The Embroidery of Smock Frocks

Smocks, by the very nature of their construction, are decorated garments.  If unpicked, the smock would consist of rectangles of fabric both for the sleeves and the body.  Manipulating the fabric, gathering it up to form some kind of shaping, at the cuffs and across the chest, was brought about by smocking.  This gave it ornamentation with a sort of honeycomb pattern and texture, along with a degree of elasticity.  The garment was then decorated further with embroidery.

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There are, of course, differences in the quality and design of embroidery work on smock frocks: some were workaday and relatively simple and probably ready-made; others were for Sunday best or for a particular occasion and would be finely worked either by female relations or professional needlewomen.   All had some kind of embroidery though, even if somewhat plain.  It may seem strange to us today, that working men’s dress should be so ornate.  Embroidery was a skill taught to girls, particularly over the course of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, and was a way for women either to embellish pieces for male family members as a sign of love and affection, or to earn a living.  If done domestically, it could also be a method of personalising garments.  Although the smock has often been put into the category of folk embroidery and compared to embroidered folk dress in continental Europe, men’s dress was often embellished with embroidery from the Medieval period onwards, certainly in the mainly elite examples which now survive in museum collections.  For instance, the embroidered waistcoat had a long tradition in the eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries, so in this context, the wearing of embroidery by men was not unfamiliar.

Writers about smocks have often tried to explain the symbolism of the patterns that appear on the garments, for example, suggesting that certain symbols were linked to particular trades and so could identify the profession of the wearer.  Although this may be true in some cases, generally the same patterns appear in smocks regardless of a particular individual’s circumstances, some probably passed around a family or community.  Lack of evidence about where smocks have come from and who wore them in many surviving examples, also makes this a difficult theory to pursue.  Where smocks were produced in large numbers, the pattern was drawn on and then worked, so smocks from one area may have similar patterns.  In Newark, a town associated with smock making, metal pattern blocks printed the design onto the fabric which was then given to out-workers to embroider.

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Interlaced and repetitive geometric patterns seem to have been most popular using roundels, spirals, zig-zags and diamonds, in usually no more than three different stitches, often including feather stitch or chain stitch.  Naturalistic motifs, such as flowers and leaves, found their way into more ornate examples, along with designs such as hearts and crooks.  These were all worked in the ‘box’, the panels either side of the smocked area.  Thus the embroidery added to the surface texture and the smock’s character.  It was normally done in the same coloured thread as the base fabric, although there are a few examples with contrasting thread colours.  The embroidery played a practical role too, adding more padding to areas where protection was needed from wear.

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The embellishment of the smock frock with embroidery gives the garment, what we now consider, its essential character.  The care and time needed for this stitching on what was principally work wear or a working overall, indicates how important the smock was for both its makers and wearers.

Oscar Wilde and the Smock Frock

The aesthetic dress movement became popular during the 1870s and 1880s with the upper and middle classes.  Based on artistic dress and also connected to the Rational Dress Society, members were opposed to current tight-fitting fashions which altered the body and restricted movement.  As Oscar Wilde famously quipped during his lecture tours in the 1880s:

Fashion is a merely form of ugliness, so absolutely unbearable that we have to alter it every six months! 

Those associated with the movement, including Wilde, began to look at the smock and its free following form, elasticity and embroidery, which fitted with their ideals.  Its simplicity and arts and crafts feel, was more appealing than over-elaboration and the machine-made.

oscar wilde

Wilde made a series of lecture tours in the US and England in the early 1880s before distilling his theories into an essay entitled ‘The Philosophy of Dress’ in 1885. In this, Wilde advocated free flowing draperies and clothing falling from the shoulder rather than from the waist.  Although he had classical draped Greek dress in mind as his ideal, the smock frock also fulfilled these criteria.

In a lecture that he gave in the US in 1882 entitled, ‘With Observations on Dress and Personal Adornment’, Wilde said that the only well-dressed men that he saw on his US tour were the western miners, who wore wide brimmed hats, cloaks which formed ‘a beautiful piece of drapery’ and high boots. ‘They wore only what was comfortable, and therefore beautiful’.  He regretted the fact that when they made any money they would go east and put on ‘abominations of modern’ fashionable attire and he said that he asked some not to do this.  They agreed but Wilde doubted that they would stick to their word.

