June 2024
After completing Aaron’s 1570s working class imbusto, I dived headfirst into a silk version. There’s no pictorial evidence that this was worn by noblemen as an outer layer. The imbusto’s purpose was to hold up the pants. But these sleeveless doublets, which “tended to be used more in the summer” were often made to match the pants (Landini, p. 55). Things to mull over. Nevertheless, I wanted a fancy wear option for Aaron. Something with more ventilation, to wear to balls and events.
There was plenty of remaining taffeta from Aaron’s original 1560s Italian suit for a matching imbusto. I skipped all the bias trim since Cosimo’s are described in Moda a Firenze as generally unadorned. It’s made as lightweight as possible. The body pieces are simply underlined in muslin, with a little extra interfacing added to center front for buttons. The collar was machine sewn into the neckline and the waist seam turned up and catch stitched. Then the imbusto was lined by hand in linen. I finished shoulder wings and waist skirts separately. They are handsewn rather than bagged out, to ensure all the little corners were perfect and crisp. The armscye were bound with narrow bias strips (not what you see in the artwork but very discrete), and the wings and skirts were whipped onto the imbusto in the final step.
The buttons were a remarkable find. They are from the same local store I bought the originals, but in silver. Exactly enough on the shelf. It isn’t obvious that the silver buttons on the imbusto and the gold buttons on the Venetians don’t match. The collar stays closed without a button or hook, so I left it plain like Cosimo’s 1574 doublet in Patterns of Fashion.
The wool cappa, or cape, was made in December 2022. It was inspired by Caroso’s text in Nobilita di Dame regarding the wearing of cloaks while dancing. An amusing and mysterious topic. Especially when informed by the Tudor Tailor‘s findings that, “the majority of rich fashionable cloaks had no fastenings.” (Mikhaila, p. 20). On the one hand, Caroso acknowledges that if the cape is made of silk or light cloth, “it may easily fall off, which is inappropriate for a gentleman, especially when dancing the galliard.” (Sutton, p. 134). Yet he says to always dance in the cape. To do otherwise, “looks most unsightly, and is not appropriate to the nobility.” (Sutton, p. 135). Caroso’s method of holding the cape involves either swaddling it around oneself in a variety of ways, or holding it with an arm. At the same time, his choreography instructs the man to give his right or left hand (or both) to the lady, often switching hands quickly. The dancer is periodically expected to doff his hat or make a hand kiss, to honor his partner. His left hand must also hold the sword, which he wears while dancing, “so that it will not wave around wildly” when performing lively steps (Sutton, p. 135).
Aaron clearly needed a cloak for dancing! And I didn’t give it a second thought – the cloak fastens at the neckline with ties.
In stark contrast to the original velveteen cape, this is nice and lightweight. It works quite well for summer wear. The half-circle pattern is cut per the 1610-20 semi-circular cloak in Patterns of Fashion, with an additional seam at center back. I used leftover fabrics: black sheer wool and fine black portofino linen (for lining). There was enough yardage to avoid any piecing. The hem of the cloak was turned up and catch stitched, and the linen turned under at the hem and hand sewn down. Ties are narrow black petersham ribbons.
