possibly--yes, probably--I am overthinking the living shit out of this.  But I really don't want to create things that the Crown winces to give, or that the recipient winces to receive; and I don't where the generally accepted wince line is.

[1] Though if it was of neon green polyester with pink bunnies and a plastic draw cord, my eyebrow might rise more than somewhat.

Sunday, October 8, 2017

There I Fixed It: Advancing Sleeves by 100 Years

but in a good way, not like this

At the (comparatively) last minute, by which I mean "about a fortnight ago", I decided to go to Coronation yesterday; and it being a genteel and courtly event, I wanted to be dressed all fancy-like...which of course, as I have just shared with you, is something of an issue for me[1].  The best option was to wear my 1540s Florentine silk gown, but I was feeling unusually Fussy™ about the sleeves; they had been wrong from the start, which I realized the first day I wore the dress, and my unhappiness had finally got to the point where I could not even with them any more.

What about them?  Well, let me illustrate, and then I'll explain how we got there.

Here's me (and my lovely & talented ronin-sister)
from the front.  Looks pretty OK, right?

Here's me, same day, from the side.  WTAF NOPE NOPE

So what happened?  As per usual, it was me plunging into a new technology without fully grokking the fundamentals thereof--partially due to time pressure, and partially due to not understanding the questions before they needed answers.  More specifically, I hadn't taken in how sleeve tech evolved between the 15th and 16th centuries; my chain of thought ran something like "the bodice of this dress is really quite like a gamurra in final shape, it's just that the seams are different; so I can use the same sleeve design I used for my gamurre."  Well, in fact, nope.  The gamurra has an inset armscye, which means you have a pretty dramatic shape change on your sleeve to get the thing to fit and still give you decent movement; it is rather like a sine wave, with the peak being at the top of your shoulder.  However, the 16th century dress, in a lot of cases, the sleeve isn't really part of the dress; it's a separate instance that you tie or pin or sometimes tack on, so if you have a massive amount of fabric up top, stupid things happen (as you see above)[2].

Eleanora di Toledo,
by Bronzino
The obvious answer is "make some new sleeves", but I don't have any of that silk left, so I took thought to how I could best frob them to better effect.  Step 1: look at some actual portraits, idiot (which I share a few of here for your delectation).
Anonymous lady,
by Pier Francesco Foschi

Bia de'Medici,
by Bronzino
The commonality I noticed is these ruffly bits at the top of the sleeve, which from that point are then attached to the shoulder of the dress in some wise.  Since much of my problem was "an excess of fabric at the top of the sleeve", I felt I could make something of this.  Of course, by the time I'd internalized all this information, it was the night before the event...

I started by running a gathering stitch along the point of the sleeve where the shape started getting all dramatic, and drew it in to make the sleeve's circumference about correct for my arm width, and pinned that solid.  I still had a goodly amount of fabric upstream, so I finger-pressed that to make a second ridge, and played around with that on my arm to see how it looked.  It was the right size, came up to an acceptable place on my arm, and gave about the right effect, so I sewed it all down.  

Lacking ribbon in any workable color, I took some acid-green silk dupioni and cut strips of it to serve as the sleeve ties. It's fraying like whoa, which is annoying, but I expected it; and once it finally gets fringed enough to stop dropping threads everywhere it will have a nice effect, I think.   And I finished it in just enough time to get properly dressed for the event.  YAY TIMING

We utterly failed to get any action shots of it on me, but here's it off of me:

a slightly different bow style is probably in order too

In retrospect, I might have done better to combine that extra fabric into a single pouf or valance instead of the two ridges; that's probably closer to most of what we see; but the silk, although stiff, may not have had enough weight to maintain that on its own.  In any case, it looks 100% better when I'm wearing it, and I'm pleased with the result considering the strictures I was operating under.

[1] I did cut out the blue silk under-dress last week!  It is, as they say, a start.
[2] On some other occasions we've tacked the sleeve to the back as well, which makes it somewhat less awful, but it still isn't great--the silk sticks out in all kinds of ungraceful ways.

Monday, September 25, 2017

Get Your Glad Rags On


It's funny, I've made rather a lot of clothes for myself over the years, but the only fancy frocks have been late-period Italianate stuff--the quattrocento PURPLE!~ gamurra I made for Kamilla's Laureling, and the bronze-and-green Bronzino-ish sixteenth-century job I made for Kasia's Laureling.  I don't actually have anything north of really nice wool in my own chosen time period.  It is really time to correct that.