A similar theme emerged in his 1883 lecture tour of the UK, which was an extension of Wilde’s US lectures. Depending on where he was, his allusion was translated for his audience, so instead of miners, the clogs and shawl of mill girl, the smock frock or the dress of the London milk woman, became the ideal.  Several dress reformers, not just Wilde, were influenced by everyday working clothing. They saw it as being the most comfortable, practical and therefore healthiest dress, suited to that particular lifestyle.  The working clothes of ordinary people were seen as ‘noble’, reflecting to a degree the class-based agenda of the dress reform movement.  Whether the people who wore such clothes saw them as noble is doubtful, especially as they rushed to cast them aside in favour of fashionable ready-made clothing, this being the point in time at which the smock frock passed out of ordinary usage in the general population.

Such ideas were also scorned by newspapers reporting on Oscar Wilde’s lectures on dress in 1885. According to the ‘apostle of culture’ as a newspaper called him, it scathingly reported that he thought that the only well-dressed people were Lincolnshire plough boys and fisherwomen.  One report continued, ‘Mr Oscar Wilde has now gone into the abolition of the coat and waistcoat and has pronounced himself in favour of the rustic smock-frock’. The smock frock appeared to answer the criteria for reformed dress but no longer suited the needs of the working population.

Oscar Wilde on Dress, J. Cooper, ebook, 2013, see:

https://books.google.co.uk/books?id=_x2ssg6mRpsC&pg=PT3&lpg=PT3&dq=oscar+wilde+smock&source=bl&ots=uutAsduHSC&sig=2pDfvkfNT27o7IGJg2mtz2_U2YQ&hl=en&sa=X&ei=XVZwVcn3MIqv7Aac0oPQDw&ved=0CFMQ6AEwCTgK#v=onepage&q=%20smock&f=false

Washing Machines and Smock Frocks

As we start to clear up after Christmas, perhaps we should think about how easy most domestic chores are today in comparison to the nineteenth century.

Laundry was one of the big domestic tasks for the Victorian household, vital for health and cleanliness, but back-breaking work for women. Wash day was traditionally Monday although completion of the laundry, the drying and ironing, was finished afterwards. It was an essential job for women, the urgency dictated by the number of garments a person had, and taking in the laundry of others to do too was often a way to make casual money on the side to augment household incomes. There were also professional laundresses alongside household ones, female run businesses, still an under-researched area of social history. During the nineteenth century, there were various attempts at making a washing machine, although they did not become commonplace for the majority until well into the twentieth century.

One such attempt was reported in the Exeter Flying Post in 1858. ‘Startling’ the laundresses of the city was Hancock’s Washing Machine, made in London.  The contraption was described as being of a simple construction and was exhibited for all to see. A boy of ten or twelve years old was able to work it with ease. In the demonstration, four bed sheets were washed ‘thoroughly’ clean in five minutes, appropriately on a Monday, and a number of smock frocks cleaned in about the same time. Both articles chosen for the demonstration were known for their whiteness and so able to prove the efficiency of the washing. The newspaper commented, that if the machine became popular, ‘the washer woman’s occupation will be clean gone’ – a nice pun! A ‘materfamilias’ watching remarked “What, for gracious sake, will ‘em think of next?” A machine may have got rid of back-breaking work but it also meant the loss of livelihoods.

laundry

As a standard working man’s overall, the smock frock would have formed a large part of the laundry. Heavy and bulky when dry, they would have been even weightier when wet. As they were predominantly white, they were also a good test of a laundress’s skill and a reflection of a household’s cleanliness. The advent of a machine that would wash several smocks at once was probably welcomed by the washer woman in terms of a reduction in physical labour, although such household appliances did not become commonplace for another century, long after the smock frock had disappeared from general usage.

 

 

Christmas Celebrations

As Christmas party season comes upon us once more, it is interesting to note that in the mid-nineteenth century, the smock frock also put in appearance at one such event in Manchester, although this was held after Christmas on 6 January.

