Rolling the fabric (or keeping it stretched out) while it dries is rather important to get a good finish and remove any wobbliness introduced into the fabric by the violent fulling process. Skipping this stage was not something I wanted to do after spending so much time and effort on my fabric... Letting it dry on the plastic tube was not an option either; I didn't want to risk it going mouldy in my abscence! Eventually, I resorted to a kind of speed drying that worked surprisingly well: The house we live in has room for drying laundry in, equipped with a great big hot air fan. I stayed up all night (more or less), re-rolling my fabric every couple of hours, letting it sit on the plastic tube in the drying room in between.
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| Fabric. On a roll! |
The result
was that, by morning, my fabric was completely dry and
had been stretched and rolled just as many times as it would have
been had I done it the proper way. And it was nice and smooth too.
Success!
After two weeks of trains, medieval churches struck by iconoclasts and quite a few alps and weird biscuits, I was back home and ready to cut my cloth.
After two weeks of trains, medieval churches struck by iconoclasts and quite a few alps and weird biscuits, I was back home and ready to cut my cloth.
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| Swiss Collage: Best train ride ever! - Neuchâtel tomb - Happy Swiss biscuits |
I
used the body block I made for my supportive shift
as a basis for cutting out the pieces. I've made enough dresses of
this rather simple late 14th century style for myself to know how
they work on my body, so these days, I usually do the fitting on
myself with the real fabric, skipping the mock-up stage. I prefer
dresses without back and front seams, so all the tweaking to get the
fit right is done in the side and shoulder seams. Cutting with a
little extra seam allowance in those areas gives me enough room to do
the necessary adjustments. For this dress, I wanted to have lacing
down the front, but I still put all the shaping into the side seams.
I calculated that I could get at least two long-sleeved dresses out
of my fabric, and probably something small like a hood, if I cut it
economically. Eager to get going, I cut.
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| Pattern pieces |
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| The first cut! The brown thread marks one of the three weaving faults in my cloth... |
And
then realised that I should probably have added at least another
centimetre of extra seam allowance since I was going to dye the damn
things too! Mordanting and dyeing the cut pieces would almost
certainly wreak havoc on the raw edges and ruin my precious seam
allowance... Ah, well. I threw them in the dye pot anyway.
I had enough madder left for a weak 14% dye. This wouldn't be the bright red I got on my sample, but I was fine with that. I just didn't want a completely grey dress... Still, I was surprised by how strong the colour ended up – not a muted, watered-down pink like I had expected, but a cheerful orange, only tempered by the dark weft! The edges did fray, but not too badly. The seam allowance on the Herjolfsnes garments is about 7 mm and there was at least twice that left, so I had no reason to complain.
I had enough madder left for a weak 14% dye. This wouldn't be the bright red I got on my sample, but I was fine with that. I just didn't want a completely grey dress... Still, I was surprised by how strong the colour ended up – not a muted, watered-down pink like I had expected, but a cheerful orange, only tempered by the dark weft! The edges did fray, but not too badly. The seam allowance on the Herjolfsnes garments is about 7 mm and there was at least twice that left, so I had no reason to complain.
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| Both the colour and the frayed edges turned out a lot better than expected |
Despite
this vadmal project, spinning was really my main focus last year (I
just realised I've spent almost 5 years just practising spindle
spinning! My blog post from 2010 sounds awfully naive, now!). I finally mastered (well, sort
of) spinning with a distaff, which seemed like a necessary skill to
accquire if I wanted to spin the way it was done in medieval times
(there are practically no medieval depictions of spinners not
using a distaff) and I tried my hand at producing sewing thread.
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| A slightly hairy thread... |
I
could probably make it thinner with more practice (after all, the
2-ply sewing thread from the Herjolfsnes garments is less than 1 mm
in diameter), but it turned out to be a perfect thickness for my
vadmal fabric as it was. My sewing thread has a lot of give in it; I
think this will be a very good thing for a tight dress. The thread
will take a lot more strain before breaking than the 2-ply linen I
usually use for hand sewing.
All that's left now is for me to finish the dress... And decide what to do with the rest of the fabric!
All that's left now is for me to finish the dress... And decide what to do with the rest of the fabric!
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| Felling the shoulder seam à la Herjolfsnes |
To sum things up:
My
version of a medieval vadmal fabric ended up with the following
technical specifications after fulling, drying and dyeing:
Weave type: 2/1 twill
Weave type: 2/1 twill
Warp:
light natural grey 1-ply wool, z-spun, 9
threads/cm
Weft: dark natural grey 1-ply wool, z-spun, 10 threads/cm
It was fulled in cold water for approximately 4 hours, with a total shrinkage of 10% (width)
Weft: dark natural grey 1-ply wool, z-spun, 10 threads/cm
It was fulled in cold water for approximately 4 hours, with a total shrinkage of 10% (width)
Finished
width: 82 cm
Finished length: ca 11 m
Dress pieces dyed with 14% madder.
Next time: Weaving Vadmal VI - The Dress
Finished length: ca 11 m
Dress pieces dyed with 14% madder.
Next time: Weaving Vadmal VI - The Dress