As previously noted, I have some heavenly blue silk for the underdress, and some cream-and-gold silk brocade for the overdress (which has just arrived safely, after hurricane delays[1]).  The pattern I used for my new pink linen dress this summer is close enough for jazz, and I can get help tweaking it further this weekend.  However!  I want to actually plan this out for a change, instead of just plowing forward, getting halfway through, and going "...oooer hadn't thought of that, herp derp".

Some topics currently in my thoughts:

  • Will I ever want to wear the blue dress by itself, i.e. without the (or an) overgown? 
    • this informs its closures and, potentially, ornamentation
    • presently thinking: no
  • Elbow or full sleeves for the overgown?
    • presently thinking: elbow, so one can see the blue underneath
  • Embellishments for the overgown?
    • pearls, gems, etc.  There's some evidence for that which we saw in the Opus Anglicanum exhibit, though that might have been associated with the embroideries, not underlying brocade patterns?
    • presently thinking: research it more
  • How to close the overgown?  Lacing, fabric buttons, metal buttons?
    • presently thinking: buttons, inclining towards fabric
      • ugh ugh ugh
  • Line both, neither, or either dress?
    • To be 100% accurate, the overgown and probably the underdress too would be fur-lined.  Not doin' that.
    • presently thinking: neither.  That much silk is going to be sweltering enough as it is, thanks.
  • How much matching up of the brocade do I need to do?
    • presently thinking: across center front and center back; and keep directionality on the gores; everything else is probably gravy
  • Tippets, Y/N?
    • presently thinking: research it more
  • Include machine stitching or do it all by hand?   *record scratch*
    • oooeee.  This enters the misty land of "done" vs "best".  I have clear delineations in other projects--if I'm making something for display, I'll hand-sew it all; if I just need basic clothes to cover one's fleshy bits, I'm fine to machine-stitch where possible--but this is neither the one nor the other. 
    • presently thinking: do it by hand.  But this could change if I suddenly grow a deadline.
And then there's the general need to up my accessories game: hair, veil, possibly belt, etc.  (Though I'm suddenly feeling that in a lot of images of super-fancy ladies, they aren't wearing belts?  Let's check that.)  And oh god my purse needs replacing, my current one being a "temporary kludge" enacted over ten years ago. 

I haven't lost sight of my main objective, i.e. getting the pourpoint out the door; indeed the left sleeve is now attached and has all its buttons, as well as a whole! three! buttonholes! *sob*; but I can work in parallel, and if I don't get moving on this now it'll never happen.

[1] Please donate if you can:
Hispanic Federation for Puerto Rico's recovery from Hurricane Maria

Global Giving's fund for Texas's recovery from Hurricane Harvey

Thursday, September 14, 2017

A Slight Detour Into The Bridal Industry

Motif of ribbon flowers and old lace

I haven't done much historical sewing over the last couple of weeks; partially lack of spoons (the start of semester is always exhausting as all get-out), but chiefly because my needle efforts were concentrated on a Happy Event!  Namely, a wedding dress for a dear friend. 

Let me immediately disclaim any real kudos for this; the artistic genius and much of the execution was in other hands; I was, okay maybe not a plongeur but no higher than a commis, anyways.  But it was exciting and a lot of fun to be part of the project, and the result was not just beautiful in its own right, but completely perfect for the bride in question.  (And, in spite of it being executed entirely in colorways I just can't with, I loved the result.  Magic!)

you have no idea how long the
initial strip of tulle was
The dress is of two parts: an underlayer composed of a corset/longline bra attached to three petticoat layers of tulle (in pink, lavender, and INCREDIBLY SPARKLY GLITTERY silver-grey), and the dress itself of pink/lavender silk with a fine pink net over the bosom and upper arms.  The decorations on the dress were composed of lace motifs cut from the bride's mother's wedding dress and dyed pale grey (both by your humble correspondent); ribbon flowers of various shapes and sizes in pink, lavender, plum, storm grey, and rose, made by the bride herself; and a scattering of pearls, crystal beads, and crystals (grey, purple, and pink).  

In addition to the lace extraction as noted above, my contributions included endless gathering & stitching of miles of deeply annoying tulle; attaching same to the cotton underskirt lining; hemming the underskirt lining; stitching the top of the corset to its lining; a couple other small jobs I'm forgetting; but the most fun was placing and arranging the decorative elements on the dress.  It's all the same kind of fun as decorating a Christmas tree, only more so.

part way through the embellishment process
(with designer)

There were some late nights involved, but I didn't caaaaaare.  Everything about the project--the collaboration, the love, the vision, the outcome--was magical.  I'm so happy to have worked on it.