Mechanics Institutes had been established from the 1820s as a way of educating working men, part-time, either after work or on their days off.  They usually provided libraries and often lectures on various subjects too.  Manchester’s Mechanics Institute was founded in 1824 and strove to teach the principals of science, then seen as mechanics and chemistry, and in 1868, became famous as the birthplace of the TUC, as well as UMIST and the Co-operative Insurance Society.  By 1847, the popularity of the Manchester Mechanics Institute had grown so that for their Christmas celebrations they could not fit into their own building but moved to the Free Trade Hall.  This was in the same location that the famous venue remains today, the site of the Peterloo Massacre in 1819, but in a different brick building constructed in 1843.  This was demolished in 1853 to make way for the building that currently stands.  Seats for two thousand people were provided and filled in the venue in January 1847, with a central space left clear for ‘rustic processions and mummeries’.

Wreaths and bushes of holly, mistletoe and other evergreens were provided as decoration, hanging from the ceiling, between pillars and as general embellishment, ‘tastily designed’.  Refreshments were also provided.  After toasts and speeches, the rustic procession got underway.  It seems to have been carried out in the spirit of the Lord of the Misrule, a band of youths entering, ‘a rabble of supposed rustics full of mirth and jollity, shouting “Yule! Yule!”’  They proceeded to play pranks on those trying to be serious, tipping people’s hats and pulling at people’s clothes, the ‘merrie tricks supposed to have been very common among our forefathers’, although the reporter does sound a little doubtful himself.

All of those taking part in the procession, were dressed in rustic attire with smock frocks.  This presumably distanced them from their immediate surroundings, not being their normal dress, and acted almost as a disguise, allowing the pranks and tricks to go ahead.  It also formed a link back to their forefathers who were likely to have lived rural lives, before the pull of industrial towns with their lure of full employment uprooted families.  This carrying on of a tradition was obviously important as it is mentioned by the reporter – it was a way of grounding a relatively new industrial society within older customs and from which their own new rituals could develop. However, smock frocks were not totally alien garments and would have been seen worn on the streets of Manchester, as well as by trades such as carters and butchers.  The procession finished with the singing of the Yule song:

Come bring with a noise, My merrie, merrie boys,

The Christmas log to the firing, While my good dame she

bids you all be free, And drink to your heart’s desiring

A mixture of Christmas folk and rural traditions, the Yule log, the smock frock and encouragement to drink and be merry, I am not quite sure how this fits with the mechanics institute membership and their desire for education and betterment.  Maybe it was a welcome release in the spirit of a good Christmas party on Epiphany.

William Morris

Before it closed at the end of October for the season, I paid a visit to Kelmscott Manor, the country home of William Morris from 1871, deep in the heart of the Oxfordshire countryside, close to the banks of the river Thames.  I was on the hunt for smock frocks (though I did get distracted by the guttering…).

kelmscott-manor

The aesthetic of smocks, as an unrestrictive dress shape, was undoubtedly popular with those seeking dress reform in this period, away from the sheath-like encasements, augmented with bustles, flounces and swags, of contemporary fashionable dress.

morris family

 

In this photograph, in the entrance hall of Kelmscott, of Morris and Rossetti with their families, Morris’s wife Jane and her two daughters wear loosely gathered and belted dresses which became known Pre-Raphaelite dress and was worn by those closely associated with the movement.  Indeed, Jane was painted by her lover Rossetti in 1866-8 in his famous portrait, ‘The Blue Silk Dress’, wearing another similar softly gathered dress, a painting on display at Kelmscott, its jewel like colours shining out in the autumnal gloom.

jane morris

 

These dresses were also akin to the medieval styles that Morris used for his tapestries and stained glass, amongst other things, during the same period.  Their looseness and unconstructed nature, in contrast to the rigidity of contemporary fashion, which relied on structure and a defined silhouette with the crinoline and later the bustle, show a link to the smock.

