Why do so many of the pieces I find have initials on them? Is it just that people wanted everyone to know who owned them? Well, yes it is, but there is more to it.
Always so intereting to read your article, Hannah!
By the way, I received my lovely indogo-dyed shift! It's so beautiful. But I'd forgotten there were no buttons! So I'll have to find ones soon to sew them on and be able to wear it this summer.
Good to read your words of linen and it's creation and use again. Thanks for finding the time in that life destroying heat you've had (I hope it's now all in the past).
Interesting info on the servants ironing on a felt pad on a table.
When I was growing up in the 60s and 70s, we ironed mostly on a terrazzo table in the laundry, which was covered with a grey army blanket my uncle had brought back on leave from ww2, and a white cotton sheet, probably from Actil. If it was cold, we ironed on the table in the kitchen. It took ages to get used to an ironing board.
Mum had grown up on a farm outside Malmsbury in Victoria, and life when she was a child had barely changed in 50 years, unlike the parents of the kids I grew up with in Melbourne, so I have skills and knowledge that most my age never had.
I still have that blanket and sheet, although these days I use it to pad my cutting table.
Always so intereting to read your article, Hannah!
By the way, I received my lovely indogo-dyed shift! It's so beautiful. But I'd forgotten there were no buttons! So I'll have to find ones soon to sew them on and be able to wear it this summer.
ahhh…yes…I remove buttons to dye things. I was going to redye this one but never got to it hence why it ended up in the sale section!
Hi Hanna,
Good to read your words of linen and it's creation and use again. Thanks for finding the time in that life destroying heat you've had (I hope it's now all in the past).
Interesting info on the servants ironing on a felt pad on a table.
When I was growing up in the 60s and 70s, we ironed mostly on a terrazzo table in the laundry, which was covered with a grey army blanket my uncle had brought back on leave from ww2, and a white cotton sheet, probably from Actil. If it was cold, we ironed on the table in the kitchen. It took ages to get used to an ironing board.
Mum had grown up on a farm outside Malmsbury in Victoria, and life when she was a child had barely changed in 50 years, unlike the parents of the kids I grew up with in Melbourne, so I have skills and knowledge that most my age never had.
I still have that blanket and sheet, although these days I use it to pad my cutting table.