And, of course, the action shot:
happily ever after!

Sunday, August 13, 2017

Post-Pennsic Catch-Up

I promise I'm nearly done with this JPG

Another Pennsic survived, and indeed enjoyed (unlike last year's Bataan Death March).  The weather was, on the whole, nearly perfect; we had a marked decrease in camp drama; our small co-prosperity sub-sphere worked together to correct some problems[1]; and I wasn't killing myself trying to get things done to a deadline...which may be why I actually got some things done.  Mind you, it is still rather a drain to be den mother, hall monitor, and assistant principal to 70 variably-situated people, and I am nearly ready to be done with it so I can enjoy my vacation as a free agent, so I'm hoping to train up a padawan to take over in a couple years.  But let's get to the arty stuff.

Stuff worked on/finished/set on fire:
On Wednesdays, we wear pink.
  • Partlet: Much to my joy, I found that Past Me had actually cut one out already.  I sewed it together and hemmed it in the field, and it was ready for my class Saturday morning, along with--
  • Elizabethan working kirtle: you know, the one I cut out last year and finally finished last month?  Was miles too big around my torso, and also the neckline is kind of verkachte.  Fortunately the partlet covered the latter, and my posse pinned the back seams more tightly so I didn't look like a complete goober.  So, there's some fix work to be done in the fall sewing. (I have more thoughts about the cut for a later post.)
  • Linen Gothic Fitted Dress: I finished it before leaving! other than the eyelets and hemming, which I also did in the field.  I'm particularly smug about it because I did the pattern adjustments on my own & on the fly, which is not at all easy, but my eye is clearly getting better at this.  It too is rather too big, but I'm not 100% sure that's wrong for a working dress; something else I shall expand on in a future post.
  • The Pourpoint: I got the new lower sleeves quilted & pinned before leaving, and I showed the beast in the A&S display, in pieces, as a work in progress (wherein I also got to work on it, at least a bit).  Now it's just $*@&# buttonholes all the way down.
  • Linen Trousers Mk. 2: the first time my dashing consort wore them, he split the seam at the back of the crotch gusset.  I hate pants.  Pants are stupid.
learn and fear these arms!
I also finally got to hang the banner I painted a couple months ago, which is another nice smug feeling.  It is rather a bodge job (I tacked some of the messy edging I'd cut away onto the top as fast-and-dirty ties), and it should really have a pole and all; but this worked for the moment (as it was, I only got it hung up on 2nd Monday) and I can improve it later.  

Speaking of improvements, I now have a list of them for our pavilion; most involve textile printing of some kind.  I missed the series of classes that The Subject Matter Expert was holding--not only was I up to my ass in camp foo, but you needed to bring some materials that I didn't have a prayer of getting together in time--but the Printed Textiles in the Middle Ages FB group is full of info and I am hoping to start with something small and not particularly important; namely covers for our camp coolers, because ugh.  When I have some confidence in the technique, I want to print a canvas floor for the pavilion[2], ideally to look like the tiled floors you see in all the 14th c. illuminations.  And on the non-textile front, we're planning to paint the pavilion poles (not in designs, just colors); and I picked up a plain white folding shelf unit to keep the tent's inside a little less of a rubbish tip, and I want to do some designs on that.  Maybe acanthus leaves, maybe armorial bits, we'll see.  

For the fall schedule, I'm keeping some flex in case I'm needed to help with a wedding dress that's set to launch next month; but the general prioritization looks like this:

1a) and the test version, too.  oh god more quilting
2) Do the small bits of mending required post-Pennsic.
3) Knock together a new pouch, as the one I made, guh, ten years ago? more? is crappy and falling apart and was only a kludge to begin with.  
4) *deep breath* Make myself a set of high fashion Gothic fitted dresses; the under-dress of the blue silk I got at Birka a few years ago, and the over-dress out of the silk and gold lampas l I just ordered from Sartor.  I need to make something for myself that isn't an experiment or a kludge job.  ...There might end up being pearls on it.  I'm just sayin'.

I'm not going to look past that point for now, but hovering in the parking lot is the bunch of really nice linen we also ordered from Sartor, because for next Pennsic my dashing consort is getting a full kit of Field Gothic.  Currently figuring a blue tunic and ochre hose, and once those are done I'll see what will go well as a hood (maybe a dark red).  And I do want to make him a full-on Modern Maker fancy 16th c. suit, too.

That'll do for awhile.