A newspaper article from 1888 described a visit to the Merton Abbey works, Morris’s craft workshop/factory, in Surrey:

What strikes the visitor first of all in this rambling, delightful place where everything is quaint and striking is the figure of one of the workers, a white-haired man, with flowing hair streaming from below a large ‘penny’ hat; for his ordinary dress he wears a long blue smock-frock, daintily-embroidered around the neck and on the shoulders…

He is the foreman of the stained glass department and one of the original workers in the factory, having been there since 1860 when Morris first started production, and so a trusted friend of Morris.  How much this was a uniform or just the choice of an individual artisan is not explained in the newspaper, the smock just feeding into the idea of quaintness.  As his appearance is described as ‘striking’, maybe it was an individual choice.  I therefore hoped to find more evidence of male smocks at Kelmscott.

This would have been an area and a period, from the 1870s, when smocks would still have been worn by the local rural population, although their use was starting to decline.  So what is surprising then is perhaps the lack of smock frocks, aside from the loose Pre-Raphaelite dresses of the women.  Does this suggest that, in general, they were not particularly well-crafted during the 1870s, to merit the attentions of the ‘founder’ of the Arts and Crafts movement?  Many were workaday and bought as cheaply as possible from ready-made clothing shops – it is perhaps not until later in the century, that best smocks began to be seen as something worth preserving and their associations with quaintness and craft began, as worn by Morris’s own worker when they had all but disappeared from the countryside a couple of decades later.  Morris himself was photographed in an undated portrait wearing an over-shirt or perhaps a smock, as his work clothes.  They were being used as an overall but the association with hand-worked rusticity had yet to begin.

morris

Perhaps the most intriguing thing I discovered was Morris’s caped overcoat, hung in the corner of the North Hall of Kelmscott.  It was very evocative, as often clothing is, of the man who wore it, especially as we know what he looked like.  Plain and austere, it catches the attention of visitors to the house as something intimately connected to the man, close to his body and perhaps imbibing his odours and body shape.

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It was not a smock but as I began to look more closely I saw the label and started to wonder about Morris’s relationship with his clothes.  It was labelled ‘H. J. Nicoll & Co.’ and Nicoll’s were originally  ready-made clothing manufacturers who made their fortune in the 1840s and 1850s manufacturing paletots, a gentleman’s overcoat.  They widely advertised their ready-made coats in the press at the time and also sold wholesale to tailors and outfitters to sell on.  The problem was the way that these ready-made coats were manufactured, especially in the days before the sewing machine.  Nicoll used middlemen to employ thousands of London East End workers to sew their garments, largely women.  These out-workers worked for very little and had a precarious existence, partly because the work was seasonal.  The profits all went to the middlemen, and mainly to the contractor, Nicoll.  Contemporaries were well aware of the situation, with Charles Kingsley, author of the Water Babies, exposing the exploitation in his work Cheap Clothes and Nasty of 1850, along with the journalist Henry Mayhew.

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The profits, however, allowed Nicoll to have a swanky Regent Street shop with large plate glass windows and a feeling of modernity – a palace of retail.  They also gained an air of respectability, boasting that their customers included Prince Albert and the Duke of Wellington, and the company survived and prospered until the 1960s. Morris is said to be depicted wearing his Kelmscott coat on his statue on the exterior of the V & A museum.

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Much as our clothing is manufactured today in the sweatshops of Asia and we don’t necessarily think about the human cost that went into the manufacture of a garment when we put it on, and how that might sit with our ideological or political beliefs, Nicoll and other similar ready-made clothing manufacturers, including those making ready-made smock frocks, maintained successful businesses throughout the period based on domestic manufacturing often in sweatshops.  Their customers remained happy to buy from them whatever the origin of the garment’s manufacture, if it was the piece of clothing that they wanted, the price was right and the garment was easy to purchase. The idea of the hand-crafted beautiful object did not seem to extend to Morris’s own clothes and the smock was yet to be seen as such too.

For more about Nicoll see Clare Rose’s work:

http://www.maneyonline.com/doi/full/10.1179/0040496914Z.00000000039

Harry Potter and Herbology

Both my daughters being ardent Harry Potter fans, the films had been on continuous cycle all weekend.  As I was passing Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets, which was on for the umpteenth time, I was stopped in my tracks.  Hermione Granger was in her Herbology lesson, learning to pull mandrake roots, as you do with Professor Sprout, but she was wearing a smock frock.  Wow!  I am not sure why I hadn’t noticed before, but there you go.  You start looking and they start turning up in very odd places.

