Current mood: artistic
Category: Fashion, Style, Shopping

Well, since I am not exactly a fan of blogs, rather not at all experienced in them, this may be not only my first, but my last attempt.  Perhaps, my babbling tendancies will make a fool of me on this issue.  Hmm.  Where do I start?......Eureka!

My persona in the S.C.A. (sca.org) was born in 1444, and is the son of a rich merchant.  He is Raimundo de Cabrera de la frontera, which essentially translates to "Raymond of Cabrera (a very, no very, very tiny island, which is found amongst the Balearic Islands, which is between, what is today, Spain and Italy) of the frontier (i.e. on the frontier that separates the lands of Islam from Christendom)".  I will proceed to talk about his civilian capacity, as I have already written, ad nauseum, about his military aspect, on other forums (see facebook.com).  Besides being a contractor for the local urban militias of the kingdom of Aragon, specializing in cloth armour supplies, he is a convicted addict of the vacilating fahion trends coming out of northern Italy, not Burgandy thank you ("so yesterday, ya know") in the 1480's.  "France had their chance" ("I was a poet an didna know it!").  Sorry for the cliche (oops, sorry for that French pun within the cliche too!).  I really must get back to the point here, mustn't I?  Oh boy, there I almost went over to the military again, whew, close!  Okay, okay, give me another chance ("nah, I'm not distractable, hah!").  Um, so he is dressed, going from innermost layer outwards, in well, okay, perhaps I should say how he dresses himself everyday.  First, getting out of bed and washed up, being rich enough for only one attendant, he has a "fresh" cotton/linen chemise put on (well, fresh, only if you consider that would be only three days old in stench), with a "fresh" pair of breeches (i.e. underpants resembling modern men's briefs, not boxers, but not knit either, but tied on).  It is a good thing that the windows are both plenty and large at the top of his tower, where a good Mediterranean sea breeze at night can at least dry the previous day's chemises and breeches out.   After this layer, comes what what was considered, for at least the previous 500 years, as underwear, in modern sense of being unmentionable or naughty to be seen in publically.  Our modern viewpoint would not relate to this, as I am of course about to describe: doublet and hosen.  But being in the throws of the "must-haves" of the Italian Renaissance, he is convinced that he simply has to go about in his "underwear", just to keep up.  At any rate, his doublet consists of  high level of tailoring skill, in the sense of (customized) modern menswear, being complexely structured and padded in just the right way.  For example, it has the pidgeon-breast silhouette, which is in demand, for his torso, not the peascod one of a century later.  The inner layer is of cheap cotton, because A) no one ever sees the inside of it, and B) being a Spaniard, it is cheap for him because he has far greater geographic access to the Muslim trade connections for that fiber in particular, than say a German or Englishman.  The outside layer is of a brocade consisting of the ground in a silken/woolen mix, in a satin weave, with the raised woolen threads being arranged in the geometery unique to Mudejar artistic styles.  His collar could be described as a cross between a modern Nehru jacket style and the Eton collars from around 1900, enhancing the profound structure, in period demand of a  proper gentleman's appearance.  The forearms are more than skin-tight, the entire sleeves' outer seams being closed by buttons, so that the "fresh" chemise can be fashionably puffed out, as it were.  His hosen are primarily of a fine, bias-cut wool, with a linen lining, and leather for the soles, so that, if he wishes to, he can momentarily abandon any other means of footwear.  Yes, the soles of his hosen are the period equivalent to putting on a pair of slippers at the end of the day, today.  The difference is that these, being intergral to the hosen, cover a bit more than just the front of the feet.  Yet, they are only to be visable if you manage to see the bottom of his feet, perhaps when running, for example.  By the way, his hosen are black with ox-blood red soles.  The majority of his doublet is navy/deep blue with the raised threads being midnight black.  The colours, mentioned so far, make it seem rather drab, doesn't it?  Well, that is about to change.  For his more formal attire, for example, when meeting clients, he puts over his "underwear", a velvet, fur-trimmed tabard and woolen capuchon for his head, both of which are bright red.  Alternatively, his more informal, felted wool cap is bright red too.  His capuchon is essentially a hood put on at 90 degrees from the original way it was intended, simply because that is the rebellious way to do it, just like the "kids these days" have been putting on their baseball caps backwards/sideways since the 1980's.  Gosh, that makes "kids these days" look unoriginal by more than a few centuries, eh?  So, back to his dressing proceedure.  He ties on his braies/breeches, slips on over his head, then ties shut, his chemise.  Then pulls on up his hosen, tying them subsequently to his doublet at the hem, at various "points", pardon the pun.  Back then, they did not use belts and belt loops like we do today.  Points are essentially the individual bits of basically shoe-laces that tie each tiny pair of holes to their corresponding pair on the other hem, i.e. the waistband of the hosen to hem of the doublet.  Typically, there are anywhere from a minimum of 5 pairs of eyelets (on each hem, so double that already), to as much as twice that, on an average doublet.  I have found from personal experience that one only needs to undo, upon call of necesity, the front 1-3 points, leaving the doublet and hosen connected in back, in a dangling manner, when on left on a hanger, for example, rather than having to undo/redo all of the points, all the time.  Alternatively, I could employ (yes, it is documented), either buttons or hook-&-eye closures, in place of points in my next ensemble.  Perhaps not though, as I do not see these other two methods being as secure or reliable as the initial method, even if more convenient.  If I do go with buttons, to reflect the "Spanishness", so to speak, they will be large, brass demi-spheres.  The buttons along the sleeves however, will be tiny and completely spherical brass ones.  Being complete spheres, they are not meant to be functional, but rather permanent, considering the headache I have experienced trying to either keep them in place or capable of conveniently opening.  Obviously, being of middle class (a.k.a. labour class), he is inclined, more than a little, to have his clothing made with function, in addition to fashion, kept in mind.  In the end, I also simply say, he is a Spaniard trying to be an Italian.