[2]  You might think that the next step after that is painting the pavilion itself, but I don't have a strong feeling of what exactly I'd want to do, so Imma let that marinade for awhile

Sunday, July 16, 2017

Work Is Occurring Yes

Many buttons.  Too many buttons.

This post will be more laundry-list and less explicative, because we're into the pre-Pennsic sewing crunch and I have six quarts of boeuf bourguignon to make, vacuum-seal, and freeze today.  So without further ado, here's what I've been up to:

  • Put lacing holes in the late-period suit my ronin-sister made for my dashing consort last year, and added cloth buttons on the front closing of the netherhose.  Which latter was warm-up for...
  • Made all the buttons for the pourpoint.  At least, I hope that fifty-five will be enough.  *thud*  For the flat buttons, I'd bought some felt to insert, but even with two layers (and it's pretty thick felt) the result was still too squishy; so I messed around a bit and found a way to cover the pewter forms I'd gotten for this in the first place.
  • Cut out a new, larger pair of lower sleeves for the pourpoint, which I have to set up & quilt today (something I have been in massive amounts of avoidance about).
  • Made a green linen apron for 16th-century working clothes.  Well, I mean, apron tech hasn't really changed over the medieval period (take a rectangle of fabric. tie it around your waist.  wipe your hands on it.) but we actually see green linen ones as a specific and recurring item in 16c. England, so there it is.  Also I had a bunch of dark green linen. --Now, the truth is, that's probably supposed to be a wearing-out apron and not a grotty-job apron, so I still actually need an apron for doing grotty jobs; but this is not today's problem.  
  • Knocked together a 2nd pair of generic linen trews for my dashing consort, in case it's another stupid hot year.  In spite of redoing the pattern per his feedback on the first pair, somehow they still came out too short-waisted and bind his bits. Snarl.
  • Cut out a linen GFD.  This is not going to be any kind of show piece, it will be machine-sewn oh yes it will, but just something cheery and cool for hot weather in case it's another stupid hot year.  (You sense a theme here?)   Especially since my blue dress is reaching end-of-life.  
I am hoping to complete all of the above items as well as a partlet before we leave; let's see what happens.

Sunday, July 9, 2017

Secret Project REVEALED: A Laurel's Hood

we did a thing!

At last it can be told!  The item I alluded to in earlier posts, that I spent a chunk of this spring on, was presented to its recipient yesterday, so now I can tell you all about it.  

The request was for a 14th-century hood as part of Laurel regalia (in place of a cloak) for Stephan of Silverforge, which would be executed as a team effort between myself and my ronin-sister Ceinwen. We had a pretty free hand, modulo the information that he'd probably rather not something in traditional Laurel green, and that he likes wearing hoods in the wacky late-14th century "chaperon" style (this is where you put the face opening of the hood on top of your head like a hat, drape the mantle along your shoulder, and wrap the liripipe around your temples).  

Design Stage (March-early April)
BNF 1586, folio 56r
Since Stephan's arms are blue and silver/white, we figured to make the hood blue wool with a silver silk lining.  We then went all over the map with decorative design choices...fortunately, in an effort of self-preservation, backing away from the full-on goldwork and needle-painting idea before it got too entrenched in our brains...and agreed on a simple vinework pattern in a band along the lower edge of the hood as one often sees in manuscripts of the era. 
one of the Comminges laurel

Ceinwen's initial design sketch
For the wreaths themselves, well, now you know why I was so damn excited about finding those images of the St. Bernard de Comminges cope at the embroidery schola; at last we had solid documentation for 14th-century laurel wreaths!  Woo!  So Ceinwen took those photos and sketched them into a workable design.  The plan was that I'd make the hood, send it to her, and she'd fiddle the design size/orientation to work on the final size and angles of the hood's mantel.  We also considered adding stars and/or swords (elements from Stephan's arms) directly onto the rest of the hood, either as appliquè or as metal "spangles", but that was, as they say, a stretch goal. 

The other major design element, in light of the recipient's chaperon-style tendencies, was to cut the hood's liripipe as laurel leaves, so it would form an actual laurel wreath when he wrapped it around his head.  I'd never made a liripipe before, so why start with something boring and normal? 