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In fact the whole class were smock frocked, although most of the boys were wearing more of an overall than a smock with no smocked gathering, and Professor Sprout herself, the wonderful Miriam Margolyes, was in something more akin to an academic robe with a hint of smock, the decoration of stems, leaves and vines echoing the embroidery found on some nineteenth century smocks.  The earthy tones of her clothing reflect her profession and compliment those of her class well and they are worn long, like the cloaks and robes that the pupils normally wear.

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So the girls got to wear the male smock.  I can’t find any reference to what the costume designer, Lindy Hemming had in mind – there is quite a lot about the animatronic mandrakes and how they were made but no reference to the humble smock.  In drawings of the set, the characters appear to be in their normal robes so maybe the smocks were a later addition to give it a feel of the land whilst grappling in the earth, or dragon dung, with a mandrake. There is no reference in Rowling’s writing to overalls worn – only that ear protectors were needed against the mandrake screams.  Rowling describes Professor Sprout as having earth on her clothes and that the students became covered in earth by the end of the lesson.  The smocks are a nice shorthand to convey that certain earthiness and physical labour in the soil needed, of course, to repot mandrakes.

The smocks look very similar to the workaday ones worn by labourers during the nineteenth century, here sported by a youth in custody at Aylesbury Gaol in 1872.

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I would love to know the costume designer’s inspiration and thinking, and if they had the smocks made themselves.  If anyone knows, please get in contact…

 

http://harrypotter.wikia.com/wiki/Herbology

http://www.buckscc.gov.uk/leisure-and-culture/centre-for-buckinghamshire-studies/online-resources/victorian-prisoners/

 

Relaxing the Dress Code

As the Queen becomes our longest serving monarch overtaking her great great grandmother, Queen Victoria, whose reign I am currently mired in with smock frocks, I post this entry.

Royal stories seem to have been just as popular in the nineteenth century press as they are today, although then as now, there were also periods where republicanism was more to the foreground, partly influenced by events in the rest of the world and probably partly by the actions of the royal family itself.  The popularity of Queen Victoria when she came to the throne in 1837 was by no means assured and she survived assassination attempts and hostility, particularly in the early part of her reign.

Starting a family may have helped her in her PR exercise.  In November 1841, the Gloucester Journal reported the birth of the Prince of Wales and the way that one man had reacted to it:

‘A Prince of Wales born!’ exclaimed the fellow. ‘Well! That’s what never happened in my time before; may be it never will again.  I’ll drink his health whether or not!’

As the paper noted, the man was ‘more fervent than rich’ but a handy pawnshop allowed the man to leave his smock frock and get cash to take to the pub to raise a toast.  A light-hearted story but one that shows how people’s clothes in this period were like a cashpoint.  The only problem was having the financial means to get them back again when needed.

By 1851, the Queen and her expanding family were perhaps making an effort to connect with more ordinary people.  The Great Exhibition, organised by Prince Albert and on at the same time, had been a great success with people from all over the country flocking to see the exhibits and special trains laid on to provide transport.  On a Sunday, the East Terrace at Windsor, recently remodelled in 1843, was thrown open to visitors so they could see the Queen and her court.  These links give some idea of what it might have been like:

https://www.royalcollection.org.uk/collection/2100021/view-of-the-east-terrace-windsor-castle

https://www.royalcollection.org.uk/collection/2101193/the-east-front-and-east-terrace-garden-windsor-castle

https://www.royalcollection.org.uk/collection/700449/windsor-castle-east-terrace-the-queens-private-apartments

On this particular Sunday, not only the local elites were there but also a ‘vast assemblage’ of farmers and agricultural labourers.  In Kensington Gardens, which started off as royal gardens around a royal palace before Queen Victoria moved the court to Buckingham Palace, anyone who was ‘respectably dressed’ was allowed free entry on Saturday.  A similar rule seemed to apply to the East Terrace on a Sunday in Windsor.  However, that rule was relaxed on this occasion by command of the Queen, allowing ‘sunburnt’ labourers in their smock frocks to part-take in the spectacle.