Les saluda atentamente(sincerely yours),
MasterPeterson.

In keeping with the ancient and original version of what has, since 2000 years ago, been more than slightly corrupted into "Christmas", which I prefer to call Yule, I would offer this tribute to the high Holy Ones, both the Aesir and the Vanir, as best as this feeble mortal can. First, I would present a dedication inscribed in the first century B.C.E. from Deux-Severes, Gaul, as translated by Dr. Olmstead from Celtic written in Greek letters . Then I will attempt to honour with mine own tongue.

"It was set up for you, Sacred Mother. It was set out for you, Atanta. This sacrificial animal was purchased for you, horse goddess, Eponina. So that it might satisfy, horse goddess Potia; we pay you, Atanta, so that you are satisfied; we dedicate it to you.
By this sacrificial animal, swift Ipona, with a filly, goddess Epotia, for a propitious lustration they bind you, Catona of battle, with a filly, for the cleansing of riding horses which they cleanse for you, Dibonia. This swift mare, this cauldron, this smith-work, beside fat and this cauldron, mind you, moreover with a filly, Epotia, noble and good Vovesia."

To my Matron, Walpurga Frouwa, Goddess of beauty and plenty,
You who take all worthy warriors into your hall, Sessrumnir.
Oh, were I worthy, to shine as one of your swords,
to fly as one of your spears, ever true to its mark.
I hail you, with every breath in my body, to the end,
with every step, with you at my side, I will not falter.
May your crimson hair flow along the horizon with every sunset.
May you bless me with a beauty to call my own,
Some mortal that I would be worthy of,
Some mortal that would be worthy of me.
Hail Freya, hail Morrighan, hail Wara!

To my Patron, Wuldar, God of skis and dueling,
You who revel in Winter weather, snow and ice,
As You would show me Your way to the right way,
sharpen me as a fine blade, make my aim true to what I need,
not what I want. As with yew and bow, of which You know so well,
keep me flexible and resilient for the trials ahead.
Of solitude You would know the way well, for you travel alone always, guide me out of mine, if I may be worthy of such benefit.
In the Wild Hunt, with Wotan, the All-Father, in the lead, I hear the sleigh, the deer, the whip, all so fast through the snow.
Who will be blessed, who will be taken, who will be gifted?
Purify me as the snow that alights on Your white beard,
keeping me from all impurities, letting not my worries consume me.
May I know such mirth and joy as known by You someday.
May I too be a father someday soon, laughing all the way.
Hail Forsetti, hail Tiu, hail Teutates!

Wirtleich Seine
(sincerely yours),
Robert Peterson.