Fabric-wise, I had ten yards of a handsome navy twill that I was hoping to use, but twill wasn't going to be a great choice for a cut liripipe unless we lined and/or finished every. single. stupid. leaf; and bugger that for a game of soldiers (and, at that, I'm not sure it was Done).  So, I ordered Wm. Booth's navy blue broadcloth, which, although rather a darker blue than we wanted, was perfect in the weight & behavior department.  I got some silvery-blue silk from the Garment District for the lining, and Ceinwen picked up an exquisite heavy navy blue silk for the embroidered band, and off we went[2]. 

warning: math ahead
Construction Stage (late April-early May)
I based the hood on D10597 of the Greenland finds, which was pretty exact to the proportions Stephan's lady had sent me from one of his current hoods.  I spent an uncomfortable couple of hours with math and many pencil marks converting the 2mm:1cm scale in "Medieval Garments Reconstructed" into Imperial measurements, but got there eventually.   The rest seemed pretty unremarkable--I made a muslin; tested it and it seemed OK; cut out hood & lining; sewed it all up[1], and did a bit of decorative top-stitching with a pale green silk; patted self smugly on the back; and then tried it on my dashing consort.

Whereupon I found the front was horribly, horribly poochy under the neck.  

This was my own stupid fault.  I tried to cut the front part in one to the same size as the pattern, without including the front gore, and it did not work at all.  THE PATTERN EXISTS FOR A REASON, IDIOT.  And them medievals don't shove in gores because they love doing extra seam work. 

After a requisite amount of self-flagellation, I calculated the gore size appropriate to the pattern, cut one out of muslin, opened the front seam sobbing at the destruction of my painstaking handiwork, and pinned the gore in.  It worked with only a little frobbing, thankfully, so I cut out fashion fabric & lining versions and got them sewn in.  (You still see some wrinkles; there will always be a little bit of that, unless you're doing a button-up hood that can be perfectly fitted to the wearer.)

So, the liripipe.  Some of the Greenland hoods, including D10597 have them (though they're all plain).  In most cases they're separate strips that attach to the back of the head, but in D10597's case there's a couple-inch liripipe "stub" on the back of the hood's body that the main liripipe strip is attached to; and since that would make my life considerably easier in any case, I cut the hood out that way, and left the stub open while I figured out how to attack the problem.  

tools of the trade
When you really suck at
drawing, grids help.
I started by looking at what remnants we have.  There are various scrap finds in London that are dagged; it's not clear whether they were liripipes or what, but some certainly could have been (Fig. 180 in Textiles and Clothing is a line drawing of a figure in Cambridge MS 61 f.1v, who's wearing a hood with a dagged liripipe), and the scale of fragment No. 248[3] seemed about right, so I started with its basic dimensions and worked to turn the basic diagonal "slit" dagges into laurel leaves.  (We do have a remnant of what appears to be an oak-leaf dagge, so a botanical motif is not far off.)   

I tried sketching laurel leaves after the embroidery I'd found, but this was working out poorly for me, so I got an actual bay laurel leaf out of the kitchen and traced around it.  Happily, this turned out to be exactly the right proportion for my liripipe!  I made a five-leaf-long repeat of the pattern (which is exactly one sheet of graph paper, imagine that) and cut out a test piece to see how it did. 

Answer: pretty well, actually.  

Emboldened by this success, I cut out the full length of liripipe (which worked out to about 40", as I recall).  Now, I'm not sure this is how it would have been done in period; I'm guessing a plain, thin, straight liripipe would have been all-in-one, but I haven't worked the math as to whether a more wasteful cut like this mightn't have been done in sections.  But I had the fabric, and this is not a poor man's hood, so let's be extravagant.  I cut it out and attached it tightly to the hood "stub", completing this phase of the project (though I was silly and finished the bottom hem of the hood, so we had to cut that open subsequently to attach the embroidery strip, bah).  I boxed it up and sent it along to Ceinwen.

Embroidery Stage (May-early July)
My first wreath.  About 15 hours'
work I think? I'm not very fast.
All I can say about this is, I do not look forward to my turn in the barrel for having to design an embroidery strip to hang neatly and evenly on a three-dimensional conical object, and Ceinwen did an amazing job making that happen (but I'll let her tell you about her process in her blog) (AHEM).  When the design was complete and the goldwork vines established, I went down to Ceinwen's and we did a marathon sweatshop to get the wreaths embroidered.  

Unfortunately we ran out of time, so couldn't add pearls or bezants or bells (yes. there are hoods with bells all over them.), but we got the job done on time for transport to the event.  We figure to steal it back later and fully execute our vision.  Especially the pearls.

As yet, no photos have emerged from the event, but I'll add action shots as they become available.

[1] yes, of course it's all hand-sewn
[2] this is somewhat compressed.  We had a lot of ordering of swatches and mailing them back and forth in here.
[3] acc. no. BC72 <3110/1> but it's not in the MoL's online collection nor can I find an image online because why would we want that