The crowd of ‘thousands’ were entertained by the bands of the Grenadier Guards and the Royal Horse Guards before the Queen, Prince Albert and their children appeared and the National Anthem was played.  The royal party ‘promenaded’ for half an hour allowing the multitude to catch a glimpse of them before retiring to their private apartments, perhaps as seen here:

http://www.npg.org.uk/collections/search/portraitLarge/mw145821/Windsor-Castle-East-Terrace-including-Queen-Victoria-Prince-Albert-of-Saxe-Coburg-Gotha

It seems that special dispensation was needed to get a smock frock within close proximity of the royal family…

 

Smock Frocks and Bloomerism

I found an interesting snippet in a newspaper the other day which I really think calls into question the gender roles that we assign types of clothing and the illogicality of it, especially, but not only, in the nineteenth century.

Bloomerism was a dress reform movement started in the US, named after Amelia Bloomer although the originator of the garments was said to be another American, Elizabeth Smith Miller.  Having grown tired of being ‘shackled’ in long skirts and unable to complete simple manual tasks, in spring 1851 she advocated essentially shortening the skirt to make a tunic and wearing Turkish style harem trousers beneath to preserve the modesty of the legs.  Bloomer was a friend of Miller’s and promoted the style in her journal The Lily, where this type of dress became associated with Amelia’s name.  She called on women to put their health and ease of movement before fashion and the dictates of society.

The movement is thought to have reached England in the summer of that year when Hannah Cutler, a Bloomer supporter, travelled to London for an international peace convention.  Sightings of Bloomerism began to be reported in local newspapers as a curiosity and an oddity, often with detailed descriptions, showing how daring and radical the dress was for the time.  The satirical magazine Punch was quick to depict the extraordinary sight.  See

http://punch.photoshelter.com/image?&_bqG=3&_bqH=eJxtj09PwzAMxT_Nel7RKm2Vckhj05mtKcqfop4iiqpBGRQGJz49c

Advocates, such as Caroline Dexter, travelled around the provinces to lecture and promote such healthy dress and its benefits, although the press were usually fixated on their visual appearance. They tended to ridicule the meetings rather than examine the women’s reform movement in any detail.  This was the case in Chichester in November 1851 where Mrs Pannel was giving a not very well-attended lecture on Bloomerism.  As the newspaper reported in comic tone:

…the cause of Bloomerism did not gain much credit at the hands of the lecturer, for just as she was showing off her costume to advantage, the tape string broke, and her gaudy short petticoats fell tumbling about her heels.  The scene that took place at this moment was indescribable, but fortunately for the lady a gentleman ran to her assistance immediately, and instantly covered her corpulent body under a white smock frock, amidst shouts of laughter from the audience in attendance.

So this makes me ask several questions.  It was presumably okay to cover a woman in trousers with essentially a man’s skirted garment – a woman in just leg coverings was still scandalous; it was better to be dressed in a masculine garment than to display the outline of the legs; what was a man with a smock frock doing watching a lecture on Bloomerism; men in short skirts with leg coverings were acceptable but the same was not true for women – that is, men could wear short skirts but women couldn’t!

Dress codes and social conventions can be extremely complex and very difficult to untangle especially over the fullness of time when some social mores have been lost.  The smock frock calls into question several assumptions about masculine clothing, which maybe more malleable for the nineteenth century that generally supposed.

Bloomerism was a short-lived movement but it laid the foundation for later nineteenth century dress reform movements and the more general women’s movement which came to fruition in the twentieth century.

http://www.academia.edu/5053997/Caroline_Dexter_Bloomerism_in_England_and_its_introduction_to_Australia

The Hop Harvest

My hop has climbed into my apple tree and is frankly out of control and not likely to yield any harvest. Having lived in Herefordshire for a time though, the hop harvest has always held a certain fascination for me. Driving into Hereford would mean passing field of hops carefully cultivated over tall frames and so harvestable, unlike mine. The hop harvest was due, like all agricultural events, at set times of the year. In 1891, the months for the harvest were June, August and September, the hay harvest first, with a month’s grace until the corn harvest, and then hopping a fortnight after this. So we are still too early this year at the moment, but the report remarked that hopping was the most important of the harvests in areas where all three were carried out, Kent, Sussex, Surrey, Herefordshire, Worcestershire, Nottinghamshire, partly as there was generally more fine weather in September and partly because it was the last harvest and so also of a celebration. It is odd to think that our weather patterns, or at least the conception of our weather patterns, probably haven’t changed much.

