Women in the 19th century lived a life encumbered. There's no other way to put it. I thought when I started this project that the clothes would be easy and the cooking difficult. This week has proven the opposite.
The stove is working great. I honestly think it's not really harder to use than my modern stove, apart from checking the wood all the time, but the kids like doing that anyway. Not that I've exactly attempted a souffle...yet. But we have been doing a lot of baking around here, which I'll let Hailey talk about.
The clothes however, have nearly brought me to tears - not an easy accomplishment. The utter confinement of so many layers - stockings up over my knees and underwear down to my ankles - is a burden to carry around every minute of the day. It sounds so romantic, and it is, but there's nothing romantic about tripping over your skirts, or shoveling them ungracefully into a car. And I seriously hope my bust will return to its normal shape when this is all over!
I like dressing like a lady. Although I had fun on the battlefield last weekend, I felt really uncomfortable (while being more comfortably dressed) walking around as a man. Part of being a re-enactor is being an actor, and, although I like men, with their delightfully gravelly voices and scratchy beards, I don't want to play one.
I thought staying in 19th century clothes would be the easy part. I have an excuse to wear a dress every day, (not to mention lots of girly, lacy cotton underthings) - how bad could it be? Kinda bad, actually: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AmZysl8OLos&feature=related
I woke up Saturday ready to cry. Besides the whole hair problem I mentioned earlier, I just couldn't face The Corset again. My ribs hurt. My back hurts. And I'm not even laced up very tight! Sarah was right...cars and corsets don't mix. I just had to take a break.
So I cheated. But I can explain! The girls were at a birthday party (modern clothes, modern music, a modern movie, and no mom looking embarrassingly like an extra from Gone with the Wind.) I've been promising my son for weeks to take him on a particular hike, and there's no way I'm going to make it 4 miles uphill in full dress. (Though I know plenty of Victorian women managed. But they didn't have options. I do.)
I've also been terrified of missing the last of the lovely weather, stuck indoors making homemade soap or hemming a petticoat while the last precious rays of sun shine without me. I'm a southern California girl. I can't actually turn my back on the sun. I just can't. I threw on some jeans, which actually felt kind of strange, and took a vigorous and refreshing hike with Karl and Brennan. Sunday, I avoided The Corset by changing into a nightgown in mid-afternoon.
All this talk about the clothing has got me thinking about femininity. I've heard several women say that men treat them differently when they are in a dress. I imagine that's true. I know I feel different in a dress. And even though I was raised in the era of "I am woman, hear me roar" by a single mom with a career, I like the difference between the sexes. Not that I want to get paid less for the same job, or be denied educational opportunities or anything. Nor do I want to return to the burden of all those clothes! But in our modern-day race for equality, sometimes I think we go too far.
Today the clothes felt normal, which is a little weird, really. Maybe I just needed a break, or maybe I'm actually getting used to it. Or maybe, to quote Napoleon Bonaparte, I'm learning to Respect the Burden.
Autumn
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