Hopping in Kent has always been known as a way that people living in the East End of London could get out into the countryside for a couple of weeks, the time it took to complete the harvest, and have a working holiday. However, it was noted in 1843, that the ‘London importations’ had then vanished, the farmer using local men and their families. By 1891, Londoners were still going to Kent and Surrey but it was noted that farmers were particular about their labour, only employing people they knew were decent or no outsiders, so maybe this aspect has been over exaggerated for the nineteenth century. It was commented in 1891 that ‘London weaklings’ used to be ordered down for hop picking for medical purposes although this was now out of fashion. Local people still believed in the benefits though.

Green smock frocks were traditionally worn in Kent, and in 1843, a newspaper report noted that the hop harvest was such a rural event that new smocks, new corduroys and new half-boots were purchased to ‘regenerate’ their wardrobe. The thought of being paid good money, around 5 shillings a day in 1891, and the air of celebration presumably meant that new clothes were justified.

hopping

 

The harvest work was divided into pulling and picking, pulling exclusively for men as it needed a certain amount of strength and a good smock frock. Pulling up the poles and extracting the bine, required a specific technique and as the newspaper remarked, ‘Hence the need for a smock, for the bine, bruised by the pressure, stains irretrievably any ordinary clothes’. Although a new smock might have been purchased, they were used very much as working garments, and presumably their green colour was most practical with the ready staining. In 1843, it was remarked that hop flowers stained the hands as much as walnuts did, so a dark colour was seemingly preferable.

Once pulled, the hops could be picked, which was family work, from young to old, working around an oblong basket about three feet high. The celebrations came in the evening around the hop kiln when the hops were dried as quickly as possible to preserve their aroma. Stories, song, drinking and dancing to fiddles, oboes and pan-pipes, then took place after a hard day’s work, especially if a ‘Lucky Bough’ had been found. This was where all the leaves and flowers grew on only one side of the stem, as if twisted into this position. If found it was considered a lucky talisman, both to the finder and the harvest in general, and the ‘hearth over which it hangs’ and ended up dried ‘ is sacred’, a tradition carried on in country pubs today though I haven’t yet checked to see how many of these bines are actually ‘Lucky Boughs’. The hay harvest around here has just started – think I’m off for a pint of beer to await the hop harvest…

Cornish Smocks

Over Easter I went to St Ives, Cornwall, staying in the aptly named cottage ‘Labour in Vain’.  I was very pleased to find on the harbour front, the ‘smock shop’, less pleased to find it was the maritime and fishing version, rather than that of the agricultural labourer.  Nevertheless, it was quietly thrilling to walk past such a retail establishment every day and come to terms with the fact that I am perhaps not the only one obsessing over smocks, be they of different varieties.

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I even found the shop reproduced on one of Poppy Treffry’s fantastic quirky print tea towels.  As I spend most of the my life at the moment searching for the words ‘smock shop’ in a nineteenth century context, a sliver of excitement was definitely there!

Of course the word smock also has connotations for the artist, particularly those who settled in of St Ives.  Using local fishermen’s smocks as protective overalls – they were strong, durable and washable, the artist’s smock has become a whole different subsection of the smock genre.  The sculptor Barbara Hepworth made her home in the town and her smocks hang alongside her unfinished work in her workshop, now a Museum.  Today fishermen and sailors seem to favour the waterproof all-in-one, although this comment is just from observation so please let me know if amiss.  I am neither a sailor nor a fisherman – only a smock obsessive!

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http://www.poppytreffry.co.uk/shop-by-category/homewares/tea-towels/st-ives-tea-towel.html